The Last Straw

Yesterday, the Miniapple staff sat down to have a monthly meeting. We had cake, Canada Dry Ginger Ale, talked about the mandatory issues dealing with our daily jobs.

One thing got me, though. One thing raised issue with me.

Child care is overseen by an entity we like to call "Licensing". These are the law makers, the enforcers of standard and upkeep within child care centers and what have you. If something doesn't comply with Licensing you're fucked. If there's a nail uprooted in a floorboard, Licensing marks it, says "You have a month to get this fixed or else you're on our shit list." If you're on a Licensing Shit List it's almost equivalent to being a child predator within a residential neighborhood -- your face and name are posted everywhere in directories and communities saying that you are present and that people should take caution when around your presence.

Or at least that's what Licensing likes to make us think.

Miniapple is due for a Licensing visit this spring. They come unannounced. "They" happens to be one person who visits the school. But they are tough, they know their shit, they know they are the big dog in the house. Frankly, we're all terrified of the Licensing Lady.

Two years ago the Licensing Lady dropped by for a day. Right when she arrived the place went nuts. The director literally ran through the halls announcing in a frenzy "Licensing is here! Get ready!" Dirty spray bottles are quickly cleaned out, coffee cups, whether empty or full, are thrown out and covered with a paper towel in order to hide it, etc. It sucks.

So, here's my tiff: I was under the impression that as long as we had a sealable coffee container we would be safe. You're not supposed to have plastic containers from coffee shops lying around. Apparently not even sealable coffee containers are allowed.

Coffee is my only vice while at the school. I have nothing else in terms of personal affects. I'm 100% kids all the time, but I need little ten second snippets just to get a little sip in at the teacher's counter to refresh and then go back to the kids. It's the only thing I have for Peter time.

And now Licensing is going to take that away from me.

Fuck this job, man. Fuck kids. I have nothing. I just want a little bit of fucking coffee that's not even hot by the time I arrive at the school. You're telling me that a bowl of soup that the kids bring up for us to warm up at lunch time is safer than a sealable cup full of room temperature coffee? They could spill the soup all over their laps (and they usually do spill)! My cup of coffee -- again at ROOM TEMPERATURE!!! -- is on top of the microwave, a good five feet above the highest reachable height for outstretched five year old hands.

I give up. This might sound like it's a trite, "who cares" deal, but seriously I have NOTHING, I give everything up for the kids if I'm clocked in. I'm clocked in for 8 hours. In that span of time I can't even eat a sandwich without being asked "Can you open this? Can you help me clean this up?" I get a 30 minute break around 1:30. Usually, I take a nap in a really uncomfortable wicker couch that's too small for my legs to be on fully without going through a hole in the backside of it.

I come home in need of my autonomy. And I'm usually pretty tired at the end of the day. Of course there are the Patch demos to finish up. It's hard to just sit, stare, be by myself.

I forget who I am half the time. I've lost touch with my body, my personal needs save for food and sleep. People wonder why I'm irritable half the time.

Another reason for a quick evac from Miniapple. I think I'll start looking for new jobs next week.

Nine Inch Nails -- "Not So Pretty Now"