Full employment for the chickadees

Last week Drew's sister  invited us to her union's annual holiday party.  Drew knows a lot of his sister's friends, so the conversation was relaxed and comfortable.

We were talking about Social Security, and how those of us working now are paying the benefits of current recipients, and how our benefits will be paid for by our children,

And one of the women said something about "the kids today don't really work."

How lucky I am to be able to brag on my kids, who want to work hard and who are lucky enough to find appropriate jobs.

Jen, of course, has always known she wants to work with children.  She has always worked with kids -- day camp jobs, volunteering with Jump Start, work study as a teaching assistant in an elementary school, then a full time job as a teaching assistant in a nursery school, and now a paraprofessional in an elementary school. When she finally finishes her Master's and gets her teaching credentials, she will have logged many hours in a classroom.

Jen had a job in retail once.  Christmas help at a clothing store in the mall.  She HATED it.

Becca, on the other hand, hated her job at day camp.  She loved being a camper and thought working at the camp would be fun.  But it wasn't.  Working at retail clothing stores, now . . .well, she always had an eye for fashion.  And the ability to sell snow-cones at the North Pole.  She's worked at one store or another whenever she's home from college, and she loves it.

Becca still doesn't know what she wants to be when she grows up -- she graduates in May.  But she's had some interesting experiences that will look fantastic on a resume.  She's a political science major.  She interned for a Senator, in an auction house and at a public relations firm.  And in the spring she'll be at the sales department/corporate headquarters of a fashion designer.  Considering her retail experience, it sounds like a job she will enjoy.

I don't know where Becca is going, but I know she will be successful at whatever she chooses to do.

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