The Substitute Teacher Who Changed Everything
I remember a Simpsons episode where Lisa fell in love with a substitute teacher, Mr. Bergstrom, voiced by Dustin Hoffman.
They bonded over Lisa’s being more intelligent than the other kids. He saw it in her and helped her realize it was a gift—to embrace and accept other people’s faults, not to hold them against them just because she better understood things.
When Bergstrom’s time was over, Lisa took it hard. She took it personally that he was leaving and confronted him at the train station as he was set to board.
“Mr. Bergstrom!” she yelled, waving as she ran toward the train.
“Hey, Lisa!” he happily shouted back.
I’ll paraphrase Lisa: “Is that it? You were just going to leave?”
Then Mr. Bergstrom spoke the words that have stuck with me since 1991:
“I’m sorry, Lisa. It’s the life of the substitute teacher—he’s a fraud. Today he might be wearing gym shorts, tomorrow he’s speaking French, or pretending to know how to run a bandsaw, God knows what.”
Lisa pleaded, “You can’t go. You’re the best teacher I’ll ever have.”
“Aw, that’s not true. Other teachers will come along,” Bergstrom reassured her.
“Oh, please!” Lisa angrily shot back.
“No, I can’t lie to you—I am the best. But, you know, they need me over in the projects of Capital City.”
“But I need you too!” she cried.
“That’s the problem with being middle class—anyone who really cares will abandon you for someone who needs it more.”
“I… I understand,” Lisa accepted. “Mr. Bergstrom, I’m gonna miss you.”
Why This Scene Stuck With Me
This scene has stayed with me for so long because, a few months earlier, in 1991, I had lost my father, and the line about being abandoned really hit home.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about Mr. Bergstrom’s words: “It’s the life of the substitute teacher; he’s a fraud.” Because, in many ways, I feel like a fraud, too.
Feeling Like a Fraud in Real Estate
When I work with clients—whether they’re homeowners or home buyers—I spend weeks getting to know them personally while helping them.
We form a bond, and they trust me a lot. Much like the substitute teacher, I may one day be a marketing director, arranging and managing photographers, videographers, home stagers, and drone pilots.
Next, I might be a kind of psychologist, asking how you feel after losing a house to multiple offers and reassuring you that it wasn’t meant to be and that there’s always another home waiting for you.
Other times, I’m a negotiator, fighting tooth and nail to get the best price, terms, and conditions.
Finally, you get the outcome you want. That’s when I have to move on to help another client. I “abandon you for someone else who needs it more.”
The Many Roles I Play for My Clients
That part never sits well with me. I take what I do personally, thinking about you long after our time together ends.
I question the closing gift I gave you. When I send my Keep in Touch newsletter, do you like it?
It’s true—I sometimes feel like a fraud. However, we bonded over the weeks we spent together.
Did I Abandon You, or Was It Just Time to Go?
Even though my role changes along the way, I’m not just playing a part. I take your trust to heart and always intend to get the best outcome for you. And while my role in your life is temporary, everything I did for you was real.
When our time is over, I’m not abandoning you—it’s just that someone else needs me now.