If you're looking for a masterclass in day-shift optimization, look no further than my fourth-grade co-teacher. She has officially skipped our English class three times now, and I’m starting to think she deserves an award for her stealth skills.


Her class is a lovely, vibrant, and incredibly noisy bunch. The first time she didn't show up, I assumed she was drowning in paperwork. The second time, I thought, Okay, let's keep things low-key today, and completely canceled our high-energy vocabulary relay race—because trying to referee 24 competitive fourth graders solo is how teachers lose their minds. By the third time—which happened today—I realized her math was just better than mine.
Our class is scheduled right before lunch at 12:25 PM. If she isn't there, she dodges the lunch escort duty, the homeroom pack-up chaos, and gets a massive head start on her break. It’s a brilliant strategy, except for one tiny detail: I’m left solo-running a high-energy classroom during a Tuesday and Friday schedule that already has me teaching five back-to-back periods.
Today, while staring down a brand-new lesson plan that she was actually supposed to explain to the kids, I finally rang her classroom. No preamble, no pleasantries, no "hope you're having a great day." Just a direct, straight-to-the-point: "Hey, Teacher, you need to come to class."
She cheerfully offered to run right over. It was a beautiful gesture, ruined only by the fact that there were exactly seven minutes left in the period. Unless she has mastered teleportation, she didn't forget we had class—she just successfully outsourced her lively students so she could enjoy a peaceful pre-lunch sanctuary.
Look, I love a good break, and heaven knows surviving fourth graders requires a lot of caffeine. But I’m not looking to be anyone's shortcut to an early weekend. Next time, let's just split a coffee instead of splitting the classroom duties!
Quick Poll: If you were in my shoes, what would your next move be? Let me know your vote in the comments:
- A: Drop off the 24 fourth-graders at her classroom door 7 minutes early next Tuesday.
- B: Gift-wrap a giant wall clock for her desk.
- C: Let it go, but strictly require coffee as tax for the next joint lesson.
- D: Stay professional, but silently plot a minor, harmless revenge.
I know most of you like to read in secret, but give me a sign of life today!
Drop a single emoji in the comments that represents your reaction to this disappearing act:
- 😱 (Shocked)
- 🤣 (Laughing)
- ☕ (I need caffeine just reading this)