"NOW what am I supposed to do?" "Stare at the students?"

As a substitute teacher, I often get asked whether I have any offspring attending that particular school. I suppose it's somewhat understandable if these individuals are envisioning kindergarten-aged young'uns -- if I had been a child bride and started popping out kids right away, I could be old enough to have a five-year-old. (Perish the thought.)

What's a little more disconcerting is when sixth graders start asking if I'm so-and-so's mom, because we happen to have the same last name. Really? Really? Do I look old enough to have a twelve-year-old? I mean, I know I found my first gray hair when I was sixteen, but I haven't found any recently, and I certainly don't have any wrinkles.

Some students are shocked and appalled when they find out I don't have any children yet. In the immortal words of a first grader I taught yesterday whose name I have already forgotton: "You've been married that long and you STILL don't have any kids!?!"

Sorry to disappoint you, kid. But considering the human gestation period is nine months and we've only been married for fifteen, I don't think that's too bad.

With these recent conversations, I started to wonder if I look older than I really am. Which may be one of the reasons I agreed to sub for a high school art class today for the first time. Maybe the high schoolers wouldn't realize that I am a mere four years older than some of them!

Um, yeah, right. I probably looked like a little freshie wandering the halls looking for the main office to check in, and some of the guys in the class looked like they were in their late twenties. (Well, maybe they were. How many years can you be held back before you're written off as a lost cause or forced to graduate?)

I was flooded with high school memories: students garnished with multiple piercings, hair dyed outrageous colors, and the faint aroma of cigarette smoke all brought me back. As did the students who refused to make eye contact with me and just sat there sullenly instead of working on their art projects (or, alternately, left class for 25 minutes at a time).

Oh, high school.

On a side note, subbing for high school is both the easiest and most boring way to make money. Allow me to give you a brief outline of my day:

7:40 -- Arrive at class and review sub plans. Note that the teacher has a prep period and thus will not have any students in class until 9:25. Hmm. Congratulate self for bringing a book, and commence reading.

9:25ish -- Welcome students to class. Take roll. Pass out worksheets and explain directions. Walk around room to make sure everyone gets started.

9:40 -- Sit at the teacher's desk. Rack brain for something to do that doesn't involve reading a book, as reading during class is discouraged. Oh! Let's practice cursive, shall we? As a prospective teacher, I'm going to need to improve my handwriting. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. The quick brown fox jumps over . . . okay, this is getting boring. Opt to copy the sub plans, word for word, in cursive instead. A slight improvement, but not really.

10:00 -- Walk around the classroom again, encouraging students to stay on task. What's this? One student hasn't even started yet? And he doesn't have a pencil? Direct said student to the pencil can on teacher's desk so he can begin work. Feel slightly guilty for not having caught this earlier, while simultaneously scratching head in befuddlement. You would think a junior in high school would think to bring a pencil to school. Or ask to borrow one. Or . . . maybe he was just lazy.

10:05 - 10:55 -- Alternate between monitoring the room and practicing cursive. Read about what to do during a bomb threat in the sub plans, just in case.

10:55 - 11:30 -- Eat lunch. Finish book. Send a text to husband complaining about how boring this job is.

11:30 - 2:25 -- Pretty much the same thing over again, two more times, except without the lunch and prep period.

Pretty thrilling, eh?