Substitute Teacher

[Alana]

"What is it?"

"You got an A!" I said, revealing his test.

"I got an A!" he said. Then he put his arms around me and hugged me. I hugged back. These are the kind of moments teachers live for. Students need not only encouragement, they need to be rewarded for doing well.

Friday I wore one of my wife's frilly floral dresses. Some of her sexier dresses were hanging in the closet not too far away, and I thought about wearing one if it would placate some of my rowdier students, but spending another day in a too-tight dress, my skirt stretched to the limit with every step I took, just didn't appeal to me.

As I put on the dress, I couldn't help thinking that Johnny would love it. I was right.

"Wow! That is such a beautiful dress you're wearing, Mrs. Williams. You just look incredible!"

[Alana]

"Oh, thank you, Johnny! You just make me blush every morning! But I love it!"

Politeness in a student should never go unappreciated.

"Mrs. Williams, I look forward to seeing you every morning, but I kind of dread it too, because I know once I see you I won't see you again until class starts in the afternoon. Isn't that strange?"

[Alana]

I couldn't resist seizing the opportunity for a brief lesson in literature. A teacher never ceases being a teacher, after all.

"Oh, it's not so strange, Johnny. Marcel Proust wrote about being a child and waiting for his mother to come kiss him good night. I remember, he wrote, 'My sole consolation when I went upstairs for the night was that Mama would come in and kiss me after I was in bed. But this good night lasted for so short a time, she went down again so soon, that the moment in which I heard her climb the stairs, and then caught the sound of her garden dress of blue muslin, from which hung little tassels of plaited straw, rustling along the double-doored corridor, was for me a moment of the utmost pain; for it heralded the moment which was bound to follow it, when she would have left me and gone downstairs again. So much so that I reached the point of hoping that this good night which I loved so much would come as late as possible, so as to prolong the time of respite during which Mama would not yet have appeared. Sometimes when, after kissing me---'"

My monologue was interrupted by a couple of young boys fighting. What the fight was about I never discovered. I told them to break it up, and I stepped in to try to pull them apart. One of them was shoved into me, and I found myself flat on the ground for my trouble. The boy tried to stop me from falling by grabbing at my skirt, but my skirt slipped right out of his hands, and a good thing too, or he might've ripped my dress right up the middle. Another of the male teachers broke up the fight as Johnny came running over to see if I was alright.

I smiled up at him.

"Well, here I am again! This is getting to be a habit with us. At least I didn't trip over my own feet like a klutz this time. Help me up, Johnny."

[Alana]

Johnny helped me to my feet as the school bell rang.

"Oh, there's the bell," I said. "You always make me late for class, you naughty boy!"

After class Johnny dropped by, as usual, wanting to know if he could help with anything. There was nothing I needed, but we had a nice conversation anyway. I asked him about his classes. He asked me about my husband, and I had to make up some things to tell him. I hated to lie to him, but this whole stupid charade wasn't my idea. Another week and it would be over. No more going to work every day wearing nylons.

As he got up to leave, he showed me a book he'd check out from the library, and I couldn't believe it. "Swann's Way" by Marcel Proust!

"It's not easy to read," he said, "but you made it sound so good."

I couldn't help myself. I hugged him again. If wearing dresses and high heels and lipstick could get a young boy interested in literature, it was worth it.

"Have a great weekend," I whispered into his ear.

I had a great weekend, getting to wear pants and be a man again, for two days. But Monday always comes around eventually, and once again I faced a closet full of dresses, standing there in a slip and wondering which pretty dress to wear, looking for one that wasn't too sexy. I finally settled on one that buttoned up the front, which was handy. No zippers to mess with.

[Alana]

I usually sneaked out of the house before my wife could see me. She nagged me quite enough about what to wear back when I dressed like a man, but my own wife nagging me about which of her dresses I should wear was more than I could take. She kept complaining that I wouldn't take her advice. "I've been a woman longer than you have," she said.

School went by pretty fast. I had the usual encounters with Johnny, both in the morning and at class and at the end of the day. He dropped by, and we discussed Marcel Proust.

Driving home, I passed a dress shop that had a very sexy blue beaded dress in the window. I thought I might like to get that for my wife, but I'd be too embarrassed to buy it. Then, of course, I thought, what in the world should I be embarrassed about? I'm a woman, now! For the moment, at least. So I parked and got out to have a look at that dress.

I asked the saleslady if I could try on the blue dress in the window. She got it for me, and I slipped it on and checked myself out in the mirror. I looked pretty good in it, so I could be reasonably sure my wife would look good in it.

[Alana]

Then I took a look at the price, which I should've done before I tried it on. There was no way I could afford this dress. Too bad. I went back into the changing room.

[Alana]

Staring at myself in that beautiful blue beaded dress, it occurred to me that the dress I'd originally worn buttoned in the front, and if I put it on over the blue dress, I wondered if anyone could tell I was wearing two dresses. I put on my other dress and buttoned it up. Looking at myself in the mirror, I didn't think anyone could tell. A week or so ago I didn't even know what it was like to wear one dress, and now I had on two.

It looked to me like I could leave the shop this way and no one would know the difference until I was long gone. There was no electronic security system that I could see. I could tell them I left the blue dress in the changing room. My wife would really love this dress.

Well, here's an ethical dilemma. I've always wondered, are people honest out of high-minded, noble, abstract principles, or are they just afraid of getting caught? I've never been bothered by any dregs of conscience. I'm an English teacher, not a Sunday school teacher. If I got caught, it would affect my career as a teacher, but Annie Williams, the Annie Williams staring at me in the mirror wearing two dresses, was due to disappear in a week's time. If I could just get out on bail, I could take off my dress and never be seen or heard from again.

But of course, it wasn't that simple. I had my wife's ID in my purse. They would call her. And though I have no high-minded or noble principles, my wife is loaded with them. She's not above the occasional lie, but she could never be a part of shoplisfting. In fact, even if I didn't get caught, I could quite easily imagine her refusing to wear a stolen dress. Unless I neglected to mention that it was stolen. But I could also imagine her being upset that I spent so much money on one dress, and returning it.

While I was standing there, pondering what to do like Hamlet in high heels, the saleslady knocked on the door and wanted to know if I was OK. I said I was fine, and started taking off the dress I was wearing. Both of them.

I felt some regret as I returned it to its hanger. I wondered if this wasn't just an excuse to try on that blue dress. Maybe I was becoming addicted to wearing dresses and being a woman. Good thing this would be over in a week.

Tuesday I picked a white lace dress that I didn't think would be too sexy. Unfortunately, on the way to school I realized that it was a very itchy dress. But worse than that, in the hallway I realized I was wearing the wrong slip. My slip was showing. Not much, but enough.