#playscheme

[oliveryuchan]

Camden Square in London, 2024, acrylic on canvas paper, 508x405mm, available

[vee-and-yourmom]

Guys, help, so like I'm going to a playscheme, and it's alr but the people in my group are really loud like bro stfu please and stop fucking growling your not a fucking animal and if you were I'd euthanize you, little slag xxx

[northeastjobs]

DBS0712 Social Worker

North Tyneside Council are recruiting sessional Support Workers for specialist SEND playschemes, youth groups and outreach for children and young people Contract Type: Casual / Seasonal / Bank / Permanently Variable hours | Working Pattern: Full time | Salary: £26,421 - £27,803 pa | Advert End Date: 10/07/2024 23:59 |  http://dlvr.it/T8nTmv

[mudricky]

Linwood childcare centre moves closer to net zero with eco-friendly annexe

Established in 2010, Klas Care looks after around 200 children between the ages of four and eleven per week and offers a playscheme during the school holidays as well as support sessions for parents.

A social enterprise offering childcare support for local families in Linwood and Johnstone is one step closer to net zero with the completion of a new eco-friendly annexe, funded in part by responsible finance provider Social Investment Scotland (SIS). Continue reading Linwood childcare centre moves closer to net zero with eco-friendly annexe

[fitzrovianews]

Holiday play scheme January 2024 at Fitzrovia Community Centre

Children between aged between 7 and 11 who are eligible for free schools meals have the chance to take part in a holiday play scheme in the first week of January at Fitzrovia Community Centre in Foley Street. On offer are indoor games, arts and crafts, cooking sessions, and a nourishing lunch will be provided. Free Winter Holiday Playscheme at Fitzrovia Community Centre. Sessions run from 10am…

[campfm]

I've never been to camp before. What are common activities besides swimming?

i'll let you in on a 'lil secret ... neither have i . but i did work for some summer playschemes , so between that and doing a bit of research , here's a list i've made of some potential activities : archery , arts and crafts , baking , bird watching , canoeing , dance class , den building , dodgeball , embroidery , firepit building , fishing , friendship bracelet making , hiking , kayaking , nature photography , paddle boarding , scavenger hunting , scrapbook making , soccer , volleyball and wall climbing !

[captaincalamitytv]

Captain Calamity Workshop: 48 Hours to Show Time! Captain Calamity Workshop: 48 Hours to Show Time! WEDNESDAY 17 APRIL 2019 - THURSDAY 18 APRIL 2019 10:00 AM - 3:00 PM STUDIO THEATRE £95 FOR BOTH DAYS AGES 7-12 £1 BOOKING FEE PER TRANSACTION APPLIES Box Office: 020 3773 7161 Email: box.office@harrowarts.com Harrow Arts Centre 171 Uxbridge Road Hatch End Middlesex HA5 4EA This Easter holiday, a group of young people will be given the opportunity of a life time. Imagine how much fun your child will have working alongside multi award winning and Guinness World Record Breaking Children’s Entertainer Captain Calamity and his production team together with technicians from the Harrow Arts Centre in an amazing joint enterprise. We will have 48 hours to put on a show and develop skills in: Balloon Twisting Bubbleology Science Stunts Puppetry Magic Circus Skills Improvisation Musical Theatre Creative Writing Production Marketing And lots more as they race towards the deadline. Whatever happens, the show must go on!! The time is limited. Places are limited. Book now to avoid disappointment! #easterfun #captaincalamity #kidshow #workshop #playscheme #harrowartscentre #mummyblogger #daddyblogger #dovcitron https://www.instagram.com/p/BvmwNtpF054/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=fg5qph8emsfa

[anxiouslyfred]

Star of Wonder

Summary: Virgil’s parents have stifled his questions, and his chances to follow the star to his soulmate with their strict Christian doctrine. That doesn’t stop him from plotting his escape, nor his soulmate from deciding to find him instead.

Warnings: overly strict parents

/\/\

“As you will see in your history books, the common belief among Christians is that the stars leading us to our soulmates originated from the birth of Jesus. While many historians disagree with this, due to mentions of soulmates prior to when those stories were first written down, and the lack of archaeological evidence for Jesus's birth being heralded in the way the Bible describes it, many people do follow this belief.” Virgil's teacher had explained in their class. Another student had asked about the story their parents had used to describe soulmates and he was once again questioning everything his evangelical family insisted was true, despite the evidence against them.

So far he'd remained quiet, avoiding the scolding that any questions to his parents understanding of the Bible or Christianity brought, but this had a major question rattling around his mind that he needed to ask. “Mrs Williams showed us the cave paintings showing people following stars for their soulmates today. Do you think the Wise Men were hoping to find their soulmates when they followed it to Jesus? Was that who their gifts were actually for?” He asked that evening when they'd been discussing his classes from the day.

His Dad always had strong views about what he should or shouldn't learn and had often visited the school to demand something was removed or not taught to his son. Virgil could only thank his determined head teacher for refusing to make special accommodations, but it did lead to interrogations over what the classes he took taught him.

Virgil shivered as a frozen solid glared turned to him after the question. “Are you insinuating there could be anything unpure about the immaculate birth? That anyone favoured in the Bible could have such twisted selfish reasons to try and find the Saviour?” His father demanded, voice raising with every word.

The lecture and telling off Virgil received after that lasted a full hour, and ended up with none of their family properly finishing their meal. If he had been reluctant to share his thoughts about religion or soulmates to his family before then, Virgil was never going to bring it up now.

That didn't stop his parents trying to act like the closest family there ever was, but not even strangers on the street could be fooled to believe it. Sickly sweet words of “You never open up to us. We're here and we'll accept the things you share with us” never did pair well when moments later in the exact same tone the words would become “I don't care that you haven't a soulmate, I care that you're refusing to say a thing about it. Just accept it and let us arrange a marriage for you to a nice Christian girl in our Church. I'm sure Gertrude said her daughter hasn't seen a star yet.”

Virgil did everything he could to avoid Gertrude in the Church after that. Her daughter was barely 10 and far too young for the star to have appeared for her; Never mind that he did have a star, hovering by the sunset. He did try to at least talk to the children in the Church, and let them know that asking questions was okay, but usually better to be directed to people who are open to them. It was the least he could do to hopefully give them a better time of it than he had with his parents.

He went through the actions of following their wishes, applying to the local colleges and doing the volunteering they insisted the family had to do, quietly messaging online forums for support and help. Virgil was doing everything he could to get his route out of the town and chance to follow his star as soon as college began. He never accepted the place his parents thought, but sent his acceptance letter off to the college two states to the west and had packed his suitcase already. As soon as he heard when move in day would be for the dormitories Virgil was going to be on a train there. His parents couldn't then try to track him down using the car they'd given him only to claim use of it if ever they were attending separate functions.

There was no certainty about where the star was leading him. Whomever his soulmate was lived too far away so the star remained high high in the sky but Virgil hoped it would lower at least somewhat when he got further away from his home town.

The star moving towards him and getting noticeably lower each day after school finished for the summer was something Virgil realised with dread. His parents had very clear views over who he should end up with, completely opposite to the people that had attracted Virgil before. Whomever his soulmate was though now seemed to be heading in his direction and rapidly.

Virgil kept an eye on it, watching from his bedroom window, bringing cloud gazing into the activities they'd use to occupy the kids in the playscheme, anything else he could think of to watch the stars movement and try to guess when they'd arrive.

The suitcase was completely packed with all the last things he'd been keeping out of it when the star was level with the roofs of the houses. Virgil didn't know who his soulmate was, didn't have a clue what their relationship would be when they arrived, but if they were going to come seek him out, he was taking any chance at escape they offered.

He was watching from his window that night, almost at midnight, just wondering if the star was going to stop moving and rest for the night or if he'd be meeting his Soulmate that night. The car that turned down the road looked worse for wear but not half so much as the person that jumped out of it as soon as they drew level with his house. The car hadn't even stopped when that happened, but he didn't have time to stop and think about that.

Virgil while mentally relieved that his soulmate was at least masculine framed knew that if they revealed themself to be his soulmate, especially after knocking on the door in the middle of the night, well catastrophic would be putting it lightly. He was grabbing his suitcase, hurrying downstairs as quietly as possible and still didn't manage to open the door before the first knock had sounded.

Looking at the person, Virgil covered their mouth instantly, hearing movement upstairs. “Sorry, I knocked something. Just wanted a glass of water to see if it'll help my mind settle. I think I can been a racoon in the trash so I'll chase it off while I'm down here.” He called upstairs, not loud enough to wake his parents, but enough that they'd hear if one had woken up.

A glance down the street showed another door getting knocked on by the driver of the car so Virgil shoved his case out of the door. “I'm Virgil, your soulmate if the star on my head doesn't give that away. Worst type of Christians up there so lets get this in the car and figure out what can happen then. If you'd prefer to just dump me in a motel somewhere close to you it would be better than here.” He hissed out, ignoring that his hand was now getting licked until he had the door pulled shut.

“I'm Remus, pretty one. You seriously running away with me in the middle of the night? Have you heard some of the most brilliant stories that come from people doing that?” His soulmate leant into his space. “You smell good, but I still can't decide what pronouns to use for you. I'm he/him, and so's Ro-bro. You know who he's going to be waking up?”

The wave towards the car at the end of the road had Virgil snort, “The pretentious git leading the choir. I try my best not to know him. I've stuck with he/him pronouns so far, but if that changes I'll let you know.”

“Are we really running, or can me and Ro have a sleep before you want to get away? Either works cause crashes are great fun to get out of and you're more likely to get into them when driving tired.” Remus asked, taking the suitcase and beginning to head back down the road.

“I'm not gonna change your plans. Just tell me what you're intending and I'll see if I can help, like by pointing out there's a fully furnished but currently empty house 2 blocks away. Might be worth it to crash there tonight.” Virgil had checked the area once he saw the star getting close to his town. Breaking into places would cause him a heck of a lot of anxiety over what would happen if they got caught but facing a screaming fit from his parents was worse.

Remus didn't care though, already loading the car and rushing over to Ro. “My soulmate wants us to break into a place a bit away so I'm stealing the car. Either get your soulmate to let you stay over or come find us. I'll park as close in front of the place as Vi-vi lets me.”

Now they were a bit closer Virgil could see Remus was identical to Ro. It felt sort of like he was high on sleep deprivation and meeting his soulmate, all his anxiety muffled through a fog of knowing change had arrived and he wouldn't have to pander to his parents religion anymore.

This was just the start of an adventure but he could keep the star close by now.

[confettihipster]

i was telling my mom about the episode of the crown where the queen tries to figure out her favourite child, because it reminded me of a time when i was about fourteen and i was helping out at playscheme, and i was having lunch with the staff. and all these women were sitting around talking about if they had a favourite child and they were all denying it obviously and like, i’ve know these women my whole life, i know their kids and i know what their kids would think so this is a wild conversation to sit in on. and then satwinder came in and they asked her and she instantly said yeah it’s manpreet!!!!!!!!!! 

anyway i told this to my mom today and she just reeled off a list of all the women who worked there and who their favourite child was and then she’s like “i don’t have a favourite tho” ok ok 

[diverseyouthclub-blog]

#diverse #youth #club #playscheme (at London, United Kingdom)

[meowhawkk]

I HAVE A KID ON PLAYSCHEME I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF ONE-ON-ONE AND SHES FUCKING TALLER THAN ME OKAY Y'ALL ARE RIGHT. IM SHORT. IM MAD AS HELL

[ievani-e]

Additional Thoughts About My Birth Name, and Why It Was So Dysphoric

I’ve always hated my birth name. Always, always, always. (I wholeheartedly apologise in advance for anyone with the same name; I’m sure it’s a great name for you! I just didn’t like it for myself.)

The one and only reason I stuck with it and put up with it for so long was because I didn’t know what to change it to. It took me a long time to come up with “Ievan” and find that one elusive name I was totally comfortable with. But I wanted to try and delve into the reasons why I hated it so much; why it elicited that level of deep discomfort and dysphoria within me.

For those who don’t know, my birth name is “Stacey”. Not “Stacie”, as many people who know me may be more familiar with. Changing the spelling was something I did later on, to try and exert some sense of control over it. But I’ll come back to that.

As far back as I can remember, hearing or seeing my name provoked a generic, non-specific sense of dread and discomfort deep within me. For the most part, I didn’t really know why; it just did. I just didn’t like it. My loathing of my own name was a puzzle I wasn’t able to solve; but now, I have a few more of the pieces.

I think the first time I can remember feeling that discomfort came in the form of discovering that “Stacey” (or any variations/ derivatives thereof) could be a “boy’s name”, as well. I didn’t personally know any boy or man called “Stacey”; but I knew of men called Stacey, through friends of friends of family. When I, as a young child (this would have been primary school age, I think), first heard that Stacey could be a boy’s name too, I was mortified.

I was mortified to be associated with boys in the same sort of way that some of the worst homophobes are closeted homosexuals themselves; or that some of the worst sexists against women are women themselves. (I, too, was guilty of the latter.) I was mortified because I was insecure. I took the fact that “Stacey” could be a man’s name as an attack on my own femininity — a thing that was already under threat.

It’s not that I thought boys were inherently bad. It’s that I thought that being a girl who was like a boy was bad. Being like a boy, when you were not a boy, was bad; because as a girl, I had to be a girl. I had no problems with other boys being boys, or other girls being girls. My problem was with me, and not knowing where I fit in.

I was a “girl”, and thus, I was expected to be a “girl”; and as such, I already felt a lot of pressure to be “like a girl” and be “girly”. I was already struggling with trying to live up to expectations for my assigned gender, and already felt bad that my own behaviour was more boyish; like I wasn’t good enough the way I was, and was failing in some way, because “being a girl” wasn’t something I excelled at. Having a boyish name (even if it’s not actually that boyish; just unisex) felt a lot like yet another nail in the proverbial coffin: it was another thing I had to struggle against to try and prove that I was “feminine enough”; that I was good enough, the way I was. I saw it as another thing counting against me.

I couldn’t put those feelings into words, of course; it was not something I could identify or understand. There was just that unconscious association that being a “girl who was like a boy” was bad — that I should either be “a boy” or “a girl”, except that I couldn’t possibly be “a boy” because I wasn’t born male, and therefore I was stuck with being “a girl” instead.

My name being associated with masculinity in any way seemed to fly in the face of my already-laboured pursuit of the feminine. So that was one reason I hated it.

And it’s weird, because none of the beliefs I just referenced about what it means to be a boy/ a girl were actually mine. I had just internalised them. I don’t even know for sure that they belonged to any one person I knew in particular. But that is what I thought other people thought I should be like, and I censored myself accordingly. I didn’t have anyone to tell me that I was okay, the way I was.

Getting into it more specifically, there were lots of little things I didn’t like about my name. I didn’t like the way it looked. I didn’t like the way it sounded. I didn’t like the letter “y”. (Again, my apologies to anyone who has a “y” in their name!)

I didn’t like the fact that my name didn’t hold any specific meaning or emotional significance to my parents when they picked it for me. My parents simply couldn’t decide what to call me; they couldn’t settle on one single name they loved. So they both wrote a list of several names they liked well enough, and cross-referenced their lists for names that appeared on both. I guess that does still count as a story behind the name; just not one rooted in sentiment. It’s almost as if my parents knew; as if they experienced some portent or some foresight that I would be difficult to define, and that doing so was beyond their capability. And how could I fault them for that? Before I came to terms with my identity and realised I was non-binary, it had been beyond my capability as well. I had been looking at it the wrong way — not only the wrong way, but focusing on the wrong thing. But I digress.

I didn’t like the way there were so many different names which all sounded similar to Stacey. I didn’t like the way that no-one ever knew how to spell it, and people always spelled it wrong. (Contrast this to “Ievan”, where the freedom and flexibility in playing around with the spelling and the derivatives thereof is something I enjoy.) And that’s because, being a socially anxious child, I didn’t like how I had to have repeat conversations with adults about my name; especially when conversation was something that I hated, and my name was something that I hated, too. (Whereas now, I like my new name, and thus, like talking about it.)

It was humiliating and embarrassing that adults insisted on engaging with me, and yet repeatedly failed to understand me. It was frustrating, and demoralising, too.

I remember this conversation with one of the supervisors at playscheme, when I was signing in for the day:

Adult: Hi! What’s your name?

Awkward and shy child me, in a whisper: Stacey.

Adult: What’s that? Tracy?

Awkward and shy child me, trying to raise my voice and feeling very uncomfortable: No, Stacey.

Adult: I’m sorry? I still didn’t catch that. Did you say Daisy?

Awkward and shy child me, on the verge of tears: No, Stacey!

Adult: Oh, Stacey! Well, why didn’t you say so? *Proceeds to write it down incorrectly.*

Awkward and shy child me: But that’s not — That’s not how you —oh, nevermind… *trails off miserably*

 That was one specific exchange, but I have had to have many similar ones; all variations upon the theme of,  “Let’s all talk about the name ‘Stacey’ for five minutes, despite the fact I hate the name ‘Stacey’ and would rather not be talking about it at all.”

Eventually, something happened to at least shift some of the discomfort I felt with my name. In 2003, singer and songwriter Stacie Orrico released a song called More to Life. I was 12 at the time, and in my second year of high school. I was obsessed with this song. It spoke to me on so many levels, capturing the melancholy and despair that I was feeling at that time; resonating with me with the idea that surely, there has to be more to it than this. If there isn’t, then what’s the point? Looking back at the lyrics now as an adult, it seems to be about drugs and a battle with addiction, depending on substance abuse as a means of distraction from an otherwise-empty life. That is not how I interpreted at the time, though: I interpreted it as being about how life was empty and devoid of meaning; about the endless questioning about why life was the way it was and trying to make sense of it; trying to make it better.

It was also the first time I had seen a celebrity with the same name as me. It was the first time I had heard of anyone except family-friend-Stacey-who-was-a-boy who had the same name as me. Immediately, I wanted to change the way I spelled my name from “Stacey” to “Stacie”, to be more like Stacie Orrico. And doing that helped; a bit. I got rid of the “y” I didn’t like, and the “ie” combination looked far more visibly appealing to me. (That “ie” combination is found in “Ievan”, too! That is the one tie between my old name and my new name, and adds another level of significance to the name “Ievan” and why I like it.) I felt like I got some control back over my own name, by at least choosing how it was spelled.

But it didn’t alleviate much. After all, how my name sounded was no different. It remained a name I had not chosen for myself, but one my parents had picked for me and thrust upon me. Additionally, changing my spelling presented a new problem. I knew how I wanted to spell it: but when and where and how could I actually do so?

At school, even if I said I preferred to spell it as “Stacie”, all my records and legal paperwork would still read “Stacey”. I became incredibly anxious about the potential confusion it might cause; that it would just lead to more conversations about my name, or about the correct spelling of my name, if I turned in a piece of work to my teachers with the name “Stacie” when the official record said otherwise.

I honestly don’t remember how I first broached the subject with my high school teachers. I do remember that I did end up having to have a lot of conversations, about how “it’s spelled ‘Stacey’ on my passport, but I prefer to spell it ‘Stacie’.” But eventually, everyone in my high school got used to it. There had been a discrepancy at first; but by the end, they knew that “Stacie” was me, and I was “Stacie”. That was fine. That worked great. However…

When I left high school and started university, I had to go through the whole process again. I was moving to a different country; I was registering as a citizen in another land; and I needed to send across photocopies of my birth certificate and my passport. Even on a day-to-day basis, using my passport as my ID was frequently necessary. So when I was signing up as a student and getting my student ID, I felt compelled to revert back to the name “Stacey”, so that it was spelled the same way as it was on all my legal documents.

Unlike high school — where all my teachers knew me personally and got used to me and my preferred spelling — university was highly impersonal. There was little to no interaction actually with the teachers. I sat in a lecture hall of 300 people, taking notes. All our coursework was online. Everything was processed digitally. I didn’t think the system would take very kindly to the idea of me spelling my name in a way that was different from all of my identification, both online and in paper.

So, reluctantly, I went back to spelling my name “the legal way”; not just in university, but in my day-to-day life, as well. I got so used to spelling it that way whenever it came to do with university or immigration, it spilled over to other aspects of life as well. I changed my Facebook page, which I created under “Stacie”, to read “Stacey” instead. Otherwise, the friends I met at university might have been confused and not recognise me when I added them online.

I never actually had a conversation with anyone else about what I should do about spelling my name a different way. I never actually had a conversation with my university or with legal authorities about what approach I should take, or if there was a way to operate under a “preferred name” instead of my legal name. Again, I was censoring myself. I was the one who assumed it would be a problem or cause issues. It was due to my own anxiety and my own internalised pressure to conform — to not inconvenience anyone else — that I tried to just blend in, be “normal”, and get by with as little fuss as possible.

Luckily, reverting to “Stacey” didn’t last very long. As soon as I was out of university, I switched back to “Stacie” and continued using it once more. I still didn’t like “Stacie”; but I liked it more than “Stacey”. In that one small way, I did want to stand up for myself, now there was no longer the need to use “Stacey” on a daily basis in the form of signing in to university. (And yes; a lot of confusion was caused along the way.)

At around this time, one of my friends from high school announced that she wanted to change her name. For privacy reasons, I won’t name her. But she, as a person, is an incredibly girly-girl kind of girl. She loves make-up and fashion and cute, frilly clothes and she is obsessed with pink. (Seriously, you should see her bedroom! It’s wall-to-wall awash in pink and very many pink and cutesy things!) She is a girly girl, and loves it. And that’s okay! I say this not to pass judgment; we are very different people, and while the whole girly-girl aesthetic isn’t for me, it suits her very well. Rather, I tell you this for context.

See, this incredibly girly girl had a “boy’s name”. Not in the same way that “Stacey” could be a boy’s name, but wasn’t often used as one; no, her birth name was ubiquitously “boy”.

I, as an outsider, thought that was so cool. I thought it was so cool, to be a girl with a boy’s name. I absolutely loved the idea. (Yes, this does seem contradictory to what I said before, about viewing having a name that could be in any way associated with a boy as an attack on my own femininity — but remember that I only felt that way due to being insecure in my own femininity to begin with. And also remember that I tend not to apply the same tolerance, love and acceptance to myself as I do to others. Hence why, as a child, I didn’t like that my name smeared me as “less than” in regards to being “a girl”; but as a more mature adult, I actively envied the possibility of having what was more typically a boy’s name.)

But my friend herself didn’t like her own name. She wanted to change it to one which sounded more feminine. I respected that; I respected her right to change her own name for her own reasons. Though I did personally like her birth name, I felt it was important to be respectful of her choices and show my support, and so I switched over to using her new preferred name straight away. I still slipped up sometimes, of course; but I caught myself, corrected myself and apologised, and she didn’t mind because she knew that I was generally on board with the idea. Now, a few years down the line, it’s actively more difficult to use her birth name, because I’ve become so used to using her preferred name. That is who she is now, and I can’t imagine thinking otherwise.

At the time when she first made the change, I applauded her courage and her conviction. I thought, wow! That’s so cool. I wish I could do that.

But even while rooting my friend on as she changed her name, I didn’t know what to do about my own name. I knew I didn’t like “Stacey” or “Stacie”, though the latter was still better — or, I should say, not as bad. But I didn’t know what I did like.

There was only one thing I did like about my birth name: its meaning of “resurrection”. The theme of resurrection and rebirth was an important one to me; especially in my teenage years as I fought my way through a difficult place, struggling every day for my survival. Eventually, I came out the other side even stronger. But it was particularly relevant for me at that time of my life when I was dealing with death and thoughts of destruction. It became a central theme for my stories; the idea that I, too, could make a new life for myself and be reborn, just as my name suggested. The importance of this can be seen in Chapter One of my story, Evani’s Awakening (also known as Headstory, under its working title):

Evani took a deep breath. “If you know everything, then…” She hesitated, nervously twisting the material of her skirt in her hands before continuing. “Please tell me why I am here. Why was I not sent to the Seventh Circle like the others…?”

“Ah. Well, you are part of a prophecy,” Lucifer replied. “‘The wayward son will fall into the darkness, but the Lord will raise him; and from the darkness, he will bring new light. His physical body will be raised again a spiritual body, and he will return to the world of man a Saviour.’ That is your role. You will not be punished for your suicide, for you will return to Earth to realise your true purpose […] That is why I said the name ‘Stacie’ was fitting, for it means ‘resurrection’.”

 —Excerpt from Chapter One of Evani’s Awakening

 That emotional significance was the reason why, when I was searching for a new name, I also searched for names with a similar meaning. But I hit many dead ends. There are many names which mean “new day”, “new life”, or convey a sense of “new beginnings”; but none of those names appealed to me. None of them hit home.

Luckily, I had a good friend to talk to about it and bat ideas around with. I told him I had looked up names which also meant “resurrection” or “rebirth”, and he agreed that it was a perfect sentiment. His response was, “Omg, that’s perfect! Look at it and your situation!”; but he also agreed that finding names which meant the same and still sounded right was hard. So then he came up with the idea of “What about redemption instead of resurrection? I think you already resurrected, no?”

I liked that idea, because it seemed apt. I had gone through a period of darkness and rebirth. I had come out on the other side. That was now in the past. I had no need of resurrection anymore; it had already happened.

Together, we cycled through some more ideas where nothing stood out to us; and came back around to the idea of doing something with “Evan” or “Evani”, given that those were already names for myself I did use and did like. He said that he liked “Evani”, and that it suited me: but he also asked if it felt perfect for me; whether it called me; whether I felt it in my soul.

I answered with, “It's more my name than anything else”; and that it could very well be that nothing else seemed to fit because I already had “Evani”. We talked about names some more and he talked about online names and character names he had come up with for himself. When I said how much I liked his name because of how it suited him and the symbolism/ associations I had with it, he said, “You make it sound prettier than its origin story! You’re great at stuff like that [finding symbolism], so I’m sure you’ll find yourself a great name.”

We ended up talking about names for a long time, but he gave me a lot to think about and a lot of inspiration. Thanks to him, I stopped looking for names which were like “Stacey”. I stopped looking for names which meant “resurrection”. I stopped looking for names which tied me to the past, and instead looked forward to the present. I looked at the names I had already chosen for myself at various points in my life, and what they represented for me and the symbolism they held.

And all that led me to picking “Ievan”, a rearranging of “Evani” — the name I used as my online handle.  I liked the name “Ievan” because it could be paired with “Evani”, and either be used separately as a counterpart or put together to form “Ievani”, creating an amalgamation which incorporated both distinct names wholly and completely and yet could be read separately, which featured a lot of overlap between two separate-but-similar personas.

Now I am very happy with “Ievan”, in a way I never was with “Stacey”. Now, I smile when people use my name where I used to cringe.

My friend who changed her name had to go from a “boy’s name” to a “girl’s name” to find happiness. For me, it was the opposite: I had to change from what was typically a girl’s name (with some masculine connotations), to what is typically a boy’s name (with some feminine connotations — ie, the extra ‘i’, which I consider to make the name appear more feminine than it would without it.)

Before I could find my name, I had to find myself. Now I know I would never have been happy with “a girl’s name”, because I am not a girl. I had to accept myself, proudly and fully, as non-binary, so that I could find the right name for me not as a woman, but as a person. To lessen the dysphoria, what I needed was something that was neither exclusively feminine or masculine, but a blend of both. “Ievan” is an unconventional name for an unconventional person; and that is why it fits me perfectly. It replaces all the dysphoria I had previously felt with euphoria instead.

I just had to open my mind and actually allow myself those possibilities.

[secondmom9]

Things to Know About Childcare

Parents, caregivers, employers, societies, and, most significantly, kids all benefit from childcare. Enhancing localized childcare services has tangible benefits for the entire community. Day nurseries, pre-schools, childminders, nursery classes, playgroups, after school clubs and vacation playschemes are just a few examples.

All children's opportunities in life are improved by proper care. It improves children's academic performance and allows them to interact with others from various backgrounds. Hourly daycare can serve to alleviate social, geographical, and economic separation by enabling parents working or training, lowering reliance on government benefits, and participate in local economies.

According to research, it provides the finest upbringing for small kids by enhancing their social and emotional growth and having a beneficial influence on school achievement. Children's accomplishments in communication, reading, and mathematics grew equally to the amount of time they stayed in preschool, according to the findings.

Kids who had gone to pre-school were 4-6 months advanced from those who had not been pre-school at the age of five. Likewise, extended institutions for school-aged kids provide programs for children to participate in before, after, and during the vacations. These have been shown to improve GCSE grades and offer a broader range of benefits, such as increased learning involvement, family stability, and improved life opportunities.

Childcare has an impact on the entire community 

Families utilize daycare for a variety of purposes, including to assist parents in working, training, or studying, meeting other parents, or simply taking a break, and, of course, to aid development of the child. Quality daycare benefits kids, their guardians, and the community as a whole. It leads to better cognition and memory in children, resulting in a better family life — and even a stronger national economy.

Read More : https://secondmom.in/blog/things-to-know-about-childcare

[northeastjobs]

Re-ad DBS0041 Senior Support Worker

North Tyneside Council are recruiting sessional Senior Support Workers for specialist SEND playschemes for children and young people. Contract Type: Casual / Seasonal / Bank / Permanently Variable hours | Working Pattern: As and when required | Salary: £14.43 per hour | Advert End Date: 14/05/2023 23:59 |  http://dlvr.it/SmcdyJ

[irlcatmcdonald]

There were also different rooms at the Playscheme so I divided the Art work into different themes of each room, ie the Sensory room where there were lights and objects to feel.

[fitzrovianews]

Summer 2023 activities for children in Fitzrovia

Fitzrovia community Centre has a free Summer Playscheme for Camden and Westminster children. See their website for more details. Cartoon museum has art workshops on offer. The Buildings Centre on Store Street has some fun activities for budding property developers: Building is Art: Summer Holiday Art Clubs. Camden Council has a list of Holiday activities 2023. Westminster Council has…