My life is validated in print.
For Christianity, the missing teacher had given me no indication, not even the merest hint of what she wanted me to do for the class. She telephoned during my lunchtime and told me about the dusty boardgame on the top shelf that had never been touched but could be used in such situations when substitutes had not been given any helpful information. I had already prepared something else--a retelling of my father's many traveling adventures in the mission field--and I told her so. She was very agreeable.
Suffice to say, the forty-five minutes allocated for class went by very quickly--I intrigued them with tales of Calcutta and traffic jams that congealed around some sacred, road-crossing cow--and one boy paid me the highest compliment of all before shuffling off in his raincoat for break: "You should come here everyday."