SUBSTITUTE TEACHER TALES: ALMOST OVER

It really is a beautiful space. 

It's not majestic or palatial, but beautiful--to me, anyway. 

The ceilings are high, and except for the intermittent hum of the wonderfully functioning air conditioning, it's quiet. 

The acoustics are great. 

I like being there.

 

The sunlight coming through the large windows in the morning is stunning. 

The books are new, and there's state-of-the-art equipment.

 

When I walk in each day, I say to myself, "Who wouldn't appreciate a place like this?"  

Then, I remember that some things must be taught--early and often. 

Some of the children respect the space and what it represents and offers, because they respect themselves. (Home training really DOES go a long way.) 

Some see it as a quiet place to study, read, research, and listen to stories, and poetry.

I can always tell which classes have been encouraged to pay attention,  and be on their best behavior. 

I appreciate the educational aides who remain in the library with the class to which they have been assigned, and diligently monitor student behavior.
Other students, however, haven't been told a thing it seems, except maybe, "Go inside and run amok". 

Some students have run in and out of the library doors so much, that one of the doors is difficult to open, and makes a harsh banging noise when it finally yields to several attempts to open it. 

Some of the kids use the library as a hiding place from security guards, and a short cut from the office back to their classrooms. 

It WOULD be a short cut IF traipsing through the library actually took less time. 

Some of them draw their versions of obscene pictures on the tables, go behind the librarian's desk, rummage through cabinets, scream and yell, play on the librarian's phone, fight, bring in food and drinks, turn over chairs, run around, and crawl under the tables, bounce basketballs and throw footballs, break shelves, and leave papers and trash strewn about.

There's something savage and wild about the way some of them enter--prowling about, loud talking, refusing to take seats, bothering things that don't belong to them, and immediately creating disorder. If I attempt to correct their behavior, they're immediately offended! 

The proximity to the main office and security desks should be a deterrent, but it isn't. Unruly students come in and sit on TOP of the tables or the carts, and put their feet on the seats of the chairs. 

Some don't come in AT ALL, choose to roam the halls, then strategically time their reappearance minutes before their session is scheduled to end, They actually expect me to let them enter. 

 "Come in and have a seat" is like a foreign concept. It's as if some demon has possessed them and is compelling them to see just how far into The Land of Wrongdoing they can go in word, and deed.

Every day since I accepted the assignment, there have been at least two classes that force me to seek divine intervention, but I press on. 

I just cannot abide a disrespectful, defiant little kid. The sad part, is that it's not all of the children who are out of control, but it's enough of them to potentially derail any attempt at teaching and learning. 

They are rude, demanding, and equipped with attitudes that make me very afraid for them. 

They're going to mouth off at the wrong person one day--someone who has no fear of child protective services, nor the police. 

They seem to have no fear of consequences, and delight in their disruptive actions. 

 I wish I had a dollar for every time I heard, 

"I don't care.", 

"You don't tell me what to do.", or 

"I don't wanna_______". 

Yes. They are children, but a line has to be drawn somewhere. It's true. You get what you ALLOW.

Maybe they're just showing off for their friends. 

Maybe they're allowed to misbehave at home. 

Maybe they're just testing adults to see whether they'll follow through. 

I don't know. 

Whatever the reason, some of the stuff I see each day is simply unacceptable.

When I think of the children who would LOVE to learn in such a beautiful library, it makes me even sadder. 

What is it about something nice and neat, that brings out the destructiveness in some people? 

It's as if they can't stand a clean, orderly place, and HAVE to mess it up. 

Perhaps they don't think they deserve it. 

Perhaps they've never been taught that there are rules of behavior that apply in certain spaces; that there's a time and a place for everything.  

It's hard to ignore when chaos is all around. 

You feel you have to address it; correct it. 

You can't let it go on, can you? 

You can't honestly say you care, if you just let some things slide, can you? 

Yesterday, a little boy tapped me on the knee as I was trying my best to get through a story, and pleaded, "Miss Williams, ignore them. They do that all the time in our class. Just ignore them, okay? Keep reading. WE want to hear the story. WE'RE listening." 

It was true. About eight students were in a semi-circle at my feet. I hadn't even realized they'd inched so close to me.  They all had the same expression on their faces. They were desperate to hear, even in the midst of other students who were determined to make sure that they didn't.

 I had SO much respect for them, and they actually encouraged me.  

So, I keep going back to the space each day; 

I take the good with the bad, even though the bad will make you want to get your things and never return--or do like other substitute teachers do, and go outside of their own neighborhoods, and serve kids across town—or emphatically refuse to accept assignments at certain schools. 

I keep trying to "brighten the corner" where I am; 

I keep in mind the things that Sharon Bell Mathis did every day in the library at Patricia Roberts Harris Educational Center. I think about the mammoth task that was her Read-A-Thon. She made the library a rich, wonderful, safe, exciting place.

Another teacher said it best the other day: 

"Teachers definitely don't get the respect the profession deserves, but what's going to happen to them if we all give up? Someone has to teach our kids." 

I keep trying to leave it better than I found it, (even though, in any situation, I detest cleaning up behind able bodied people who seem oblivious to, and/or  are fans of filth and messiness).  

I respect the space most of all, because I LOVED the library as a child. I know what a positive, wealthy place it is. I know of the places a good book can take a child. 

How I appreciate Mrs. Reamer, the librarian at my elementary school! I wish I could remember the name of librarian in the children's corner at the old Washington Highlands library! They taught us what a sacred, magical, and important place the library is. 

I reject the "That was a different time" argument. Good manners never grow old, nor does teaching them. 

Each day I make a point to thank students for being cooperative and respectful. I'm compelled to do it, because I think they need to hear it. 

A disproportionate amount of time is spent dealing with disruptive students each day. It’s been normalized.

The well-mannered children are caught in the waiting game--waiting for some kid to either get it together, or waiting while a teacher interrupts the lesson to write an incident report, or hunt down a security officer or administrator--because these days you can't just put a student out of the classroom. 

Some of the children who used to behave themselves have decided to join the disruptive band, because it seems to be the only way to get noticed. 

I'd hate to see some of the children abandon their good manners, so I heeded the little boy's pleading, continued reading, and finished the story. 

If they could ignore the distractions, so could I. 

I owe it to them--for the next few days-- to keep trying. 

It may seem like it, but school is not over yet. 

Maybe standardized assessments should take place in June. 

(I'm just sayin')

Today, I got the news that my first two classes would be going on a field trip to the National Zoo. 

Even though they have been consistently delightful, I can't say I was disappointed. 

Frankly, I think it's good for the children to have experiences outside of their own neighborhood, and the quietness of the library is downright therapeutic. 

The break gave me a chance to do something I really hadn't planned. 

I spent the day rescuing several boxes of books from being discarded.  

I know we’re in a digital age, but why would anyone destroy books?

Some of the books merely had torn dust jackets, so I took them off completely, found some archival quality paper, and made new liners for the inside covers. 

Others just needed marks erased off of them, while they all needed to be freed from the dust that had collected on them. 

Armed with a can of Lysol, I cleaned them up, and inserted new book marks in each of them. 

I read some of the titles and couldn't believe they were destined for the trash: 

Black Beauty, 

The Little Red Hen, 

Aesop's Fables, 

Thumbelina, 

Pippi Longstocking 

 and several books in Beverly Cleary's Ramona series. 

The look on the kid's faces when I told them they could pick a book and keep it, made me smile. 

“I can take it home?”, they asked.

 When I opened the book and wrote their names, they were so appreciative. “Now, you can start your own library”.

So many walked away reading, "This book belongs to_________".

I'll finish going through the rest of the books tomorrow. 

For now, they're all clean, out of the dusty boxes, and on the rolling cart. 

All they needed was a little TLC—and I suppose that's what some of the kids could use as well. 

Maybe then they wouldn't be so angry, and vent that anger by taking it out on their own teachers, school, and classmates--and ultimately derailing their own academic achievement.

There's a lot to bemoan, but then there are many, many bright spots too. 

At the end of the day, as I straighten up before I leave the school, I always find adorable, nameless doodles that were left behind. 

Who knows if there are future illustrators walking through those banging doors each day.

#lovethelibrary

#substituteteaching

#classroommanagement