I work at a child care center in a tiny Idaho town. I'm paid six dollars per hour and typically spend eight hours per day with a group of eighteen to twenty preschoolers. This dengerously low child-to-worker ratio is illegal, but never enforced. It's an exhausting, noisesome job.

I wouldn't trade it for ANYTHING.

I do it for the kids. Speaking of which... I'm on my break. We officially get half-hour paid breaks, except that we're always so understaffed, we take fifteen instead so that everyone gets one. So far today, I've changed six pairs of underwear, gotten three ice packs for bumps and scratches, organized a game of Red Rover, captured a bug and named him Fudge and had a sending-off ceremony, and.. oh yes, today it was my turn to prepare lunch for eighty-three children. It was Ramen noodles and hot dogs, with milk.

Better wages would be nice. But my job makes life lovely.