Amelia Bedelia on the Job

by Herman Parish

  Amelia Bedelia started swaying back and forth. She looked like she was trying to get her timing right before hopping in to join someone who was already jumping rope. The voice in her brain kept repeating, What do I say? What do I say? What do I say?

  “My father is a coach,” said Amelia Bedelia finally.

  “Your father is a coach?” repeated Mrs. Shauk. “What does he coach?”

  “Baseball?” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “Baseball?” said Mrs. Shauk. “Ha!”

  “And basketball,” added Amelia Bedelia.

  “Ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” said Mrs. Shauk.

  Why was the Hawk laughing? Now some of the other kids were laughing too. Amelia Bedelia wondered what would have happened if she’d said her dad was a jerk. Everyone would probably be rolling around on the floor by now. She sat back down in her seat.

  “I’m sorry, Amelia Bedelia,” said Mrs. Shauk, wiping the tears out of her eyes. “I apologize for laughing. I’m not laughing at you or your father. I don’t have to tell you what a great guy he is. I was laughing at myself . . . because when I was your age, I thought that my father counted beans for a living.”

  “Magic beans?” asked Clay.

  “No, just ordinary beans,” said Mrs. Shauk. “I thought he counted beans, day in and day out.”

  “What did he really do?” asked Holly.

  “He was an accountant,” said Mrs. Shauk. “He helped people keep track of the money in their businesses. He always called himself a bean counter. My mother said he was an accountant, but I thought she meant he was a-counting beans. ‘Bean counter’ is a slang term.”

  “What’s a slang term?” asked Rose.

  It seemed that Mrs. Shauk hadn’t heard Rose’s question. “Take out your assignment books,” she said. “Now I want you to write down what you think your mother and father do for a living.”

  Amelia Bedelia was pretty confused. She almost wrote down “breathe,” because isn’t that what everyone does to keep living? But she decided to write “coach” for her father and “everything” for her mother. When she looked up, she couldn’t help but notice that most kids hadn’t written down anything at all.

  “All done?” asked Mrs. Shauk. “Good. Now, tonight at dinner, or whenever your mother and father get home, just ask them what they do for a living. What’s their job? Their occupation? What do they do every day? How long have they been doing it? What do they like best and least about it? Did they have to go to school to learn what they do? What sort of training did they get?”

  “You want us to interview our parents like we’re reporters on TV?” asked Heather.

  “Exactly,” said Mrs. Shauk. “I think you and your classmates may be surprised by what you discover.”

  Rose was closing her assignment book when Mrs. Shauk added, “Oh, Rose, first thing tomorrow, please give us a report on the word ‘slang,’ with examples.”

  When Amelia Bedelia’s mother picked her up after school, she had a surprise for Amelia Bedelia. “Dad is getting off early from work today,” she said. “So we’re going to swing by and pick him up too.”

  Amelia Bedelia hadn’t visited her dad’s office since she was super little, and she didn’t really remember much about it. As they got closer, they drove by big signs that Amelia Bedelia read out loud: “Business Park . . . Office Park . . .”

  Amelia Bedelia saw lots of trees, grass, bushes, and flowers. She did not see any slides or swings or play structures, just buildings that looked like big boxes. Amelia Bedelia figured that the parks must be indoor parks, and all the fun stuff must be inside those buildings.

  She kept hoping she’d see a sign that said BALLPARK. Instead she saw one that said PROFESSIONAL PARK. Wow, she thought. Her town must be pretty great if it had a professional park. That sounded almost as important as a national park. In science class, they had learned about the national parks, including Yosemite—with its giant waterfalls and redwood trees—and Yellowstone—with bears and Old Faithful.

  The professional park sign made her wonder about the other parks in her town. Were those amateur parks? She loved the park near her house, even if it was unprofessional.

  “After we get Daddy, can we please play in the professional park?” she asked.

  “These parks are not for playing,” said Amelia Bedelia’s mother. “They’re for working.” She made a right turn. “Here we are. Corporate Park.”

  They pulled in front of a group of buildings made of shiny glass. Her dad walked out of the tallest one.

  “Hi, guys,” said Amelia Bedelia’s father, getting into the car. He kissed Amelia Bedelia’s mother on the cheek and blew a kiss to Amelia Bedelia in the backseat.

  “How was your day, honey?” asked Amelia Bedelia’s mother.

  “Great!” he said. “Remember those slides I was working on last night? They were a big hit. I scored a lot of points today.”

  That sounded like baseball to Amelia Bedelia. Maybe she was right!

  “I have an idea,” said Amelia Bedelia’s mother. “Let’s have an early dinner and go for a bike ride.” She looked in the rearview mirror at Amelia Bedelia. “Do you have much homework, sweetie?”

  Homework!

  “We are learning about occupations,” said Amelia Bedelia. “We’re supposed to interview our parents about what they do.”

  “I’ll go first,” said Amelia Bedelia’s mother. “I’m a homemaker. That means I do everything.” She laughed.

  “That is so true,” said Amelia Bedelia’s father, nodding his head. “And because your mother does such an amazing job, I am able to focus on my job.”

  “But what do you do?” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “Marketing,” said her father.

  “Daddy, Mom does the marketing,” said Amelia Bedelia. “You hardly ever buy groceries.”

  “Marketing is about selling things,” said Amelia Bedelia’s father, turning around in his seat to face her. “It could be anything, a car or a can of soup. I help people figure out what to say about what they have to sell.”

  “Is that like being a coach?” asked Amelia Bedelia.

  “You could say that,” said her father.

  “I just did,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  Amelia Bedelia was relieved that her father was some kind of a coach. She kept asking her parents questions, because it was fun to hear them talk about the different kinds of jobs they had had and what they had learned from them and all the different types of people they had worked with.

  “Did either of you ever work in a factory?” asked Amelia Bedelia.

  “Say again?” said her father.

  “Or plant,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “No, sweetie,” said her mother. “The only plants I’m interested in are the vegetables in my garden. Now that you are getting older, though, I have been thinking about going back to work.”

  “What would you do?” asked Amelia Bedelia.

  “Hmmm,” her mother said. “I think I’ll surprise you.”

  The next day Rose stood in front of the class to give her report about slang words. “We all use slang words every day. Slang words are words or expressions that we use when we talk to our friends in a casual way. Groups of people also use slang words. For example, slang terms for an accountant are ‘bean counter’ or ‘number cruncher.’”

  Mrs. Shauk laughed. “I had forgotten about crunching numbers. My father used to say that too.”

  Amelia Bedelia wondered how to crunch a number. Would that be fun? Was that how fractions were made?

  “Slang can be used to describe whole groups of workers,” said Rose. “People with professions, like people in law and business, are called white-collar workers because their shirts are usually white, at least they were in the olden times. People with a trade or skill, like plumbers and electricians, are called blue-collar workers for the same reason, except the color is different.”

  “Excellent, Rose,” said Mrs. Shauk. “Speaking of law, Cliff, did you find out what your fath
er does?”

  “Yup,” said Cliff. “My dad is a lawyer.”

  “Not the same as a custodian,” said Mrs. Shauk.

  “It’s not my fault,” said Cliff. “Last night he came home and said, ‘Messes! All I do is clean up messes!’ And when I asked him about his job, he explained that the messes he was talking about were legal problems that people have. By helping them figure things out, he is cleaning up those messes.”

  Drew, the boy sitting in front of Amelia Bedelia, said, “My mother works in a nursery.”

  “I love babies,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  Drew laughed. “So does my mom, but she works in the nursery at a garden center. She takes care of thousands of seedlings. She calls them her babies.”

  Haley, who sat behind Amelia Bedelia, said, “My mother works in the nursery at the hospital, taking care of newborns.”

  “Both of your mothers work in nurseries, but those are very different jobs,” said Mrs. Shauk. “How are they similar?”

  Angel raised her hand. “A baby seedling and a real baby both need to be taken care of and protected,” she said.

  “Right!” said Mrs. Shauk. “That applies to your ideas too. Many great ideas need to be protected and nurtured before people recognize how good they are and accept them.”

  Finally, it was Amelia Bedelia’s turn. “My mother does everything. She’s a homemaker.”

  “Mr. Shauk is a homemaker too,” said Mrs. Shauk. “And, Amelia Bedelia, is your father really a coach?”

  “Sort of,” said Amelia Bedelia. “He coaches people on how to sell things, not play things. He calls it marketing, but it’s not just in the supermarket.”

  “Cool,” said Clay. “Does he make TV commercials?”

  “My mom works in advertising,” said Heather. “Does your dad think up coupons and promotions?”

  “My father just got promoted,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “Then he must be doing a good job,” said Mrs. Shauk. “Okay, everyone, these are all great questions and comments. Let’s keep thinking like that, because I have a surprise for you. We’re going to visit some real workplaces. First up is the professional park where Amelia Bedelia’s father works. So your assignment tonight is to think up some questions for him.”

  “What color is his collar?” asked Rose.

  “Today it was white with little blue stripes,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “So he’s a white- and blue-collar worker,” said Clay. “Cool.”

  Things were a little wackier than usual at Amelia Bedelia’s house on the morning of the field trip to her father’s office. For one thing, her mother was already out working in her garden, even though the sun was barely up. By the time Amelia Bedelia had gotten dressed and gone down to the kitchen for breakfast, the refrigerator was full of fresh, just-picked lettuce.

  “Are we having a salad for breakfast?” asked Amelia Bedelia, looking at the wall of green leaves.

  “That’s for later,” said her mother, handing her a bowl of cereal.

  Amelia Bedelia’s class took a bus to the office where her father worked. The building was so shiny that it reflected the trees and sky like a giant mirror. Everyone gathered at the entrance and made goofy faces at their reflections while Mrs. Shauk gave instructions to the bus driver. A man wearing a blue jumpsuit approached, squirted something onto the glass, and wiped it off, making the glass even shinier.

  “Thanks,” said Amelia Bedelia. “You must work here.”

  “Only once a month,” said the man. “My partner and I clean all the windows on the outside of this building.”

  “Wow!” said Amelia Bedelia.

  The man climbed onto a scaffold and put on a safety harness. “I do the opposite of what people in business do,” he said. “I go straight to the top and then work my way down.” His partner pushed a lever. An electric winch hummed and up they went, heading for the top of the building. “You kids should take the elevator instead,” he yelled, waving. “See you upstairs!”

  Mrs. Shauk herded everyone inside and across the lobby to the security desk. Lots of people were moving back and forth across the shiny marble floor. Some were strolling, some running, but most just walked. When everyone crowded around the desk, a woman in a uniform looked up from a bunch of screens and said, “You must be here for the school visit.”

  “How did you know?” asked Amelia Bedelia.

  “It’s my job,” she said. “I check people into the building and help visitors find where they want to go.” She picked up a phone with one hand and took a thick envelope from a deliveryman with the other. “Your visitors have arrived,” she said into the receiver.

  Wade looked at the deliveryman. “Is your job fun?” he asked.

  “It varies,” said the deliveryman. “Last night it was picking up, this morning it’s dropping off. I rush around a lot.” He handed the security guard a clipboard. “I need your autograph here, please.”

  The guard smiled, signed her name, and returned the clipboard. Amelia Bedelia had never seen anyone give an autograph before. She knew that only important or famous people got asked for their autographs. “Are you famous?” she asked. “May I have your autograph too?”

  The guard laughed and signed the first page in the small notebook that Amelia Bedelia gave her. On the bus, Mrs. Shauk had handed out one to each student, so they could all take notes about the field trip. “They are waiting for you on the sixteenth floor,” the guard said, handing Mrs. Shauk a sheet of sticky name tags. “You’re all signed in—just wear these badges while you are in the building.”

  “Meet me at the bank of elevators,” said Mrs. Shauk, sticking an ID badge on each of her students.

  Amelia Bedelia followed her friends across the lobby. She had heard of a bank for savings. She had a piggy bank in her room at home. Her parents used a bank for writing checks. And she loved sandbanks. She had no clue what a bank of elevators might look like.

  Luckily, there was an ATM in the wall by one of the elevators, so Amelia Bedelia stood next to it. A cash machine was almost a bank.

  “You cannot use this elevator right now. It’s going out of service. I have to inspect it,” said a man wearing green coveralls and carrying a small tool kit.

  “Why do you need to inspect it?” asked Amelia Bedelia.

  “That’s my job,” said the man. “I make sure that elevators operate safely.”

  “Do you like inspecting elevators?” asked Amelia Bedelia.

  “It has its ups and downs,” he said, smiling.

  At last Mrs. Shauk managed to get the entire class onto two working elevators. Cliff and Clay were on one; Amelia Bedelia was on the other.

  “Hey, Amelia Bedelia!” the boys shouted. “Let’s race!”

  Amelia Bedelia pressed the button with the number sixteen on it, and up they went.

  Both elevators arrived on the sixteenth floor at the exact same time. The doors opened, and everyone stepped out into another lobby. It was smaller but nicer, with thick carpeting, fancy chairs, and a comfy-looking couch.

  “Here you are,” said a young woman with a friendly smile. “I have been waiting for you. My name is Miss Sanderson, but you can call me Sandy for short.”

  “Hi, Sandy Forshort,” said Amelia Bedelia. “I’m Amelia Bedelia. You can call me Amelia Bedelia.”

  Sandy laughed. “Aha! Your father works here, right?” she said. “You have the same sense of humor. Now, if you please, follow me into the conference room and we’ll get started.”

  The conference room was spacious and bright. There were just enough chairs for everyone to have a seat around a long table.

  “Welcome to the Idea Group,” said Sandy. “We help businesses advertise and market their products. Our goal is for people to learn good things about products so that they choose to buy them.”

  “Is that what you do all day?” asked Joy.

  “No,” said Sandy. “I work in human relations.”

  “I am a human related to my dad,” said Amelia
Bedelia.

  Sandy laughed again. “You sure are,” she said. “But you don’t have to be related to someone to work here. We employ all sorts of smart people, just like you guys.”

  “Are you offering us jobs?” said Holly.

  “Not yet,” said Sandy. “You need a few more years of school. Education will automatically open doors for you.”

  “Like walking into a supermarket?” asked Amelia Bedelia.

  “It’s not that easy,” said Sandy, smiling. “Education just helps you get your foot in the door.”

  “What about the rest of me?” asked Amelia Bedelia.

  “Let’s talk about all of you,” said Sandy. “This morning you are going to work on writing a résumé.”

  “Is that a different language?” asked Wade.

  “It’s a French word for ‘summary,’” said Sandy.

  “What’s French for ‘wintery’?” asked Amelia Bedelia.

  “Hivernal,” said Mrs. Shauk. “Now stop interrupting Sandy so she can share what she has planned for you.”

  “Merci!” said Sandy to Mrs. Shauk.

  “I was a French major,” explained Mrs. Shauk. “Now, I want everyone to sit up straight and pay attention. I’ll be back shortly.”