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.                  

The Gift of Thanks

The joy of substituting, every once in a while, you reach someone and help them to understand concepts in review when the teacher leaves work. 

High school geometry.  Multi-step word problems.  My two nemeses.  However, once I stopped pacing the teachers’ lounge grumbling about word problems and no answer key I looked at the pile of worksheets.  Remodeling a home.  Hm, my husband and I have done this several times.  First problem, a fence around the home.  Perimeter.  I can visualize this.  A floor plan of the home with the dimensions.  A need for new floor tile.  Area.  I can do this. 

Once I figure it out, I can help others.  Diagrams.  Figures.  I didn’t want to just give the students the answers.  I wanted to help them see how we get each answer and why we do the steps we do.  Visuals.  Understanding that the fence is not right up against the home but so many feet away from the home, either side, front and back.  And, of course, the floor space in particular rooms, hallways, or entranceways was not rectangular or square.  It had narrow spots, fireplaces, appliances. 

I wanted the students to show all the work so that the teacher could see how we got our answers and thereby the students could see the thinking that goes behind the answers.   

After class, while I was still knee deep in organizing and labeling worksheets, the lovely Bangladesh girl from class came up to my desk. 

“Um,” she said softly, “I want to…thank you…for helping me in geometry class.”  A smile of understanding lit her face.  It glowed. 

I smiled back.  “You’re welcome.”  Helping others understand.  Isn’t that what teaching is all about?    

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. 

Grammar Geek Turns Algebra Nut

I’ve found that I love demonstrating those long algebra problems on the board for the students when I substitute for math classes.  You know the problems.  They go all the way across the page.  Whether combining like terms, “please excusing my dear Aunt Sally,” or solving for x, I could do them all day long.  Upper elementary school to high school.  It’s the only part of algebra I’ve retained from college.

            I feel so competent when I know more than [or at least the same as] the students.  Being visual myself, I find the best way to instruct in math class is showing each step to the students and answering any questions they might have.  Because I know the processes, I can pull the problem apart. And I remember the rules.

            I recall taking a basic skills algebra class in college to prepare myself for college level math.  I had found it interesting that my younger fellow students all had an “Aunt Sally.”

            “It’s such an old-fashioned name,” I told the professor when I approached her with my own question.

            The professor smiled.  “No, Victoria,” she said.  “It’s a metonym, a way to remember the algebra steps.  Parentheses, exponents, multiplication/division, addition/subtraction:  Please excuse my dear Aunt Sally.”

            “Interesting.”  I blushed.  I had merely remembered the steps.  When my son finally entered upper elementary school, he learned P.E.M.D.A.S.  Same processes.

            Solving for x builds on the simplifying process to answer the equation.  The thing to remember when solving equations is to do the same mathematical processes to each side of the equal sign.  The object is to get the variable on one side and a number, the answer, on the other side of the equal sign.  To separate a variable from numbers, you perform the opposite mathematical process; i.e., subtraction when it is addition, division when it is multiplication. 

            Sorry.  I do like teaching something I know.  Of course, I probably wouldn’t give up my grammar geek status for algebra.  But it is a fun process, once you get the hang of it.

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. 

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!

Human Biology

When I substitute for teachers, I love to look around their rooms and learn from the information displayed on bulletin boards and models, magazines and textbooks. I learn so much this way. However, when I substitute for the human biology teacher at the high school, I try not to notice anything in the room.

There are reasons why I took chemistry in college. I firmly believe that the Lord put skin or an outer covering over the bodies of the creatures he made for a reason. Yes, it is to protect the body from infection, but also to cover the icky parts so that we do not have to see them if we don't want to. I admire medical people. They are saints in my book. Mothers, too. My five children have displayed more than enough red stuff for my liking. I do not wish to see what the good Lord so graciously covers up for us more squeamish people.

I am rarely called on to substitute for this teacher, but when I do, I enter the room with trepidation. The teacher prefers the real to the plastic in most things, and she changes her displays with the curriculum, except for the real human skeleton that hangs in the front of the room. I remember scrutinizing it the first day of my science class substituting. It looks more brown beige than the yellow white plastic ones most teachers display, and it hangs loosely, threaded together with eye hooks and wire. That's when the students told me it was a real skeleton. As I backed away from the skeleton, the students delighted in showing me the real cow fetuses in various stages, the pigs' brains, and the sheep stomachs in the classroom. All these biological parts of the anatomy sealed in glass boxes of formaldehyde solutions are like a treasure to the class and, I'm sure, the teacher. But to me, they are the icky parts that the Lord conceals with skin so that we do not have to look at them.

When I substituted for the biology teacher this time, I knew to look at the floor as I walked to the front of the classroom. I said hello to the students without lifting my head and went straight to the teacher's desk to view the plans for the day. I screamed and the students wanted to know what the problem was. The problem was that a complete forearm; okay, the radius and the ulna together with all the metacarpals, was sitting on top of the plans. The real forearm of the real skeleton. I guess it must have fallen off. It was only held on by wire, remember.

A male student came and took it away so that I could get to the plans, but then he started playing with it, stuffing it into his sweatshirt sleeve and raising it as his hand to ask questions.

"I understand that everyone can use an extra hand once in a while," I informed him, "but if you break the skeletal forearm, the teacher will use yours to replace it."

He immediately returned the forearm to my desk.

"Not on the desk!" I screeched. "Put it on the side lab table toward the back!"

Now for the day's plans. I usually assist students with any documentary video sheets; however, in biology...let's just say it is extremely difficult. I try not to watch. Only listen to try and catch the answers on the worksheet. As long as the students are actively engaged with the video, we work together and I stop the video early, marking the time on my substitute report for the teacher, and we as a class discuss the video and answer questions. I must say, I do learn a lot this way.

The Gift of Inner Sight

Like many people, I believe that where the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window...or two. This is especially true with a beautiful young student I know. She is blind, yet she possesses a vision much clearer than mine.

She has an aide to assist her, carry a Braille writer and book shelf, and offer her an elbow for guidance in clogged hallways. Of course, the assistant does so much more; type up her tests in Braille, coordinate state assistance in Braille and abacus work for blind students, etc. As a substitute, I am merely a pack mule and guide for her as she navigates her school time world.

As for the many windows the Lord has opened for her, memory shines the brightest. Not only can she remember classroom material, but also math examples from weeks ago. When the teacher put a problem on the board for review, she immediately remembered the two-step operation and numbers and didn't need her abacus, her "scrap paper" according to the teacher from state services, in order to answer it. While I'm repeating the problem on the board to her, thinking she couldn't remember it, she informs me that she remembered it from weeks ago and knew the correct answer.

Kindness shines through her smile as she greets all who address themselves to her, while goodness sings through her voice. A confidence springs from her step. Indeed, when the hallways are clear, I can't keep up with her and her sweeping cane. Of course, I'm lugging over 30 pounds with Braille writer, shelf, and my personal bag. At least the school provides a book caddy for her to wheel behind now. Last year when I substituted as her aide, I had to help carry the Braille books too. So I'm lugging less this year, and I shed my own personal bag at lunchtime to help with the afternoon classroom run.

Now if I can only stop asking her what color the science notebook is, I'd feel so much better.

Famous Females Filmstrips

Women's month. I think it is wonderful to have students research famous women for women's month. To make the fourth grade Social Studies project more interesting, the teacher I substituted for wanted eight unique facts about each student's researched famous woman displayed on paper filmstrip-type boxes. These paper "filmstrip" printouts looked like the old fashion filmstrips that used to be shown in theatres, remember those? I do.

The students had--supposedly--researched the eight facts and were ready to fill two of the eight filmstrip boxes. The idea was to write a fact in the top of the box and then draw a picture of the fact and color it. Simple, right? But as I circulated the room checking on progress and keeping students on task, I found that clarification was needed in several cases.

To keep this post length reasonable, I'll speak about one particular student's famous woman, as it sticks in my mind so. Mother Teresa. What was the fourth grade student's amazing fact about her? Mother Teresa gave chocolate to the poor kids.

...Chocolate...why did it have to be chocolate, and why now?

"No, Sweetie," I informed my brilliant fourth grader, "Mother Teresa would not give chocolate--especially the large chocolate candy bar you have pictured in your film box--to poor children. These people are starving. Chocolate is a luxury. Mother Teresa would have given them something a little more nutritious. Probably a basic food, usually a thick liquid served in a bowl."

The fourth grade wizard thought for a moment. "You mean chocolate syrup over ice cream?" She offered.

What's with this girl and chocolate, I thought.

"This isn't working," I told her. "Give me another fact that makes Mother Teresa an important woman."

"She got a prize," the young lady told me.

"What was the prize," I asked.

"Chocolate," she told me with an angelic face.

Okay, God, you are testing me, right?

"Dear," I told her, "I gave up chocolate for Lent. Could we not use the "C" word anymore?"

The fourth grader shook her head yes.

"Good," I said. "Then I'll tell you what prize Mother Teresa received. It was the Nobel Peace Prize for her good works taking care of the poor in India."

"Did she have chocolate at the party?" the fourth grader asked me.

I just shook my head and moved onto the next student. It's going to be another long, long, long Lent. Wish me luck.

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.

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.

Art Class

I revel in the artistic talents of others. Artists. Even their penmanship is beautiful. What I like to place into words, they can create in images. It is a God-given talent that I do not possess. That's why I get so excited to substitute for an art class. I get to appreciate the artistic talents of the teachers through their classrooms. In both high school and elementary school, the classrooms are full of color and information. I learn about artists and art periods and get a chance to admire budding artists-in-the-making.

My job is to keep the students moving forward in their art projects. These projects can be as complicated as three-dimensional clay figures with structural supports or acrylics on canvas that students have enlarged from smaller charcoal drawings. Or they can be colored pastels or pencils on heavy paper. Whatever the project, it is an interesting vehicle for me to engage each student in conversation. And I do.

Engaging students in conversation about their art projects allows them to understand fully what they are doing and helps them to place into words any frustrations or complications they've experienced and questions they might have as to how to perform a specific component of the artwork. I encourage them to question their fellow artists in class. The students experience self-confidence as they explain to me how they have created their pieces and how they made a particular detail.

I give specific comments. "I like the shading you've given to the palm trees; the effervescence of the sea is striking; the flattened pebble-like scales on your clay fish are distinctive; the combing of the clay makes the bust really look like fur." In elementary school, I like to watch the smile pop out on the budding artist's face as I point out a particular feature of the artwork I notice, something that makes his or her drawing unique. These conversations allow students to be artists.

Art permits students to explore their imaginations and offers them an outlet to produce the images floating around in their minds. I truly believe that the arts are important in elementary and high school education. Just look at the annual art fairs at schools and the crowds who enjoy them. Art allows for interpretation of the general into the unique. Do you think art is necessary to education? Why?

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.

Teaching Foreign Languages

As poor as my Spanish and French speaking abilities are, I forget how much more I know than those I am substitute teaching in middle school or high school, so that when I conjugate a verb on the board in a foreign language, the students always ask me what the words mean. You see, I am still an English Grammar Geek, no matter what language I am teaching. I conjugate verbs in the same fashion:

I speak --------------------- we speak
you [informal] speak ---- you [formal plural] speak
he, she, or it speaks ------ they speak

In the plural first and third person, in foreign languages, you need a male and a female "we" and "they." It is nosotros [plural male "we"] or nosotras [plural female "we"] hablamos, "speak" in Spanish, or ils [plural male "they"] or elles [plural female "they"] parlent, "speak" in French. There doesn't seem to be a subject pronoun "it" in some foreign languages because objects as well as people have a gender. La voiture is female "car" in French and el coche, male "car" in Spanish.

Now back to my grammar geekiness which makes me think of sentence construction regardless of the language I am speaking or substitute teaching. Nouns and adjectives need to agree in gender and number in foreign languages, whereas English usually has one form for most adjectives. One dress or five dresses, "red" remains the same form, no singular/plural, male/female forms. Additionally, you wear a "red dress" in English, but in Spanish or French it is a "dress red," as in une robe rouge [singular female "dress" and "red"] in French or des robes rouges [plural female "dress" and "red"].

Because of all this geekiness, the language teachers try to request me to substitute for them, especially the French teacher as French was the foreign language of my college years where I wrote French essays and research papers, but that's another story. To keep myself fresh, I do any grammar worksheets with the students. We work together many times, I explaining the grammar placement and rules of the foreign language and the students assisting with the vocabulary. Like any other task, I find that if people, or in this case students, see that you are willing to work right alongside of them, they are more willing to put their best effort into the assignment.

Now if only the students could understand things, or rather the words naming those things, as having a gender. In English our indefinite and definite articles "a," "an," and "the" have one form and negate gender. In English, our books are not male and our windows, not female. Windows, I tell the students, are just perceptual openings that sometimes allow a cool breeze to blow about the cobwebs of my mind.

The Noise Level

Can I keep every class quiet? Notice that I used the adjective "every" in the preceding sentence. Therefore, the answer to that question is absolutely not. I am a substitute, not God. Besides, the mix of "outgoing" personalities negates a hundred percent score, even a 60/40 score. What I can do, with the more difficult classes, is to keep the volume down to "small party" level and not "mass hysteria" level. How do I do this? By walking around the classroom...constantly. And perhaps standing in a group of students' space. You see, they don't want me to be a part of their conversation. I do not wish to be a part of their conversation. In fact, I am trying to tell them, both in words and through actions, to have their conversation later, like after classes or at lunch.

This type of student conversation is different from the necessary student conversations of math classes when one student assists another with class work, but even those conversations need to be kept to a low conversational, or rather instructional, volume. And those students understand, although they may need to be reminded from time to time. No, the personal conversations are the ones that interrupt the flow of education in the classroom, for there are usually several personal conversations going on at once, and they all seem to compete for listeners. These conversations interfere with my relaying the educational instructions to the class and then my individual assistance to various students. I literally can't hear myself think.

However, administering tests is different. There I try for about a ninety to ninety-five percent control. How? Again, by walking around constantly, watching everyone's eyes, standing in a student's space, or if necessary, sending a student and test to the internal suspension room or principal's office for the test duration depending upon school rules. As a last resort, after quietly telling students in an area to keep their eyes on their own papers but meeting the student in question's eyes, after showing the good student how to cover his or her test paper, I may need to take the test from a student and inform the teacher of the situation and let that teacher decide the next step. Luckily, students learn to understand that I mean what I say, and cheating is almost non-existent. I bet you noticed that I said "almost." I told you I wasn't God.

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.

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.