The Audacity of Youth

Again I am two weeks without posting, which is my own fault.  Things get busy and between back and forth shifts its been a tough one.  Still, work has once again inspired something I want to discuss.

The other day while at the elementary school where I work, amidst my duties of cleaning up after the children, a little girl walked up to me to ask a question.  Now, I'm used to questions.  Being the school's night custodian I don't usually get a chance to talk to the kids, so its always nice when I work days to interact.  She was probably a third grader, if my five years experience around short people is any indication of understanding age, very bright eyed and bushy tailed at 8:00 A.M.  I remember standing near the door and she padded up to me, resting her hands behind her back and asked, "Did you dream of being a Janitor when you were my age?"

My first reaction was one of slight irritation.  I hate when people apply the term "Janitor" to me.  It seems like a very derogatory term, almost like demoting me to the stereotypical shlub who does nothing but mop floors and sit back in a chair eating chips telling folks he is on break all the time.  That is not me.  I work hard at my job.   Its taken me five years to get to the point where they've started calling me Mister Johnston or even William in some cases.  I have to thank the the teachers at the school for teaching the kids to call me by my name or proper title.

The second thing that came to mind was that frankly, no I hadn't dreamed of that.  When I was her age I dreamed of being a teacher.  That was what my parents and my grandparents on both sides of my family had been.  It wasn't until I'd graduated from college and shadowed a special education teacher that I learned I just didn't have what it took to stand in front of kids and keep their attention for a day.  Ultimately it was my dad's suggestion that moved me to work as a custodian.  It had good pay and benefits and he suggested there was room to move up in the world of education.  

Back to the present, and to my story though.  I smiled to the little girl and said, "No, hon.  I didn't.  But you know what.  I dreamed of many things, like being a writer, and I still do writing in my day job when I am not here."   She seemed satisfied with this answer and went out to go eat and play with her friends.   After she was gone though I got to thinking.

When I was a kid, I and the other students always looked up to Paul Reinhardt, the custodian at our school.  We liked Paul and he liked us.  He always treated us with respect and we did the same.   Strangely, never once did I or anyone else ask him the question that was asked to me.  We had a hard enough time believing it when we saw our teachers at a grocery store.  So far as we were concerned I guess, we thought teachers lived and worked at the school without lives of their own.  (This is probably more true a case sadly given the state of education today.)

I wonder if this little girl will grow up and look back on the conversation with me when she grows up and has a job.  I wonder if her daughter or son, or any child she works around will ask her if she dreamed of being in her current job when she was their age.  I suppose that is the audacity of youth, to wonder and ask things no adult would dare ask.  That is the grace of being a child, the freedom that they have that is so quickly cut short by life's responsibilities.  Whenever I see them at play or in school I quietly remind myself that it wasn't so long ago I was in their place.  I envy them, but I also am glad that I had the opportunity while I did.