So I’ve mentioned my math class and how it’s a bit odd. I’ll now reference it as the misfit math class. I can’t think of any other name. The random characters… Scratch that. It’s more about the random behavior of the characters in the class.
The instructor is a nice guy but… There’s always a but… He’s a pushover. To a fault. Today I realized a student who sits behind me has a serious case of the mouth trots. She.Never.Shuts.Up. It’s a constant stream of words that has no filter and apparently no off button. I joked with a friend the other day that she has no “inside voice” either. She chatters through nearly the whole class and has no qualms about keeping us updated about her latest doctor appointments and other ailments. The blank stares and exchanged glances like a bad smell in the produce aisle. You know all know who dealt it but no one wants to acknowledge the guilty party.
Then there’s Loud Mary (see what I did there?) who continues to talk as though she’s week one at boot camp. I’m pretty sure my ears ring when I leave class. Her comments are random and fly out at the speed of sound. This is the same person who finally decided to show up to class week two, 40 minutes late and yell out, “Yo teach, when is the first test?!” I’d like to compare it to The Breakfast Club and write it off to just being a “diverse” cross-section of folks; the jock, the princess, the nerd etc. If only it were that fun and interesting. More than halfway through the term and thankfully there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
On a more serious, less crass note, I haven’t blogged about the CNA work I was doing for a couple of reasons. After just a few orientation days, it ended. After being short paid and problems getting it resolved I wasn’t left feeling warm and fuzzy. There was another issue but I’m not going into any details the spirit of keeping things professional. The place was undergoing a lot of staffing changes, (understandably). I’ll leave it at that. For now, I’m looking for part-time work, preferably with homecare but am keeping my options open. I want the experience and really enjoy the patient contact, listening to their stories.
There is something about caregiving and being there at a vulnerable time in someone’s life. It’s a privilege. I can’t describe it any other way. But then I guess that’s how I know in my heart of hearts, in the deepest pit of my gut- that I’m in the right field. That’s how I see it- as a privilege. We enter this world needing help and guidance. We need cues. We need basic needs of life; food, shelter, clothing. We need patience. We need empathy. It’s no different when you’re sick or dying. You need all those things. Being present for that- a piece of that vulnerable picture is, in fact, a privilege. I don’t know where I will land next, but the need always exists. I’m keeping my eyes and ears open.