Isobel: "Where is your car"
Daddy: "I pawned it."
Isobel: "What does that even mean?"
Daddy: "Skip it."
Isobel: "No, seriously where is your car?"
Daddy: "I left it at home. I thought you might like to walk home for a change."
Isobel: "Oh, OK. Daddy it was so cute today at recess, all the KINDIES were out playing together. They were all so funny."
Daddy: "What's a Kindie? Is that a kindergarten kid?"
Isobel: "Yep."
Daddy: "You know that you were in kindergarten just last year, right? And you were the worst of the bunch due to all of your wickedness and evil?
Isobel: "That was LAST year."
This might be a bit of a departure to what you've grown used to but hold on and we'll see it through...
I have recently been give an opportunity, a door closed and a window opened, fortune smiled on me....whatever tired metaphor you'd care to use. I will call it for what it is, a second chance. I am forty four years old (what!?! When did that happen and where was I when it did?) and with the exception of an eleven year blast as a full time, full on rock and roll star, I have spent all of my adult life inside of a factory. They are dirty, demoralizing places where you don't matter and people will go out of their way to keep you down, keep you miserable...keep you there.
They lure you in with the promise of big money and it's there but how much you'll put up with to get to it is another matter. Would you screw over a co-worker? A friend? A brother? I've seen it happen. I've seen good people crushed under the wheels of industry while the scum rose to the top of oceans of indifference.
I was told by my parents and I have told my children, "Whatever you do, don't work in a factory."
It's rough and it is nearly impossible to break free of the factory cycle once you get into it. Especially if you have kids. The money comes in handy in the beginning and you think 'I'll just work here for a summer and then I'll go back to school.' Then your first child is born and now you need the money. So you think 'I'll just work one more year, build up a bit of a nest egg and then it's back to school.' Then you blink and your first child is starting school and your second is about to be born and the bills are piling up and you've just been given your yearly raise and you start to think 'School will always be there, I'll work for a few years and figure out what I want to do and if we can afford it I'll go back.' Then one day you lose that job and you forget you ever thought about going to school and you scramble trying to find a job to pay for the babysitter while your partner takes on paying for-well everything else. If you're really lucky, you'll find another full time, decent paying job quickly enough that your relationship won't suffer too much but it will suffer. The scars and resentment that come from bearing the financial burden usually go unspoken and rarely if ever heal...And then it all starts over again...and again...and again.
Isobel and The Boy are totally familiar with the cycle. They have been through it at least four times with me and Isobel is only six. You know, playing rock and roll wasn't the most profitable venture I ever embarked on but it was one of the best decisions I ever made and I have been punished for it almost from the second I put my feet back on Canadian soil.
But there is light in all of this. The government has a program to retrain foolish people like me who followed their dreams. They'll pay for you schooling and you books. Uniforms shoes and all other sundry expenditures provided you meet the criteria. Hell they'll even pay for your gas if you meet the requirements. Sure there are rules but when aren't there and for all the stuff I have ever said the government didn't deliver on...and there's a bit, this is one thing that seems to be all up front.
So this is the truth of it, three of us started on monumental journeys this year. Isobel to full on school with homework and french and learning of all sorts and not a play kitchen with a hundred feet of the the classroom. The Boy has one off to senior public (his mother may never recover) and I have been sent off to college.
At first, Izzy and I were really excited about the whole new school thing.
"Daddy?" she asked.
"Yep?"
"Daddy, is your school like real school?"
"What do you mean like real school?"
"I mean like real school. With teachers and other people and learning things?"
"Umm, yes?" I answered, not sure where she was going with this.
"That's good." she said.
"What kind of school did you think I was going to?"
"TV school," she said. "They don't seem like they are very good places.
I knew what she meant, I had to investigate three schools, one of which was a career college that was advertised on TV. I had mentioned to her in passing that I applied to that school but didn't really want to go to it.
She was going to a real school, grade one, the path to grown up. The first bell.
The Boy I am happy to report is well on his way to teenage awkward, one word responses to everything.
"Are you worried about your first day at a new school?" I asked.
"No." Said The Boy.
"I guess you'll have some friends from last year and the guys you play Minecraft with to hang around with right?"
"Yeah." said The Boy.
"I'm a little nervous," I said. "I haven't been to school for a while and I am probably going to be the oldest in my class."
"Oh." said The Boy.
His heart is in the right place even if his conversational skills are not. It was a couple of days after I found out that I was well and truly accepted. All the T's had been crossed and all of he I's dotted. All that remained was my text books and paying for parking. In was putting him to bed one night and he said "I'm really glad you get to go back to school, Sid. I know you weren't happy in any of those places you worked." I'm paraphrasing a tad. It was mostly monosyllabic and had a lot of likes and um-ah's in it it but the meat of what he said remains unchanged.
Here it is two weeks into all of our school years and I have been asking the kids how they have been getting along. It is suddenly much more important than I think it has ever been.
"How are things at school?" I asked Izzy. "Are you having fun? Do you still play with your friends?"
"Of course!" she gushed. "Me and Candace are in the same class and I get to play with my other friends at recess. We are learning all kinds of new stuff. We're learning french! Do you know how to say hello in french? It's bonjour!" She's a popular kid, she always has been and I see no reason why that won't continue. She has the ability to adapt herself to nearly any social situation and she can find bucketfuls of commonality in nearly any situation. I was glad to hear she is having a good time.
So I asked The Boy thew same question;
"How are things at school? Are you having? Do you still play with your friends?"
"Sure." said The Boy.
In the normal run of things I might be concerned with his not wanting to talk about ...anything but he has grown so much over this past summer. Things that would have made him lose his mind a short time ago, roll of his back now. If all he can manage s a syllable or two from now until doomsday it'll be alright with me. Most of his friends speak the same way anyway. Better to be part of the gang than trampled by it. Especially at his age.
So how are things at school Sid? Are you having fun? Do you still play with your friends?
I have to be honest that until this past Monday, I thought I had made a gigantic mistake and that I was in way over my head. I spent most of last week wandering around hopelessly lost, trying to find classrooms. Wandering around hallways looking for the cafeteria, feeling like all eyes are on the 'far out old man who came back to school.' All the while thinking that there must be somebody from the Ministry of Training and Colleges ready to jump out and take it all away from me and send me back to factory I sneaked out of. By last Friday, I was nearly ready to say I couldn't do it, that it was too different and I was to afraid to step out of the box. I didn't dare say anything to anybody about how I felt, that would make it too real...my failure would be complete.
I asked Izzy about school that day as we walked home. Of course she said it was fine.
"What did you learn at school today?" I asked her.
"We don't really learn a lot at school." she said.
"You don't really learn much?" I asked. "What are you doing then?"
"Mostly the stuff we did last year." she said, sounding dejected. "I keep waiting for the new learning to happen."
"I learned about helping people." I said.
"That sounds like fun." Isobel said.
"It's kind of scary." I said.
"Helping people is scary?"
"No," I replied. "Learning all the new stuff is scary. I'm not sure if I'll be good enough to do all this stuff."
"I think you should just do it." she said.
"Do what?" I asked.
"School," she said with a tone that said I was far too stupid to be in school f I had to ask a question like that. "Just go to school and learn how to help people."
I kept coming back to that all night. Mulling it over in my mind. She didn't mean it to be as deep as I was reading it (cripes maybe she did?) but her sentiment was the point. I talked all summer long about how much I wanted to go back to school and now I was. There was no question in it. I wanted it, I got it. Now follow through. It's not as though I actually entertained the thought of quitting, that was never an option but self doubt can be poisonous...and it will paralyze you if you let it in.
Yesterday was our first lab-handwashing. I scored high and was suddenly being asked technique questions by the other students and complimented by the Instructor. It felt good and I felt accepted. It felt nice to finally get a god-damned break. I said the other day how odd it felt to know that once school is over, I will never see the inside of a factory again. I can do this...I owe it to Izzy and The Boy. Hell, I owe it to me. There is sunshine outside the factory walls and there are buses that run out that way all the time but if you don't keep your head up, they'll pass you by. Here's hoping my tickets won't get revoked.
This might be a bit of a departure to what you've grown used to but hold on and we'll see it through...
I have recently been give an opportunity, a door closed and a window opened, fortune smiled on me....whatever tired metaphor you'd care to use. I will call it for what it is, a second chance. I am forty four years old (what!?! When did that happen and where was I when it did?) and with the exception of an eleven year blast as a full time, full on rock and roll star, I have spent all of my adult life inside of a factory. They are dirty, demoralizing places where you don't matter and people will go out of their way to keep you down, keep you miserable...keep you there.
They lure you in with the promise of big money and it's there but how much you'll put up with to get to it is another matter. Would you screw over a co-worker? A friend? A brother? I've seen it happen. I've seen good people crushed under the wheels of industry while the scum rose to the top of oceans of indifference.
I was told by my parents and I have told my children, "Whatever you do, don't work in a factory."
It's rough and it is nearly impossible to break free of the factory cycle once you get into it. Especially if you have kids. The money comes in handy in the beginning and you think 'I'll just work here for a summer and then I'll go back to school.' Then your first child is born and now you need the money. So you think 'I'll just work one more year, build up a bit of a nest egg and then it's back to school.' Then you blink and your first child is starting school and your second is about to be born and the bills are piling up and you've just been given your yearly raise and you start to think 'School will always be there, I'll work for a few years and figure out what I want to do and if we can afford it I'll go back.' Then one day you lose that job and you forget you ever thought about going to school and you scramble trying to find a job to pay for the babysitter while your partner takes on paying for-well everything else. If you're really lucky, you'll find another full time, decent paying job quickly enough that your relationship won't suffer too much but it will suffer. The scars and resentment that come from bearing the financial burden usually go unspoken and rarely if ever heal...And then it all starts over again...and again...and again.
Isobel and The Boy are totally familiar with the cycle. They have been through it at least four times with me and Isobel is only six. You know, playing rock and roll wasn't the most profitable venture I ever embarked on but it was one of the best decisions I ever made and I have been punished for it almost from the second I put my feet back on Canadian soil.
But there is light in all of this. The government has a program to retrain foolish people like me who followed their dreams. They'll pay for you schooling and you books. Uniforms shoes and all other sundry expenditures provided you meet the criteria. Hell they'll even pay for your gas if you meet the requirements. Sure there are rules but when aren't there and for all the stuff I have ever said the government didn't deliver on...and there's a bit, this is one thing that seems to be all up front.
So this is the truth of it, three of us started on monumental journeys this year. Isobel to full on school with homework and french and learning of all sorts and not a play kitchen with a hundred feet of the the classroom. The Boy has one off to senior public (his mother may never recover) and I have been sent off to college.
At first, Izzy and I were really excited about the whole new school thing.
"Daddy?" she asked.
"Yep?"
"Daddy, is your school like real school?"
"What do you mean like real school?"
"I mean like real school. With teachers and other people and learning things?"
"Umm, yes?" I answered, not sure where she was going with this.
"That's good." she said.
"What kind of school did you think I was going to?"
"TV school," she said. "They don't seem like they are very good places.
I knew what she meant, I had to investigate three schools, one of which was a career college that was advertised on TV. I had mentioned to her in passing that I applied to that school but didn't really want to go to it.
She was going to a real school, grade one, the path to grown up. The first bell.
The Boy I am happy to report is well on his way to teenage awkward, one word responses to everything.
"Are you worried about your first day at a new school?" I asked.
"No." Said The Boy."I guess you'll have some friends from last year and the guys you play Minecraft with to hang around with right?"
"Yeah." said The Boy.
"I'm a little nervous," I said. "I haven't been to school for a while and I am probably going to be the oldest in my class."
"Oh." said The Boy.
His heart is in the right place even if his conversational skills are not. It was a couple of days after I found out that I was well and truly accepted. All the T's had been crossed and all of he I's dotted. All that remained was my text books and paying for parking. In was putting him to bed one night and he said "I'm really glad you get to go back to school, Sid. I know you weren't happy in any of those places you worked." I'm paraphrasing a tad. It was mostly monosyllabic and had a lot of likes and um-ah's in it it but the meat of what he said remains unchanged.
Here it is two weeks into all of our school years and I have been asking the kids how they have been getting along. It is suddenly much more important than I think it has ever been.
"How are things at school?" I asked Izzy. "Are you having fun? Do you still play with your friends?"
"Of course!" she gushed. "Me and Candace are in the same class and I get to play with my other friends at recess. We are learning all kinds of new stuff. We're learning french! Do you know how to say hello in french? It's bonjour!" She's a popular kid, she always has been and I see no reason why that won't continue. She has the ability to adapt herself to nearly any social situation and she can find bucketfuls of commonality in nearly any situation. I was glad to hear she is having a good time.
So I asked The Boy thew same question;
"How are things at school? Are you having? Do you still play with your friends?"
"Sure." said The Boy.
In the normal run of things I might be concerned with his not wanting to talk about ...anything but he has grown so much over this past summer. Things that would have made him lose his mind a short time ago, roll of his back now. If all he can manage s a syllable or two from now until doomsday it'll be alright with me. Most of his friends speak the same way anyway. Better to be part of the gang than trampled by it. Especially at his age.
So how are things at school Sid? Are you having fun? Do you still play with your friends?
I have to be honest that until this past Monday, I thought I had made a gigantic mistake and that I was in way over my head. I spent most of last week wandering around hopelessly lost, trying to find classrooms. Wandering around hallways looking for the cafeteria, feeling like all eyes are on the 'far out old man who came back to school.' All the while thinking that there must be somebody from the Ministry of Training and Colleges ready to jump out and take it all away from me and send me back to factory I sneaked out of. By last Friday, I was nearly ready to say I couldn't do it, that it was too different and I was to afraid to step out of the box. I didn't dare say anything to anybody about how I felt, that would make it too real...my failure would be complete.
I asked Izzy about school that day as we walked home. Of course she said it was fine.
"What did you learn at school today?" I asked her.
"We don't really learn a lot at school." she said.
"You don't really learn much?" I asked. "What are you doing then?"
"Mostly the stuff we did last year." she said, sounding dejected. "I keep waiting for the new learning to happen."
"I learned about helping people." I said.
"That sounds like fun." Isobel said.
"It's kind of scary." I said.
"Helping people is scary?"
"No," I replied. "Learning all the new stuff is scary. I'm not sure if I'll be good enough to do all this stuff."
"I think you should just do it." she said.
"Do what?" I asked.
"School," she said with a tone that said I was far too stupid to be in school f I had to ask a question like that. "Just go to school and learn how to help people."
I kept coming back to that all night. Mulling it over in my mind. She didn't mean it to be as deep as I was reading it (cripes maybe she did?) but her sentiment was the point. I talked all summer long about how much I wanted to go back to school and now I was. There was no question in it. I wanted it, I got it. Now follow through. It's not as though I actually entertained the thought of quitting, that was never an option but self doubt can be poisonous...and it will paralyze you if you let it in.
Yesterday was our first lab-handwashing. I scored high and was suddenly being asked technique questions by the other students and complimented by the Instructor. It felt good and I felt accepted. It felt nice to finally get a god-damned break. I said the other day how odd it felt to know that once school is over, I will never see the inside of a factory again. I can do this...I owe it to Izzy and The Boy. Hell, I owe it to me. There is sunshine outside the factory walls and there are buses that run out that way all the time but if you don't keep your head up, they'll pass you by. Here's hoping my tickets won't get revoked.
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