Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Cough up, Ms Anderson

I keep expecting the tap on my shoulder to arrive. 

'Excuse me Ms. Anderson, but for granting you the privilege of spending your time in an orderly, serene and clean environment, complete with the pleasurable hum of learning and surrounded by thousands of books, we expect some form of compensation. 
Do you, or do you not, get to attend to your toileting needs All. By. Yourself? (Without little munchkins clinging to your legs demanding milk or climbing up the back of the toilet to push the flush button)
Do you, or do you not, get fifteen whole minutes to sit and drink a beverage of your choice? (Without chasing small beings intent on upturning sugar bowls or climbing curtains) 
Do you, or do you not, get to peruse children's picture books for most of your four hour shifts, only occasionally having pleasing interludes wherein you direct courteous seekers of knowledge and attend to slight printing glitches? 
Do you, or do you not, get to admire an every changing array of the hats and shoes and gloves and other sartorial finery belonging to the bright and promising young ones, just starting out in the training for their careers?
Do you, or do you not, get to converse with educated, widely read and softly spoken persons as you collaborate together in the delightful task of assisting students to become life-long learners? 
Do you, or do you not, get to dress up in a pleasing assortment of clothes that will not have milk tipped down them or be used as a rag for grubby fingers. Do you or do you not get to wear high heels and cute little pencil skirts?'

I keep waiting for it. 
So far it hasn't come. 
Instead, I've just been given more time.

It's like a magic castle of sanity and civilisation. 
It's amazing. 
I think I like it. 
This could be addictive...

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