August went by in a whirlwind of a trip to New York (the first in years, in which I ate, drank, sang karaoke, drank, played cards, saw Moonrise Kingdom and The Dark Knight Rises, and drank), got a (second) migraine my first day back and work that seemed to be the precursor to a sinus infection that kept me sick and up with a cough for about two weeks (after getting a short course of antibiotics, it was only LAST night that I slept through the night without taking a cough suppressant), leading two big field trips at work (one to Crane Beach and one to Water Wizz near Cape Cod; the second of which I rode all the rides with the kids, including the scariest, most intense water slide I've ever been on--so intense that the wedgie I got while riding it hurt my butthole for minutes afterward), and lots of insane prep for our fall programming.
(Apologies for the terrible grammar in the above paragraph.)
Oh. I also asked for a raise and got one.
So. Go me!
I had an idea this month for a new weekly (monthly?) column. One in which I will write weekly letters to the kids that make the most significant impact on me at work.
This was inspired by Cheryl Strayed, who writes this column, and whom I met at a book signing this month. Her book tiny beautiful things is exquisite. The kind of book you read and then start over right away.
The problem is, I can't decide who to write to first.
It's been an incredibly moving summer, in terms of the young people I work with.
There's the teen who asked me a question in a program I am helping run that made me out my own prejudices in a room of judgmental and convicted other teens. There's the one who heard about this incident and shut me out for weeks until he helped me run the field trip to Water Wizz. There's the teen whom I feel legitimately is my friend, who was duly rewarded with a trip to Disneyworld this summer. There's the teen who helped one of my programs succeed with her great leadership and maturity. There's the 10-year-old who had a super tough spring with me but ended up being the star of the summer and performed in our Extravaganza in four different acts. There's the incredibly creative 9-year-old who seriously excels in everything he does at the club.
I can't pick one to write to as my flagship new column.
Maybe the start of fall program will make it all clearer.
So, here's to another beginning.
Like a waterfall in slow motion, Part One
2 years ago