Go Play Outside

A typical mother statement. Whenever the weather was fine--or just not raining--my mother sent us outside to play. And we were happy. At my house, when it is not raining, I send my children outside to get some fresh air. I think children of all ages like to be outside.

New Jersey has experienced one of the wettest summers in years. Every time I turned around, it was raining. And when it wasn't raining, the humidity made it feel like you were underwater anyway. So when I was asked to substitute for high school senior physical education classes, and the rain had finally ended, and the children were studying tennis, I was thrilled. I love tennis. Once again, I assume everyone loves tennis. But I should have remembered. I am working with a different animal here. Teenagers...teenagers who don't like gym class.

When I came into the gym all excited, a ball cap on my head, my sunglasses on, and announced to the class that we would be going outside to play tennis, you would have thought I had asked them to run a marathon on broken bottles--barefoot!

Aw, it's too hot out!"

"It's September," I remind them.

"I have to stay out of the sun!"

"Nice tan for someone who needs to refrain from sunshine," I say.

"My feet get too hot."

"Wear thick socks to soak up the moisture," I tell him.

"I don't want my makeup to run...my hair to flop...my nails to break."

"Life is tough," I tell the girls.

Like I say in every class I substitute for in high school. You will not like everything your boss asks you to do, but if it is part of the job description, then you need to do it--without complaint. This is the same with college courses. You won't enjoy every task the professor asks you to do, yes there will be a lot of work involved, and no, you may not like every group member for a specific project. So get used to it now.

Well, we did go out. Yes, they still whined, but it wasn't that it was too hot or too much sun. These teens should have been playing baseball. Every time they hit the tennis ball, it was a homerun! Over the high fence into the parking lot, over the fence, past the driveway, and into the self-storage area, over the fence, through the bushes, and onto the front lawn of the school. We retrieved some of the balls. We lost others. Let's just say that by next class, I needed more tennis balls. At least they were exercising and participating, which are most of my substitute duties in physical education class. Now if I could just teach them how to keep the ball in their particular court, I'd have it made!

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?

M.D. P.E. Class

Hello, readers. Sorry for the hiatus on the blog, but I've had a two and a half month substitute teaching job at the high school. I was a Health and P. E. teacher for special needs students. Then there were the holidays, and snow days, and a three-day writers' conference I was lucky enough to attend. But back to substituting for now...

Just as substituting for kindergarten has its challenges, substituting for special needs classes require special planning to be able to engage all students at all times. An impossibility, you say. Maybe. You need to do the best you can. The classes were a mixture of mentally and physically challenged students, and I had the same classes each day. One day a week I did Health; the other four were P.E. I had no lesson plans left by the original teacher. I was on my own.

So I turned to my resources. I had a few student aides in my classes, so I spoke to them first as they knew the students best. I wanted input as to whether my idea of eye/hand co-ordination with throwing or hitting various sized lightweight balls, footballs, baseballs, beanbags would work. I contacted the Special Education Department at school to learn student levels and to see what was expected for the students. They told me to make sure I taught health once a week and to contact the head of the Physical Education Department to see what to teach. The P. E. Department head told me that it was my class and that I should try and keep the students active. Right.

Active I could do. I led warm-up exercises and cool down stretches. But I wanted every student to be a part of the activities. Here is where I needed to learn. The students were receptive to trying new activities, but the activities needed to be performed on their terms. They were a competitive bunch. I tried obstacle courses with two teams where students had to jump rope, hula hoop, and catch passes thrown by the students in wheelchairs and then cross the finish line. But some students couldn't jump rope or hula hoop. So I modified the course. Students jumped back and forth over outstretched ropes on the floor ten times. Stepped inside hoops and pulled them up over their heads, and then caught passes from their fellow students.

Once the students taught me modification, our activities broadened. We played kickball with a softened red bladder ball which the wheelchair students threw into the field and had a designated runner to first base. We played whiffle ball with an oversized bat and ball using an aide to pitch. We tried badminton with large rackets and birds, volleyball with beach balls. We worked our way up to volleyball with the real volleyball and even tried floor hockey--which they loved best! I was nervous about someone getting hurt with the ball, so I found a half whiffle ball/puck and demanded that all sticks remain on the floor at all times or the game--and therefore the hockey unit--would be over. An aide and I demonstrated the proper technique to play a sport, but modifications were made so that everyone could play.

I decided to deal with the food pyramid and healthy eating in Health class. I incorporated the importance of daily exercise and cleanliness into the mix. I made note cards for myself of facts that I thought the students would be interested in and always tried to find something visual to show them, posters, internet images, hand held models. Students could ask questions, and if I didn't know the answers, I told them that I would find out and let them know.

I must say that I enjoyed the daily challenges these students brought, but I am glad to be able to wear something besides gym attire when I substitute now.

High School P. E. Class

It never ceases to amaze me, when I substitute for a high school physical education class, that the students dressed in their gym uniforms, shorts and white tee-shirts, never want to play basketball, volleyball, or floor hockey. However, students not in the class who are walking in the hallway and noticing what I am trying to do with the P. E. students somehow get their friends to push open the locked hallway doors and come into the gym to engage in my sport. The funny thing is that these non-P. E. students can't understand 'how' I know that they are not part of my P. E. class because I am 'only' a substitute. I calmly explain to the male intruders, as they are usually male, that I did not need my college education to be able to see 'who' is wearing gym clothes and 'who' isn't. I quietly escort the intruder to the nearest gymnasium doorway to the hall, thank him for his visit, and promise to bake cookies next time, and then firmly snap the door shut behind him.

This brings me to the next point in substituting for a P. E. class. It is a scary thing turning your back on a P. E. class of 40 students to escort an intruder to the door. Forty students in a single gymnasium are deafening, and sometimes there are two P. E. classes in one gym. Yes. There are two P. E. teachers, but we are vastly outnumbered. This is where a whistle comes in handy. There is no way to get everyone's attention to take attendance, check who's prepared for class, and set up the games without the use of a sound ten times my own personal volume.

Participation is an important part of P. E. class. A class of this size negates 100 percent participation at all times, especially when we have half a gym [when we share the gym with another class]. This is understood; however, there are always a few who simply do not wish to participate in P. E. class. They are easy to spot. I choose a few students to lead the warm-up session as they know the teacher's rountine better than I. I can observe all the students participating in this, and sometimes I join in. But when I set up the equipment and teams to begin play, I find students slipping behind the bleachers and folding doors of the gymnasium to become invisible. So I've discovered a way to get even the most sluggish individuals to 'participate' somewhat in P. E. As the teams play the sport, those who refuse to play walk around the outskirts of the playing field--continuously during a particular session of team play. True, they seem like exhausted bison trudging through the tall prairie grasses, but at least they are moving during physical education class.