I'm posting this from a rest stop in Iowa. Yes, you heard me correctly. A rest stop. In Iowa. You should check the time stamp on this post. I have been led to these circumstances through strange turns of events that befit the sporadic life of all substitute teachers.
Today I taught at my former high school. (I know, the astounding statements just keep on coming!) I have accepted a long term substitute position there. Now is the time for you to think back on your k-12 experience and conjure up images of pregnant teachers. If you ever had one, you may recall the three months that your teacher went off to suckle her newborn child and some young or very old teacher came in their place. He or she was a fixture for a while, but never the real deal. I recall only one such long-term substitute in my high school Spanish 3 class. One of the students convinced her that his uncle was a conductor on a nearby train route and the entire class convinced her that we must have a Cinco de Mayo party and that we must prepare for it by spending days making paper mache pinatas.
I'll not think on that too hard, as I am now the long-term sub for 7-12 art. Accepting a long-term substitute position contingent on someone's birthing is quite the thrill. I recommend it if you want to add some spice and uncertainty to your life. Perhaps you'll receive concerned texts or emails from the teacher, wondering if she will deliver extra early. Then you will open your planner and figure out how to restructure your life so that you can make it to a teaching post over 200 miles a way at the breaking of one's water.
Yet that does not answer why I am sitting at a dark rest stop off I-35, unnerved by the state patrolman's flashing blue and red lights over by a pack of semis. On Monday this week, I missed a call from the school secretary, saying it was likely I would be needed on Wednesday due to the teacher not feeling well. Ironically, I was in Iowa at the time, but would need to fly (well, drive) to Minnesota for a Monday night engagement and to pack teacher clothes in order to teach out the rest of the week. Tuesday I conversed with the teacher and it was established that I would teach for her Wednesday-Friday, and she might resume teaching the following Monday depending on health.
This was a nice gaurantee of a few days of teaching, but it still left me on shifting ground. So I packed my car in a whirlwind and drove to my sister's to stay. This morning I went in to teach and was greeted by the news that the aforesaid teacher was in the hospital, her water having broke. Finally, some reassurance! Some sense of permanance in the midst of shifty days, accepting jobs as late as 8 or 9 in the morning, wondering where I would be and what I would see.!
Yet I am still a nomad, my bed sitting empty in Minnesota while my body sits at a rest stop in Iowa. I realized in my packing that I was to miss a house meeting wherein my housemates would discuss the times persons were moving in and out and whatnot. Knowing it was necessary for me to be at this meeting, I needed to find a place where I could access Skype. My sister's home where I have been saying is without wireless. 12 miles away is another sister's home where I will be residing soon. At present, only her husband is at home--who often goes to sleep quite early. Their wireless seeming unreasonable to access, I went to my step-family's house, however, they turn in early at night, making the possibility of accessing internet there seem like quite the intrusion. So, I thank God for the wireless internet in Iowa along I-35, and I drove to seek one out. So here I sit, blue and red lights still flashing behind me, waiting to Skype with roommates hundreds of miles away, all the while planning in the back of my mind at the excitement to be had in the art classroom on the morrow.
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