Third day of camp. Although I haven't lost a child yet, Stink managed to leave his team and find his way to my classroom, by way of a parking lot. He's fine. We're fine. Two days left and I can be back to obsessing over getting a job again. I'd like the say that the religion experience has been worth the volunteer time and hours, but in truth, just hanging out with Mrs. V., seeing scared, quivering kids turn into confident little campers, and watching Pip N Stick hold hands with hot pink and brown suede cowboy hats (resplete with black and brown suede tassle boots) is what makes me smile.
I've realized a few things: I love working with kids, but I hate the fear of losing them. I don't know how teachers do it. I couldn't concentrate teaching them algebra and worrying about them sneaking over to 7/11 for a pack of cloves. Of course, my kids are three years old. But they start so young these days, don't they?
It's cooling off here in the Valley. Rex and I managed a dinner out together, as well as dropped Stink off with Grandma. On the way home, with Pip in her blue ballerina outfit and diva Uggs, the cool air blowing through a clean SUV, a little music running through the stereo, I actually forgot about everything but where I was.
Then I came home to ants and a burnt out bathroom light and remembered.
I'll still take it.