What would Oprah do?

It was approximately two weeks ago when I received the text message asking to substitute for three days in row. Was I available? Sure was my quicker than quick response. The fun aspect of teaching is the unpredictability, and flexibility of the schedule. The kids are different every single time. Even when I have met them before. And let me tell you dear reader these teenagers are not at all like the teenagers we once were. One of my biggest challenges is keeping them off their phones. This can be tricky because sometimes they need their phones to access images for art class or their calculator for math.

My final class had rehearsal for an upcoming theatrical performance. The office asked me to stay to help with another class while the teacher went to direct traffic. It is a huge campus. Getting parents and students on and off campus is quite an operation. Half the class wanted to go to the café while, the other half wanted to play basketball. I tried to get them all to the café but, that did not go over well. I let some of them go two at a time. The rest of us waited at the basketball court. I squinted under the beautiful Georgia afternoon sun as it transformed one the schoolyards into a glowing, hazy idyll.  

A woman with long, straight, grey hair styled in a simple chignon approached us with a broad smile. She was thrilled to hear I was her substitute. She said she heard great things about me from the staff and the students. I beamed feeling pleased with myself. We chatted easily for a few minutes when she asked me to come up to her classroom before I left for the day. As she walked away I asked offhandedly what subject she taught. She responded math, advanced math...She threw the end of her sentence over her shoulder casually: equations, simple stuff.

I clawed at my collar bone as if I suddenly found a barnacle attached to it. My jaw tightened as I bit down on my second molars now that my wisdom teeth are gone. I stumbled forward dazed, shielding my eyes as if an interrogator's flashlight shone in them. My Georgia idyll suddenly a darkened tunnel devoid of light. The once vivid colors were all faded hues of blue. It felt as though I was in an episode of the Netflix show Ozark. Someone called out Ms. Mickie. I took a seat staring at no one in particular. Ms. Mickie, my mom's here can I go? Yes class dismissed. I groped around for my purse and tried to regain my composure.

I hate math. No math hates me. It has always hated me, and somehow I found myself in its fiendish clutches once again. I was prepared to tell the teacher I had made a mistake and I was not available the days she needed me. If her dates changed I would not be available then either. I took uneasy steps toward the building. Contemplating the end of my first steady-ish job since my arrival in Savannah. Then, as one is wont to do I thought what would Oprah do. I visualized my tunnel again. I saw a glint of light at the end this time. As I moved in the direction of the light, I realized Oprah was standing at the end holding a sign that had this written on it:

I walked into to the classroom a little more surefooted. I came clean right off the bat. I told the woman and her neatly coiffed chignon that the very last thing I wanted to do is let her and her students down. I continued, it has been years since I worked with equations and would feel more comfortable if I could come in one day to observe the class. She was very kind and gracious. I went back a few days later. She had her lesson plans laid out for me. Homework, quizzes and tests with the most gorgeous answer keys I have ever seen. When I left the building my Georgia idyll returned to me in her all her splendor. I have some homework to do this weekend and I am ok with that. I will be prepared well prepared next week. Thanks Oprah you are the best!