I'm renewing myself. For instance, I'm back to learning piano and reading music. I've got out childhood and teenhood instructional piano books, books with the sheet music for the Cranberries album No Need to Argue and the Tori Amos album Boys for Pele. Yes, I'm that old and cool.
I need to find my Smiths album The Queen is Dead song book because "Frankly, Mr. Shankly" is one of the most fun and satisfying songs you can ever play on piano. It's fun, bracing and vigorous. I've cadged a few of my mom's books, like the sheet music for Joni Mitchell songs. I've also been freestyling, picking out gems like "Welcome to the Black Parade" by My Chemical Romance.
This kind of soul-enriching activity is necessary because, among other endeavors, I have a gig substitute teaching. It's been third grade the last few days and I see way too much of my younger self in the class clowns, avid talkers, messy desk-ers and mischief-makers.
The job is not a goldmine, but I was able to pay for Alex's new glasses today. That was cool.
I'm happy to be employed and have schools open here in Utah. (Everyone's wearing masks and the kids' hands are sanitized a good six times a day, bye the bye.)
But the kids can be exhausting. You have to prowl a classroom throughout the day to stem the tide of talking, giggling and hijinks like perching rather than sitting on a chair; stealthily consuming Takis; logging onto YouTube; sleeping; drawing pictures from the video game "Among Us," hitting oneself, and, in one anime-plagued classroom, trading Pokémon cards.
(Mad props to all my friends who are teachers or subs. You've got to bring it constantly to avoid losing your class and surrendering to chaos.)
Luckily, the students are also friendly and helpful. For instance, there's always a kid who's willing to provide tech support and two dozen kids willing to run the roll sheet over to the office. (Some things never change.)
Students around these parts are generally kind to each other and often give me drawings, homemade cards and gifts. The kid who misbehaved the most often during my latest assignment made me a little present today. He probably fashioned it when he was supposed to be doing something else, but such is life.
It's a little door, drawn with crayons and folded paper, that opens. Inside it looks like a book and has a rainbow and the words, "You've got to love a good teacher." It's laminated with tape. That kind of gesture is just plain good for the soul.
This job is going to make me a better person, I know it. And as Martha Stewart says, "It's a good thing."
P.S.-Does anyone else think prison is the best thing that happened to Martha Stewart? She lost her facade of perfection and gained a sense of humor.
—Sarah Torribio
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