If I Were a Substitute Teacher (Ideally)

I mean no disrespect to my brother. I just wonder how I might handle the situation, which I hope never to be in, the situation of substitute teaching, I mean, at a public school in Austin, Texas.

I am sitting at the desk, colorfully, professionally, and cleanly dressed. I have written on the board, "RESPECT, LISTEN, LEARN, and LOVE." I draw a heart. "I am Mr. I don't know my name. It's Greg, but that means I could be thousands of people. Who do you know who's named Greg? Do you like that person, why or why not? What do YOU want to do with YOUR life?" Some of this is on the board and some is stuff I plan to say. I can read what's on the board and point to it. "Do you like movies or videos or both?" They say yes, I say why? I ask, where is the farthest place from here that you have been? Describe it in great detail and describe yourself and your thoughts at the time.

I get lost staring out the window, listening to their pencils move on papers. I imagine touching my penis. Not right there, but soon. I imagine some of the other penises in the room and some of the kids having sex with each other. They're not that young, maybe 14. I hate and disgust myself. I get really somber and they sense my mood change. The crafty ones try to take advantage of my mood. I erase the board. I think about going home and watching a movie. I think about going outside and eating junk food and throwing away a wrapper in the trash can. I think about the run on sentences, and I think about my thoughts and my life and directionlessness and these poor kids lives and the effect and anti-effect I am having on them.

I shuffle my feet and stare at the kids. Finally the bell rings and we all walk into the hall. I go to my car and feel happy. I drive slow and fast, and I am myself again. I listen to the music I like, and I want to move and scream.