Cold Hands, Warm Heart

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Nome, Alaska, United States
After getting burned out teaching high school in a tiny Alaskan town, I have moved on to being a child advocate in a small Alaskan town. The struggles are similar, but now I can buy milk at the store.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Oh, so true.

I was going to start this blog off with "Several years ago, when I was in high school," but had to stop and make sure that was accurate. For the last fifteen years, I've been referring to my high school years as "a couple years ago, when I was in high school." The phrase "a couple years ago," has become more and more inaccurate. But today, I automatically started with "several." Maybe I'm growing up. Huh.

Several years ago, I was talking to Mr. Evangelista, a biology teacher at my high school. (I was his T.A. at the time, and worked for him while he was teaching freshman science, and that creepy freshman boy would whisper my name, and then give me a finger wave when I looked. Ugh, gross.)

I was discussing my future employment goals with Mr, E, and he asked what I wanted to do. I suggested that I was well suited for a job that required long hours, low pay, and little respect. He asked if I was going into teaching. Nope, nursing, because I wanted to work nights and holidays too.

Well, I started getting my nursing pre-reqs done at college, and I worked at nursing homes in the summer. I got tired of my friends dying, of having no control over my residents, and the amount of math required for nursing was above me. So I went to education, and I haven't looked back. (And somehow, I still work nights and holidays.)

I recently came across this newspaper clipping for a trip to Antarctica. I think, with few changes, we could make this be applicable for my current job, which I am vacating at the end of this school year. For starters, it would have to be for Men or Women, and also, there is no honor and recognition in case of success.

You can find out more about Ernest Shackleton here: