Was I Ever That Clueless?

So, because the school paid for so much of my recent trip to Cuba, they’re forcing me to do slave labor for them.

Basically, everyone with half a brain realizes that freshman orientation is terrible and terrifying, and no one volunteers for it. They have to pay people to get them to come work.

Or lure them in with innocent-sounding contracts that require a certain number of hours of work in exchange for the trip of a lifetime.

If I had known this was what I had signed up for, I would never have signed my name so carelessly at the bottom of the page.

And the smiley face in the “o” would not have happened.

Really, it’s not so bad. I only have to deal with the tiny creatures six times this summer, and it’s only two-three hours each time. I also only have to deal with the nursing students.

My job is to stand in front of them, answer all their random questions, give them sage words of advise for their nursing futures, and silently mock them because most of them will never make it into upper division.

A few of them escape the mocking because they’re smart and nice.

And then there was the child who called me “Ma’am” tonight.

He almost died.


The only thing that stopped me was the thought of the mess that would make. And they had just waxed the floors…

But, seriously. (See, I’m implying that the above comments weren’t serious so you won’t think I’m a psychopath.) (I’m not a psychopath.) (I think.) These children ask some of the most random questions. And I have to take them all seriously!

My first day of doing this, I made the mistake of assuming one of them was joking, but when I laughed, they just kept staring at me, awaiting an answer.

I’ve since learned to contain my laughter, but I will now include a sampling of questions just so you understand:

“Sooooo, do I have to, like, sign up for lunch? Like, is that a class? Or do you just, like, show up and say, ‘I’m here!'”

“I live two hours away. Would you recommend commuting?”

“Were they serious when they said we couldn’t bring our dogs to school?”

“Have you ever gone to jail?”

“Are showers mandatory?”

“What are my chances of getting married in college?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Who cuts your hair? Are they here in Cookeville?”

“Can you tell me how to get here from my apartment?”
“Where’s your apartment?”
“Well, if you turn down that road over there, turn left, go down that other road with the curve in it, turn right at the stop light (or is it a stop sign?), drive for, like, forever, turn right again, and go to those white apartments, you’re there!”
“And…that’s how you get here.”
“No, like, how would you get here?”
“I walk.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

“Is my mom allowed to come here every day and bring me breakfast?”

“Are we allowed to leave? Ever?”

“Can you help me with my schedule? I can’t find a class to fit around nap time.”

“Do I have to take the classes in this list?”
“Yeah, those are your prerequisites.”
“Well, I mean, what if I just take these classes instead?”
“Do you want to earn your degree?”
“Well, no. Not really. I’d just like to stay in school until I can get married.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No, I need to find one of those. Do you have any friends?”

“My dad told me, if I stayed in nursing, because I’m a guy, I had a higher chance of getting laid. Would you know anything about that?”

What are the little minions thinking? I don’t know what’s wrong with them. I don’t take mental health until next semester.