On taking a job before you're ready
sometimes, the only way to learn to do something is to try.
In January 2013 I had been working at a daycare run by my mother off and on for four years, I think? From full-time to occasional part-time to two harrowing weeks during my grandfather's hospice care where I was taking care of ten four-year-olds entirely by myself, I had gotten used to having someone else, at the end of the day, take care of the big question about whether or not things were working out. I just kept the kids safe, handled certain chores, and spent some greater (or lesser) effort to restore the environment to a state that could be opened in the following morning. Teaching reading, potty training, conversations with kids who were used to feeling in trouble all the time about empathy and gentle behavior - it's amazing how much you can learn when you're just sort of stepping into new experiences one thing at a time. But then something different happened.
My mother, owner/operator for the last several years, from older kids to barely twos, had hit a day when she couldn't do her job anymore. She'd hit what she felt like was the end of her leash with it before, but this time felt different to her, and she was going to try and take a job in another state working with kids on the rez who'd been basically abandoned by their local school as an unwinnable. She'd be living a four hour instead of a twenty hour drive away from her mother, whose health had gone from bad to terrible as asthma made her drafty, half-finished cob house a difficult proposition for her. We were hiring a new manager, and the new manager would own the business in a few months. Maybe I could continue on, if I impressed the new manager, but I was only guaranteed another month's employment. I didn't mind, terribly - trying to help her settle in was stressful, but not too awful, and I figured she'd hire me if I should be working for her, about which I wasn't sure yet, either.
But then, over the next few weeks, I realized that she and I weren't going to see eye to eye. As I reported the situation to Mom in the other state, and we attempted to negotiate a smooth transition, it became really quickly apparent that we would NOT be able to use this woman, and we certainly didn't want to rent to her or endorse her. That day, I was asked the question that defines five out of seven days for me, if I wanted to help shut down, or if I wanted to take over and become licensed myself. hire my own staff. run my own business.
I wasn't ready.
I couldn't, I thought. I couldn't be the one everything came down to. But then the strangest thing happened. I did it anyways. I hired my own staff, and made mistakes, and got burned. I lost old clients, kept some long time families, made new connections, developed my own reputation. Now my one-year agreement is up, and I have to decide whether I'm giving up or whether I'm going to move into my own place, completely terra incognita. I'll have to make the decisions about whether the house is right, where to spend the money, which kids I try to keep, and it's all too much. I'm not ready, there's been a mistake.
But I learned a lesson. And this time, I'm planning on saying yes, and if I'm not good enough...
well, I guess I'll have to get better. :)
In January 2013 I had been working at a daycare run by my mother off and on for four years, I think? From full-time to occasional part-time to two harrowing weeks during my grandfather's hospice care where I was taking care of ten four-year-olds entirely by myself, I had gotten used to having someone else, at the end of the day, take care of the big question about whether or not things were working out. I just kept the kids safe, handled certain chores, and spent some greater (or lesser) effort to restore the environment to a state that could be opened in the following morning. Teaching reading, potty training, conversations with kids who were used to feeling in trouble all the time about empathy and gentle behavior - it's amazing how much you can learn when you're just sort of stepping into new experiences one thing at a time. But then something different happened.
My mother, owner/operator for the last several years, from older kids to barely twos, had hit a day when she couldn't do her job anymore. She'd hit what she felt like was the end of her leash with it before, but this time felt different to her, and she was going to try and take a job in another state working with kids on the rez who'd been basically abandoned by their local school as an unwinnable. She'd be living a four hour instead of a twenty hour drive away from her mother, whose health had gone from bad to terrible as asthma made her drafty, half-finished cob house a difficult proposition for her. We were hiring a new manager, and the new manager would own the business in a few months. Maybe I could continue on, if I impressed the new manager, but I was only guaranteed another month's employment. I didn't mind, terribly - trying to help her settle in was stressful, but not too awful, and I figured she'd hire me if I should be working for her, about which I wasn't sure yet, either.
But then, over the next few weeks, I realized that she and I weren't going to see eye to eye. As I reported the situation to Mom in the other state, and we attempted to negotiate a smooth transition, it became really quickly apparent that we would NOT be able to use this woman, and we certainly didn't want to rent to her or endorse her. That day, I was asked the question that defines five out of seven days for me, if I wanted to help shut down, or if I wanted to take over and become licensed myself. hire my own staff. run my own business.
I wasn't ready.
I couldn't, I thought. I couldn't be the one everything came down to. But then the strangest thing happened. I did it anyways. I hired my own staff, and made mistakes, and got burned. I lost old clients, kept some long time families, made new connections, developed my own reputation. Now my one-year agreement is up, and I have to decide whether I'm giving up or whether I'm going to move into my own place, completely terra incognita. I'll have to make the decisions about whether the house is right, where to spend the money, which kids I try to keep, and it's all too much. I'm not ready, there's been a mistake.
But I learned a lesson. And this time, I'm planning on saying yes, and if I'm not good enough...
well, I guess I'll have to get better. :)