The Pleasure of Reading to Children

My greatest pleasure, when substituting for the younger grades, is reading to the class.  I was lucky enough to enjoy this privilege when my own children were in grade school.  My children would choose their favorite stories for me to read to the class, usually Dr. Seuss or Bill Peet books.  Other times, they wanted me to read one of my works-in-progress, a new children’s adventure short story.  For those, I’d bring in visuals, magazine photos of bats or caves, or family camping photos of locations we’d visited.  Sometimes my son or daughter would draw pictures to go along with my children’s stories.

            Whenever we have extra time in class or if the teacher says that the substitute can either read a story to the class or allow free play time, I choose to read to the students.  And I don’t just read.  I sing, as in the poetry of the words of the story.  In the youngest stories there is usually a cadence, a flow that a reader can capture for the children.  Dr Seuss and Bill Peet (and many other authors) excel at having a rhythm to their story words.

            Then there are the possibilities in the stories.  What happens next?  Always give the children a chance to think about what could happen next and what it would mean to the protagonist [main character] of the story.  This works on students’ critical thinking skills.   

            Reading a good story to students can relieve tension in the classroom, both the teacher’s and the students’.  After a session of structured teaching, reading can allow teachers and students the chance to relax and ready themselves for the next subject. 

If you’re ever lost for something to do when substituting, or if the students are becoming rambunctious while you struggle with lesson plans, pluck a book from the classroom bookshelves and bring the students to the carpet.  Reading gives both children and adults a chance to imagine the possibilities.                  

All the Classroom’s a Stage: Third Grade Thespians

Children are natural born actors.  Think about it.  Aren’t children always looking for an audience?  A two-year-old follows you around to give her rendition of “tantrum” or a nine-year-old offers his soliloquy on “the importance of being a whiney-pants.”  Children practice acting daily so that when they finally reach elementary school, they are more or less professionals.  Professionals get paid, Victoria Marie, you might say.  But yes.  These elementary school actors are paid.  Think barter system here. 

            The melodramatics of Collin; he is forever falling on the floor.  No one is around him.  Nothing is on the floor; no bookbags, pencils, papers, or workbooks.  If I miss my cue—the overly loud thump is my cue, but he usually waits for me to be looking at him—he switches pantomime.  Now he holds his head all the time, when he’s not thumping it on the desk to get my attention, of course.  As for payment for these particular performances, he simply wishes to miss math to be able to sit in the nurse’s office with ice on his…whatever he decides hurts by the time he walks [perfectly well, I might add] down the hallway to the nurse’s office. 

Yes, the thespians are usually boys in elementary school.  While the boys prefer stunt work without dialogue, you’ll find the girls in award-winning supporting roles—with plenty of dialogue.  Girls have an uncanny knack for playing the assistant—especially when you don’t need an assistant.  Angelina is cute as a kitten, but she was always around my hips today.  Every time I glanced at her chair, it was vacant.    

What dialogue do female assistants use?  Why a running commentary of what everyone else is doing in the classroom.  And I mean everyone!

“Johnny ripped a little piece off Susie’s worksheet and crumpled it and then when he walked by Tommy, he shoved it down Tommy’s shirt,” the actress chatters on.  “And then Kyle started picking at his big dragon eraser and he’s making a mess all over the floor and …”

Female thespians look for verbal appreciation for payment.  A “thank you” can go a long way in helping a young actress feel appreciated, although it does absolutely nothing to help her stay in her seat and complete the class work.

Now don’t forget.  Actors desire more than one person in their audience, if they can help it.  A classroom full of giggles helps build confidence—but does nothing for furthering the lesson plan the poor substitute is trying desperately to decipher. 

For me, well I perform before a captive audience.  Not only do I need to read the audience instantly, I also need to adlib intelligence in all subjects.  I guess there’s a bit of thespian in us all. 

The Need for a Fourth Grade Math Tutor

From competence to incompetence.  The difference a substitute day can make.

Like I said before, I always try to demonstrate to students on the board how to do the mathematical steps, but when the steps are changed—and no one tells me—then I’m the one who needs the help.  I don’t know.  I could do long division in the old days, but now?  With the “Everyday Math” methods, I need someone to demonstrate to ME how to divide like a fourth grader. 

I wrote on the board 879 divided by 37 in the standard division bar method and proceeded to explain to the class how 37 can’t go into 8, but it can go into 87. 

“Now,” I said, “how many times can…”

A young lady started waving both hands in the air.  I thought she had a medical emergency.  It ended up that I was the emergency.

“That’s not how Mrs. Jones does it.”  She told me.

“Okay,” I told Miss Smarty Pants, offering her the black marker [no chalkboards anymore, remember?].  “Then show me how Mrs. Jones does long division.”             

My eyes started to dry out as I tried to decipher the drawings on the board.  Hieroglyphics were easier to understand.  

“What’s this right hand line down the side of the division problem?”  I asked Miss Pants.

“That’s so you can divide into the whole number,” she told me.

“But I thought that’s what we were doing with the standard, curved division symbol.”

She just rolled her eyes and began writing round numbers down the outside of the right hand line.

“Um,” I tried to regain the upper hand in the class as snickers rang out when the students watched my brow become one big furrow.

“Why are you estimating?”  I asked.  “Don’t we want the correct answer?”

“Estimating’s easier,” Miss Pants assured me as she rewrote the problem as 40 into 800 and then estimated the answer as 20.

 “Easier for whom?”  I desperately needed a few Tylenol.  I watched as she next took 40 into 80 and then added up figures outside another vertical line.  The board was covered in mathematical computation.

I am a firm believer that the more steps there are in a problem, the more chance for error.  But I certainly couldn't tell Miss Pants that.  The substitute teacher had now become the student. 

Cluttered Desks, A Substitute’s Nightmare

               Substitutes don’t have time to mine the teacher’s desk for classwork or the correct textbooks to use for the lesson plan at hand.  Students need to be on task, and the substitute needs to appear competent.  If not, the efficient system of education breaks down.  Students think it is a “free” day, and the substitute feels ineffectual.  

Many times—especially in the primary grades—the series books of Reading, Grammar, and Spelling all look the same with no distinguishing titles written on the front cover, just glorious colorful images.  The books all seem closely related in activities and structure.  Grammar and Spelling exercises are laid out in a story format, and the Reading books have their own set of vocabulary and context clues set up in sentences.      

I’ve unearthed the correct textbook on a table by the whiteboard after combing a cluttered desk for fifteen minutes—fifteen long, noisy minutes as students who have nothing to do chatter along and the time allotted for that subject rushes by. 

As I have explained before, it can be dangerous—time wise—to ask elementary school students which or where books or papers are in the classroom because; a. they don’t know, or b. they need 45 minutes to explain Mrs. Jones’ system of organization.  And then you can’t get them to stop midway into the explanation because the student will cry or say you are rude for interrupting or that they haven’t gotten to the important part yet.

            It can be equally dangerous—work wise—to ask the high school students.  They also might not know, but they would rather have a free period than do classwork more often than not. 

            How do you get around this problem?  Try to arrive extra early, before any duties begin, and ask grade level or same subject matter teachers if they know where something in the lesson plan is or where the teacher left off working the day before or what an acronym in the lesson plan means.  If you don’t have time before class begins, in high school look for a student you know to be trustworthy to ask questions pertaining to where the teacher left off or routine classroom procedure.  Only as a last resort, go with a majority of the students to clarify lesson plans.  I still believe you should refrain from asking the elementary school students unless absolutely necessary. 

Many times the teacher does not plan on being out the next day so things are not organized on his or her desk.  It’s like my husband and his garage.  HE knows where everything is [most times], but I think a tornado hit the inside of our garage. 

Teacher-led P.E.

In our elementary schools we have teacher-led P. E. The good thing about this situation is that I can still wear professional clothes when I substitute teach as it is only a small portion of the teaching day.

Along with the other sub plans, the fourth grade teacher left "Hot Potato" as the teacher P. E. class for the day. P. E. followed an intense after lunch math double period wherein the students were supposed to be "reviewing" equivalent fractions. In my attempt to make a visual picture on the whiteboard to explain the concept of equivalent fractions, I drew a lopsided circle and divided it into what was supposed to be halves. I erased it. I thought I could do better with squares. I couldn't. It only got worse. I never realized how poor my geometric shapes were until I tried to show visually that 2/6 equals 1/3 and 2/8 is 1/4. And forget the tenths and twelfths.

"That doesn't look like the same size to me," one particularly observant young man informed me and the rest of the class.

"Use your imagination," I instructed. Or just believe me, I thought. This is supposed to be review, according to the teacher's plans. "This worksheet is review," I reminded the students, although I am a visual learner too.

But back to my teacher P. E. Hot Potato. I can do Hot Potato, I told myself. Potato, potato...I just need a potato.

"The ball we use for Hot Potato is in the classroom closet," the Class Informant told me and then ran to the locked closet, yanking on the doorknob.

"Oh," I said. "The locked classroom closet for which I have no key." The Informant turned to look at me. "No worries," I told the Informant. "We just look for a sweet potato."

"Huh?" the class asked in unison.

I searched the desk and found a plastic pencil box. I emptied the box and told the students to form a circle, sitting on the carpet at the front of the classroom. Music, I need music. I'd hate to have to recite Hamlet's soliloquy for it would fall upon unappreciative ears.

"We use a tape player," the Informant told me. One that wasn't in that blasted locked closet, thank goodness.

"Okay," I told my fraction fried darlings, as they made the tightest circle I have ever seen. "I will play the music and stop it and whoever has the "potato" is out, understood?"

"Oh, we know how to play," the Informant assured me.

Yes, I thought, but I'm not looking when I play and stop the music. This saves me from any discussion of playing favorites. I didn't have to worry, though. As I stopped the music, 30 children pointed to the one who was out.

So I continued to watch my time to be able to fit in Social Studies class after this. The students who were out would not sit in their seats. They preferred to crowd a circle that was much worse than any I had drawn on the board during math class to cheer on their fellow students. The noise level rose considerably until a winner was announced by the Informant. I was exhausted. I guess this is P. E....but for whom?

Kindergarten Sub

Kindergarten class. You would think it would be easier, right? Twenty-five six year olds...all with new boots and sneakers. How do I know? Because each child told me so as he or she showed me shoes. Okay, so I made the mistake of saying how cute one little girl's boots were. Suddenly everyone had on new shoes and boots. The problem? I had only been there ten minutes. 3:15 was a long way off, and I had much to do before then. We have full day kindergarten at the school where I substitute, a full day of teaching and keeping the peace in class.

You need to re-think your substitute practices when substituting for kindergarten. To keep students focused on the lesson, I usually engage them in conversation. However, when I engage young children in conversation or simply ask a question about the story I am reading, I get the answer I'm looking for and then; "Guess what?"

Now this is where I should realize that it is time to move on with the lesson. But I'm a softie for the angelic face of a child. I say, "What?" This is my mistake. Once you allow one student to tell you "what" the others want to also. The really funny thing is that all children seem to have the same "what" story about an aunt, neighbor, or mom who fell while shampooing the dog in the bathtub when the phone rang and the baby cried, and the mailman came with a package requiring a signature.

That was in the morning. After lunch, I tackled social studies. Thanksgiving is coming. What are the students thankful for, the teacher wrote in her lesson plans. Ask students and write their answers on the easel page after reading two Thanksgiving books. Twenty-five children, whose names I did not know, fidgeted on the carpet during and after the stories. I attempted to keep their attention by asking questions about the drawings in the book, but each time I asked a question, the child added a codicil about someone shampooing a dog.

I also didn't realize that some children do not know how to spell their names. And that these names are creatively spelled. I couldn't spell them either. Nor could I understand the pronunciation. So I asked the students to return to their tables and get their name tags and then come back to the carpet. Now I could spell the Ra'shons and Ny'Urias, the Maliks and Seamuses.

What am I thankful for? I'm thankful that I do not have to try and accomplish lesson plans with these students every day, although I'm sure I would get better at it as I went along. At least I would learn not to fall into the "what" trap. And never compliment a child's clothing. God bless all teachers and substitutes everywhere. Enjoy Thanksgiving with your families.

English Class

Grammar. Literature. Essays. Writing devices. Story plots. I am in my own personal Heaven. English class, whether I am diagramming sentences with grade school students or reading complex text with high school students, I am having fun. I told you I'm a grammar geek.

With the elementary grades, I assist the students with creating vivid, exciting sentences for their spelling words or stories. To keep their minds dynamic, I suggest the students think in specifics rather than generals. In a third grade class I substituted for, we did a few spelling words together.

I wrote a general sentence on the board using the spelling word "swoop":

A bird swoops down to the river to catch a fish.

Then I engaged the students to give me particulars, to paint a vivid image of what they were thinking about.

What kind of bird? Was it an eagle, a falcon , or a terradactyl?

Did it have talons? [This gives me a chance to increase their vocabulary, if they don't know this word.]

Where was the bird before it took off? Was it on the top of a cliff, a mountain, or a dead tree?

What's the name of the river? Was the water wild, turbulent, or tranquil? [Possibly new vocabulary here again.]

What kind of fish did it catch? Picture it in your mind, I tell them. Was it a largemouth bass, a trout, maybe a salmon?

Our final sentence for the spelling word "swoop" was:

The eagle swoops down from its nest on the bare cliff ledge to rake its talons through the tranquil water of the Colorado River and snatch a rainbow trout.

At the high school level, I get to expand my mind a little more. There is so much great literature out there that I haven't read. I've learned to look for deeper meaning in literature, be it a novel, poem, or play. And I do so enjoy a story with a profound plot, something to contemplate. No, I don't find everything. I make discoveries in the text right along with the students most times. I can place the story or poem in its historical context for students, explaining--when the teacher leaves me notes or when I know--the culture and timeframe of the story or poem. I clarify plots and character actions that I notice for the students.

Even in English class, I learn something new, be it a new story or new vocabulary or a new way to present a concept. This is what makes substitute teaching exciting and challenging. I just need to make sure that my insight and information are grade appropriate.

The Grade School "Brain"

Have you ever encountered the grade school "brain"? Each class usually has one, and this time it is usually a boy. You know the type. The boy who doesn't need to do the assignment left you by the teacher like the rest of the class because he already has more work accomplished than the teacher requires. I was substituting for a fourth grade New Jersey history class and the students were in the midst of finding ten facts about their particular city or town in New Jersey. Luckily, I knew some information about most of the places the students had chosen because the class couldn't use the library or computers that day, like the teacher had planned, as there was a "Battle of the Books" debate.

The students' desks were arranged in clusters of six desks each. As I walked around the room checking each student's list of facts, or lack thereof, I found "Frankie" playing with his Silly Bands, chattering away, instead of working on the project. The other students in his cluster of desks had their lists out, but they couldn't help noticing the goofy shapes and colors of Frankie's Bands spread out all over his desk. So I approached Frankie's desk first and asked him to please put away the Bands and pull out his project.

"I'm finished," he declared while still rearranging his Silly Bands on the desk. "I have 18 facts--more than anyone else."

As I walked around the desks in his cluster, I asked him to show me his facts. Without disturbing a Band, he pulled out his cryptic page of notes. His town was Haddonfield, a historic luxury town located in South Jersey. I asked him if he had any further information about the Indian King Tavern Museum, and he promptly pulled out a small stack of computer-printed information about Haddonfield. Looking for something constructive he could do so as not to distract those around him, I suggested that he write a few facts about the Museum in sentences. He sighed, replaced the Silly Bands on his wrist, and began writing.

I continued to roam the classroom, filling in some details about Lucy the Elephant in Margate and Victorian Cape May for students at one cluster of desks, and historic Campbell Soup Company in Camden and Frank Sinatra of Hoboken at another. I instructed all students to write in complete sentences, using specific details that they had discovered in some of their research.

When I next noticed the "brain," he was back to manipulating his Silly Bands on his desk. I checked his sentences, and we added some detail about the architecture of some mansions in Haddonfield using his computer notes. We still had about twenty minutes left of class, and that's when I remembered the "silent reading book." This is a personal choice book each student carries around from class to class. If a student finishes work early, he or she is to read a book, quietly. If a student is silently reading a book, he or she is not distracting others in the class who need to finish an assignment. This comes in very handy when you have a grade school "brain" in your class.

The Elementary Class Informant

Grade school is not what it was like when my children went through it about eight years ago. Presently, when I'm called in to substitute for kindergarten through fourth grade, I get dizzy in the compartmentalized classrooms. Gone are the chalkboards. Gone are the desks in a line facing that chalkboard. Gone is a place to write things on any board. The present teachers use the whiteboards as huge refrigerator fronts, covered top to bottom with magnetized notes, appointments, and artwork. Yes, there's a fancy little scalloped section for "homework" and a small space used to show images from the overhead when needed.

But aside from that, there's barely enough room for the little girls to write my name on the board. It's always a little girl who asks to write my name on the board. And it's usually a girl who is the "elementary class informant." This is the student who doesn't need a college degree to know everything the teacher does. Now this student, girl or boy, can be a huge help to the substitute who has but minimal notes from the teacher as to what tasks to perform in elementary school. But sometimes, the informant can go too far.

Case in point. Don't follow me around. Wait for me to ask how Mrs. Jones does calendar, or where the bundle of popsicle sticks goes as we count the days and weeks we are in school or where the analog clocks are. What's an analog clock? In my day it used to be called face clock. I learned this term from the first grade students, but back to the informant. The informant's favorite words are, and I quote, "That's not how Mrs. Jones does it," regardless of what "it" is, math, spelling, maps. My response? I stare at her. "Right," I say. "That's because I am not Mrs. Jones."

Just recently, I was attempting to get a first grade math lesson started, and a student asked to sharpen his pencil. I looked around but couldn't find any sharpener; of course, I'm old school, so I looked on the wall, mostly by the doorway. The student knew where the sharpener was, by the windows; great place for a first grader to sharpen a new pencil to a nub while gazing outside. Then the informant, whom I had just gotten seated for the fiftieth time that morning, jumped up and told me that Mrs. Jones always sharpens the pencils for the students. Ahh, I thought, Mrs. Jones must be a tree hugger like me, for she is attempting to save trees. Fine, I'll sharpen the pencil. Then three more students came up to me to have their pencils sharpened, then ten students. I was surrounded. All of a sudden, I decided that math was better understood with dull pencils, no matter what the informant had to say about it.