Qualifications . . .

The sub system is kind of crazy in the sense that anyone who has a teaching license can sub in ANY area, qualified or not.

I know my limitations.  I decline any requests to sub for kindergarten through third grades, and also upper level math and science classes.  I was an English major, so a day in a chemistry classroom would pretty much be nightmarish for me.  Same with a room full of six-year-olds.

But Wednesday night when a middle school music position popped up on my iPhone, I accepted.  I was in band.  I was the majorette my senior year for our little marching band, so you could say I've even got conducting experience.  It's a stretch, but I thought I'd do okay.

When I got to the school Thursday morning, I was told the P.E. teacher was also sick and I'd need to cover for him first hour.  I looked down at what I was wearing: a sweater, dress pants, and dress shoes with a one-inch heel.  Hmmm.

It turned out to be fine -- another P.E. teacher handed me a microphone and told me to call fouls and outs in kickball, then took her class to the second gym.  It was a rather uneventful hour.  Supervising kickball's not that hard, right? 

And then, five minutes before the end of the period, an old woman hobbled into the gym.  She said she was replacing me as the P.E. sub for the rest of the day. 

I'm not trying to sound discriminatory.  I love old people.  I know someday I'm going to be an old person myself.  I just hope and pray that when that day comes, I will be living contentedly in an assisted living facility rather than velcro-ing up my tennies and shuffling off to supervise middle school P.E.

"She's nearly 80," the secretary said when I went back to the office to pick up the band room key.  "I don't know why she'd accept a sub day in P.E. . . . "

I worried about her all day.  At lunch I wondered if I should go down and check on her.  I pictured mean middle schoolers purposely pelting her with the kickball.  She looked like a strong breeze would blow her over.  I feared she'd break a hip or worse.

Then another teacher came into the band room and introduced himself.

"Tiffany Malcom," I replied.

Whoops.  I may be more physically capable, but I'm guessing the old lady down in the gym could get her own name right. 

Score one for Grandma.