Chapter 1

As a recent college graduate, I spent most of my last semester, and all of the summer, trying to find gainful employment. My degree is in Sports Medicine, a relatively new degree field, but one that seemed to have great possibilities when I began the program. So far, I was batting zero for job offers, and the school term was drawing closer.

I am almost ashamed to admit that I did interview for one job, that of an athletic trainer at a parochial school for seventh, eighth, and ninth grade girls. One of my former professors recommended me to them, and they called last week, quite anxious to have an interview with me. (I am sure that my eyes must have visibly rolled when I was introduced since all three of them were very senior members of a ladies religious order.)

The principal, Sister Clarice, extended her hand and welcomed me to Our Lady of Somewhere Girl's school, "We've heard so many fine things about you, Paul, from Professor Martin. He said that you are very bright, perceptive and talented in your craft or work or studies, or whatever you call what you do, and he said that you had a particular affinity and ability to work with younger athletes."

"Thank you, for those kind words. I feel privileged to have had the opportunity to learn from Professor Martin; he is definitely a leader in his field. Can you tell me a little more about this position and your expectations please?"

One of the other ladies spoke up. "The girls here are at an awkward age. They are growing and maturing at different rates. Their organized physical activities end up being almost detrimental to them, because of the disparities in their strengths and abilities. The more competitive girls tend to injure themselves more often, simply because they outplay their muscular development. The end results are a few broken bones, many sore muscles, and even more aches and pains. The girls need someone to help them through this time in their lives and tend to their inevitable injuries as well. "

Thinking as quickly as I could, "Well, ladies, I'm not certain that what you are after and what I can offer are that similar." Somehow, I imagined myself at a larger school, probably with both male and female students, and a more vast sports program.

The second instructor (how can you be a phys-ed teacher when you are so old, you can barely move?) explained more about the students, "Our school is the only middle school for this region. We have dorms that house all except the local girls and our students go on to one of five high schools across the area. These schools are quite interested in helping our girls develop their athletic abilities."

"Perhaps," Sister Clarice offered," it would help to show you our training facility. Why don't we take a walk over to it now?" She continued as we walked out of the Administration Building, "We received a substantial endowment from an anonymous benefactor. We were able to construct this training facility and equip it with the latest materials and equipment. As you will see, there are weight rooms, exercise rooms, steam, sauna and shower rooms, private massage and therapy rooms and offices for your staff and yourself. Please let us know if there is anything missing."

As I toured the facility, I was agog with the equipment. All brand new, state of the art machines. The therapy rooms included a flat table typical of those found in other massage facilities, and the latest table, a cushioned version that looked more like a prayer bench with heavy pads. By the time we viewed the offices, I was no longer concerned with the ages of the students.