don't knock it till you try it: baby story time

So, being both introverted and masochistic, I took my child to baby story time. The first session was presided over by a manic, relentlessly positive woman who played violin, wielded puppets and made "funny" voices.

I was mortified, but it wasn't about me, right? So I suppressed my emotions, reminded myself to ignore my intuition and imagined the least shameful alcoholic drink I could consume at 2 pm.

Regardless of my reaction, my daughter seemed to love it. So I took a week off to recover, and then I packed her up to try a different story-session at the public library. This one was more subdued--a dreary and repetitive song was used to "introduce" the babies, which used up about half of the allotted time. Then we read several books as a group. That was it. I don't know why I needed to leave the house for that, but I guess I secretly hoped that I'd spot my misanthropic soul mate-mother rolling her eyes across the circle. No luck so far, though.

The most nerve-wracking part of these endeavors actually comes after the official "program" in the form of "baby play time." I guess some of the older kids are playing, but not my kid. It's obviously a chance for parents to chat each other up and make friends, but when the only thing you have in common is parenthood and you're an antisocial malcontent, this is tough.

Actually though, I really tried to make an effort the first time. One woman was funny and displayed a personality, but I was surprised to discover how reserved so many of the parents were. "But I'm reserved!" I thought. "Aren't the majority of normal people extroverts? This is fucking exhausting for me!"

Although I respect the pedestrian nature of the library story thing, it's still not quite the right thing. I think there's a real need for something different. But not like that "rock the cradle" event, which is just a bunch of dads in horn-rimmed glasses dancing around with their daughters to Bjork songs. I guess what I'm thinking of would involve songs in a minor chord, stories with a bleak angle and plenty of opportunities for parents to slink off into dark corners, instead of hanging around talking, pretending to be well-adjusted.

don't knock it till you try it: work-study jobs at college

I attended Macalester, a fancy liberal arts college, but I really had no business being there. For one thing, I'm not that smart. In addition, my family isn't well off at all. But most importantly, I'm just not that "interesting."

Those of you who attended Macalester or similar schools probably know what I mean. Along with a bunch of rich kids, Macalester is populated by all kinds of students with backgrounds that are incredibly novel. "From Berlin by way of Sioux City," as one friend summarized.

It's amazing they let in any townies at all. But they do, and I was one of them. Hailing from south Minneapolis, my most impressive claim to fame in my college application was probably my starring role in a poetry reading at the Sears Rotunda at the Mall of America. Other than that, it was corn-fed midwestern mediocrity all around. And I can assure that I received plenty of feedback about this from my freshman year "friends" from the east coast!

Another thing that happened during my freshman year was my assignment to report to work at Kagin, the Macalester cafeteria. Of course I qualified for work-study -- that close-to-minimum-wage job that helps the financial aid students pay for their whiskey and gin.

Like a good rules-following Minnesotan, I promptly reported to work, already accustomed to the food service grind from my teenage years spent in the bagel shop/coffee shop/chow mein joint. I actually didn't mind the job--it didn't take much effort to scoop baked tofu onto a plate for my classmates. There was possibly something a little demeaning about it, but I took a sick pleasure in the role. For example, although I recognized the insult, I basically reveled in it when some girl referred to me as "that hipster who works at Kagin."

The thing I did not revel in was my (completely anecdotal) observation that all the "interesting" financial aid kids got the easy and desirable work-study jobs in the academic departments, while all the locals/midwesterners/southerners got the shit jobs in the cafeteria and the "physical plant" (e.g. picking up your classmates' cigarette butts). I'm sure there were some exceptions to the this rule, but I don't think there were many!

I kept this suspicion to myself for years, so redolent was it of "sour grapes" or perhaps, "not recognizing my own privilege." But finally I brought it up to Nick, my lawfully wedded husband who also went to Macalester and didn't even qualified for a work-study job, so interesting was his background.

He agreed with me. His interesting-to-him but not "interesting-on-paper" friends from Nebraska and Waseca got assigned to the cafeteria, while his technically-cash-strapped but in reality prep-school-educated freshman girlfriend got the "sit around and drink coffee in the English department" work-study job.

The anecdotal evidence was in and I was livid! It was true--there was a method to the work-study madness. The locals and red state students got the crappy jobs (e.g. it was unlikely they'd ever make anything of themselves and donate large sums to the annual fund) while the fancy-poor got the "flirting in the staff lounge" assignments.

I know this probably sounds frivolous but I am convinced that it's a real thing! And if I could get someone in the admissions office at Macalester to back me up (anonymously, I suppose) I think I could write something quasi-factual about this.