School Days, School Days & Sunday School: Remember Who You Are

I've been having school days.
Six in fact.
In a row.
And wow, what an education.

I have learned that the "word" in 6th grade is "freaking."
I used to say that word for a brief moment somewhere early in my middle aged life.
I don't like that word, it's just a substitute for the real "f" word.
At least now I know why my son is saying it sometimes.

The fifth grade girls are totally into knitting.
And one named little miss m said that if I brought the supplies in next time I substituted, she'd be happy to teach me how to make her way awesome scarves.
There were a lot of little knitted headbands and fingers about to fall off because of misguided finger knitting.
Thankfully none fell off.

The girls liked my boots and even the boys admired the colorful beads on the one colorful bead necklace I own. Some sweet child told me I looked like I was 30 years old.

And the rest is all turning into a blur because I met so many new faces in such a short amount of time.
But there was one exchange that I will never forget.

(Just to help you understand this story I am going to give you a short prologue. Facts of which many of you already know -but just in case- here it is.  I serve as the youth leader for the young women (ages 12-18) in our congregation.  That means most Wednesday evenings, I am at the church with our very many in number young women. We share our building with three other congregations. Three other congregations whose youth groups meet on Wednesday evenings as well. Three groups that meet and in theory have set times and places where they are supposed to be so that we can all fit. Then we get to add in everybody's cub scouts & 11 year old scouts, the activity day girls and various other people who decide Wednesday night is a convenient night to meet because everyone's at the church already so it's no big deal. Well, guess what- it is a big deal. There's no space and dealing with the chaos of all those people takes a quarter of our time before we can even begin. I've become a bit obsessive about and protective of our time and space.)

(Oh, you also need to know that I am substituting at our neighborhood school. The neighborhood school and it's district is in our congregation's boundaries. If there is a child at our school that attends our church, I know or know of them.)

At the beginning of one of my 5th grade classes, a friendly whistling boy came in and asked my name.
I told him and as greeted the other kids in the class he said, "Hey, I know you."
And I said, "How?" because I certainly didn't know him.
And a few minutes went by and he said, "What church do you go to?"
And I said, "I don't think you know me from church, because I know most all the kids at our church."
And he said, "Really, what church do you go to?"
So I told him and he said, "I knew it."
"Oh - no," as it dawns on me, "I'm the crazy lady who kicked you out of the gym aren't I?"
And he said, "Yes."
"But you did it in a real nice way."

(He'd gone to scouts with a friend of his from a different congregation.)

So I guess I never know who's watching, so I better always remember who I am & act accordingly.
This new week, I know I am not a substitute.
I will act accordingly.
Thank goodness.