Sequel Mondays!

bridezilla in training

 

Bride Elect (Evolution of a Bridezilla)

 

Chapter Thirty-Two—The Day Job

 

Often the phrase, “don’t quit your day job” is offered as a scathing insult towards any aspiring artistic inclinations a person may have. Anyone who has heard me sing, for example, could be inspired to offer up this phrase. Fortunately for me, I love my day job, and this empowers me to sing my little heart out whenever I feel like it. Fortunately for society in general, I rarely feel like singing out loud in public—so it all kind of balances out.

 

Limited vocal talents aside, I do love my “day job”. Sadly, it doesn’t really take place in the day as it were. My schedule is, and is not like your conventional teacher’s schedule. I have all the same school holidays, and I am subject to all same laws and union standards as it would be with all other teachers in the province. Where my schedule varies is when it comes to my actual teaching schedule itself. Adult education, in order to be accessible to its key demographic, must allow for evening classes.

 

The average schedule for teachers at the particular school I work at is a split shift. I teach mornings and evenings, and have the afternoon off. When planning a wedding two time zones away, having the afternoon off can be helpful—somewhat. By the time I got home in the afternoon, many businesses out West were just starting their business day. If necessary, I had three hours to play telephone tag with prospective marriage commissioners, head chefs, hotel managers, province of British Columbia marriage license issuers, salons, and a whole host of other places.

In most cases I easily shifted gears between “teacher” and “bride elect”. Sure, there were a few hiccups here and there. Most who didn’t know any better just chalked it up to my being of a somewhat squirrelly disposition. For example, two and half months prior to the new year, I was already writing my dates with the new year: 2013. It had become a habit mostly because I was filling out forms, and reciting dates for all the various wedding related reservations.

 

I am just saying it when I tell people I like my day job—I really do. I spend six hours a week for five months with my students. We end up spending more time together than some families spend together. People are fitting school into their lives and going, in many cases, to great lengths to strive for a better life. The least I can do to honour their time and efforts is to offer them someone wants to make the whole experience fun and welcoming for them.

 

It was not long before my students learned that I was engaged and planning my wedding. They needed to understand that I wasn’t really crazy—I was just a bride elect, planning a wedding two provinces away. Not only did they begin to empathize, they would rally and cheer me on between their many, many writing assignments. People are really, deep down, suckers for a happy ending—where ever they can find one. My students were no exception, they too wanted the end of the story to feature their odd and eccentric English teacher riding off into the sunset with her Electrician in shining, insulated carharts.

 

However, until the sunset, in July, there were many sleeps—more than an English teacher can count. I had to focus on what was in front of me: my students.

 

As for Palucid, his day job, didn’t have the same structure and regime. He was self-employed, and while we both thought his boss was a hell of a guy, we just couldn’t avoid the whole “feast or famine” nature of his job. Days when I seemed distracted by my day job, Palucid looked on with a bit of envy—he would have to find his distractions with things like soccer instead: poor lamb.

 

 

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