Most Dangerous Job

Near the end of my last class today as a substitute teacher for the fifth grade, two little girls looked up from their writing assignment.

“Mr. K, what’s the most dangerous job?” asked Annabel. Before I could respond, she gave me the answer. “Lumberjack,” she said, very conclusively. “You could chainsaw your leg right off.”

“Well, you do have to know what you’re doing,” I said. “There are definitely risks involved with the work.”

“You could fall out of a tree, too,” she said.

I couldn’t argue. I did hesitate to rank it as the most dangerous job, though. “One job you’ll never see me apply for—bridge painter,” I said. “I always get a little uneasy when I see someone working, or walking, high on the cables. That seems very dangerous to me.”

“And what about window washers?” asked Sam. “They’re high in the air, holding on by a strap.”

Vertigo was beginning to set in, so I tried to change the subject. “I know one job that isn’t dangerous, and that’s being an editor,” I said. “The biggest risk there is a paper cut.”

Sam shuddered. “Ooh. That stings.”

“That gives me an idea,” I said. “The next time I’m back here, we’ll have everyone write a short essay on the most dangerous jobs.”

“I know what the safest job is,” said Sam. She paused. “Pillow tester.”