Not long after Dad retired and my parents moved to our community, he started subbing. His first placement at my school was an afternoon right across the hall from my room, so of course we chatted in the halls as classes transitioned.
“Who’s that person you were talking to?” students bombarded me as I ushered them in my door.
“I don’t know; I’ve never seen him before in my life,” I said.
“Right. Who is he?” someone else asked.
“My little brother,” I said.
End of story.
Except that Dad’s next placement in my school brought him in contact with a certain eighth grader TH, memorable for his lack-of-effort sluggardliness and constant look of disdain. As Dad later told me, TH came up to him and said, “You’re dad’s a good teacher.”
Hmmm.