I work at a primary school, cajoling kids from kindergarten to fifth grade into learning English. I started working at age 14 and have tried a bunch of different jobs including: silver-service waitress for functions, short order
microwaver cook at a gym, pot washer, waitress at the hut which sells the pizza, telephone marketer, babysitter, tutor, empty spool replacer in a fabric factory, special needs tutor, summer camp counselor, kids entertainer, bar maid and Autism support worker. I pretty much hated every minute, day, week, month and year of all of it. So, although sometimes I return home from school and treat my partner to an hour long tirade containing more expletives than you’d have thought possible, I mostly love my job now. I see the best and worse of kids, teachers, parents and myself on a daily basis. Occasionally I have days where I sit back and wish I could hand pick qualities and experiences for my future nipple suckers, and here are a few of them.
- I hope my kids aren’t too shy and see the humor in things. Today I asked a group of six year olds if they had any news they wanted to share and this was one little Thai boy’s news: “Last night I am sleeping and I wake up and I wet! I make pee pee in the bed!” he told me, with a gleeful giggle and not a hint of embarrassment.
- I hope my kids are kind. I simultaneously watched one kid offer up an admired toy, unprompted while across the room another kid wound up her friends by showing off her ‘special pencil’.
- I hope my kids don’t take things to heart. Every little insult or negative comment sliced me to ribbons at school. I want my kids to laugh it off and give as good back.
- I hope my kids try hard without being, in WW’s words, a ‘suck-ass’. I’d rather teach and hang out with the kid liberally chucking around cuss words and furniture than creeping all over me.
- I hope my kids are excited about things at least until they are real teenagers. Sometimes I’m jumping up and down, feeling like I might wee myself with excitement sharing something with an 8 year-old who’s like ‘what evs!’
- I hope my kids don’t picked on because I don’t want to spend any time in the Thai prison system.
- I hope my kids make their own waves and don’t just follow in the wake of others.
- I hope my kids love to escape into adventures about strange people in strange places, hidden in letters on a page.
- I hope my kids know how much they are loved and how much they were wanted.
- I hope my kids get dirty and smelly every day having an absolute ball with their friends.
- I hope my kids have a few good, close friends to turn to when they feel like they can’t talk to their fuddy-duddy old ‘rents.
- I hope my kids don’t get up to half the naughty things I did when I was a teenager that would have given my mother a seizure, had she known.
- I hope my kids don’t ever hate me. I know they wont hate WW- she’s wonderful, but I can be a pain in the butt.
- I hope my kids don’t develop my addiction to cake or WW’s addiction to all unhealthy snacks.
- I hope my kids eat more of a variety of things than I did when I was growing up. At least I know it’s possible to eat predominantly only cheese sandwiches and still grow to be 6 ft/183cms tall. Or live off jam sandwiches, tinned spaghetti hoops and tinned hotdogs, like my brother and make it to 6 ft 1/185cms*.
- I hope my kids are as lucky as I am and find someone to fall head over heels in love and make a life with. Even if it means waiting 26/31 years and having to travel half way across the world.
I realize that these hopes are mere wishes that may or may not come to fruition, and that’s OK. I hope all these things for my kids but I would trade them all for a final one:
- I hope my kids are chest-burstingly, leap-out-of-bed-on-a-morning, grab-life-by-the-short-and-curlies happy!
What are your hopes and dreams for you little ‘uns, present or future?
not at all relevant but it amused/scared me 🙂
*My mother is 5 foot 3/ 160cm and my brother and I weighted 9 lbs/ 4.8 kg and 10 lbs/ 4.5kg respectively at birth. My brother was delivered without an epidural. Ouch!