Flip a Switch

Under the Florescent Halo

The patron saint of school secretaries tucks a thermometer behind her ear,
hangs bottles of Tylenol, tubes of Neosporin, and Band-Aids from her rosary.
She can discern a parent's hurried scrawl from a child's (sometimes difficult),
and makes forgotten lunch money appear with a snap of her fingers.

The patron saint of school secretaries comforts the disheartened:
first grader whose dog got hit by a car outside her house,
second grade teacher whose husband left donuts and divorce papers,
sixth grade girl who found the first blood in her underwear.

The patron saint of school secretaries has a good sense of humor
when some kid attacks the third grade teacher with a clicky pencil.
His mother says he needs Ritalin and to be sent back to class:
"You must have some around. It's an elementary school for God's sake."

The patron saint of school secretaries has a strong stomach,
drags pale children to the bathroom while parents claim
they can't leave work or find a sitter: "Shouldn't kids be exposed
to germs? It builds their immune systems. I saw it on the news."

The patron saint of school secretaries eats peanut butter and jelly
sandwiches, potato chips, chocolate milk, and an oatmeal cookie
every night for dinner, sitting in complete silence. The absence
of sound sweet, a hymn for eardrums, a promise of noise to come.

by Teresa Milbrodt

in volume 4 issue 1

Buy a Copy

Return to the Online TOC