INVENT-A-JOB JOB (Part 2)

Although “Sick Bay” was not in my job description, I knew that as attendance counselor, I needed to keep as many healthy kids in school as possible. Consequently, when I received a phone call informing me that, “Jimmy is sick today,” I had to wonder why Jimmy has a father whose voice is changing. With deep compassion, I called back to check on Jimmy’s state of health.

“What do you mean?” Jimmy’s father said, this time in a deeper voice. “Well,” I replied, “when you called me fifteen minutes ago, you said that Jimmy had the crud, and I just wondered how he’s feeling.” “I didn’t call you,” said Jimmy’s father. “Isn’t he in school?” “No, he’s not.” I answered. “I hope he’s not dying. “He’s going to wish he had,” was the reply.

Shortly after our conversation, Jimmy or Betty, or any other hooky player, would appear in my office, appropriately chagrinned, and I would always say, “I am so glad you experienced a miraculous recovery. Welcome back.” I honed my investigative skills and became the best bounty hunter the school had ever had. After several weeks of keeping attendance records, bandaging cuts and dispensing tissues, I was confronted by my most challenging medical emergency. A 15-year-old lad came into my office clutching his bleeding nose.

Stunned, I offered, “Your nose is bleeding. I mean it’s really bleeding!”  “I was bitten by a rat,” he said. “Ah-Hah!” I responded. “Go lie down and press a damp rag on your nose. Do you know what happened to the rat?” “It’s in the Science Lab,” he said, offended that I was more concerned about the health of the rat than his swollen nose.

“Well, you just lie there, while I go check out the rat,” I said. In a few minutes, I returned, greatly relieved that the lab rat was isolated and was clearly healthy. The teacher informed me that the boy had been playing with it, and had let it run up his arm. When the rat ran into an obstacle (he didn’t know it was a nose) he nipped it on his way down the other arm. The rat was lab raised, healthy and posed no threat for anything worse than loss of dignity.

I prayed that the boy’s mother wasn’t the hysterical type when I called and told her, “Your son had a small accident. A rat ran into his nose.” It was the best I could do. After she finished screaming, I assured her that the rat was healthy, but she insisted on talking with her son. By now, the bleeding had stopped, but his nose was swollen and red, so I suggested that she take him to be checked out by his doctor.

He wasn’t happy, because he was going to miss frog dissection, but I couldn’t be concerned about that. After all, there were 10 kids tardy because of flat tires, and none of them had arrived in the same car. 10 cars—10 flat tires. I figured it must be an epidemic, so I picked up the phone to alert the school nurse.

Esther Blumenfeld

CROSSING WITH THE BLUE LIGHT, Blumenfeld c 2006.