Fun with B-SAC; dead in the water

Whew. 7 hours in a classroom taking the B-SAC (Basics of School-Aged Care) training. It’s one of the many checklist items for our Americorps work (along with things like first aid and CPR certifications) that are required by the various partner organizations and programs we will be working with. Not bad, really, but a lot of work to get done in one day.

We learned the basics of child development, appropriate actions and methods of discipline, how to plan for age-appropriate program activities, how to deal with problems, program licensing requirements and so on. Basically, it’s the core info you need to work at a day-care, afterschool program or similar positions. And they’re good for life, so they may come in handy again someday.

I will say that, although the caterers know their stuff and do a great job, I’ll be okay if I don’t see an egg dish for a few days, weeks maybe. We’ve had egg casseroles, quiches, scrambles, biscuit sandwiches and so forth every day for close to a week now. I’m all egged out. Shell shocked. Cracked up. Whipped. Please make it stop.

Anyway, Friday we’re off to let new arrivals do things like get their power turned on and apply for food stamps, although there’s a potluck social later that night for which I still have to think of a dish to bring.

Then we start the week up early on Sunday with a river float trip down the French Broad River followed up by more team building. Ugh. I am soooooooo not looking forward to this. Your resident geek’s gonna get totally toasted, and not in a good way, since sunscreen has historically provided only a pathetically infintesimal level of protection for me, no matter how thickly I apply it.

See, I’m not just white, I’m terminally Caucasian, which is why I’ve chosen indoor, controlled climate work. 5-10 minutes in direct sun and I’m pinking up, 20 and I’m hamburger. An hour and I’m officially weapons-grade radioactive material. And I’ll be on the water for 3 hours, oiled from head to toe in my Ungent of Solar Resistance (Futile) , enrobed in long sleeves and pants and huddled under the shade of a giant straw hat – all in 100-ish degree heat on a slow-moving, unshaded raft (as opposed to the other option of a slightly faster but tippier canoe, which I passed on as I always end up getting dumped from canoes).

I can tell you this -the prospect of spending the day imitating a sodden piece of long-pork jerky is distinctly and increasingly unappealing. Wish me luck, but don’t forget to bring the marshmallows, since I’m pretty sure you’ll be able toast them nicely over my shoulders by day’s end.

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