Career Day

This story was written for "Writer's Cramp." The prompt for the story is:

A mortician...several 5-year-olds..."Career Day"..."tools of the trade"...your story involves scared children and stupid decisions.

Career Day

It was a bright spring morning, and the pre-kindergarten students at California University Day Care, a lab school at the University, were gathering in their seats after music and snack time. It was time for “Career Day,” a monthly activity where the students heard about the work one their classmates parents did.

Miss Nancy thought five year olds were a little young to be hearing about vocations and careers, but it was, after all, a pre-school in a college setting. And it got her out of a lesson plan for an hour of that day. So who could complain?

At least today’s guest wasn’t one of the C. U. faculty or staff. Since most of the kids parents worked at the university, she usually had to endure some professor yammer about the joy of physics or some such thing. And although Debbie’s mom did work at C. U., it was her father she had invited to speak, whom Debbie said was a beautician. Maybe Miss Nancy could get a free manicure out of it or something. Or maybe some advice about her split ends.

She blew her whistle for attention and stood at the front of the class. “And now we have a special guest for Career Day!” said Miss Nancy with mock enthusiasm. “Debbie’s daddy, Mr. Dixon, is here to tell us all about his work as a beautician!” She put her hands together, encouraging the children to clap for their guest, as she headed to the back of the room.

Mr. Dixon unfolded his lanky frame from the miniature chair and stood up, a look of confusion on his face. He stood there blankly, not sure what to do, as the children lost interest in clapping, and started to pull hair and pick noses (their own, for the most part). Debbie smiled broadly and continued clapping.

“Go ahead, Mr. Dixon, the floor is all yours!” Miss Nancy encouraged.

“Um, Miss Nancy, could we speak out in the hall?” He walked toward the back of the room, leaving a large black case next to his little chair.

“Sorry, I can’t really leave the children alone. Is there a problem?”

Mr. Dixon motioned for her to join him in the corner, and then bent down and cupped his hand as if to whisper in her ear.

“TELLING SECRETS ISN’T POLITE!” shouted one of the children.

“It’s okay, kids, it’ll be just a second, maybe Mr. Dixon has a special surprise for you all for when he tells you about his career, and if he doesn’t whisper it won’t be a surprise will it?” She smiled at the children, wondering what surprise a beautician would have for five year olds, maybe a free facial? But they were buying it and settling down.

“I’m not a beautician,” he whispered.

“What?” Miss Nancy could have kicked herself for not double checking about Mr. Dixon. What a stupid thing not to have done! This was the second time it had happened ~ an over-eager child, claiming their father was an astronaut or their mother was on the Supreme Court, was invited by Miss Nancy to ‘Career Day,’ whereupon she discovered, much too late, that they were really an accountant and a ‘Judge Judy’ junkie. It was really inexcusable for her not to have checked. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she muttered to herself.

“I said I’m NOT a beautician,” Mr. Dixon repeated, more urgently this time.

“You aren’t? I could have sworn Debbie said you were, she mentioned make up... Well, no matter, just go up and tell the kids about whatever it is you do, I’m sure it’s very interesting.” Miss Nancy smiled, trying to be calm. How bad could this be? Sure, it might be boring, but no harm had been done in the past, if you don’t count almost boring kids to death talking about 1040’s.

“Actually,” said Mr. Dixon, turning red, “I think there has been some sort of mistake. You see, my wife told me I’d been invited to speak at the University about my job, and I just assumed it was to give a lecture over at the medical school, in a forensics class. But then this morning she told me to drop by Debbie’s class, and I thought she said it was for parents day or something, although I seem to be the only parent here.” He laughed nervously. “Anyway I thought I could come over here for this parent thing and then go to the medical school, but obviously I misunderstood where it was I was actually speaking…” He trailed off.

Miss Nancy’s face brightened. “Did you say medical school, forensics class? Are you a doctor? That’ll be just perfect!”

“You don’t understand, this really is quite embarrassing …” He was interrupted by the shriek of a child, followed by another, and then another.

They both turned to see a small group of children gathered around the chair Mr. Dixon had vacated. He crossed the room in two long strides and was shocked to see three of the children pouring over some “before and after pictures” of some of his clients, and another holding a glass jar with a hand floating in it, and yet another was pulling out his rib spreader. One little girl was crying and screaming, another had thrown up, and the boys were visibly pale.

He carefully took the hand and rib spreader away from the shrieking children as Miss Nancy ran over and grabbed the pictures from the children. She took one look at them and gasped. “You brought pictures of dead people and a hand to class?! What kind doctor ARE you?!”

“I’m a mortician!” he shouted, which brought louder screams from the children. “Shh, sshhh, it’s okay,” he said, in his most soothing mortician voice. Miss Nancy was obviously going to be of no help here, he had to calm these children down.

He carefully put the “tools of his trade” back into his bag as he spoke calmly to the children, trying to salvage the situation. “It’s okay, it’s not scary, really it’s not. I help people and families when a loved one dies…”

Debbie proudly took his hand. Oh God Debbie, he’d forgotten all about her. She smiled up at him, her lip trembling. He squeezed her hand.

“Omigod you’re a mortician!” Miss Nancy interrupted, hand over her mouth. It was all finally sinking in. Over the howls of the frightened children she shouted, “I could have sworn Debbie said beautician!”