With much power comes much responsibility.

This morning I got up earlier than I've gotten up in months. I washed my hair and put on my make-up and stood in the middle of my room in my polka-dotted bath robe wondering... What outfit says, "Lindsey Hays, Substitute Teacher Extraordinaire"? What ensemble, in a closet full of items ranging from silk metallic blazer and pencil skirts to dandelion yellow cardigan and skinny jeans, says, "I'm the boss, apple sauce"? What is the exact combination of tops, bottoms, and accessories to say, "Because I said so."

Yes, today I transformed from Lindsey, grad school student and full-time socialite, to Miss Hays, no-nonsense substitute teacher and commander-in-chief of the classroom.

I geared up in a modest but casual navy turtleneck and grey cords and topped it off with a J. Crew headband, and I walked the hallways of my Alma Mater with authority. A student made a phone call in class (I know, right?!), and I snapped at her that when I was in school that kind of thing wasn't allowed (fun fact: kids love to see their classmates reprimanded; my warning was followed by ooh's and ahh's and pleads to write a referral). Later, I had to ask a young man, who was supposed to be working on a history project, if Ben Franklin was in fact his Facebook friend. That was a crowd pleaser.

Oh yes, the power went to my head, and you can be sure I didn't make many friends. But when you are indeed smaller than your students (in the hall, "Where'd she go? Oh, ha, I thought she was one of us!"), you have to establish yourself in a big way... and I'm up for the challenge.

Look out, 8th grade math, you're next.