wanna know how my summer is going?
flash back to a couple weeks ago. me and my coworker are bouncing on trampolines in the most epic trampoline park in Utah County with our clients – a handful of disabled kids we take care of as a part of the RISE summer program.
Brian, my coworker, chucks a dodgeball at one of the kids and then bounces over to me and says, “Crazy getting paid 17 bucks an hour for this.” I laugh and agree.
his words have been ringing in my ears all summer: “crazy getting paid 17 bucks an hour for this”
especially on the crazy days, like when Ian ran into a stranger’s house and the wife called the husband to get his gun
and when Andrew pulled a stick out of nowhere, shouted “KNIFE!” and stabbed me in the leg
when Jeremy decided that he wants to do my hair on my wedding day and practices at least twice a week
when there wasn’t a changing stall in the public restroom so I had to wrestle Nati out of his wheelchair and change him on the ground
yup, it’s pretty crazy to get paid 17 bucks an hour for this
the list goes on –
how we go to the movies every Monday and James flops onto the floor, dumping out his extra-large bucket of popcorn, and then rolls around eating it and moaning while I watch the latest Pixar movie.
how every Wednesday we go to the pool and a herd of 15-year-old boys play pretend crocodiles, grabbing me by the waist, the arms, the legs, lifting me up high and then forcing me into the water –
over and over and over and over again
and then on the way home we listen to “Game On” from Pacman
over and over and over again
and Aaron calls us all “Single Pringles”
over and over and over again
how every Thursday we go to the library and after their 20 minutes of required reading, the kids play video games on the computers while I read about Clara Barton and Rosa Parks and Ghandi and Alexander the Great.
how it took 4 hours to get Cris’s cochlear implant on, so the next time our supervisors came to help out and accidentally dropped it down the drain
and that one time I make a spectacle of myself dashing after my kid so I don’t lose them (did I say one time? more like every day) and someone remarks, “they really don’t pay you enough,” and I hear Brian’s words echoed in their observation
crazy getting paid 17 bucks an hour for this
yet whenever I skip work, the next day I have a herd of kids saying, “we missed you!”
and they see me get out of the car and run run run to give me a flying leap hug
and Jeremy asks, “do you love me?” and I say, “of course I do Jeremy. of course I love you.”
and how I get to watch them laugh and play and actually laugh and play with them
basically spending the summer hanging out with God’s elect children
yup
Brian got it right
crazy getting paid 17 bucks an hour for this