Part of me doesn’t want to write about my first day of work….

… in the way you sometimes want to keep a really wonderful secret all to yourself, because it’s so sweet you’d ruin it by trying to tell someone about it.

In other words, I had a good first day — thanks for asking! I love my boss, my new colleagues seem very smart, and the entire experience was like going through the first session of a class that you know is going to be interesting, exciting, and kind of mind-blowing. It really doesn’t seem like I should be getting paid for this (I wonder how long that feeling will last).

Part of me also generally doesn’t want to write about work here in much detail, at least not personal detail, because I’d hate it if I ever said anything incendiary (or even just mildly flammable) about a teacher or a kid and someone ran across it — so I guess the only other thing I’ll tell you is that I now know I am the only one of my co-workers who has a tattoo (there was an ice-breaker thing, I didn’t go around lifting up people’s shirts). Frankly, I’m somewhat surprised. Almost everyone seems to be between 25 and 35 (although I am a terrible one for guessing ages), so it just seems sort of odd, statistically speaking. To make up for this and to show team spirit I think we should all have the name of the school tattooed on our biceps (this will also make us look really tough, which is important because ten year olds can smell fear).

So, since I’m not going to say much about my day, and since I know you all set aside at least an hour every eve to read my entries, you can spend that time reading this, which is a (very good) short story we read and discussed today as part of our attempt to get to know each other. And if anyone really loves me a lot and wants to buy me this, I won’t complain. ;-)