First days.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger      5 comments      link this post     


Religious folk are usually quite happy to wax eloquently about last days. I'm here to talk about first days.

The first day on the job as a K-12 art teacher was terrifying. I had no training in education, for the situation was one where a person with a bachelor's degree in the designated area of study could get an "emergency" certification for a year. There I was in a room of high school students with supplies ordered by the teacher who had just quit that were supplies I would never have ordered, fully aware I had no clear concept of curriculum, grading, nor the real reason high school boys take art (which is: to cut things with Xacto knives). I found myself, through the year, near tears, and constantly begging, borrowing, and raising money to buy art supplies that made sense and not the weird stuff the previous teacher had purchased.

The first day (or, I should say, night, since it was the graveyard shift) at the Post Office was one of frigid cold winter temperatures out on the loading dock, cuts on my hands from staples people used on padded mailing envelopes, and a crash course in memorizing zip codes, mail routes, names, the different classes of mail and how to handle them, the different bags for priority, first class, and parcel mail, and the location of hundreds of post office boxes for the local residents. It was overwhelming and I was frequently exhausted from all the lifting, hauling, and tossing.

The first day as a graphic designer consisted of basically no training and teaching myself to run the computers and equipment on the fly while meeting customer orders and learning the processes involved in making the product in the store. Learning, on my own, the complex software involved in graphic design without a hint of experience in it and the terms used in the industry was overwhelming and I doubted I would ever learn it all.

The first day as a reporter was one of trying to write as quickly as I could during a city council meeting, trying to understand issues I'd not even been aware of before and to grab quotes accurately and phonetically spell the names of the people talking so that I could go back and find the correct spellings. I had no training beyond a sheet of paper that listed the names of those in local government, and a basic hope that I could mimic what a newspaper article ought to sound like with a lede, body, and closing.

Today was my first day in the bakery department of a local store, writing frantically when I began to understand that the woman training me was indeed a serious professional pastry chef who had all her recipes...in her head. I learned about torte and seasonal tastes of customers and mousse and ordering supplies and heavy cream and rosettes and red velvet cake and marscapone and fondant. I realized how much I would be in charge of and how it would affect other departments and the location of freezers and coolers and pastry bags. My notes are a bizarre combination of recipes and notes on the location of knives and decorative chocolate. I understood that at some point I'd be coming up with my own recipes and takes things, and my mind immediately shifted to being receptive to noticing different foods, tastes, and ideas that would help in this job. All in all, the day was overwhelming and exhausting.

In all of these experiences, I've learned that it will, eventually, come.

Contrary to religious interpretations, I find that, in general, last days are easy. First days are difficult.

Labels: food, my life, work

Copyright (c) Julie R. Neidlinger  10/01/2008 06:25:00 PM   (5) comments   Links to this post    

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