After storytime on Wednesday one of the kids had a huge tantrum about wanting to read books at the library instead of going home and going to bed. It was after I was done with them though, so I could laugh and laugh.
On Monday the boss is offering my position to the woman he interviewed this past week and if she accepts (which seems likely) I’ll be able to leave for downtown, hooray!
Today I was cutting out handouts for Baby Rhyme Time that my supervisor left for whoever to do. The funny part of it is that for some reason she didn’t print them two to a sheet. So each of these little things gets cut out, leaving a good 60% of a page behind on each to either go into recycling or the mound of scrap paper she’s building on the desk (possibly for some sort of nest). I wanted to leave this BRT waste stabbed to her desk with a note saying “This is on your head, Treeslayer!” That’s probably because I’m reading A Game of Thrones though. Instead, I left a post-it saying “You know, there’d be less waste if you printed these two to a sheet.”
Down at the branch things proceed apace. I don’t have a start date for the new position yet, and am still plugging away at my supervisor’s work for three months from now. I’m almost done her entire winter session of Baby Rhyme Time handouts and wonder if she’ll set me to the spring session too. We have a New Year’s program happening that I haven’t done much (read: anything) to prepare for, but that’s okay by me as it isn’t my program and never was.
The Punjabi man who had problems printing a while back is still in every day working on his citizenship/residency application stuff. He asks me questions about spelling and letter formatting which I’m comfortable answering, but he also is asking me if the documents he has are the right ones and sufficient for what the government wants. Those questions I answer with the repetitive “I don’t know” since, funny enough, I am not an immigration lawyer. I think he said he was finishing things up today.
I’m working every day in a row now for a while. Mostly because I’m now the only part-timer in Children’s at the branch. I sat in on my first Family Storytime the other day and am completely ready to step into taking over that. It’ll be a welcome change from making shit for Baby Rhyme Time. Not that making shit isn’t part of my job (it is), I just hate doing it for babies and two year olds. They don’t get stories, just rhymes. On October 8 I’ll be heading down to Children’s downtown to sit in on a Time For Twos to see how that all works. In the email, the woman running it said I won’t just be sitting at the back observing; I’ll be expected to participate in learning the rhymes. I asked if that meant I needed to bring in a stuffed animal to pretend was my two year old. I’d love to bring in my Joanna and take the whole thing really seriously. But I probably won’t.
Now I’m learning to make felt stories which seem to be an awful lot of work for very little result. The idea is you use these little felt characters on a felt board to illustrate a story you tell the kids. But the stories are two minutes long and making all these felt things take hours. I’m working on a Halloween one about a little girl who is deciding what her costume should be. So I have to make her body and then you swap out heads as she changes her mind. That works okay and can be done quickly in the performance. But in the Family Storytime the other day my coworker’s felt story was just to illustrate four people taking books from a (woefully underfilled) library. It was worse than pointless.
Another thing I’ve been doing is searching through the rhymes for duplicates and things we need to add to our collection. So I read On Top of Spaghetti, which we have two copies of. That song completely works against its own logic. It talks about all this amazing stuff that happens when someone sneezes and the singer lost her meatball. The meatball turns into a tree that grows more meatballs and sauce and stuff. It’s super cool. But then at the end the “moral” of the song is “hang onto your meatballs and don’t ever sneeze.” If you did that, the singer wouldn’t have a spaghetti and meatball tree in her yard! Why would she want to deprive everyone else of that awesomeness? I’ve been sharing my newfound outrage at this and no one seems as upset as me. My supervisor did not understand me at all, instead saying “I don’t think I’d feel comfortable singing this” because she doesn’t like the word mush or something.