Taking the gig of Year Coordinator for year 7 at the Boy Factory I knew was going to be a big job. Everyone told me it would be huge. I was prepared for it to be epic, large and difficult.
Turns out not prepared enough really.
There is little one can do to prepare for the onslaught of the incessant questions of 110 inquisitive boys. And less to brace one's self for 16 crying, homesick boys. And their teary mothers with their stretched-to-breaking-point umbilical chords on the telephone.
It has been all big days and heaps of walking up and down stairs. Answering about a million questions a day, and telling boys to go to the dorm, leave the dorm, tuck their shirts in, eat their food, and where the classroom is.
And telling a cherub faced boy that there is no way he can get out of coming to Yr 7 camp in a few weeks and watching big fat tears spill onto his cheeks was just too much, and it made me cry too.
22 days til they go home for the weekend. But who is counting...?
No comments:
Post a Comment