I Faked Being 25 To Teach My Own Class

All right, here's a weird one for you. I accidentally became a teacher at 14. Yep, you heard that right.

I taught my own classmates for weeks. Growing up, my parents were super intense about my education. They were both professors at the local university.

Dad was a professor of mathematics and mom was head of psychology. 60% of kids without a master's degree are said to be clinically sadder than those without. They were basically prepping me for Ivy League school from the ripe old age of five.

Mom, can I play in the sandbox? No, honey. The sandbox isn't going to help you get into a good college.

You need to master your ABCs first. But no matter how hard I tried, I just wasn't good at school. I just didn't see the point.

What would I learn there that would help me achieve my true passion? Dancing. Ever since I was young, just the sound of the garbage truck backing up would make me bust a move.

Honey, are you feeling okay? One morning while I was choreographing a new dance for the school talent show, my parents stormed into the room like two furious prosecutors ready to deliver a life sentence. Becca, turn that noise off right now.

I froze mid move, one foot in the air and held up my harmonica bottle like it was exhibit A. It's not music. It's my water bottle.

Excuse me. Yeah, see the bottle you guys gave me? It has a built-in harmonica cap.

So technically I'm hydrating and being a musical genius at the same time, which honestly is pretty productive if you ask me. Wait, it does what? I took a deep breath and blew into the cap.

A loud shrill whistle-like note filled the room. Taa! Best present ever.

Becca, put the bottle down. We're serious. I sighed, but placed it down.

We're very disappointed. You flunked three classes and now you have to repeat the eighth grade. And as punishment, we're sorry, but you can't compete in the talent show.

Oh, okay. Okay, that's it. You're not angry?

Nah, I'm used to it. No good grades, no talent show. No future, no husband.

I'll be outside, you know, digging my own grave. Becca, don't be so dramatic. I picked up my harmonica bottle and played a slow, tragic tune.

A funeral march, if you will. Too late. Becca, we're serious.

You need to get your priorities straight. Oh, I have priorities. Dance, talent show, become Tik Tok famous.

Academics are like m sixth on the list. Well, they better move to first or else. Fine, but I'm keeping my grave plot just in case.

To make things way, way worse, all my friends were all moving up without me. When I started 8th grade again for the second time, I was totally ridiculed. Becca, how about you?

What's 6 * 6? Uh, 220. I think we need to send Becca back to third grade.

Ha, idiots. Laugh it up now. Just wait until I'm your teacher.

First lesson, advanced apologies 101. Homework. Begging for mercy.

I was miserable. But as I was walking home from school, I heard my favorite song playing like it had come from the heavens. I followed the noise to a brick building.

When I looked through the window, I saw a group of teenagers my age with their own totally distinct styles, taking turns showing off their individual dance routines. They looked happy. I rushed home ecstatic.

Mom, Dad, I've seen the light. I found my calling. I need to join a modern dance class.

Becca, sweetie, how about you find your calling in algebra first? Gh. Algebra doesn't call anyone.

Mom, it's like a spam call. Modern dance is my destiny. And your grades?

What about those? I'll get my grades up. Straight A's.

I'll even tutor other kids. Just let me dance. Fine.

But if your grades don't improve, we're canceling everything. Yes. Thank you.

I won't let you down. Unless it's a backflip, then I might. Becca, sorry.

Couldn't resist. Thank you. Now, all I had to do was figure out how to pull the grades thing off.

I just needed to find Genie. Jeanie was a bookish girl who was made fun of at the talent show last year for her terrible choreography. But one day in the bathroom, I caught her practicing a Tik Tok dance.

Oh gosh, I didn't know anyone was in here. Look, I know you want to become a good dancer. Redeem yourself from last year's dumpster fire, right?

Well, I have a proposition for you. I offered to teach Genie how to dance in exchange for letting me copy off her tests. Class was a little intimidating at first.

Everyone seemed poised and confident, and I'd never shown anyone my routine before. But when the instructor put me on the spot, something primal kicked in. I just went for it.

I had no idea if I was any good or not. And then as I was midspin, I fell onto the floor hard. I was mortified.

After class, I got a tap on my shoulder. It was a boy from class, and he had a sly smirk on his face. I totally thought he was going to make fun of me.

I like your moves. They're very personal, full of emotion. Deep.

Wait, really? Before I could say anything else, like, you know, thank you. I heard a loud beep.

Come on, honey. Let's go. Mom seemed to be in a salty mood when I got into the car.

Did you have fun at class? So much fun. Good, cuz it's your last class.

You've been expelled. You're grounded for the summer. What?

Your math teacher caught you peeking over at Genie's desk. She questioned Genie and she told her everything. We're so disappointed in you.

I don't know where we went wrong. Genie, that traitor. Remind me when I become her teacher to give her detention every time she gets a correct answer.

Guess who's staying after school forever. Genie. When we got home, I locked myself in my room crying.

My dreams of dancing were crushed. That summer, I was so depressed, I couldn't even bring myself to practice dancing in my room. I had all but given up on my dreams when I bumped into none other than Freddy at a pizzeria, scarfing down my sadness with a full pie to the face.

Hey, I know you. Hi. Dance class, right?

You never came back. Mhm. Yeah.

I um it was a family emergency. Well, the next class starts in October. Hope to see you there.

Uh-huh. Now, I had to transform into a good, studious learner, or my parents would never let me join the class. So, the night before my first day at my new high school, I gave myself a little makeover.

I grabbed a pair of scissors, chopped off my hair, replaced my contacts with glasses, and laid out my most scholarly outfit. The next morning, my parents' jaws dropped. Um, is that my daughter under those clothes?

Yep. I've decided to take school seriously. You're right.

It's important for my future. Oh my gosh, honey. We've been waiting 17 years for you to say that.

But I've only been talking for 14 years. Oh, we know. You started talking later than the other kids.

But better late than never. And I only took two steps inside the school before I heard the principal calling my name. Miss.

Yes, sir. You must be Miss Rosen, the new teacher. I thought you didn't get any of our voicemails that we couldn't find a substitute for a month.

So glad you made it work. Your CV is impressive, and we're excited to have you as the home room/english teacher for grade 9. Wow, I must have overdone the scholarly look.

A bell rang before I could respond. Uh, sorry, got to go. Don't want to be late for class.

I walked into home room feeling intimidated and now old. All the kids knew each other. They were talking about their crushes and summer jobs and all the usual stuff, but then I heard them talking about something that put a pit in my stomach.

So, did you get through the summer reading list? Yeah, duh. I'm not going to be an idiot like my mom.

I want to get into a good college and marry a successful doctor. Wait, are you taking algebra or calculus? Summer reading, calculus.

I was in way over my head. I hadn't prepared for any of this, and I only had one month to get my grades up before dance class enrollment. I took the only seat available, which was right next to them.

Hi, I'm nice mom hair. Seriously, my grandma has more fashion sense than you. You look like you could be our teacher.

Uh, I had to stay studious. Wait, suddenly I had an idea. If I look so much like this teacher, I stood up and confidently strutdded to the front of the classroom.

That's because I am your teacher. Yep, Miss Rosen. Why not play into it, right?

I was just doing a little social experiment to see how you kids act when the teacher isn't around. And I got to say, I'm very disappointed with a few of you. The bully's faces went pale.

Now, everyone, take your seats and pipe down while I take attendance. I shuffled through the desk, but I couldn't find the attendance list. Miss Rosen must have had it.

You know what? Why don't you tell me your name so I don't pronounce them wrong. I had no idea what I was doing, but it occurred to me that I'd have better luck giving myself good grades if I was my own teacher, right?

Plus, I'd have access to all the test answers. I only had to keep it up for a month. Couldn't be that hard.

Okay, class. Today, I want you to think about your favorite book from the summer reading list and tell me what spoke to you about it. Be specific.

I had the students opening up, talking about literature, and having a whole dialogue with each other, and all I had to do was sit back, ask some questions, and let the students take over. Exactly. I agree with an I liked the plot.

I just didn't connect with the main character. Why don't you think you connected with Holden Covert Cawfield? Yep, that's the one.

Because he's a spoiled, selfish weasel. You sure you're not talking about yourself, Jeff? That's extra homework for you, miss.

Now, let's unpack why you feel the urge to insult Jeff. You suck at teaching. Okay, detention.

Wow, it felt good to have power. And I actually felt like I was kind of good at this. Soon, I was borrowing my mom's clothes, kicking on the makeup, and saying things like, "No running in the hallways.

" It was awesome. Don't worry about Becca's absence. I've already been in touch with her parents, and she'll be back to school in no time.

I'm handling it. I brought straight B's back to my parents. Didn't want to be too suspicious and get A's.

And when they called to confirm I was doing well and not cheating, I answered. She's a wonderful student, Miss Baker. She really applies herself and she's improving every day.

Oh, that's such a relief. You know, she always was a troubled student. Well, maybe if her parents I mean, you're doing a wonderful job.

She's brilliant. When I got home, Mom and Dad were actually smiling. We heard you're doing excellent in school.

So, we're letting you join dance class. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you. When I got to the dance studio, I was ecstatic to find Freddy mid-stretch. And when the teacher paired us up as partners, I thought I'd be thrilled, but I just couldn't keep up.

And I felt like I was slowing him down. I think you're naturally gifted. You just need more technical practice.

How about we train outside of class? Competition is coming up soon, and I need you in top form. How could I not agree to that?

Soon, Freddy and I were spending so much time together. My heart was beating out of my chest every time we would dance. Everything was going according to plan.

Teaching by day, dancing by night. But suddenly, my teacher responsibility started picking up and I had to lie to Freddy about why I couldn't attend our private practices. I have a parent teacher conference that I have to attend.

As um as the student, of course, I suck at math. The truth was, I had to grieve papers and accompany the students on field trips and host office hours and actually meet with parents about their stupid kids. I was so tired and I could tell Freddy was getting annoyed with me.

Then one day at school standing in front of the class, I saw a familiar face seated in front of me. Freddy? I mean, sorry.

I heard we had a new student. Freddy, is that right? Fred?

Yeah. Did he recognize me? I couldn't tell.

But soon I was so distracted by him binding out my secret, I had a hard time keeping up the charade. And Freddy was being so weird and quiet. In dance class, he was charismatic and lively, but here he sat in the back of the room all alone.

I couldn't tell if he was hiding my secret or what. It was starting to get to me. I couldn't even look him in the eyes when we danced.

Is everything okay? Yeah. Obs.

Is everything okay with you? Yeah, you just seem different. Nope.

I'm exactly the same as I am. Not the same as who you think I might be, but Okay, distracted then. I promise you, my heart is in this.

You have to believe me. I want us to win. Yeah.

At school, I started to put on heavier makeup and frumpier clothes to improve my disguise. I was so worried about Freddy. I didn't even know what I was talking about in class anymore.

With a shaky hand, I wrote something on the board. Okay. Where does the comma go in this sentence?

The bully came up to the board and confidently drew a comma in. Correct. No, it's not.

I was testing you. You don't even know basic grammar. Everyone in the class was snickering at me.

I felt like I was the dumb student again. What? Of course I do.

Are you guys hot? It's Is it hot in here? I took off my cardigan and suddenly Freddy's expression changed.

He was staring at me. And then I realized my birthmark. I had a diamond shaped birthark on my shoulder.

He was the only one who had seen it. I have to go to the bathroom. I stormed off exposed.

Then I heard someone call behind me. Wait. Freddy rushed towards me, staring me in the eyes.

He pulled off my glasses, which could have been romantic, but nope, not like this. Becca, is that you? I turned even redder.

I was speechless. I can't believe it. It is.

What's going on? Is this a joke? Okay, I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out.

My parents wouldn't let me dance unless my grades went up. And then I found out I looked like this new teacher who was sick. And so, I just pretended to be her.

And I guess I kind of got carried away. That is crazy. Please don't tell anyone.

The competition is only a week away. I need to show my parents I'm good at this so they'll let me go to dance school and not their alma mater. Here I was just excited to spend more time with you outside of practice, but for you it was always about winning the competition.

I'm sorry and that's not true. I won't spill your secret as long as you do something for me. Parent teacher night.

No, I couldn't go to parent teacher night. My parents would be there. But Freddy was right.

I owed him. He'd spent so much time trying to help me and all I did was hurt him. The Freddy is wonderful.

He's making so many friends. Everyone loves him. Really?

That's surprising. He got into a bad fight in his last school because some football player was making fun of him for being a dancer. He broke the guy's nose.

He did? Yes. We told you in the beginning of the semester, Miss Rosen, suddenly a familiar voice interrupted.

Hi. Sorry to interrupt. We're here for our 5:00 p.

m. with Miss Rosen. Oh my gosh.

I was about to have a parent teacher conference with my parents. I quickly powdered my face, pushing my hair in front of my face, trying to obscure myself. Yes.

Yes. Come in. I'm sorry.

We'll pick this up later. So, how is Becca doing? Oh, Becca, she's an absolute dream.

I'm sorry. I can't understand you. Would you mind pushing your hair out of your face and looking towards us?

Oh, I'm a little sick, so I don't want to get you ill. No, that's okay. Just it's a little rude not to be looking at us while you're talking.

As I turned towards my mom, head tilted down towards the table so she couldn't see me. My glasses fell off. Mom picked them up and handed them to me.

When I reached for them, I saw her eyes go wide. She was staring at the frayed sleeve peeking out from underneath my blazer. It was her frayed shirt.

Becca, I thought you sounded familiar. Before I could respond, Freddy's mom burst in. Miss Rosen, when you're done, I'd love to reconvene about Freddy.

Totally. Miss Rosen, huh? Lady, this is my dog.

As my mom was finishing her sentence, I was literally diving head first out the window. Becca, come back here. I landed in the grass and sprinted away as fast as I could.

When I finally arrived at the dance studio, I was exhausted and busted. I yanked off my teacher disguise, revealing the leotard underneath, and rushed into the competition. Becca, we're about to be on.

Did you talk to them? How'd it go? Yeah.

Yeah. All good. They totally bought it.

Freddy, you were in on this, weren't you? Oh, yeah. They totally bought it.

I whipped my head around to see Freddy's mom boiling red, but not redder than the faces of my own parents who were right by her side. Becca, you are not dancing until you explain yourself. The music was starting.

The spotlight was on us. I'll explain. Just dance.

I locked eyes with him, desperate. He was fumbling at first. I could feel his nerves.

Freddy, don't worry about them. This is for you. You got this.

And then we didn't miss a step. Freddy was amazing. When it was over, I couldn't hear my parents screaming.

I was overwhelmed by the applause and the glimmer in Freddy's eyes. You really pulled through. I'm impressed.

I'm so sorry for lying. I really love spending time with you, even when we're not dancing, but especially when we're dancing. I saw him hiding a smirk, and that was enough of an invitation for me to lean in and kiss him as our lips touched.

Becca, you tricked my son into going along with your charade so he could say he gets along with his classmates. You know he punched someone. Buzz killed.

He was provoked. He shouldn't have punched them. But if someone insults your passion, sir, how would you feel?

Freddy might not get on well with others at school, but here in this place, he's the coolest, most adored guy. This is our family. This is our school.

Freddy grabbed my hand, squeezing it. Yeah. And Becca is such an incredible dancer.

She may not be good at academics, but she has a passion. All she needs is her parents' support. Plus, she is a good teacher.

She taught me what it's like to fight for what you care about, no matter who tries to tear you down. I suddenly saw my mom's face soften just a little. I guess that's something.

And you did have good stage presence. I guess if dancing is your passion, I won't get in your way. As long as you have a backup plan.

Wait, really? As long as you have a backup plan. I couldn't believe it.

I finally got my parents approval. Sort of. I hugged Freddy and he grabbed my shoulders and kissed me like our parents weren't right there.

I was on cloud9. The rest is history. Freddy and I started dating and I officially enrolled in school as a student.

I finished the semester with all C's under the perfectly boring teachings of the real Miss Rosen. But I got to keep dancing and the following year Freddy and I got into Giuliard. After a brief stint touring as a background dancer for pop artists, I got burnt out and wanted to spend more time at home with our new family.

So, I fell into my backup plan. All right, kiddos, don't hold back. I want to see those moves.

Teaching dance classes to middle schoolers. And when my daughter told me she wanted to be a dancer, I freaked out for a minute. Who would want to have their daughter be a dancer?

Oh, I guess my parents were right.