Although I once wrote about the various duties I've endured performed in my role as a servant to the adults with disabilities population, the truth is I'm now an administrator and am rarely required to provide "direct" care. When one-third of one's staff is out, however (two new mommies and one back surgery convalescent, thank you very much), it is inevitable that to the supervisor some additional work shall fall.
Happily, I can report that I've not been required to mow a yard, wipe an ass, or scrub a toilet... yet. No, to date my resumption of hands-on responsibilities has largely been in support of a young woman who works as a teacher's assistant in a private day care. Said support primarily consists of facilitating the creative process for weekly "projects" with the kids, supervising preparation of snacks, and offering occasional feedback regarding efficiency and initiative. School is back in session in Maryland, so 30 or so kids descend on the day care at the end of their scholastic day just waiting to snatch the snacks prepared by my charge and engage in games and group projects. It's not that bad, really, and I don't even have that much experience with the circa kindergarten age group. I have favorites. I have also identified the ones that are going to give their parents hell for the next fifteen years or so. Heck, it's kinda fun.
Two weeks ago, however, the day care was in prime preparation for the school season. They sent the kids home on a Thursday, the last official day of summer camp, with Friday designated as TRANSITION DAY. That's right - one day to clean, reorganize, re-label, and otherwise plan for the school year. They do the same thing at the end of the school year to prep for camp. It seems slightly masochistic from my point of view, but I imagine it's cost effective.
As this particular person with a disability (PwD) has worked at this particular day care for several years, I was quite familiar with the expectation that the PwD get 1:1 support for the entire Day of Transition. So, I sucked it up, put on my favorite jeans and a tank, and went to perform my duties as a day care job coach. Given that I'm a bit compulsive about cleaning, this assignment did not seem particularly onerous. Seven hours later, I realized how naive my earlier impression had been. Do you have any idea how chaotic a day care can be on Transition Day? Toys, paints, puzzles, games, crayons, and beads, beads, and more beads were everywhere. Bright colors assaulted my Type A sensibilities from every direction. It's the fodder of which nightmares are born.
The staff were busy creating, sorting, and organizing (lucky bitches) while the PwD and I tackled various cleaning tasks. Transition Day heralds the welcoming of a new herd of kids, so all previously assigned materials must be relieved of their former designations - a task now firmly identified as my least favorite. I thoroughly destroyed my thumbnails scraping tape out of about 100 "cubbies" and then scrubbing them down with neurotic intensity. If you're inclined to ask if the PwD is supposed to "do" the work while I "coach," the answer is affirmative. Unfortunately, this particular young woman had NO attention to detail and I simply could not resist "refining" her efforts. We were in a day care, for fuck's sake - cleanliness should not be taken lightly! Now, if you're inclined to ask, "Why trash your nails? Why not use a scraper?" I'm afraid the answer is, "They couldn't find the scraper, and I foolishly didn't think to bring a razor blade to the day care." (If you're inclined to ask wtf a lesbian cares about fingernails, well, bite me.)
Of course, the rooms looked amazing the following Monday. At least until the children arrived.
.
Happily, I can report that I've not been required to mow a yard, wipe an ass, or scrub a toilet... yet. No, to date my resumption of hands-on responsibilities has largely been in support of a young woman who works as a teacher's assistant in a private day care. Said support primarily consists of facilitating the creative process for weekly "projects" with the kids, supervising preparation of snacks, and offering occasional feedback regarding efficiency and initiative. School is back in session in Maryland, so 30 or so kids descend on the day care at the end of their scholastic day just waiting to snatch the snacks prepared by my charge and engage in games and group projects. It's not that bad, really, and I don't even have that much experience with the circa kindergarten age group. I have favorites. I have also identified the ones that are going to give their parents hell for the next fifteen years or so. Heck, it's kinda fun.
Two weeks ago, however, the day care was in prime preparation for the school season. They sent the kids home on a Thursday, the last official day of summer camp, with Friday designated as TRANSITION DAY. That's right - one day to clean, reorganize, re-label, and otherwise plan for the school year. They do the same thing at the end of the school year to prep for camp. It seems slightly masochistic from my point of view, but I imagine it's cost effective.
As this particular person with a disability (PwD) has worked at this particular day care for several years, I was quite familiar with the expectation that the PwD get 1:1 support for the entire Day of Transition. So, I sucked it up, put on my favorite jeans and a tank, and went to perform my duties as a day care job coach. Given that I'm a bit compulsive about cleaning, this assignment did not seem particularly onerous. Seven hours later, I realized how naive my earlier impression had been. Do you have any idea how chaotic a day care can be on Transition Day? Toys, paints, puzzles, games, crayons, and beads, beads, and more beads were everywhere. Bright colors assaulted my Type A sensibilities from every direction. It's the fodder of which nightmares are born.
The staff were busy creating, sorting, and organizing (lucky bitches) while the PwD and I tackled various cleaning tasks. Transition Day heralds the welcoming of a new herd of kids, so all previously assigned materials must be relieved of their former designations - a task now firmly identified as my least favorite. I thoroughly destroyed my thumbnails scraping tape out of about 100 "cubbies" and then scrubbing them down with neurotic intensity. If you're inclined to ask if the PwD is supposed to "do" the work while I "coach," the answer is affirmative. Unfortunately, this particular young woman had NO attention to detail and I simply could not resist "refining" her efforts. We were in a day care, for fuck's sake - cleanliness should not be taken lightly! Now, if you're inclined to ask, "Why trash your nails? Why not use a scraper?" I'm afraid the answer is, "They couldn't find the scraper, and I foolishly didn't think to bring a razor blade to the day care." (If you're inclined to ask wtf a lesbian cares about fingernails, well, bite me.)
Of course, the rooms looked amazing the following Monday. At least until the children arrived.
.
9 comments:
"I thoroughly destroyed my thumbnails scraping tape out of about 100 "cubbies" and then scrubbing them down with neurotic intensity."
Wouldn't Neurotic Intensity make an awesome name for an all-purpose cleaning agent? I'd buy it.
Now I'm worried that expectations of your charge will be set artificially high on the next transition day. But, of course, you shouldn't worry about it; please, forget I said anything. : )
I'd by Neurotic Intensity the cleaning product.
Sorry about your nails.
Great post, though.
I worked in a daycare for a year or so in college, bless you for all that cleaning!
Hey I get the nails thing, and lesbians with appropriate length nails can be quite, um, useful. ;)
I think Neurotic Intensity would also be a good name for a band.
I heart your cleaning compulsions, my sweet. They were lucky to have you there that day.
YL works in a daycare and every Wednesday is sanitation day, where everything is scrubbed feverisly. I get to hear all about that & the copious beads & stuff.
Her second stop most every payday is to the nail salon.
yeah, i am on board with that cleaning product too. (hey E...how 'bout designing the wrap for it)
Oh, I'm all about neurotic cleaning. Ceiling fans to baseboards, it's the only way, really.
Not for nothin' Wendy, I am so in awe of your job/work... Of course the cleaning sounds like a drudge, but what a woman you must be to do so much good!! And long, pretty nails to boot!!
PS:
I've put you on my blog list.
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