I stopped subbing nine months ago because I forgot to do some less than time-consuming paperwork and then had other more pressing matters to worry about, like ladies, and school-work, and food, and which combinations of the three worked best. Important things. When my money ran out I did the paperwork and went back to subbing.
Nine months ago I had modest sideburns. The students who thought themselves clever coined the nickname lamb-chops. For a while I tried to educate these kids on the difference between sideburns and mutton-chops, but quickly gave up.
High-schoolers just north of a hundred pounds with glassy eyes and floppy hair would come in and stare at me, ask if I was old enough to be a teacher—which is only flattering if it doesn’t mean that they won’t ignore what you tell them for the next hour because they believe that authority resides in the years on the far-side of thirty-five—which is usually exactly what it means.
Students would have the same observation almost daily. They’d look at me, furrow their brow and tell me I looked like “the guy from Superbad.”
“The skinny guy?” I would ask.
“No, the other guy.”
“Oh, the fat guy.”
I tried to act offended, though I respect Jonah Hill, and, aside from the being over-weight, he’s not unattractive.
I’ve lost weight since then. (Running and eating more vegetables than bacon. Who knew?)
Today a well-groomed freshman girl, with flower stickers on her binder and a voice like a squeal came in, looked at me: “Oh. . . My. . . God, you look just like Joe Jonas.” I said thanks, intoning a question mark. Somehow, I was offended.
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