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.

It's a Media Center

This is the hard part. I grew up in libraries. When I am surrounded by books, I'm in a library. But when I substitute for the elementary school Librarian--I mean Media Specialist--I need to answer the phone, "Media Center." When the students come to library, the class, I need to instruct them on how to find books in the "Media Center."

I love being surrounded by books. Whenever I have a moment, I browse the shelves looking for classics and authors I know. But students need to find books quickly. In one class period, they don't have time to explore the library, and they shouldn't just pull out books searching for something interesting because invariably they will shove the books back in the wrong spaces.

Remember how I said I learn so much substitute teaching? Well, after reminding the classes all day long that non-fiction is divided by subjects in the Dewey Decimal System and then giving each class the numerical breakdown provided on the cheat sheet prepared by the Librarian [drat! Media Specialist], one of the fourth grade classes asked me if I wanted the class to sing the Dewey Decimal System song.

"A song!" I exclaimed. "Absolutely." What a wonderful way to help students learn, making knowledge into music, the information into a song. It works. I still remember, from sixth grade, the preposition list song to the tune of Yankee Doodle.

This class of experienced singers knew every word to the Dewey Decimal Song, and soon I found myself swaying to the tune of I've Been Working on the Railroad. Unfortunately, I can't find the specific words online to the Dewey Decimal System song, or the song sung to the tune of I've Been Working on the Railroad. However, I did find teachers singing the Dewey Decimal System song to the tune of Louie Louie by the Kingsmen.

What do you think? Doesn't knowledge through song make it easier to remember? What songs do you remember from school?

Busy Summer!

I have not forgotten my Substitute Teaching blog. This summer, I have been very busy writing other manuscripts and busy with family matters.

Please forgive me. I will be back...and soon! Thanks for following my blog.

Kindergarten Math

They have Math, too, in kindergarten. The lesson plan said, "Read the Ten Black Dots book to the class." Then under that, the teacher noted "brainstorm with the children objects to draw." I always worry about brainstorming with young children. I mean think about it. Of course there is going to be a "storm." We have one adult brain pitted against twenty-five six-year-old brains. The last time I exchanged ideas with kindergarteners, I became hopelessly mired in the "Guess what?" scenario. So I was leery to open up a discussion about things that the children could draw ten of on paper relating to our Ten Black Dots book.

"Let's name some concrete things to draw on paper," I told my wiggly carpet sitters.

"What's 'concrete'? A boy asked.

"Real things that you can touch," I responded. "Like flowers." I was thinking about what six-year-olds could draw.

"Like eyebrows!" Someone piped up.

"Eyebrows?" I questioned.

"How about toes?" Another student asked.

"Umm," I responded.

"You can use eye balls," a little girl said.

"Wait," I tried to get hold of our 'brainstorming.'

"Fingernails," a boy sang.

"But you have to be able to draw the ten things on paper for the teacher," I said.

"Seamus' freckles," a stout boy said.

I felt my body being sucked into the swamp called "kindergarten math" and wondered how I was going to break free to move onto the next lesson. Then a quiet little girl whispered in my ear, "how about rainbows?"

"Rainbows," I shouted above the din. Children can draw rainbows, I thought. I felt my feet loosen in the mire. I hugged the little girl and told her to return to the carpet as I knew others would rush me if she didn't.

"Butterflies," another student shouted.

"Great," I said, "we've got the idea now. Back to your tables to draw ten same things on the paper I will pass out."

I pulled my feet completely free from the swamp and hurriedly passed out the paper so as not to allow my little Michelangelos to forget what they were to illustrate ten times. Then I gave each of them ten black dots to place on their drawing page.

Walking around the tables full of chattering students, reminding them that they only needed ten things, I did notice some eyebrows. At least, I think they were eyebrows. They could have been single-lined, charred rainbows. Only a few students had actually placed little hash mark hairs on their arched black lines. And then there were the toes...ten oblong black boxes--minus the toenails.