There is something so weird about teachers outside of school. As Angela Chase said, "It's so weird that teachers actually, like, live places." Also, "Maybe teachers have a hidden life. Where they're actually, like human. Where they have, I don't know, dignity. Or maybe not."*
So K**, my drama teacher, isn't like other teachers. Normal teachers. Sure some teachers want to be your friend, or say they care about your life, but honestly, we're creeped out about it. Then they turn out to be liars when they assign a truckload of homework the night they fully know we have an improv performance, or the night of music night, or something. That's why it's so hard to be a "well-rounded" student, I guess.
Ms K is not like other teachers. She gets it. If we're stressed, she pushed back deadlines. If we're panicking because of other classes, she has us spend a period on a group discussion, or guides us through some relaxation. I have ended up in her office having tea more than once, crying when I just really need to. She just gets it. And she really wants to help. This is how she is with her drama students, so when you're on the improv team, the team is your family and K, second mother. Sometimes I end up spending more time with the improv team than with my real family. We laugh together, cry together, win together... improv is like a support system for life, and K is the head of that.
So at Connor's Finals, when K won two sens tickets, the whole team offered to babysit. We made jokes about attacking her house and playing guitar hero with her kids. When the game came around this weekend, and K asked around to see who was babysitting, it ended up being just me. Never having babysat for two boys before, I was a little stressed. I'm a girl babysitter, I colour and play dolls. I don't know what to do with boys.
It was a little freaky to be in K's house. Her husband answered the door and showed me around, and I met her kids -- who were incredibly cute. It felt weird calling her "Ms K" in this millieu, but I didn't know what else to call her.
The evening went very well. I survived. K gave me a lift home and we chatted. She did a K check-up on me to see how I was feeling (exhausted) why I was feeling that way (umm.. dunno. Tons of stuff) and how psyched I was about improv (very). If I keep in touch with anyone after I graduate, it will be K. A couple of my friends as well, but mostly, I will send off an email to K every now and then, to stay in touch. You don't come across people like her every day.
*From The Substitute, which is one of my favourite episodes of MSCL.
**no name-hiding here. We actually call her K. Or Ms K. Or K-town. Some variation of that.