THE INVENT-A-JOB JOB (Part One)

Finding a decent job in a small college town is almost as challenging as finding an affordable apartment, but since all of the good positions on campus were already taken, I was determined to find the least noxious employment available off campus. After searching in vain for several weeks, I knew that if we wanted to eat more than canned soup, I would have to devise a new strategy. It came to me in the middle of the night.

“That’s it!” I said, sitting up in bed. “What’s it?” W.S. mumbled into his pillow. “I am going to invent a job,” I replied. “Tell me about it in the morning,” he said. My husband had studied late into the night for an upcoming test in statistics, so by the time he got out of bed, I had already made an appointment, and was on my way to meet with the principal of the local high school.

Mr. Freund was an unassuming, rather rumpled little man who peered at me over his eyeglasses as he said, “I’m really sorry, but we have no position for you at our school.” “Do you have an attendance counselor?” I asked.

 “A what?” he replied. “An attendance counselor,” I said. “You know, the person who checks your attendance every morning to be sure that students are sitting at their desks when the bell rings.” “Unless, I added, “they have a pretty darn good excuse for not being here.” “No,” he replied. “We don’t have one of those.” “And,” I said, warming up to my impromptu idea, “the attendance counselor also keeps track of the students who are tardy---the late ones.” “I know what tardy is,” he replied. “Isn’t it true,” I added, “ that the more students you have in school, the more money you get from the county?” I took a wild guess that attendance records were tied to the money allotted to the school---the more kids attending, the more money available.

“I’m not sure,” he said, “but that sounds right to me. We’ve never had an attendance counselor before, but if I can find the money for a salary, would you consider starting on a part-time basis?” So that’s how I became the first attendance counselor at the local high school. The regular counselor was buried somewhere under college applications, and I don’t think I ever saw him come up for air during the two years I worked at the job.

Mr. Freund found me a little alcove/office. It was located in front of a door marked, School Nurse, so any student wanting access to the nurse had to first step around my desk. Unfortunately, there was only one school nurse, and she was assigned to serve four other schools at the same time. Therefore, whenever a health emergency arose, I was not only the closest person to her office, but I was the only person available.

At first, I just advised the coughing and sneezing young people who knocked on her door to take a tissue and call back in the morning. However, when a football player vomited into my wastebasket, and a pale young woman fainted onto my desk, I knew it was time to invest in a book on first aid and pray that no one would sue. I set jammed fingers on Popsicle sticks and called parents to get permission to dispense aspirin. I knew that high fevers meant, “Go Home!”  I also knew that rashes indicted, “Don’t scratch! Go Home!” And definitely, no matter what---“Don’t touch me!” (To be continued---)

Esther Blumenfeld

CROSSING WITH THE BLUE LIGHT, Blumenfeld, c 2006