I had just graduated from high school, and having attended summer-long, residential science programs the two previous summers, I was taking it easy and chilling at home. After a while all that lounging got a bit boring and I decided to get a job. But it had to be low stress. You wouldn't be seeing me working long hours at the Dress Barn stock room like my best friend and her twin sis.

Luckily, my high school had a summer student tutoring program. You had to list what you thought you could teach, and then based on your academic record they would hook you up with students (or not).

I was assigned to a hyper eighth-grader and his super-hyper 13-year-old younger brother who needed some French help. We would meet five hours a week on campus in a classroom designated for the tutoring program. I'd arrive early, make a quickie lesson plan from my old French book, go over verb conjugations, give them quizzes and homework, try not to laugh at their earnest attempts at pronunciation and persuade them to stay away from the Coke machine down the hall. All for $10 an hour.

There's nothing like getting paid for bossing around somebody other that your siblings. It also was a nice way to refresh my French skills and gave me a new appreciation for the trials and tribulations of junior high school language teachers.