I suppose if I were a parent, I would also be enraged by the unorthodox teachings of the fifth-grade substitute at MacGregor Middle School who had her kids call her Sister Jessica. But as it is, she just seems like fun. I can imagine us at happy hour together. Her chatter would be way more fascinating than the usual my-boss-sucks, these-are-my-weekend-plans, Barack-or-Hillary conversation.
This little story presents gem after gem from Sister Jessica. Among them:
โข Donโt call her Miss, cuz that means mistress. While youโre at it, donโt call her Mister, either โ thatโs a slave owner.
โข Sugar is cocaine.
โข McDonaldโs is Crack Donaldโs.
โข Burger King is Murder King.
โข Hair permanent and makeup cause cancer.
โข Thereโs rat poison in toothpaste.
โข And, of course, God doesnโt exist.
What I want to know is, whyโd the kids nark on this woman? Best. Substitute. Teacher. Ever! (Sister Jess, give me a call. Beerโs on me!) โ Cathy Matusow
This article appears in Nov 8-14, 2007.
