Term End Again
Today the sight of an electric kettle plugged in and boiling away on the floor of an inner hallway catapulted me several years back in time. When first I came to work here, my new department head and mentor boiled the kettle on the floor and made us a cup of tea.
Some things don't change. There are still too few electrical outlets.
Other things do change, slowly and imperceptibly. Then something raises the awareness of the one-way arrow of time passing.
After that first cup of tea, I worked with my mentor for several years. Then she died in an accident. Now she's been gone for an indeterminate time. Over fifteen years, I think.
As I gazed at the kettle and cogitated, a colleague came along to unplug it and make tea. I smiled as I watched her, now a middle-aged matron with two -- or is it three sons?
She was just a girl when we met. She started here as a part-time tutor, and took her teacher training a few years later. Now it's been a few years since she took the coordinator's job.
Term end again. How many terms has it been? I don't want to count them. But I'm still happy here -- still feel a sense of belonging, just as I did when I had that first cup of tea so many years ago from the kettle that boiled on the floor.
Some things don't change. There are still too few electrical outlets.
Other things do change, slowly and imperceptibly. Then something raises the awareness of the one-way arrow of time passing.
After that first cup of tea, I worked with my mentor for several years. Then she died in an accident. Now she's been gone for an indeterminate time. Over fifteen years, I think.
As I gazed at the kettle and cogitated, a colleague came along to unplug it and make tea. I smiled as I watched her, now a middle-aged matron with two -- or is it three sons?
She was just a girl when we met. She started here as a part-time tutor, and took her teacher training a few years later. Now it's been a few years since she took the coordinator's job.
Term end again. How many terms has it been? I don't want to count them. But I'm still happy here -- still feel a sense of belonging, just as I did when I had that first cup of tea so many years ago from the kettle that boiled on the floor.