uncanny

As the students filed in Tuesday morning to see me instead of their regular teacher, there was a lot of the typical grumble, grumble and rabble, rabble going on. Sidelong looks were cast my way, followed by swift looks at the board where I'd written my name, and then back again. More whispers and looks than usual, despite my pleasant greeting for each of the second graders as they entered the class. Hmm. Finally, one little boy mustered up the courage to speak.

Almost accusingly, he informed me, "You look like one of the third-grade teachers."

Ah. Things were becoming clearer. "Which one?" I asked.

"I don't know her name."

"Are you thinking of Miss P?"

"Yes! That's the one! How did you know that?"

"She's my sister."

In a burst of great timing, said sister poked her head into the classroom and we exchanged greetings: "Good morning, Mrs. F." "Good morning, Miss P." The children looked on in awe, then must have promptly abandoned whatever plans they may have had for mischief, because they were really good the whole day.

Funny, I never thought Bethany and I looked that much alike, but I guess if random second-graders can see it, there must be a resemblance.