There’s No Substitute For Looking and Feeling Good

Since I’ve been employment challenged of late, I decided to take a friend’s advice and substitute teach. The plan was to stay busy, earn a few dollars and perhaps, jog my memory a bit. (Ask me about Newton’s third law of motion. As of last Thursday, I know it again.) The plan was not to have to dodge F bombs, wake kids up or tell a male student that it’s impolite to sing Paul Anka’s “She’s having my baby” to a pregnant classmate.

It’s been more years than I care to admit since I was last in a classroom for anything other than a parent/teacher conference and, I must say, I’ve been pretty shocked by all of the changes. (Notable Exception - Betsy Y’s Gifted English Class. Betsy, I will sub for you any day of the week!)

I thought I’d share a poem I wrote while gearing up to face the first day of this new school year. After reading it, I am almost certain that you’ll a) appreciate your own job a little more and b) want to smuggle your child’s teacher a sedative.

Quite long ago, though not far away
I sat on a football field on a toasty June day
I wore cap, gown and heels and the future looked bright
As I moved my orange tassel to the left from the right
I left high school behind and set out on my path
And all was OK 'til last Fall's economic bloodbath
Now I'm back in the classroom... this time as a sub
Trying to outsmart kids who text under desks ‘bout hot nights at the club
I’m facing rolled eyes and language that’s blue
Incomplete lesson plans and now the swine flu
What are my fears about this year’s day one?
Can’t think of any. Bring on the fun!

Wondering why I’m sharing this on a website about style, fashion and great hair? You can blame an amorous high school student.

This past Friday, I had lunch with some friends. During lunch, we updated each other on our respective lives. Of course I shared a tale or two about my adventures as a sub. A friend sympathized. Seems one of her other friends, I’ll call her Melissa, has been subbing as well and she, too, has been caught off guard by how badly a lot of the kids behave. Apparently, Melissa was just told by a randy high school student that she has a nice #**.

I have to be honest…. This just burned me up! I’ve been dealing with all measures of disrespect from students of every race, color, creed, gender and national origin, but NOT ONE SINGLE KID has had the decency to complement my figure in the process.

I’m going to make this reason number fifty eight why I have to keep hanging out at Hot Heads. I’ve got to get my groove back. I have to start turning heads again.

(No worries! Mary Kay Letourneau, I’m not. I don’t actually want sixteen year old boys telling me I have a nice #**. I just want to have one. If I can’t, I want advice on how to properly package what I do have … or I want to have hair so cute and swingy that there’s nowhere else anyone’s eyes could possibly travel.)

Have a great week and stop back by! XXOO