I started out as a substitute teacher.  I spent many days in the junior high art class, due to the regular teacher’s nervous breakdown.  There are so many dangerous things in art classes.  I locked up the worst in a cabinet with a key. These were the glues that they sniffed…and x-acto knives for killing people.

It was a Monday in winter.  The kids milled around like cattle in a pen. A blonde boy came in right with the bell and grinned at me.  I told them all to sit down, and mostly they did.  The one boy, however, kept standing.  “Take your seat!” I demanded.

Well, he did.  He sat down at a desk, and duck walked it out the door and exited the school.  He went to the snowy front yard of the school and sat down, still grinning.  I could not leave the classroom to go after him, because I knew they would all go out of control.  I was hopping mad at the boy who literally took his seat.

A small quiet boy by my desk muttered, “He goes to the high school next door.”  It was true, the boy disappeared and the seat remained on the snowy lawn.  I thanked the rare helpful student.  I understood completely why the aging teacher of art had a nervous breakdown.