Listening to Avril Livigne on the longish drive to class, singing at the top of my lungs. 7.30am and by the time I got there, my throat was sore….oops…

I like her passion and the rhythm of her songs. Mostly I try not to listen to her words too closely, filled as they are with teen rage and angst but some of the lyrics got through that morning. The song was ‘Skater Boy’ The lyrics that caught my attention were these;

He was a skater boy, she said see ya later boy 
he wasn’t good enough for her 
She had a pretty face, but her head was up in space 
she needed to come back down to earth. 

five years from now, she sits at home 
feeding the baby 
she’s all alone 

she turns on tv 
guess who she sees 
skater boy rockin’ up MTV. 

The song describes a boy who likes a girl but what she and her friends see are his clothes and the fact that he’s a skater boy. Partly it’s about making assumptions based on the way people look. Avril describes being at home with a baby as though it’s the definition of banality, mediocrity and that’s what made me think.

I know what she means, or meant. She’s older now, she might have a different opinion these days. I won’t do the whole rant about how important mothers (and fathers) are and how much courage it takes to get up day after day after day to care for a tiny human who can’t fend for themselves, have conversation or even acknowledge their carers. How what we teach our children will shape the next generation of society or how much we grow as people as a result of parenting.

Oh. Okay, I did 🙂

Singing and thinking was what I was doing as I pulled up outside the church and the attached hall where the First Aid Course was being delivered. I parked, took out my coolbag and made my way inside, where 13 people were sitting at tables in a ‘D’ shape, facing another table laden with teaching materials.

Everyone was silent. No tapping, no talking, not a sound. Until I walked in that is, my shoes clicking across the wooden floor so that everyone turned to look at me. I smiled a sort of blanket smile, meant for everyone, but only one woman smiled back. I was ten minutes early but I felt late.

And then, as I sat down, I became ‘that woman’. You know the one. She comes in late and drops things, making noise that wasn’t there before, knocking things over, being apologetic, things spilling from her bag as she tries to pick up her pen, phone falling to the table with a thump, water bottle rolling just out of reach….and then the hairband falling from her hair so that her eyes are covered too, making it impossible to see the people watching her in incredulous pity. Just….awkward…

Lucky I have a sense of humour 🙂

The woman next to me, the one who’d smiled, smiled again, sympathetically. She was a naturopath, I learned later.

10 minutes later, a young guy came in, exactly on time and sat on my other side. His drink leaked onto the table and he wiped it with his arm, smearing wet across the surface. It was my turn to smile sympathetically.

He became my prac partner for the day, playing casualty to my Good Samaritan, or vice versa. We bandaged each other’s arms and hands and laughed enough that we drew enquiring looks from around the room. At one point we were given a scenario to act out and I, with the other first aiders, had to leave the room while the accident victims prepared. When I came back and picked up the card, curious as to why he was flapping his arms wildly and mumbling deleriously about fish, I read that he was a dolphin trainer who’d slipped and fallen, was confused and still thought he was feeding the dolphins. He was a good actor. I was laughing as I performed triage, bandaged wounds and reassured him.

While the educator spoke we were quiet of course but it was a joy to laugh and learn.

We both got a high score for the test at the end, so  hooray for that and now I have a Certificate to hand to my new employers 🙂

I have a new job, working in Aged Care. I don’t know when I start or how many hours I’ll be working yet but Induction’s next Monday.