a note from the sub

the things i forgot to tell you today, because i was too busy botching all of your quiz scores.

Month: February, 2014

dream house of horrors

Dear Teacher,

I apologize for your “dream house” writing project.  Just… the whole thing.  I’m so sorry.


I’m honestly not sure what happened.  But I’m fairly certain that, at some point, I probably encouraged it.  I’m embarrassed.

Regretfully Yours,

Miss What’s-Your-Name-Again?


i might be losing it

Dear Rainbow Fish,

I understand that you are a rather prominent figure in modern children’s literature, as you are not only featured in a series of popular and award-winning picture books, but also you’re fucking sparkly as shit.

I was audience to your origin story today, a cautionary tale of a somewhat standoffish, fucking sparkly as shit fish, who couldn’t make any friends because he was a little bit of a dick and also refused to give away his iridescent SCALES, a goddamn PART OF HIS BODY.   Eventually, you give all but one of your scales away to the other fish in your hood in an effort to bribe them to be your friends, making yourself less fabulous but waaaay more approachable in the process.

I have to say, Rainbow Fish.  This doesn’t necessarily sit well with me.  Sharing is caring.  Sure.  I’m a fucking teacher, I’ve heard it.  I’ve even forced kids to share stuff.  Like, “They’re not your markers, you don’t have a monopoly on the markers, share those markers and for the love of god stop putting them in your mouth.”  I’ve also thrown out the occasional, “Did you bring enough to share with the class?”  But only when you’re eating something that I would like to eat too, like a cupcake.

Sharing is caring.  But you know what love is?  Love is sharing when you want to, but also not having to share when you don’t.  Because it’s okay not to want to share all the goddamn time.  I fucking love my friends to death, but when I buy a Sprinkles cupcake, I don’t want to split that shit with my friend.  And you know what?  My friends understand, and would never ask me to (mostly because they don’t want to share, either.)  Some rando, asshole fish asked you to give him one of your glittery, glam-rock scales, and you said no, and that made you the social pariah of the pond?  FUCK THEM, dude.  Real friends will celebrate you for your shit, even if you’re a standoffish dick sometimes, and real friends will love you even if you’re sparklier than them.  That is real love.

I’ve been told that I come off as a standoffish dick sometimes.  And I don’t have the advantage of also being a walking disco ball.  A few months ago, and much to my dismay, I was placed out of my private coaching sessions and into an acting class, a forum in which my insecure, introverted nature still struggles to find footing.  All of my energy is focused on appearing somewhat normal, leaving me to nod dumbly and laugh at everyones’ jokes, and offer very little of myself in return.  Discomfort is selfish, it feels selfish, and I know that my classmates must be aware that they are not getting all of me; I keep the rest to myself, my little disco-ball scales that I have trouble sharing.  Although, like I said, I don’t have the advantage of being a sparkly as shit Rainbow Fish.  So I guess that just makes me a fish.  …aaand I’ve lost the point of this analogy.

Sharing is caring.  Sharing sometimes and not sharing sometimes, is love.  And you’re good, just as you are, even if you’re a jerk once in a while (we’re all jerks once in a while.)  And true friends will never ask you to dull your shine for them.  True friends lift you up, even if they secretly wish they too were sporting Ke$ha-level amounts of glitter.  Of course, this is all sort of after the fact for you, since you already gave all your shit away.  …aaand I’ve lost the point of this entire entry.


Miss What’s-Your-Name-Again?