twosmallmonsters

I love my job when . . .

I am interviewing a lovely elderly woman with significant dementia. She leans over and whispers in my ear: "You know people are jealous of me because I am foxy. I'm not a rag doll but I am certainly a doll. You should come over to my room and we can try on my shoes. I have a beautiful ring that will look just foxy on your fingers."

I am in the school on Thursdays and I can be a gym teacher, art teacher, and music teacher all in one day. By the time I get into my car to drive home, I am covered in orange paint and my hair is static-y because I've climbed through a cloth tunnel once or twice during the day.