This is my official pitch to the people at Oreo– Nora Taylor, age 2, for your consideration as Oreo spokestoddler.
I told her I’m leaving the room and she can’t eat the Oreo until I come back, and if she waits, she’ll get 2 Oreos. This video will be submitted with her college applications, because if Oreo doesn’t want her, I’m hoping at least the Ivy League will (college apps are done through social media now, right? I have to assume that’s the case).
And yes if I’m ranking hopes for my child’s future, it 100% goes
The gourmet deli next to me has delicious, freshly prepared foods, but it’s not exactly efficient. Every time I go in, the line isn’t that long, yet somehow I end up standing in it for at least 20 minutes, waiting to order.
Today I watched the man behind the counter take the order of a woman a few people ahead of me in line. She asked for half a pound of coleslaw. He took FOREVER to prepare it. And once he did, he gave her way too much. She pointed this out, and he shrugged and said, “Eh, no extra charge. We’re not here to make money or speed you through, we’re here to make friends!”
The old, Maryland me: “I love that! How refreshing! A place in NYC that actually values human interaction over robotic, impersonal efficiency! And he gave her free food! I’m coming here all the time!”
Me after a few years in NYC: “Aw, that’s cute! But still. I’m kind of in a rush here…”
Being a Special Education teacher is a great profession for me because, given that I have ADD and anxiety, and given how that affected my own school experience, I can totally relate to how these kids are feeling, and can therefore be super patient and supportive.
….is what I thought when I got into this profession.
What actually happened is that I signed up to work in a hot, dirty classroom full of 30 kids who represent everything I hate about myself.
This is less a recipe for patience than it is a recipe for pulling my hair out strand by srand, finding the nearest table, crawling under it, and rocking back and forth in the fetal postion.