42. Back to work (2/6)
I got this message from my husband at 7:03:
'Morning, good luck for your first day at work (for 3 months) !!!!!!!!!!!'
That said it all.
When I got downstairs Organiser Daughter had a kiwi smoothie - complete with sprinkled chia seeds - ready for me. Then my son asked if I wanted freshly made coffee.
Mum going to work was definitely the big event of the season.
I thought the smoothie was nice and could be the perfect food for such an important day. I felt as if I was going for a job interview. Then I suddenly remembered practicalities: I had put a wash on very late last night (my work clothes which had been happily abandoned so many weeks ago) and of course I'd forgotten about it so now I had to put it into the dryer. It was important not to look as if I had rushed. I had had weeks to prepare for this. Plenty of warning.
It was important to show that one had kept oneself together during this lockdown and not spent it baking, eating and chilling out (or writing stupid blogs).
Staring into my coffee I also realised that the spring cleaning and decluttering I had planned had not happened.
Not to worry. The summer holidays were fast approaching.
'Mum! You haven't left yet! You're going to be late.'
I sighed, raised my eyes to the ceiling and left.
When I reached the gates, there were closed. And of course I had forgotten my keys. Good start.
I surreptitiously glanced behind me, to the right, to the left: no one around. I hesitated but seeing no hand sanitiser I pressed the bell button with my grubby hands and braced myself for a lecture. The thing went BZZZZ and I jumped, pushed the gates with my hands and quickly removed them from the metal. If there was a CCTV camera somewhere there would be proof of me not reading the 12-page attachement.
Yet I was pleased: the gates were opened and I did not get a lecture.
I thought I was now ready to find my way into the staffroom to pick up the freebees that arrive from the publishers this time of year. As I was just about to push the door of the building open (having already forgotten about the gates) someone shouted behind me, making me jump again.
'Please! Stop! No access this way. No access to the staffroom via the staffroom door.'
That was tricky. Too tricky for me this time in the morning. I gave up and headed to the main building. Here it was much easier, arrows everywhere, even I could follow arrows. It was almost fun.
'I am now allowing you to take your masks off.' the head said to start the meeting. Good, I was beginning to lack air behind my home-made mask. (Organiser Daughter had made experiments with a candle: if, when blowing the candle your could put it out she added a layer. The result was I might die asphyxiated.)
I sat down (on my own, away from everyone) as some people wearing masks and see-through gloves were going around distributing stuff. And I mean stuff.
- four thin (why thin?) white-board markers: green, red, blue and black.
- a big crescent-shaped bit of see-through plastic
- a short piece of foam with sticky tape at its base (?)
- two washable masks we were told we could wash 20 times. (20?)
- a long narrow bit of bendy black plastic with cuts at one end
- two microfibre wipes: one yellow and one blue, to be washed every evening (?)
Then we moved on to exams and marks and comments:
- be nice
- round up the grade to the above point. A sheet with the rounded grades had been drawn up and was being sent. I thought it must be because us teachers cannot be trusted to round a 9.1 to a 10)
- be nice it is not their fault
- no negative comments
- push them up! 'Hop, hop, hop!' the head said and to make sure we got it he had his hands, palms up, pushing upwards at the same time, three consecutive times. This man has a sense of humour, I thought. (And this brought to my mind souvenirs of being in the park and pushing the kids up so they could reach the top of the climbing frame.)
Then we listened to the head talk about the 'procedure to follow':
- never turn back ('la marche en avant' just like in restaurants)
- follow the multicoloured arrows (I got that bit sorted)
- get the kids to follow the procedure (oh! They were coming back too?)
- ignore the procedure and revert to old procedure in case of fire/earthquake/terrorist attack/heatwaves ...
- get kids to stay one meter apart. (they're teenagers and before that they were allowed to snog in the corridors right under our noses so you know ...)
- enter via one door, exit via the other, in a single file, one meter apart, even the two lovey-doveys at the back (soon they'll stay in the park anyway so come on just today do this for me will you?)
- the bell will no longer ring
- when it is break-time, the kids can still smoke (Yes, readers, our country is still stuck somewhere in the 80s) but they have to stand on the huge white dots that have been painted on the ground
- after break time the one at the back goes in first and the one at the front goes in last (?!)
- desks are individually labelled
- your desk and computer will be covered in cling film just like left-over chicken
I got my phone out and googled jobs in Sri Lanka, jobs in Cuba, jobs in Vietnam. When I got home and unpacked my bric-à-brac the kids were fooling around and laughing their heads off. Everything was going to be ok! I would survive. I had only - hopefully - five weeks to go.
Then I could get on with the decluttering. And the spring cleaning.
'Morning, good luck for your first day at work (for 3 months) !!!!!!!!!!!'
That said it all.
When I got downstairs Organiser Daughter had a kiwi smoothie - complete with sprinkled chia seeds - ready for me. Then my son asked if I wanted freshly made coffee.
Mum going to work was definitely the big event of the season.
I thought the smoothie was nice and could be the perfect food for such an important day. I felt as if I was going for a job interview. Then I suddenly remembered practicalities: I had put a wash on very late last night (my work clothes which had been happily abandoned so many weeks ago) and of course I'd forgotten about it so now I had to put it into the dryer. It was important not to look as if I had rushed. I had had weeks to prepare for this. Plenty of warning.
It was important to show that one had kept oneself together during this lockdown and not spent it baking, eating and chilling out (or writing stupid blogs).
Staring into my coffee I also realised that the spring cleaning and decluttering I had planned had not happened.
Not to worry. The summer holidays were fast approaching.
'Mum! You haven't left yet! You're going to be late.'
I sighed, raised my eyes to the ceiling and left.
When I reached the gates, there were closed. And of course I had forgotten my keys. Good start.
I surreptitiously glanced behind me, to the right, to the left: no one around. I hesitated but seeing no hand sanitiser I pressed the bell button with my grubby hands and braced myself for a lecture. The thing went BZZZZ and I jumped, pushed the gates with my hands and quickly removed them from the metal. If there was a CCTV camera somewhere there would be proof of me not reading the 12-page attachement.
Yet I was pleased: the gates were opened and I did not get a lecture.
I thought I was now ready to find my way into the staffroom to pick up the freebees that arrive from the publishers this time of year. As I was just about to push the door of the building open (having already forgotten about the gates) someone shouted behind me, making me jump again.
'Please! Stop! No access this way. No access to the staffroom via the staffroom door.'
That was tricky. Too tricky for me this time in the morning. I gave up and headed to the main building. Here it was much easier, arrows everywhere, even I could follow arrows. It was almost fun.
'I am now allowing you to take your masks off.' the head said to start the meeting. Good, I was beginning to lack air behind my home-made mask. (Organiser Daughter had made experiments with a candle: if, when blowing the candle your could put it out she added a layer. The result was I might die asphyxiated.)
I sat down (on my own, away from everyone) as some people wearing masks and see-through gloves were going around distributing stuff. And I mean stuff.
- four thin (why thin?) white-board markers: green, red, blue and black.
- a big crescent-shaped bit of see-through plastic
- a short piece of foam with sticky tape at its base (?)
- two washable masks we were told we could wash 20 times. (20?)
- a long narrow bit of bendy black plastic with cuts at one end
- two microfibre wipes: one yellow and one blue, to be washed every evening (?)
Then we moved on to exams and marks and comments:
- be nice
- round up the grade to the above point. A sheet with the rounded grades had been drawn up and was being sent. I thought it must be because us teachers cannot be trusted to round a 9.1 to a 10)
- be nice it is not their fault
- no negative comments
- push them up! 'Hop, hop, hop!' the head said and to make sure we got it he had his hands, palms up, pushing upwards at the same time, three consecutive times. This man has a sense of humour, I thought. (And this brought to my mind souvenirs of being in the park and pushing the kids up so they could reach the top of the climbing frame.)
Then we listened to the head talk about the 'procedure to follow':
- never turn back ('la marche en avant' just like in restaurants)
- follow the multicoloured arrows (I got that bit sorted)
- get the kids to follow the procedure (oh! They were coming back too?)
- ignore the procedure and revert to old procedure in case of fire/earthquake/terrorist attack/heatwaves ...
- get kids to stay one meter apart. (they're teenagers and before that they were allowed to snog in the corridors right under our noses so you know ...)
- enter via one door, exit via the other, in a single file, one meter apart, even the two lovey-doveys at the back (soon they'll stay in the park anyway so come on just today do this for me will you?)
- the bell will no longer ring
- when it is break-time, the kids can still smoke (Yes, readers, our country is still stuck somewhere in the 80s) but they have to stand on the huge white dots that have been painted on the ground
- after break time the one at the back goes in first and the one at the front goes in last (?!)
- desks are individually labelled
- your desk and computer will be covered in cling film just like left-over chicken
I got my phone out and googled jobs in Sri Lanka, jobs in Cuba, jobs in Vietnam. When I got home and unpacked my bric-à-brac the kids were fooling around and laughing their heads off. Everything was going to be ok! I would survive. I had only - hopefully - five weeks to go.
Then I could get on with the decluttering. And the spring cleaning.
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