My daughter called me at work this afternoon, her voice strumming with excitement. She snared an internship at a little Italian restaurant that emphasizes fresh food preparation, an approach similar to the slow food movement, which she studied with a chef in Asti, Italy two summers ago. The best part? She found this position herself, through asking around and sending out scores of emails inquiring about internships and finally tracking down a tip that her history teacher from last year knew the owner of this eatery. She went to talk with her history teacher, who brokered the introduction. She went to meet the owner of the restaurant, an intense Italian woman who oversees all the cooking herself, after school today. The woman interviewed her and then gave her the job!
Oh, the backstory is she applied to be able to end her senior year classes on May 4, and spend the rest of the school year doing an internship. She was one of a handful of kids granted permission to do so, but they had to find the internship on their own, and have it approved by the internship coordinator at their school. She wrote on her application about wanting to gain experience in the pasty arts or in Italian cuisine. In a sense, this is her first successful job search!
Our daughter does have an after school job two afternoons a week helping teach a theater class for middle school kids at her school. She didn't have to search out that job though. It came to her. She was asked to assist with the class by one of the teachers who chaperoned her South Africa trip last spring break, when she taught photography and theater arts to kids in two township schools. She said yes to helping out with the after school class even before she realized she would be getting paid. Her first check arrived in the mail on Saturday. She likes getting paid! So does our son, who works as a lifeguard for the swim team and for open swim hours at his school. He buys his own books and plane tickets. Talking about our children and their self-procured jobs, my love and I slapped our palms in the air tonight, hoping that maybe we did something right.
Not counting chickens or anything. No sireee Bob. I'm praying, is all.