Cheaters never prosper, just ask Kelvin Sampson

I feel like the Golden Rule of substitute teaching is that the kids are always trying to pull crap on you. It's like a game for them. I remember all too well. Heck, played it when I was young!

Today's high school French class was pretty easy at the rural school, but one class had three boys who needed to finish their exams from Friday. Since the rest of the class was working in groups and the room was noisy, I sent them to the hallway to finish up.

By the time I took attendance and was able to step out to check on their progress, I walked into the three of them huddling and sharing answers. One even had his book out!

Enraged, I grabbed the book from the one and ordered the others to spread out across the hall. "This is bullshit!" I barked in a fit. They thought it was hilarious.

I threatened to roll my chair in to the hall and watch them like we have to do with the Kindergarteners (thank you, Gus, for the lesson). For the rest of the period, I stationed one kid from the class in the doorway to "report on the state of the test-takers." By holding a random, innocent classmate accountable for the cheating prowess of his peers, I was able to coerce him into ensuring the integrity of the others. I simply promised to include the innocent's name with the offenders as an equal contributor if I found out that cheating was occuring.

Meanwhile, I just hung out at my desk and read e-mails.

Our Father

Sister Mary Joseph greeted me at the door of my classroom this morning to make sure I knew the "special rules" for theology classes. I didn't know what I was subbing for until I arrived this morning, so I was especially shocked to see a sister waiting on me. Each class, according to the plump black nun, starts off with an "Our Father" prayer.

I have never interacted with a nun before. I have never even seen one in real life- only in the movies. Though my Catholic friends say they're the nicest people on the face of the planet, I happen to find them intensely intimidating. When Sister Mary Joseph spoke to me, I quivered in fright and replied obediently, "Yes, m'am."

My first order of business was to administer an exam to an 11th grade "Beginning Apologetics & Morality" course. The test covered the following essay questions with regard to the Virgin Mary:

1. How can one deduce that Mary was immaculately conceived from Genesis 3:15?
2. How, then, can one deduce that she assumed into heaven body and soul?
3. Please explain why repetitive prayer is not only acceptable, but beneficial.
4. How can we call Mary our Mother?
5. Please explain one Marian dogma using one scripture and one Church Father.
Bonus: What does "protoevangelium" mean?

The other class I had was 9th grade "Nature of the Church & Sacraments." These kids were quite a bit more rowdy and didn't take easily to my rendition of the chapter 12 study guide: the Eucharist. Of course, I had no idea what I was doing or what I was talking about, but I think I managed fairly well. At the end of the day, one student called me, "Miss Substitute from Wisconsin" (he said I had the twang of a northerner) and only one questioned my religious affiliation.

"Are you Catholic?"
"No."
"Okay, just wondering."