kids – Elizabeth Doherty

By day, I am a teacher (though I much prefer my fancy “by night” title as a writer), and so because of that, summer should be my favorite season, right? Warm weather, no work, relaxing.

Except that I am a 20-something teacher who has yet to find a permanent job. I run a summer camp in the summer. You know, so I have money to live and whatnot. It’s long days in the heat and sun. Long days with dozens of kids, anxious parents, injuries, and hormonal young staff members. Long days of trying to make soccer and tag interesting for 8 hours a day. Long days of trying to make it a unique and pleasant experience for each one of the 60-70 kids who attend the program each day.

And I. Am. Exhausted.

It is 8:30 on a Friday night. I have already slept an hour since coming home from work, and I am planning on crawling into bed and sleeping in a few minutes.

Aren’t I supposed to be wild in my 20s?

Working with kids is not easy. I can’t tell you how much it drains me, especially at my summer job, where I work with much younger kids than I do on the regular. So often I have come home from work and just wanted to pass out that I haven’t been able to write. In fact, it hurts my eyes to read or look at anything. It’s a taxing job. But there are great moments: making kids laugh, and getting hugs, and getting silly little gifts on your birthday.

Then again, there can be some… interesting moments when it comes to working with kids. Especially when you are a newly-minted late-20s person on your birthday. Things like:

Being told on your birthday that you look like you’re going to have a baby. Are you going to have a baby? Oh no.
Being given a birthday card that has a cake on it with 36 candles. And the number 36. The kids think you are 36.
On that same birthday card, seeing one of your major flaws drawn for all the world to see. I mean, you know it’s there and you come to peace with it, but you still don’t like it flaunted in your face.
Being given a My Little Pony doll, being expected to know what it is, and having no idea.
Being given 70 donuts. Literally. They gave me 70 donuts. (Munchkins, but STILL.)

Don’t get me wrong. My birthday was great. Still. Kids have a way of bringing up things that you don’t want to think about, don’t they?

Tag: kids

Exhausting summer

Kids say the darndest things