Why Restarting a Friendship Through Substituting is a Bad Idea

With over 15 positions to choose from, I am at a loss. Do I take an elementary school assignment and pull my hair out, or do I opt for high school and risk getting my hair pulled out? There are too many choices! But, as I cycle through the postings, a curious thing happens. I recognize the name of a 7th grade social studies teacher. Could Ms. R be a long lost summer crush? Should I accept the job and find out?

Well, why not?

I arrived at school on time and ready to see whether this social studies teacher was my summer crush. I remembered her because we had worked together at Victoria’s Secret (a job experience worthy of its own blog), dated for two months, and then lost touch after each of us returned to our respective universities. I always had a profound respect for her and I was sad that our friendship seemed to just fade away with the summer sun.

My plan to restart our friendship was simple. Upon walking into the classroom, I would check the walls for a staff photo. Every teacher–no matter their age, sex, or marital status–always has a staff photo up on the wall, usually behind their desk. It is something of a badge of honor for teachers. For substitutes, these photos are helpful when one wants to see what a bad (and sometimes good) teacher looks like. If it was her, I reasoned, I could leave her a note at the end of the day with my name and contact information (something I normally do as a professional courtesy anyway).

The plan quickly changed. I walked into what seemed more like a marketplace than a classroom. It turns out Ms. R, whoever she is, also runs the leadership program at the school. As it turned out, this was the last day to buy spring dance tickets, so students were swarming into the class to place last-minute bid orders. After paddling my way up a stream of 7th graders, I enter the room. Across the way sits a teacher processing orders. She is hidden by a gang of students.

Nervousness creeps in. My heart starts to beat with an extra zip. After all, I was only planning to glance at a staff photo, not actually meet her again. Yikes! It had been nearly seven years since we last spoke, so I begin to wonder. Is it really her? What will I say? Will she remember me? What will she say to me? I still cannot see her face but now I am close enough to hear her speak. I stop my approach; it was her.

“Hi, Ms. R,” I begin with a goofy (possibly creepy) smile on my face, “I’m here to sub for you.”

“Oh great! Let me show you where the work is for periods one through four. I have some special instructions for periods five and six . . . ,” She did not even skip a beat. Not one! I figured she was being professional around her students so I played along.

“This all looks pretty simple. I should be able to handle it.” I say.

“Good. In that case, I am off to set up for the dance. Let me know if there are any problems.” She says as she walks out of my life, again.

I am at a loss. It was, in fact, my Ms. R, but she had acted like she did not know me. She could have at least thrown me a lifeline: a wink or a even a quick smile to let me know she remembered me. I did not get anything. Perhaps she was just in a rush and could not stop to reminisce. Perhaps she was upset that I had not called her in years. Was she mad at me? These questions plagued me for the first two periods of the day.

By period three, Ms. R returned to hand me a list of the eighth graders approved for the dance. This was a prep period so we were alone. No need to be professional here. I just smiled and waited to hear her say something about how long it had been since we last spoke. After handing me the list, she asked if there had been any problem with the students. I said, “No,” but I was thinking, “Why not ask about me since I have not seen you in seven years.”

During period four, I noticed something interesting. While taking attendance, I realized that name on the top of the roll sheet was not Ms. R, but Mrs. W. Was Ms. R filling in for someone? Was Mrs. W co-teaching the class? If so, where was she today? I asked a student to clarify the situation for me.

“Mrs. W? That is Ms. R’s married name.”

After picking up my jaw, I realized something. It had been seven years since we last spoke. We only hung out for about two months. Now, Ms. R was Mrs. W. It is clear she had moved on with her life. She was not trying to cover up our friendship or pretend we had not dated. Mrs. W had forgotten me (now, if that is not a blow to someone’s pride, I do not know what is).

With my personal pride shot down, I walked out of the class feeling not-so-bad. Although I did not get to restart an old friendship, I did get to make contact with someone from my past: something most cannot do outside of the rumor mill. She was doing quite well for herself; she was married, had a fine class, and was coaching again (another staff photo). I found myself brimming with pride over her. She had made it.

Good for you, Mrs W. I’m proud of you.