Another working day. Sometimes I wish I had a job that wasn't so noisy. Over twenty tiny vocal chords all being utilised at once, stresses me. Funnily enough.
As early childhood teachers (even if like me, you're 'only' a reliever / supply / substitute one) we are required to be 'on' at all times; alert to the needs and safety of the little ones. No breaks (apart from the designated all-over-too-soon lunch & a couple of 10 minute tea-breaks). This is a job where there is no allowance for day-dreaming (my ideal job would be one that allows for time for meandering thoughts and silence as a component).
On my walk to work I ran into another e.c teacher I know. During our conversation, she said that work (of any description) is getting harder and harder to find.
I continued on my walk to work, thinking that at least I had work and today was Friday.
Halfway there I looked to see if our son's 'Poet Wins' was still there. When he was living in Dunedin, he was in the habit of committing random acts of street art. In this case on hoarding over an empty shop window.
And there it was. My favourite poet. Still there.