Maine Diaries: Unexpected lessons
Each spring students from
Maine Maritime Academy
set sail on their training ship the State of Maine
for a two-month cruise. One student, Paul Kemp*, has
agreed to share his experience.
May 17- Today we clean. We have been cleaning for the last two days. I have been habitually cleaning the same wall, and I’m sure that at one point I may strike the outer paint of the ship. But at least I know how to shine bulkhead steel. And with our engine still broken and the broken record of the promise that we will, in fact, leave tomorrow, we will continue to clean until we are underway or someone attempts to discover the combustion temperature of our walls.
Not to say we have bad luck here on the TSPOS [training, ship, piece, of, and, well, you get the idea], but we have concluded that the labyrinth oil seal is faulty and another day of repairs is needed to fix the problem. So yet again we clean, and even with the inspirational speech by our officers that we are doing this to learn our trade, that it will be useful for our future careers, I can say with confidence that my potential in the janitorial engineering field seems a little bleak.
That said, I have learned a few lessons. For one, I will never again take a janitor for granted, or my mother for that fact. Too often we overlook those whose jobs may seem insignificant or easy. I can now say with confidence that their jobs are not—far from it. People may look down at those who do these jobs for a living, but I look at them with a new respect. It’s repetitive, hard, and, sometimes, meaningless work. Yet, they do it day after day without any notice from us. Perhaps that’s the point: If something was amiss, dirty, or smudged, then we would pay attention to their work, but because they do their job well it goes unnoticed. That above all is the lesson I have learned. Well, that and new ways to slack off and new places to sleep, but that first part is important.
Previous posts:
May 5
May 7
May 9
May 10
May 12
May 13
May 17
*Paul Kemp is a pseudonym. The student has asked that his name be withheld out of respect for those with whom he is sailing.
May 17- Today we clean. We have been cleaning for the last two days. I have been habitually cleaning the same wall, and I’m sure that at one point I may strike the outer paint of the ship. But at least I know how to shine bulkhead steel. And with our engine still broken and the broken record of the promise that we will, in fact, leave tomorrow, we will continue to clean until we are underway or someone attempts to discover the combustion temperature of our walls.
Not to say we have bad luck here on the TSPOS [training, ship, piece, of, and, well, you get the idea], but we have concluded that the labyrinth oil seal is faulty and another day of repairs is needed to fix the problem. So yet again we clean, and even with the inspirational speech by our officers that we are doing this to learn our trade, that it will be useful for our future careers, I can say with confidence that my potential in the janitorial engineering field seems a little bleak.
That said, I have learned a few lessons. For one, I will never again take a janitor for granted, or my mother for that fact. Too often we overlook those whose jobs may seem insignificant or easy. I can now say with confidence that their jobs are not—far from it. People may look down at those who do these jobs for a living, but I look at them with a new respect. It’s repetitive, hard, and, sometimes, meaningless work. Yet, they do it day after day without any notice from us. Perhaps that’s the point: If something was amiss, dirty, or smudged, then we would pay attention to their work, but because they do their job well it goes unnoticed. That above all is the lesson I have learned. Well, that and new ways to slack off and new places to sleep, but that first part is important.
Previous posts:
May 5
May 7
May 9
May 10
May 12
May 13
May 17
*Paul Kemp is a pseudonym. The student has asked that his name be withheld out of respect for those with whom he is sailing.
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