TUESDAY THOUGHTS: SUBSTITUTE TEACHER TALES

The majority of the students, in the last class of the day, decided that there would be no reading, writing, discussion, or ANYTHING involving the novel they'd been assigned to read. 

(And a wonderful novel it was. I rather enjoyed reading a great deal of it during my lunch break.) 

They decided they'd rather show me who was really in charge. 

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

  

If they'd only known how much I wanted to teach them the wonderful lesson their instructor had planned. It just wasn't to be, I guess. 

What ELSE was NOT going to be, was the continuation of their lousy behavior, or the planting of any seed that would make them think they would be allowed to repeat their antics, in the future, with anyone else.

In the interest of the next unsuspecting person who comes along, I just couldn't allow them to leave thinking that anything they did, or said, was okay. 

I mean, "Please take your seat" is such a simple, non-threatening request. It's not offensive in the least, is it?

A person would really like to earn his or her salary. When it comes to the final class of the day, I don't feel as if I did. 

I left the school a bit sad. 

I took their behavior personally, and that was a huge mistake. 

I must not do that again.

It's so early in the year, and some students are messing up already-- academically and behaviorally. That concerns me greatly, and I don't have a child enrolled in school any more.

There's something about the sight of a substitute teacher that activates the bladders of, and initiates chronic thirst in some students. 

Suddenly everyone has to leave the room. 

It's an emergency. 

You see more interpretive dancing than you ever imagined, coupled with pleas of "I gotta pee!" coming at you in ever-increasing volume. 

Reminding students of the window of time between classes, and how it is designed so perfectly for visiting the restroom, their lockers, or anywhere else in the school, just makes some students even more hostile. 

They had been counting on goofing off between classes, and being allowed to roam the halls. 

They fully expect you to give them a pass to do it. 

They cite Mr. or Miss So-and-So, who always allows them to go where they want, as if that's supposed to shame you into granting their wishes. 

You want to be liked, don't you? 

Saying "No" erases any chances of that. 

So, they threaten you with ceasing to work, as if their failure to do their assignment for the day is going to somehow make you less intelligent.

The sight of a substitute teacher erases all memory of school rules and procedures. 

All of a sudden, there's someone trying to tell YOU what to do, as if you haven't been clued in. 

Seeing a sub inspires the smart-aleck in some students, and the bully in others. 

One little boy quipped, "I think I'm gonna get somebody fired today". 

(Ooooh, if he only knew--I was there because I chose to be, not because I had to be. )

There's also an imp from the deep recesses of hell who screams, "Sub!!!", and immediately possesses the spirits of certain little darlings, and makes them believe they are suddenly in the presence of someone for whom they should show little, or no respect. Suddenly, you have no humanity. You're just an intruder who has the nerve to want to teach. 

You must be terrorized, and sent screaming out of the building never to return again. 

How dare you come to a school, and expect learning to take place.

So, before "Loud, Out-of-control Teacher" was allowed to make a rare, scary appearance, "Calm, Peace-loving Teacher" told them to gather all of their things, lined them up, and marched them ALL to the Principal's Office. 

I hated to do it. 

Classroom management had never been a weak point, but I felt a bit outnumbered and overwhelmed today. 

It was a shame, too. The day had begun so nicely. The other classes had been delightful and, for the most part, stayed on task.

On the way to the principal's office, some tried to run, hide, or go in the opposite direction, but the sense of right and wrong in them miraculously prevailed, and they joined the line. 

The Principal instructed me to march them all to the Dean of Students. 

The Dean was a man who happily reminded me of every drill sergeant in every film where there was a terrifying, no-nonsense drill sergeant character. 

He was Sgt. Emil Foley, Sgt. Nathan West, and Sgt. Vince Carter all rolled up into one. 

Suddenly, the imp that had overtaken their good sense in the classroom, released them from its grip, and we were, once again, in the presence of wide-eyed, innocent children. 

They snapped out of their delusion, remembered why they came to school, realized they'd gone too far, and contemplated that their butts were indeed, grass.

Their pitiful choruses of  "What'd I do?" and "I ain't even do nothing!" fell on unsympathetic, deaf ears.
I separated the relieved and grateful wheat from the tares, because of course, not ALL of the little darlings forgot their manners this afternoon. 

Phone numbers and names were collected, and calls were made. 

Today, after school detention was a little crowded.

The swift action of The Dean and his assistant let me know that consequences still exist. 

Foolishness ISN'T tolerated everywhere. 

Teachers ARE supported.

A classroom can have smart boards, computers, and every state-of-the art piece of equipment known to man; money can flow into a school like a river, but without order, NOTHING will be taught or learned, except how to waste extraordinary amounts of time and energy.

I was reminded, by a very wise person, that I can only control myself. 

It definitely helped the sad feeling to dissipate. 

I just hate to see anyone hurting themselves while foolishly thinking they're hurting someone else. 

I can want others to respond certain ways, but there's never a guarantee. 

I loved the novel. I suppose I wanted them to be interested in it, too. 

Another person's failure to do what's right, doesn't diminish my actions, or imply that I am somehow weak, or incompetent. 

There are a lot of willing people just itching to help others. 

Help has to be wanted, though, and the necessity of it has to be recognized.

A teacher--even a substitute teacher-- can have all of the hopes and expectations in the world, but he or she cannot force learning, or interest, or cooperation. One can only hope that good home training will prevail.

People have to want to learn, and the importance of a good education, and good manners are lessons that have to be taught--the earlier the better.

I won't give up, though. 

I really do love teaching.