One of the unforeseen benefits from being an author for the past five years is that I’ve gotten the chance to conduct writing workshops.  The audiences have included Elementary School students all the way to college students.  And the coolest thing about this is that I found out I absolutely love teaching.

That is why I decided to throw my name in the hat to substitute teach at the local schools a few times a month.  I get a lot of joy out of teaching and let’s be honest…being around kids helps keep you young.  And as I pluck a new grey hair from my head each morning, I’m quickly realizing that I need all the help I can get in that area.

After passing the criteria involved to become a substitute teacher, I received my first request.  It was to teach Elementary school for the day.  I was stoked to get in there and start molding young minds and changing lives for the better!  Then my wife, as she so often does, dampened my mood with a does of reality.  “You know this is going to be a lot different from your writing workshops, right?  You’re not in and out in a few hours.  You’re there all day.  Teaching is a hard job.  And you have to teach all subjects.  Not just writing.  You have to teach Math.  Are you ready to teach Math?”  She threw in Math like a cheap punch to the gut, knowing that anything involving numbers is my weakness.

This got me thinking.  Maybe she was right.  Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a full-fledged substitute teacher.  So, in my infinite wisdom, I decided that if I couldn’t fill the role, I’d at least look the part and fake my way through it.  I’ve always been a staunch believer that the better you dress, the fewer questions people will ask of you.  So the morning of my first sub assignment, I threw on not just the mandatory tie, slacks and comfortable shoes.  I went all in.  My nicest tailored suit, sharpest silk tie and freshly polished Cole Haan wingtips.  I didn’t just want to look like a substitute teacher.  I wanted to look like I owned the school!  And if I messed up in any way, who would question someone this affluent looking?  I even sported my sleekest brief case just to complete the ensemble.

As soon as I arrived at the school that morning and signed in as a sub, I was greeted by who I thought was a parent of a student.  He wore a baggy grey hooded sweatshirt and faded denim jeans.  “Hello,” he said.  “I’m the principal.  Welcome.”  Then an office assistant chimed in.  “Didn’t anyone tell you that it was jeans and sweatshirt day today?”  “No,” I answered through a fake smile, as I swear I heard some of the office aids snickering.  “Well, that’s OK,” he said.  “I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.”  Yeah right.  Instead of looking like a ‘cut above the rest,’ I now stuck out like a sore thumb.  Instead of looking like I was above being questioned about anything, I invited inquiries as to why I was dressed like this.  Little did I know that my wardrobe would not make it through the day.

Halfway through the morning, a student returning from the bathroom informed me that one of the toilets was overflowing.  I followed him back to find out that this was an understatement.  Instead of Niagra Falls, picture Mount Vesuvius.  Water wasn’t gently streaming over the sides of the porcelain bowl, it was shooting about twelve inches in the air and splattering everything in a three-foot radius.  Not knowing who the janitor was or how to even summon him if I did, I reluctantly flew into action.  I told the student to get in there and turn off the water valve on the back of the toilet.  When it comes to delegation, there are not many better than me.  Apparently, when it comes to deflection, there are not many better than that student.  “No.  I think this is a job for an adult,” he said.  So I handed him my suit coat and went in.  As the water sprayed my clothes, I was able to turn the valve and shut off the water.  I’d like to tell you that the water on my shirt and tie was clean, but the slight smell I was now wearing said otherwise.

That was all the excitement we had until recess.  Outside, the students formed a competitive game of kickball and asked me to join them.  I told them I wasn’t dressed for the occasion, but they promised to do whatever I said for the rest of the day if I complied.  Being the shrewd negotiator that I am, I accepted.  I handed my suit coat to a couple of girls who were sitting off to the side watching the game.  When it was my turn to kick, I was going to show these kids exactly how the game is played.  I just hoped I wouldn’t pop the ball with the brute force from my herculean kicking leg.  I got a running start and just as I was about to launch that ball into outer space, my foot angled too low and I kicked the dirt and then the ball.  The ball went straight up about a couple hundred thousand feet in the air and came down moments later a few feet from where I was standing.  The pitcher caught the ball and I was out.  But what I was more concerned about was my shoe.  I had irreparably scuffed the front toe and simultaneously split the sole.  My best pair of shoes…ruined!  And I was out!

I called timeout to assess the damage further.  As I went to retrieve my suit coat, I saw that the two girls had kept it safe.  In fact, they had laid it on a dirt pile and were sitting on top of it so that they could stay clean.  All in all, it was a great first day of substitute teaching.  Sure, I lost a shirt, tie, dress shoe and had to extensively dry clean a suit coat, but what I learned far outweighed that cost.  At the end of any day, it ultimately doesn’t matter how we look.  It matters how we handle the situations life throws at us.  Especially with kids.  They’re a lot sharper than most folks give them credit for these days.  They can see through any fake exterior we may put up and if you give them time, they will peel away the falsities one layer at a time…just like they did with my attire.

I started that day wanting to be the man that was dressed better than anyone else.  I wanted to be the man that was above unclogging toilets.  I wanted to be the man that was too mature for juvenile kickball games.  But at the end of the day, I’m none of these people.  I’m a jeans and T-shirt type of a guy, most of the jobs I perform are pretty messy and as far as my level of maturity goes…let’s just say that if you can be at a negative level…I’m well below that.  What did my first day of substitute teaching teach me?  Embrace who you are!  And be the best version of you that you can possibly be.  Like the old saying goes, “Be yourself.  Everyone else is already taken!”