A first day to be proud of
I had three days of training for ski instructing, then I was supposed to have an afternoon orientation session on harassment and being an employee for a BIG corporation. I took a clinic in the morning before the hill opened on how to show people why balance is important, but pretty much this just means that we talked about balance and skied our butts off on an empty hill as the sun came up. Then it started snowing, with all the flakes glittering in the still present sunlight, and I thought I had gone to heaven. Well, that must be what the entrance to hell is supposed to do to you: lull you into a nice cozy secure place before unleashing the demons. And the demons, in case no one knew it, are about eight years old.
I finished my clinic and was contemplating what to do until my afternoon session when the instructor said, "can you just go up to the green room for me?" This is bad. The green and blue rooms are where the 3-6 year-olds meet before their lessons, where you fit them with little ski boots and helmets. After running around chasing kids with boots and dropping to my knees to help them about 50 times (45 minutes) I was then approached by the same instructor, who asked me to go outside, where I would get a class to teach. TEACH? I shadowed the day before, and I thought I would start the next day. Nope. I got a passel of midgets and tried to teach them how to manuever two sticks across slippery white stuff most of them had never seen before without killing themselves, eachother, or me. In 10 minutes I was sweating profusely, and these are 5-hour lessons. Let me just highlight:
"NNOOOOOO!!! I don't WANT to put my goggles on!"
"HEEEELLLLPPPP!" I can't move forward!"
"Look! I can run into people without any help!"
"I can't stop!"
"AAAHHHH! I'm doing the splits and I can't get up!"
"OOOOWWWWWW!! My ankle/wrist/head/soul/psyche!"
And here's what I was saying most of the time:
"Are you guys listening to me?"
"Lean back so you don't fall off the chair!"
"Duck! The chair's going to hit you!"
"Turn, Deidra! TURN!"
"Wait for me!"
So there you have it. I am a natural at instructing kids. Just try not to bring me yours.