Welcome and New Beginnings

I've done a couple of blogs before, but none of them have ever really been satisfying for me. I've kept the same title, mostly, just because I like it. This one, I hope, will be a more satisfying venture for me and for anyone who decides to read it. 

Here's what you need to know: 

1) Who I am.

I'm a recent college grad embarking upon my first real-world job. I'm going to be teaching at a pre-prep school (5th, 6th, 7th, 8th). I played soccer and rugby in college. I also majored in English Lit, with double minors in Philosophy and Women, Gender, Sexuality. I've been dating the same guy since I was 16 (very close to going on 17) and I am now 22. He's a bartender at a local restaurant with aspirations of becoming a firefighter someday as well as some other things. He's 24. 

2) The school

 It's a small school (only 30 kids) that's privately funded. The mission of the school is to take in and prepare financially disadvantaged young men from urban areas and give them the opportunity to attend some of the finest private schools in the country, then hopefully some of the finest colleges. This is the first year of this particular branch of the school (it is already well established in other areas of the country. I believe there are 26 others like it that have all been very successful). If the kids were paying to go here, the tuition would be about $25,000 a year. But, through the generosity of private donors and Americorps, there is no tuition. Mostly because the full time teachers (all 4 of us...) are not paid a salary. Instead, we are given a place to live, health insurance, and a stipend of $200 every two weeks. 

3) The House

The other teachers and I live in a townhouse downtown. We are renting it from a local university and it's pretty nice. We have a parking garage and our only neighbors are a luxury apartment building (where my former boss lives) and some great restaurants. It's about a 15 minute walk to the school, but I don't plan on walking. 

I'm hoping this will be a great experience and I plan to chronicle it (from my point of view). Pseudonyms will be used, of course. I don't promise to update everyday, or week, or even frequently. I only promise that when I do, I'll have something amusing to say, or at least interesting.

I just moved in to the house yesterday. I was the last to arrive. P (my boss) met S (my boy) and me at the parking garage. Or was supposed to, assuming I could access it. Typical of the kind of things that happen to me, quite frequently, S and I were stuck outside. The garage was closed, with not a security guard in sight. P was of no help (he's a lovely man, and I will tell you more about him later, but about as awkwardly disorganized as I am). So, finally the security guard lets us in. I'm able to park and go up to meet P. He gives me what he thinks is the access card for the garage and tells me to move the car around to the street so he can help me unload all my stuff. 

Card in hand, armed with the knowledge that all I have to do is flash it at a censor to be let in and out of the garage, I confidently drive towards the exit. After a few absurdly frantic flashes of my magic card and some very aggravated honking from the small parade that was lining up behind my car, I realized that perhaps P was full of shit.

I managed to back up without hitting anyone (a small miracle) and pulled in next to the security guard's office. She calls the garage manager, informing him that a (very stupid) new tenant is trying to access the garage without much success. She lets me out a side door and tells me to come back in a few so I can be registered. So I drive up, unload all my stuff (the story about how apparently locks hate me and doors refuse to open for me, but will for everyone else really isn't THAT funny) then go back to the garage.

Only, I can't get in. AGAIN. A nice tenant drives up and tells me that she will let me in if I drive in after her. So I do. Another guard comes running up, yelling that I can't do that, who do I think I am, things of that nature. I frantically wave my little white card "But I just moved in! My boss gave me my card! But it won't work!" Please don't call the cops. Please!!

He, of course, is cracking up. He comes up to my rolled down window grinning (not altogether meanly, though).

"New parker?"

 Ummm, yeah. How'd ya guess?

"You need a sticker to trigger the censor."

Ohhhh. A sticker? Not a little magic card that waves to the nice censor. Genius!

Yeah. That was fun.

After I got the parking settled and was finally unpacking my stuff (hurriedly, since I had plans with friends for later that evening) I had a dresser fall on me.  Yes. After all that, the freaking dresser tipped over on me, strewing clothes, jewelry and makeup EVERYWHERE and breaking the beautiful music box I got in Switzerland when I was 15. Not to mention me. Of course, that's how I met M.

"Ummm, are you okay?"

Don't mind me. The resident clutz has arrived. You'll get used to it...