![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxGa6n0hcyVP6NGJl44o175clG5DgUTYZjT4Ua-IrMaD5f-M7Ni2r9B5RvtP6vQPbf31x38FOrWIMj8LbOiqCDfaNeAaBJPvAk6gK7z9b7GMMWzmbj1E9fQgW4dWzxMkfKc354AK8sECeX/s200/sub.jpg)
pulls food out, gets a drink,
settles at the table, looking hopefully around.
Clearly trying to be friendly,
smiling as she meets another's eyes;
no one sits beside her, gathering
instead in little groups to laugh
together, chat before it's time to go.
Finally, there are two who sit close enough
to ask questions, make comments, share
an anecdote about herself
to let them know that she's okay,
won't bite, she's not a spy
who'll give reports
on what she heard
while nibbling on a home-made salad.
Before long, she knows much more
about the school and these two people
than she'd known before.
Not always easy
being the new face, even when
you're subbing as a teacher.
Peer, but not an equal,
doesn't have to shuffle all the papers,
put up with politics, see the same students
all year long, every day until
doctor's visit shows up on the calendar,
or mandatory training, or a weekend wedding
somewhere north that spills into
Monday, meaning she shows up, or he,
whichever, writing on their boards
and doing things as close to plans as possible,
but differences are certain, little things like
asking for an audible response instead
of raising silent hands. Hoping kids will
be on best behavior, certain some will not.
They don't get paid as much, these subs,
not that they should be. Aesop Online finds
them jobs they may or may not take, or
if they've made a good impression (or if we're
talking private), sometimes schools will call directly.
"Are you the sub?" the kids will ask.
"I am today," they say and by the time the roll is
called, they'll know if this class shines,
or if it's snarky. Either way, it's just a day,
or even less, no time to share much of one's heart.
Plenty of time to try.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013
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