Back in your school days, did you have one particular teacher you just… hated? As in, couldn’t stand? Abhorred? Disliked with the rage of a thousand burning hell fires?
Yeah. Me too.
So, it was particularly satisfying yesterday when the 5th graders begged me to come back the following day to avoid another day with the substitute they hated… and that sub turned out to be the exact same teacher I hated in elementary school.
It took all of my self-control to smile kindly and say, “Oh! Mr./Mrs. So and So? I had him/her… I really liked him/her. He/She was always really nice…” When inside I was secretly screaming, “Oh, I KNOW! Isn’t he/she the most harrible person you’ve ever met? Does he/she still give out *bleep* tons of homework, and treat you with a syrupy sweet condescension while secretly making mental notes of all your shortcomings with which to torment you later?”
Honestly, I was pretty proud of myself. I didn’t know I was such a grown up.
Because inside, I was doing a pretty epic victory dance, knowing that that one harrible teacher had helped me become an awesome teacher that the students now preferred.
Petty? Oh, heck yes. Do I care? Nope. Not even a little.