Yesterday, I was scheduled for training from 10am to noon in a class called "coaching the van driver." The teacher was an older man who spoke really quickly. He was wearing denim overalls, which he said were for getting under the vans to check the tires. There were probably 8 or 9 of us in the class, all sitting around tables in a U shape in the art room at the Methodist Home. On the tables were blank pieces of paper for notes, stabled copies of a slide show, and a packet of general information. Two of the women in the class work the night shift, so the teacher said he would make the lesson brief...and boy did he. He told us that before taking a van out we should check the oil and tires, asked us about our attitudes when driving with a van full of kids, and mentioned several times that everyone should always wear a seat belt. Ten minutes later, we were out the door to the parking lot to drive. There were three vans: two 15 passenger vans and a mini van. A seasoned employee took the night staff in one 15 passenger, the teacher took three guys with him in the other 15 passenger, and told the girls to take the minivan. We took turns driving, pulling over every couple of minutes to change drivers, then headed back to the Methodist Home. At 10:40, I was walking out to my car to go home. I never even got to drive the 15 passenger van.
Today was another 4:45 morning. I was in another girl's cottage with middle and high school girls. They were sweet, and the staff I met were really nice. The night staff makes breakfast in the morning while the day staff wakes the girls up and makes sure they get everything done that needs to happen. Each girl has a hygiene box that they get in the morning to shower and do their hair and stuff, they eat breakfast, do their chores, and on their day, they take their laundry to the laundry room. The day staff is responsible for getting the girls to school. Of the ten girls today, they went to four schools. One school was picked up by another day staff, we took some girls at 7:30 to another school, I walked a girl to the school on campus at 8:40, and we took another group at 8:45. Talk about a lot to remember. The girls all wake up at different times because they go to different schools, and the day staff know exactly who to wake up when like clockwork.
When they were all at school, we rotated laundry, wrote reports, and went to CALM training, which is the crisis training program. I will be getting trained in it next week. We ate lunch in the dining hall and headed back to the cottage, where I organized paperwork until I was off.
Tomorrow I have CPR and first aid training all day. I've been CPR certified a few times before, so I'm not worried about any of it. I just need some sleep. This back and forth 4:45 to 8am stuff isn't nice to my body. I'm drained and I've been taking naps every day. I am hoping that once I am trained, I will have a set schedule that I can get used to. Even if its 4:45 every day.
The manager from Kohl's called me to see if I wanted a job yesterday. After some consideration, with help from Walker, I decided not to take the job now, I want to focus on the Methodist Home and its potential for a long term career. Adding another job with not help with my lack of rest and it certainly wouldn't help me find free time to spend with Walker. It's hard enough as it is. I go into work and he is just going into work when I get off. He usually closes at night, so he's tired and needs to study his stuff for work and spend time with his family and Lucky. It's hard right now, not really knowing people and not being able to spend a whole lot of time with Walker. Plus having not worked for a month is hard on the financial situation. I wish direct deposit could work daily, like when you clock out, you automatically get paid for the day...that'd be nice.
I'm still looking up. I'm excited to learn more about my job, and I'm happy to be in a city I love near people I love. I just miss the simple little things that come with being near family and being involved in a lot of things. It will come in time.
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