Life in Progress: A weblog by Heidi Price

Embalming School

My best friend, who lives in France, not far from Lyon, returned to teaching school a few weeks ago after a one-year hiatus.

"I'm thinking of becoming an embalmer," she told me this morning. "I've worked with children and now I'm ready to try something different."

Her assignment this year involves teaching English to kindergarten-age children. Every day she comes home and tells her children, her husband or me, "That was the worst day of my life."

"You said that yesterday," her children say.

My friend responds that yes, it was true yesterday and it is equally true today.

A few phone calls back, I ask her if it is really that bad and she tells me that one of her students tried to stab another child with a colored pencil. They don't listen. They don't behave, she tells me. She had a momentary breakthrough the other day with all her students chanting an English rhyme, in sync, when a little girl interrupted to announce that she went to the swimming pool. The moment was lost.

My friend is so serious about embalming school that she actually found an embalming academy near her home and has been reading up on what it would involve. Enthusiasm, she tells me, and a sensitive nature. She figures her husband can deal with the families and she'll just work on the bodies. Then she recites a passage from a book she's been reading about how friends need to support one another in their search for greater wisdom.

My friend, I support you.


Tom Birdsall said...

After 39 years in the business of teaching, I know why she wants to be an embalmer. You clients don't talk back ! Tom Birdsall, Avella

10:11 AM  

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