Have you ever had one of those moments when you really wished you were someplace else, anyplace else?

Those moments are rare for me, but I had two such encounters over the past couple of days. The first came on Thursday at a football game. Tim is head coach for the rookie team this year. I have no reason to attend, other than to be a support to him.

Hermiston was playing rival Pendleton. It was a beautiful sunny day, very little wind, and a bit of crispness in the air. HHS won the game by a couple of touchdowns so that made it even more enjoyable. Shelby, who had made cookies for the team, and I were sitting with Melody, another teacher friend, and Karla, an exchange student from Brazil, when a parent approached. Melody greeted this mother and asked how her son was adjusting to high school.

I didn't know the mom or her son so I sat politely quiet. The mother began by complaining about all the girls at the high school and how forward they all are, calling her house, imposing themselves upon her son, etc. Then she continued on (without any encouragement from Melody) to say that she had tried to prepare her son for the football season by warning him that he might not get as much playing time as he had at the junior high. (We have two junior highs in town that feed into the one high school. Obviously some get cut along the way.)

The mother continued on to say, "I'd spent so much time preparing my son for the fact that he might not get much playing time that I forgot to prepare myself. I'm not used to him sitting on the bench. It's hard. And I'm sorry, but I think Coach Zacharias is a cranky butthead!"

Shelby looked at me. I smiled. Melody coughed. Karla held her breath. Mama Bear continued, unabated, "They were supposed to have a game on Tuesday. Well, come to find out it was Wednesday. And there's no roster! I like all those other coaches but I think Coach Zacharias is impersonable and rude. I've never spoken to him but if he's ever rude to me, I'm going to be rude right back!"

Melody did a quick verbal shuffle. Tried to explain that the games are set up by the AD's office and not by the coaches and that if something happens, it usually is a top-down thing. Shelby's mouth was a tight thin line. I couldn't tell if she was about to cry or to cuss. I sat there, mute, feeling as though I was overhearing gossip about my family. Karla, I'm sure, was comparing the American response to the Latino one.

Mama Bear continued on. "So why are you here?" She looks to Melody. To me. To Karla. Melody explains, "I'm married to one of the coaches." To which Mama Bear exclaimed, "Well I hope you're not married to Coach Zacharias!"

"No," Melody said. Everyone's head snapped my way. I held my tongue. Never said one word. After what Tim always refers to as that bad pause moment, Mama Bear said, "I didn't think you'd be married to him!!!"

I debated. Should I jump in now and tell this woman she's been bad-mouthing my husband and warn her that if she didn't shut her trap I was going to shut it for her? Or should I just grin and bear it, knowing that before the season is out she'll figure out who I am and when she does, she's going to have a couple of sleepless nights, wondering if I told Tim what she said?

I did tell him, of course.

I didn't think there was anything to be gained from humilating the woman (though she didn't seem to mind humilating me or Shelby.) Still, I knew that speaking up at that moment would only serve to add fuel to her fire, so I opted for silence.

That is until she walked away, then Karla, who was about to bust, said, "OH! Ms. Zacharias, I thought for sure you would tell her that he was your husband!" And poor Melody, she sat there, wiggling and squirming, trying to figure out how to change the subject before the talk turned even more ugly.

The thing is, Melody always sits up high, away from the parents, for this very reason. She hates overhearing them badmouth her husband.

I know how she feels now.

It did make me a little eager for the return of Friday Night Lights, my favorite television show. If you haven't seen it, check it out this season.

The other, "Oh to be elsewhere" moment came less than 24 hours later. I was filling in for one of the coaches at the high school. Teaching Math. I know, I know. But this was basic math and even I can figure that out.

School is on block schedule this year, which means classes are 80 mins. long. During 4th period, I had a kid come into class. She was very tall -- probably 5'11". I noticed her because she had the longest legs I've ever seen on a girl. And the shortest skirt. I was curious as to how she would sit comfortably througout the period. She was very friendly, greeted me right off the bat. I smiled, welcomed her. I noticed her make-up was expertly applied. She had full lips, covered in gloss. Shoulder-length hair of the nappy variety, with a ballpoint pen hanging from one strand. She wore a tight sweater and her posture was perfect. She walked and looked like a NYC model. Her moves were graceful and stylish.

She was without question one of the best looking girls in class. Only she wasn't a she at all. She was a he, I found out when during roll call he answered to a boy's name.

I called the teacher's assistance out into the hallway.

"Is she a she or is she a he?" I asked.

"He's a he, who wants to be a she. Last year he was a boy but this year, he showed up a girl."

"What do you call him?" I asked.

"He likes to be called Kiera. He said that's what his sisters have always called him."

"Okay."

Then we went back to class. An hour later, it was obvious that this student intended to chat all day and not do any work. I approached to see how much work this student and their partner had gotten accomplished. The female partner had all her work done, but K.hadn't done anything.

"You need to take your books and move to another table," I said, instructing the student with the completed work to move. "This fellow needs to get his work done."

The entire class snapped their heads my way. I'd just referred to Kiera as a "fellow."

"Or gal," I said, correcting myself. "Guy or gal. Whatever. You need to get your work done."

Ohmygosh! I was so frustrated. As soon as class was out I called that cranky butthead Coach Zacharias and asked, "What's the district policy on the transgender student? I called him, I mean her, by the wrong pronoun. I didn't know which pronoun to use."

I was all flustered.

Thankfully, the cranky butthead was in one of his congenial moods. "Well, he has to use the male bathroom so I think referring to him as a he is the correct way to refer to him."

"He goes in the male bathroom dressed like that?" I asked.

"Yes," Coach said.

I couldn't get my mind around it. I don't lead a sheltered life. I have many friends of diverse backgrounds. But none, I think, as broken as this poor soul. I can't imagine the anquish he must go through each day -- trying to decide who he/she is. I was totally discombobulated over which pronoun to use. I can't imagine the terror of going to school each day confused over one's own gender.

We live in a broken world, alongside souls that have been broken and bruised.

A line from a song has returned to me again and again this week, "Surely God is faithful. Surely God is good."

He loves us just as we are, no matter how cranky or confused we get.