And as I walked out the door for the last time, it occurred to me that whatever I end up doing next will probably deal exclusively with adults. That certainly has its benefits. Rarely does a grown adult put his pants on backwards and then throw a tantrum when you ask him to switch them around, as happened on a near-daily basis at this job. Never have I heard of a grown person pooping in the middle of the floor and being impossible to catch because the entire room is full of suspects. (That only happened once.)
But, on the other hand, the joy we allow ourselves to feel as adults is nowhere close to what kids experience every day for the tiniest possible reasons. I have watched children celebrate as if they just won the Super Bowl for all the following reasons…
-Popsicles.
-Being on a bus.
-Two boys finding out they are legally allowed to marry each other in Massachusetts.
-The Cat in the Hat coming back.
-Seeing an ant.
Obviously, human society would function at a much, much slower pace if these little events remained as big a deal for grownups as they are for children. But how often do you get to be around one of your peers when they are at their most enthusiastic and engaged? A few times a year, maximum. Weddings, promotions, buying a “Goonies” lunch box on eBay.
I don’t want this piece to be about how everything we need to know, we can learn from children. That is false logic. Kids don’t know math. They can’t drive. They’re terrible cooks.
But there are fewer and fewer jobs where you spend your day doing things that have to happen versus things that just “need to get done.” Firefighters. Doctors. That type of thing. I’ve probably never saved a life teaching preschool (unless you count pulling a lego out of a kid’s nose), but I feel like I got to spend my days at a rare level of practical and emotional engagement. And I’m really lucky. And I already miss it.
"— The Time I Quit My Job Teaching Preschool, or A Farewell to Legos - Josh Gondelman | ThoughtCatalog
