The pull-up bar still graces the back of the door in Mr. Saunders’ old room.  I remember always being amazed that a man with such girth could be an all-out vegan.  Yet Skip Saunders was.  When students involved in class publications traveled to a conference in New Mexico, he chaperoned and thus became the first person I’ve ever witnessed order a pizza without the cheese.  In class, he regaled us with stories about the balance of good and evil—Paradise Lost, Faustus (Marlowe’s Version), The Canterbury Tales.  In these yarns, darkness walked hand-in-hand with light, and the only thing separating an individual from either salvation or damnation was a simple choice. 

This weekend, I chose to dance.  My husband Christopher and I went to a benefit for CRBI, the local protectors of our diverse waterways.  Holding our new puppy in one hand and our daughter in the other, with his son walking beside, my husband navigated the crowd and found the music.  In front of the stage, little girls twirled, and childhood love affairs sprang up like dandelions after a rain.  My teenage student Mary greeted me there and sent my 4-year-old stepson spinning happily across the green.  Bowing to each other in moonlight, they made a sweet scene.  Mary’s mother held my daughter while I spun blithely around my husband under the spell of the band.  For her, it was a preview of grandchildren to come.  “They’ll call me Toots!” she confided with delight.

What I’ve learned most from being a teacher is that people choose their own realities.  I stand in front of the classroom and follow, to the best of my ability, a plan.  However, every action I take is inevitably interpreted differently by each student who witnesses it.  Then, it is re-interpreted (again differently each time) by every parent and co-worker who hears about it.  Some interpretations are similar.  Others are wildly different.  None of them exactly reflect my intent.  I enjoy substitute teaching in Mr. Saunders' old room because I'm working among the people who, to be completely honest, taught me how to think.  If their perceptions aren't close to my own, they at least have a framework for understanding how I reached my conclusions.  As a result, I can be myself without shame or fear.  Of course, this arrangement is only temporary.  In a few short weeks, the woman who normally inhabits Mr. Saunders' old room will return from maternity leave.  Then, I'll be free to pursue my new job teaching for the online school Christa McAuliffe Academy.  I'll be free to explore the world that manifested in the wake of all the changes that happened after I launched MamaKelli.com.  I have returned to my former class  so I can choose to leave.