That American Pie song is going to be in my head for weeks

Remember summer camp?

Where everything was kind of extra fun, even the regular stuff that you would do all the time at home anyway?

And you felt like you had this little secret place that only you and your fellow campers knew about and only you and them understood what it was like to be at camp?

And even the kids there that were really odd and you would never consider hanging out with in real life were still cool to be with because they were part of the chosen few that understood your special camp world?

Even that girl with the back-brace and inhaler who picked her nose and started crying because her s’more fell in the fire?

The provincial government decided to close my summer camp yesterday.

I know I have bored the shit out of you with tales of my career woes of late (the new one is going very well, thanks for asking), but prior to April 1, 2008 I had a job that was so awesome it was like being at summer camp. For four years. I worked at a provincially owned broadcast station that helped tell the stories of my province, provided e-learning opportunities for students living in the north, helped emerging film producers launch careers and just generally kicked all kinds of ass. I loved the work, people, management, purpose, working environment..…..it was all just awesome. I even had a killer nice office over looking a garden.

I met people who I will be friends with for life working there. I also worked with serious weirdos, and I loved them too. I left my summer camp job for greener pastures in April of 2009, but that place and those weirdos are still really important to me. I consider myself one of them.

They were all laid off yesterday. Every last one of them.

The conservative government running this province doesn’t attach value to anything that doesn’t earn a dollar, so they decided to shut down my summer camp yesterday.

It was a cultural massacre, and my camp buddies were the casualties.

I don’t know why conservatives can’t support things that exist only to provide beauty and comfort. I don’t know why they want to destroy an industry that is full of enthusiastic young people who want to make a career out of telling stories and sharing our province with the rest of the country. I’m going to blame their parents. Clearly they were all raised by Joan Crawford because this fucking government represents everything that is soulless and wrong.

They took away my summer camp. In a few short days it will exist only in my mind, and my friends will be left scrambling to pick up the pieces and try to stay afloat.

Now my beloved camp will be just a story that will eventually fade away. Just like the broadcast network will.

I hope they don't go quietly, though. This fucker is on the air for another few days, so I am expecting some seriously funny shit to suddenly make it to my television set.


Heh.

Rock On, Mr. FoN

Hi! Where have I been? I’ve been waiting for summer. I’ve been all dressed up, sitting on my doorstep, clutching my purse and waiting for that stupid fucker to show up and make me hot. He never showed. Some time ago I finally gave up and reached the conclusion that I’ve been stood up. After that sad realization I retreated to my bedroom. Hugging my teddy bear while surrounded by balls of snotty kleenex I’ve been writing I LOVE SUMMER and MRS. FoN SUMMER all over my stuff. What an asshole.

In a few short weeks, I’m going to start bitching about how cold I am again. Fair warning, internet.

Sigh.

What else is new?

The Hubby started his teaching job yesterday. He is a teacher. Mr. FoN. That makes me Mrs. FoN, which is even funnier. He’s been in school for the last six years completing his Bachelor of Education degree. I know it’s a four year degree, but he went part-time for the first four years so that’s why it took him six years to finish. He’s not, you know…just dumb. Anyway, it was his first day as a teacher yesterday, and he is now in charge of a room full of 7 and 8 year-olds all day.

I really have to give a shout out to all the teachers in the world, because short of having to scrape road kill off the highway all day or letting fat, sweaty businessmen stuff money down my pants, teaching would be pretty much last on my list of career choices.

Don’t get me wrong, I like kids. Well, I like most kids. Okay, I really only like my own kids and my friend’s kids. I like the odd stranger kid, but some of them really kind of suck. If I was a teacher and had a shitty kid in my class I would not be able to hide the fact that I thought he was shitty. Getting picked on by the teacher is probably not that cool. I’d feel bad being openly bitchy to some kid, even if they were shitty. Plus, I have a lot of residual scarring from my elementary school days when I was tortured mercilessly by Rob Morrese. I can’t actually remember how to spell his name right now, but just so you know it’s pronounced More-eese. I’m going to write a whole post someday about Rob Morrese, and in preparation I’m going to find my elementary school class picture to figure out how to spell his name correctly so when that narcissistic fucker googles himself he can read all about what an asshole he is. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, teaching.

Whenever I walk into an elementary school I feel like I have been immediately thrust into the Lord of the Flies. All that yelling and bell ringing and bad artwork hanging everywhere is offensive to my senses. And what is with the smell? Why do elementary schools need to smell like that? Some type of Franken mixture of stale bologna, glue, cleaning supplies and urine. How could anyone want to work in that environment all day everyday? And enjoy it? And not even get paid that well to do it? No thanks.

One day last year in a weak moment I volunteered to be the parent helper in my son’s class for some project they were doing. I was there for two hours, and when it was over I couldn’t leave fast enough. I raced back to work and immediately started making out with my desk. Full tongue and everything. It was awesome.

So, here is a big shout out to all you teachers in the world. Thank you for taking the bullet for the rest of us. I won’t even begrudge you the 2 months off you get in the summer. And the 2 weeks at Christmas. And the other 10 days around Easter.

Hmmmmmm.