Story: Notes from a Sub

I wander around the gym with my favorite Kindergarten student, and we notice different colors. "Look, that shirt is red." "And those sweatpants are green." This seems to be immensely satisfying to my friend, and then her sullen "mood" is over.

Here is how to impress middle school students. They will want to investigate your knowledge of trivia. They will ask: "What is Cardi B's first name?"

Here's what to say: "I don't know, but I DO know this. Cardi B was originally 'Bacardi.' But the liquor company threatened to sue her. So she changed the syllables around." THIS will win you street cred.

One teacher is always ill. It's not as if all teachers take the same number of sick days. The perpetually-ill teacher has announced he is not returning next year; this decision seems to have emboldened him. He is now sick, and sick, and sick again. His students have a wild look in their eyes, as if they were newly orphaned. Or as if their father has had a psychotic break. They know that *no one* is currently "behind the steering wheel."

There's a new, brisk friendliness in the sick teacher's lesson planning. More emoticons. More exclamation points. He is like a budding adulterer, a bit guilty, a bit exuberant, experimenting with his sudden freedom.

Like Vincent Van Gogh, he paints stunning canvasses. "Students will explore how pill bugs respond to varying stimuli!" "Students will explore the rich diversity of animal and plant life in a biome of their selection!" "Students construct a 3D model, a Powerpoint slideshow, an educational skit: The choice is theirs!"

From his (ostensible) sick bed, he creates such visions!

Well, anyway: These are just some thoughts. This is what it's like to sub, in late winter, in New York.

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