band directors and my hideous face

Two thoughts on what French children are going to think of me next week.

A sad thought
In sixth grade I played flute in band, and when our band director was gone the school had a hard time finding substitutes. Instead of musicians they were children's librarians or high school math teachers, and they never knew what they were doing. One such morning a substitute walked into the band room and was greeted by 50 preteens shouting at him if he was a real music teacher. He picked up the little baton from the music stand and used it to silence us.

"I'm not, but I played one in a movie."

Then everything got a lot louder. What movie? Do you know Leonardo DiCaprio? Are we being filmed right now? He waved his hands around to try and get us to quiet down.

"That's just a quote, I was joking."
"So you're not an actor?"
"No."
"Or a music teacher?"
"No."

I have never thought so little of someone as I did that substitute. What a loser, I thought. He's not a conductor. He's not an actor. He probably lives with his mom and she probably knitted that sweater he's wearing and his favorite food is probably canned corn. When I grow up I'm going to own a rocket ship and invent a product you can use both to brush your teeth and as a body wash, and this guy is just a grown-up loser.

A not-sad thought
This summer I worked in an elementary school, and was helping a third-grader catch up on math homework in the hall. In between problem 12 and problem 13 she looked up at me.

"You're ugly. You have a weird nose and a weird face." she said, scowling.
I asked her whether she wanted my help or not, and she turned her attention away from my hideous mug and back to counting by tens.

And I survived that. Most kids are awesome, but even when they're mean it doesn't really matter. At the end of the day I can buy all the candy I want and I have a car. And I hate canned corn so I don't eat it. Take that.