The End of an Era

Today is my second to last day of work. I'm so relieved that it is amazing. I never thought much about how much stress my job put on me. It was never the "take your work home with you" type of stress. It was more of the "this is hard, it's not a good fit, I feel like throwing up" when I go to work type of stress. Quitting was the the best thing to do in my situation. My stress level will drop considerably, I can go to school full time and be done in just over a year, and I can pursue night-time activities that I otherwise would have missed (dance classes, for example--I've been wanted to learn belly dancing for years.) And, to be quite frank, me quitting was the best thing for the kids as well.

Last night, as we were getting ready to leave, a 6-year old boy look at me and said "You know, everyone's really glad that you're leaving." He ran away before I could give a response, but I probably would have said "You know, I'm glad too." I've never really made a connection with the kids. I'm not sure how I could have. Before when working with kids, I've always made connections through common ground. "Oh, you play Halo? I did the Library level last night, I love using the shotgun," or "Really? I enjoyed Final Fantasy VIII. I think it only gets a bad rap because of how much people adored VII." or "Of course I know who Korn is!" With this group of kids though... nothing.

I'm not into fashion and hair and make-up, which is what the little girls talk about most of the time. Fair enough, at previous jobs I've always connect with the boys much easier than the girls. Only these boys... not at all. I don't like sports. I don't like rap music. I don't like playing Def Jam Vendetta. I could not find anything in common with them.

They also seemed to resent me when I told them to do something, even if it was as simple as cleaning up their area. Last summer, one of the summer workers, a lady about my mom's age who was a teacher's aide during the school year, told me that in all probability, it honestly had something to do with my race. "They don't want to listen to you because you're white. They try to get away with more stuff." I can see how that could be true, as much as I hate to admit it. My boss or co-work tell the kids to do something, to them it's like a parent or aunt or uncle ordering them around. I tell them to do the same thing, all of a sudden it's this random white chick telling them to clean up after themselves.

I tried. I spent a year and a half trying, although to be quite truthful I wasn't trying very hard this past school year. But there's only so much one person can take. I tried to help the kids out. I tried to show them new stuff and expose them to new things. But I'm sick of trying. That might say something bad about me as a person, but if they don't want my help, it's time I help myself.