The Hardest Thing
I just experienced a mass layoff at my job. Had I not been working for free already, I would have been on the streets clutching an outdated resume with the rest of the childcare providers at my worksite. Instead I’m left behind in the empty shell of a daycare, moving furniture around and watching, waiting, watching, waiting, for a new start.
The days leading up to the Last Day were trying to say the least. Every day I came home more distraught and sadder than the day before. Every muscle in my body became tense, and I had a cold for almost 3 weeks in June. I worried about the teachers who had lost their jobs, about the children who would be uprooted from their school and loving caregivers, and about me—would I, could I, provide for the kids who were left? Why was I the one who would be left to help them through this transition? Am I enough?
Needles to say, This Wasn’t Supposed to Happen to me—me, as an intern. In some of my darker, more despairing moments, I’d call up my mom and ask, Why? It was a question I’d whispered in the dark of my bedroom to the ceiling, and into the ears of prayer partners at church, and came up as the logical conclusion of any line of thought revolving around work. Why?
The simple truth is budget cuts. Our childcare center couldn’t stay open in its current incarnation, and so we had to close. We are reworking. We are rebuilding. It doesn’t feel much like that though. It feels like goodbye to someone you weren’t supposed to say goodbye to.
This Wasn’t Supposed to Happen to Me—the intern. But it was supposed to happen to me, as a person. This is life experience I’m supposed to have. Fortunately I’m shielded by my position as an EUI. I still go to work in the morning (there is still a summer day camp to run); I still get my stipend; I still have health insurance; I still have a place to live next month; and, maybe most pertinently, I’m still ending my internship in less than six weeks as scheduled.
I got to stand in solidarity with this country. In this twisted way, I was there as the world fell apart. I came to classrooms and covered for teachers as they took appointments for new jobs; I laughed and cried and clapped as the preschoolers graduated and I was there with the teachers as they watched children they cradled as infants declaring their dreams of being a fireman, farmer, or basketball star; I hugged and sniffed as I watched them walk out of the classroom forever. I know it’s just a job. But these are people who provide for others. I don’t think it was just a paycheck. It was a gift they gave young lives. And they’ll go on to give that gift to other young lives, I’m sure. That’s some comfort.
At an early intern gathering, we read the scripture about the Good Samaritan. At that time I read it as a challenge to “do the hardest thing,” the thing you’re most scared of. I was wondering what was challenging to me about going to work to plan for a fun day with kids I enjoyed being with, and then hanging out with them for the rest of the day. I am still processing all that’s happened in the last few months at my worksite. It’s a strange thing—this thing that Wasn’t Supposed to Happen—to experience as the year is dwindling. In many ways it was the most challenging time of my internship. And even though I don’t think I came to my worksite and did what I thought I was going to do, maybe I did the hardest thing.
–Allison Meyers