There is nothing I dread more than any sort of career day at an
elementary school. I went through the ritual with my daughter and
then my son, and recently I allowed myself to be suckered into it
by a friend who teaches third grade and had a few slots open that
she wanted to fill.
There is nothing I dread more than any sort of career day at an elementary school. I went through the ritual with my daughter and then my son, and recently I allowed myself to be suckered into it by a friend who teaches third grade and had a few slots open that she wanted to fill. Sure, it sounds like a good cause. You go there to inspire children, but I always come away demoralized. It’s a day where I get to put on panty hose, stand in front of a class of 8-year-olds and tell them that I attended four years of college, graduated with top honors and wrote a thesis on Freud’s doppelgänger theory in 20th century literature all to be a stay-at-home mom.
I thought it might go a little better this time, though, with my taking real estate classes lately, for instance, but, no. For starters, I was asked by my friend because of my weekly newspaper column, either that or she needed to bring in someone in sweats to contrast with all of the working parents in business suits.
Now, of course, I didn’t want to let my friend down, just as I didn’t want to let my kids down when I went to their career days, but I also know what a room full of 8 year olds can do to a person’s self-respect. I would arrive self-confident, certain that the path I have chosen in life is correct and good, and within five minutes be shocked into realizing that my time would be much better spent, say, sitting on a park bench feeding stale bread to pigeons.
Nevertheless, being the good sport I try to be, I showed up to the class and wearing my good skirt just to throw everyone off my trail.
All too soon it was my turn to stand in front of the room and explain to the children what it was exactly that I did all day long. They looked at me expectantly as if it were going to be some wonderful task for the good of humanity, the betterment of mankind and all that.
“I write funny columns for newspapers,” I said. Then, for effect, I passed around a copy of my column with my picture at the top.
They stared at me as if I had said, “I stand in a line all day putting tops on paint cans.” Then the teacher broke the silence. “Does anyone have any questions?”
I quickly thought about how I could explain to them about all of the hours I spend working on one column and about the perseverance, iron determination and dedication it takes to make a living by writing. And how it is all worth it, even when you get rejection letter after rejection letter, because life is all about learning to follow your dreams no matter what everybody else thinks.
A little girl raised her hand. “Do you have a dog?”
I replied that I do. They looked impressed, especially when I told them how Murphy once ate most of sofa pillow in under 43 seconds. And so encouraged, I launched into the story about the time there was a live field mouse loose in our house. Several hands shot into the air when I was done.
However, just when I was getting all warmed up, the teacher motioned that my allotted 10 minutes were over. Still, I felt like throwing my arms out to my sides and bursting into song. And to think I hadn’t even gotten to the story about the time we found the cat in the laundry hamper with a litter of new kittens.
I’ll just have to save that one for next year.
