Teacher vs. Socialite

This past weekend I visited home, more so my friends back home.  Since we've moved to the big D, I haven't made new friends outside of work, other than the few gals who already lived here. I haven't had time.  I spend my days with students and fellow teachers, and although I enjoy imparting my vast knowledge and wisdom to young minds, the sentiment isn't necessarily shared.  Three words: eighth grade boys.  Enough said, right?  On the other hand, the ladies I work with are accommodating, nurturing, and amiable; we're comrades in the trenches, dodging middle school apathy and ducking helicopter parents.  We are the infantry of education, and we stand firm in our efforts to encourage the youth of America.  Our strategy: top secret but I can tell you that involves a dog and pony.  Our conversations at lunch revolve around which student needs more of our time and which administrative email needs answering.  And as exciting as all this may seem, I needed a weekender.  How bad was it? The destination: Lubbock, TX.  Yep, the dust bowl was calling and I came a tumblin'! 

Miles away from an urban heartbeat, my LBK ladies stay trendy, fashionable, and fabulous.  They could easily jump into an episode of the real housewives and hold their own--actually better.  They are classy and beautiful, INSIDE and out.

 These gals carry Louis and Tods and wear Ray Bans, Tom Ford, and Persol.   Their voluminous coiffure has just enough poof and their eyeshadow holds just enough sparkle. They may ride in private jets, build custom homes, and drive luxury vehicles, but they would give you the Tiffany off their finger if you needed it!  (Okay, maybe not their Tiffany, but definitely their John Hardy!)  They are fun!  No subject is off limits, and no laugh is too loud.  Over the years these women and I have supported each other through heartbreaks and heroes, blue skies and brown, and when calendar pages pass faster than phone calls, we catch up over Crown.  Nothing is better.

However, nothing is worse than a Monday three weeks before school is out.  Especially for someone like me, who is principled to teach my students until the very last day!  Yowzers!  As I wrangled students into Greek mythology and stove off questions about the relevancy of ancient gods post technological revolution, I wondered how my socialite friends would fare in this environment.  I remembered a story the divine Cheryl T. shared with me about the time she substituted while her own children were still in school.  The abridged version is as follows:

 Roy Gene was eating the paper strips that Cheryl had cut for students to use on an Easter lily they were constructing. She spanked him (because back then teachers did that) and he still wouldn't behave.  Meanwhile a frenzied group began running around the classroom.  She put them in the hallway, but when she returned Roy Gene was tearing up another little girl's creation.  The little girl was bawling, and Roy Gene was mocking her.  Cheryl marched down to the school secretary and said, "I'm done! You need to find someone to go up there because I'm going home to drink a Chilton, iron my clothes, and watch watch the Young and the Restless!"  She walked out the front door and never again accepted a sub job.

Contemplating the prior, if one of my women's club friends took a sub job, it might look something like this:

1. Arriving in her finest designer threads, Mrs. Socialite would carefully place her Marc Jacobs handbag beside the desk.  Two rowdy boys would scuffle too close to the desk, spilling red Gatorade all over said bag.  Still early in the day, she'd have tremendous patience thereby maintaining composure and tactfully reprimanding the boys, while cleaning off her purse with paper towels.  "It's okay, the dry cleaners can remove the stain," she'd say to herself taking a sip of coffee.
2.  Once the bell had rung, she would take roll, meticulously checking each name.  The students would have tried to switch seats, moving out of assigned desks to sit next to friends, but Mrs. Socialite is too deft for such trickery.  She'd double check the seating chart and firmly but nicely ask those students to return to their assigned place. 
3. Once settled in she'd instruct the students to read the short story left by their teacher.  Re-directing a few off task students back to the reading passage, she'd finally sit down to catch her breath before time to administer the vocabulary quiz. Luckily, she would have brought a small snack for such a moment.  She'd quietly eat a few dried pomegranates to calm her nerves.
4. Then the real crazy would begin. Kids would begin texting, snapping, and instagraming selfies right in front of her!  She would politely remind them to do their work. One boy might shout, "I don't have to!"  She would ask him, "Don't you want to grow up to be a successful man just like my husband?"  He might answer, "I want to live in a cardboard box and work at McDonalds!" Most likely she'd respond by telling him that he most definitely does not want to live in cardboard because it's really not a durable recyclable and McDonald's does not offer gluten-free.
5. Surviving until lunch, she would probably call her favorite catering company to bring lunch.  They might tell her that ordinarily they don't take such small orders but because she is such a treasured guest, they'd make an exception.  Thirty minutes later they'd arrive, just as the bell rings, signaling that lunch is over.  Defeated, she'd sadly take her lunch up to the room, hoping to eat once the students took their quiz.
6. Forty-five minutes later, she would eat a soggy, cold meal.
7. Two hours later, after being told that Mark Twain is trash, Shakespeare is a douche bag, and school sucks, she quite possibly would reach for her most prized item inside her purse, kept there for such an occasion.  Juice box wine--totes school apropos!  After all, the students told her to "turn-up!" 

Truly, 
Cinderella?