SUBSTITUTE TEACHER TALES: THE BEST PERSON FOR THE JOB

I finished my long-term sub assignment. 

(Thank you, thank you, Jesus. My voice is thanking me that I can now resume it's normal, singing-friendly level.)

I realize my heart is still in the classroom--part of it, anyway. 

I was delighted to be asked to stay on at the school until the end of the school year. 

There's a vacancy in the library, it seems. 

A peaceful place. 

A haven. 

A place where I can channel my inner Sharon Bell Mathis, pretend to be a great storyteller, and read to the children the books that I loved hearing as a child. 

Saying "Yes" to the principal, was a no-brainer.

On Friday morning, I met the teacher whose classroom had been turned over to me on April 22. 

I was never so happy to see a total stranger. 

The class had been a bit of a challenge the first week, and I wondered if I still had the energy and patience to do the job. 

I was 25 years old when I became a substitute teacher. I was 26 when I became a full-time Art teacher. That young lady is long gone, (as evidenced by my initial huffing and puffing up the very steep Elmira Street hill, on my daily walks to the school), but not her love for seeing a child learn. 

I noticed by week two, I was taking that hill with a lot more speed and enthusiasm and a lot less "Lord, have mercy".

I imagine the kids were wondering, "Who is this lady coming in here and taking over?" 

I was wondering how long they would stand for no-nonsense, old-school me. 

Which day would I find myself tossed into the supply closet, my mouth sealed with glue, and my hands and feet bound with jump ropes? 

In the words of the great philosopher, Tamar Braxton, "Oh, they tried it". 

Not surprisingly, however, they soon settled down when they realized I wasn't going anywhere, and actually expected them to work.

I believe with all my heart and soul that children want order. They want direction. They want boundaries, and want to be safe. 

When are the so-called experts ever going to learn that you can't have it both ways? 

You can't allow and encourage literal chaos all year, and then suddenly expect some kids to sit independently and stoically for hours, with a Dixon Ticonderoga #2 pencil, and ace a standardized test.

I'm so thankful that I didn't quit, or get discouraged. There's a lot one could murmur about, but why? 

My mantra each day was "Try to leave it better than you found it". 

I have to admit that sassy, eye-rolling, defiant little kids who think they're adults; who haven't been made to mind their manners, know nothing of consequences, and haven't been adequately informed as to what school is really all about--those little darlings-- can be downright exhausting. 

I contend that it's the discipline piece, or lack thereof, that discourages a lot of people from pursuing careers in Education. 

Fortunately, out of the 27 or so kids, (Again, what happened to smaller class sizes?) only two made it vitally necessary for me to revamp my prayer life, but in the end, even they said, "Thank you".

I told the children, often, that their teacher would be back-- even though I wasn't always sure. 

It seemed to reassure them. Me, too. 

It didn't take long to see who needed what, in terms of academics, and I was determined that their learning would continue. 

I used whatever was available to me in the classroom, and created lessons. 

I STILL can't believe how much I enjoyed teaching Math.

I got the call on Thursday night that the teacher would be returning on Friday morning. I was asked to stay for the day just to ease the transition. 

When I met her, we hugged, and I got all misty. 

I'd never been clear about the circumstances surrounding her absence, but always felt compelled to keep her in my prayers. 

The few times we'd spoken, I always got the feeling that she didn't just like to teach, she needed and wanted to, but systems were in the way, as only systems can be. 

Parents who'd had bad experiences at school themselves were in the way, as only parents can be. Racism and mistrust were in the way, too.

You have to appreciate a teacher who KNOWS what serious academic, behavioral, and parental issues lie in her class, and yet, she STILL wants to teach.

I immediately began filling her in on what I thought she needed to know, and what we'd been doing in her absence.  

We decided she'd surprise the children. 

I was singing the Morning Meeting song with the kids (a song which gives an opportunity for each child's name to be sung) as they sat "criss-cross apple sauce" on the alphabet carpet. 

As we sang, the teacher hid in the supply closet. When the last child's name was sung, and after they insisted on singing mine, I sang the teacher's name, pointed behind them, and she opened the door. 

It was a wonderful sight to see them so happy, AND to see a teacher so dedicated to her students.

I hear it a lot--"Black children need Black teachers". Maybe that's true in some instances, I don't know, but you have to hear an individual's personal story, sometimes. Who is more qualified to do one thing or another? The person who's read about it, or the person who's been there? 

Pain, hurt, rejection, abuse, abandonment, failure, and lack know no skin color. 

They are all about equal opportunity.

The best person for the job may not look like you. The person who helps you to reach your highest potential, or appreciates what you have to offer, may not, either.

Black children need caring, competent human beings who see the statistics, hear the rhetoric, recognize the needs, sidestep the over-the-top, unnecessary drama some parents can bring, brave the neighborhood legends and stereotypes, and yet STILL want to teach them. 

They need human beings who know what's not working, have the courage to say so, and the creativity to implement something else. 

They need human beings who sincerely embrace "Children First" and "No Child Left Behind" as truth; as ways of life, and not just catchy slogans for bumper stickers. 

Kids need teachers who care.