Chapter Eleven: Plan B

For my readers who went to choir banquet this year, you know all about "Plan B." For those who didn't, in order to understand, you must know Plan A.
Plan A, for me, is to go to University, complete my prerequisites, apply to Pharmacy school, get in, and become a millionaire.
If Plan A fails me, then I have to have a Plan B. What is my Plan B?
Comedy. Stand up comedy.

*Fake Audience Laugh*

Many say this is a hard career to get into but, hey, when you can't handle Pharmacy school, you gotta shoot for the stars. 

So, at the choir banquet, I got to practice for Plan B. This doesn't make my parents particularly happy, but, hey, I'm an adult now, so I have to make my own decisions. I received a wonderful round of applause for my stand up bit, which filled my ego to the brim, so now I have the confidence to post this. I hope you enjoy my bit, and maybe even learn a little lesson from this occurrence. 

This is the story....of....The Substitute.  

It was a normal morning at my high school. The birds were pooping, the students were driving terribly, and the staff was grumpy. Children all around me were frowning; the dark circles under AP students' eyes were shining. It was just normal. 

Varsity choir is first period, so this is where I truly start my day. When I arrived, instead of finding the wonderful Ms. Miller, a man was sitting in her place. 

"Oh, God," I thought begrudgingly, "a Substitute..."

Keep in mind, however, that I'm a really good kid. I do my work, turn it in on time, get good grades (I have a Power Pass to prove it!), and follow the rules...most of the time. The only "flaw" with me is I'm a little...how should I put this...Vocal. Opinionated. 

But that's the only thing. And this "flaw" will be evident in just a moment...

Anyway, so this substitute is sitting in Ms. Miller's chair, quietly reading over, what I assume is her instructions for the class. He looked up at us, and said, 

"Alright guys, today, you're going to silently study."

Honestly, I had nothing to study, so I knew this could potentially be an issue. I didn't think too much about it, since straight after he said this, Ashley, our choir president, stepped in front of him to announce a couple of things about the upcoming events, which, at the time, were the choir banquet, some meetings, etc. 

Our amazing president, Ashley, feeling the architecture at the Old Courthouse in St. Louis.

Anyway, some people had some questions, so she went over to them to talk to them. 

Then, the substitute got up, looked around, folded his arms, and said, 

"Uh, I really don't understand why we aren't SILENTLY STUDYING." 

Ashley, looks back at him, but decides it isn't worth the fight. She returns to her seat, and all talking stops. 

I, on the other hand, am productively looking at pugs.  

There's Pugs Everywhere....Pugs Everywhere.

Well, we all know what happens in a classroom full of teenagers who can't talk. We talk. So, gradually, the suppressed whispers turn into a loud grumble of noise. The substitute, however, had isolated himself in Ms. Miller's office (which, by the way, how did he even get in there?!), so we didn't even think about our noise level, or to silently study. 

So, of course, this substitute comes storming out of the office. I was expecting for him to just stop and yell at us, but no, he comes and sits with us in the risers. 

"I'm sorry," he says, with his arms crossed, "I just couldn't focus because it was so. loud."

The class became silent. We all made eye contact, with the same, confused expression. 

Suddenly, the substitute violently turned towards Jordan, a dear friend of mine. 

"What is your name?" He asks condescendingly. 

She widens her bright, green eyes, and slowly points to herself questioningly. 

"Yes, what's your name?" He asks again. 

"Jordan," she says softly.

"Julian?"

"Jordan."

"Jaclyn?"

"JOR-DAN," she sounds it out for him. 

"Well, JOR-DAN, what are you doing?"

Jordan picks up the paper in front of her and says, "study-"

"ARE YOU SURE?!" He yells. We all jump at the sudden excitement. "Look, JOR-DAN, you have two options here: are you going to study?"

We all quietly wait for the second option. 

Apparently there was no second option, because then he left his seat to return to the front of the room.

Well, there I was, a witness to this terrible event. Jordan was my friend, and I wanted to do something...something to show support. A million thoughts ran through my mind. What can I do?

So I laughed. Hard.

I couldn't control it. Suddenly, I saw the substitute move towards me. Oh, God, here it comes. The end of my perfect record. My parents are going to kill me. I've never been to the principal's office. I've never been to jail. 

"What? You think this is funny? You dying of laughter?!" The substitute asks angrily. 

I didn't know what to say! I kept my hands on my face and stared at the pug that was on my computer screen. And then...I knew.

"Believe in yourself" -Pug

I cried. 

"I'm sorry," I sobbed, "I'm not good with confrontation."

The shocked silence in the room was echoing in my ears. My own sobs surprised me. What. Was. I. Doing?!?!

"Oh, uh," the substitute stuttered, "Do you...Do you need to see a counselor?"

"No," I cried, "I just-"

"No, you need to see a counselor," the substitute protested. He turned to go write me a pass. Was this really happening? I turned towards my classmates to see red faces holding in laughter. They all knew. 

So, he wrote me a pass. And I left. Of course, when I turned the corner of the hallway I burst into laughter as I wiped my fake tears. I wanted to clap for myself. What a performance. 

The Pass.

Apparently, when I left, the substitute yelled at the class,

"This isn't funny, guys! This is completely serious. Some people have real problems!"

So, in the end, I believe this is the perfect example as to what separates a substitute to a teacher. Because, yes, some teachers are terrible, but there is no substitute that has ever been better than any of my teachers. Maybe I'm blessed. Or maybe that's the truth.