Saturday at School

When I arrived at the classroom at around 2pm, Steve was cleaning out the sump pump near the upper grades bathroom. It stank! The wafts of putrid sewage could be smelled all the way to parish hall. Basil and Lucy were in the parish hall playing with dominos. Basil's face was scrunched when he greeted me. He said that it smelled like "a bad turkey", whatever that means. It surprises me how goes on behind the scenes without much notice, especially by Steve. Carpet cleaning, sweeping, scrubbing, scraping, raking leaves, mopping floors... The school is a mechanism whose underlying gears work endlessly, most going unnoticed. Just imaging Steve's endless toil makes me feel exhausted: father, janitor, headmaster, Sunday preacher, writer, Latin teacher, 6th grade teacher, and today, sewage cleaner. But if he knew the work I put in, he probably would feel exhausted too. Cleaning, organizing, planning, writing, collaborating... He would probably think, I couldn't do what you do. I have the same sentiments concerning him. These inner gears, extend beyond just Steve and I. Parents are doing their utmost help their children become men and women of import, being good parents and working hard in offices to put food on the table; engineers, doctors, accountants.