Light at the end of the tunnel

A few weeks ago I signed up for a special program at work, which involves working once a week in a kindergarten/daycare centre.

It is, for the most part, a pretty sweet deal. I now get paid to (among other things) eat lunch with the kids, participate in playtime, and (for about two hours a week) loiter around in a coffeeshop while waiting for a phonecall. (That last one is a little hard to explain. Rest assured, it's important!)

But.

When I woke up this morning, I had no idea where the centre was. I hadn't been given a map. No worries, though, a quick phone call got me the name of the station I had to go to. And I had been told that there would be a member of the Japanese staff waiting for me when I got off the train on my first day.

So, yeah, that's what I was told.

Long story short, I got to the place about 2 minutes before my first class started--as it turns out, it was a class of 2 year-olds. Breathless, and with no time to prepare whatsoever, I walked into class.... Now, let me ask you: do you remember what kind of student you were when you were 2 years old? No, of course not. You weren't a student when you were 2. 2 year-olds don't belong anywhere near anything resembling a classroom. Which is to say, the class went great.

And so on. Let's just say that I was quite, quite tired by the time I got out of that place. It probably didn't help that I was tired to begin with, having had a week of funbutstupid late nights.

No matter. Tomorrow is the first day of a 3 day weekend. We're off (on a somewhat hastily assembled trip) to Kyoto!

P.S. Assuming this link isn't down from overtraffic, you can very enjoy the English-teaching humour.