Rachel was in all this past week. Fourteen, high school student, “work experience”. A concept familar to most Scots.
Instead of going to school- for one week they go work somewhere, usually during school hours. (Which here is nine-ish to three-ish- me jealous!) They must fill in reports each day, interview an employee (me :)), fill out a self-evaluation, get an employer evaluation done.
Rachel thought it was kind of cool, kind of lame, just something you had to do,- but I kept praising it all week, I think she might have a different perspective after hearing from someone that doesn’t take it for granted because there was nothing like that available during her own miserable public school experience.
Wednesday night I was watching “My Hero”, as I do every Wednesday at 7:30 p.m. (my first and I think only steady tradition so far). Thermoman retired, so they had all these other superheros saving the planet- Temp Man, who quit, then all that was left was Work Experience Boy, who wasn’t so great at being a superhero, but who could make a mean pot of tea, for three million people at a time.
The day before I found out how well-known this “work experience” thing was because James (another hotel employee) said it when I mentioned the high school girl in working. I was so happy I could appreciate the joke; I told Rachel about it the next day, how I’d thought of her, and I called her that (regardless of gender) the rest of the week.