The Substitute

At the beginning of the school year I signed up to be a substitute. It seemed to be the thing to do. After all, I do have a teaching certificate. And now that my youngest is in school full time, my days are more flexible. And extra money is always nice. And there's that thing about always wanting a career, a place to go, something to dress up for. Yet, whenever the phone rang and I heard the computerized woman's voice say, "This is the School District with a job for Susan" I just wanted to roll over and go back to bed. I have my routines, my own little schedule, my projects and my photography. Leaving the house for seven hours would have really cramped my style.

But one day the phone rang at 5:30 am and that old familiar voice said she had a job for me. "What the heck," I said to myself, "I'll try it." As I'd been helping out with music at church, the thought of subbing for a music class didn't frighten me. But it should have.

Everything went well until second period, when a boy walked up to me and said, "Are you the sub?" 

I shuffled the papers at the conductor's podium where I stood with importance. "Why yes, I am."

"Oh, man, is our teacher depressed again?" the kid said. I wasn't sure if he was making a joke or asking a legitimate question. I told him his teacher merely had a stomach ache. "I know because I talked to him this morning," I said.  

"Well," the boy mumbled, shuffling his feet and looking down. "He's been out a lot. For depression problems." He looked me in the eye then, maybe to check my expression to see if I was telling the truth. When all I could say was "humm" and started shuffling papers again, he went to the back of the room and meandered through the music stands until class started. 

It wasn't until later, when I talked a teacher's assistant, that I learned this teacher had indeed been out for most of the year for depression. After seven hours of finding kids hiding in instrument cupboards and congregating in instrument rooms, nearly necking as they sat on each other during orchestra practice, applying makeup and brushing hair during choir, sitting with their back to me while they chatted with their girlfriends,refusing to take off sunglasses, and playing music that would make even their mothers cringe, I was close to a nervous breakdown myself. And did I mention the huge mutant ninja turtle ninth grade boys who stepped so close to me when I asked them to please stop opening and closing the windows that I could smell the Doritos on their breath? And then there was the girl with stringy brown hair who stood clutching her notebook in the doorway at the end of class. "Just to let you know," she said to me--which was an instant tip-off that I wasn't going to like the rest of her sentence--"there's some kids in the hall having a staple fight." Sure enough, the same ninja boys with a window fetish were in the hallway with staplers extended, shooting staples at each other. When I came back from tugging the staplers our of their hands, I found three other boys in a heap on the floor in what appeared to be a friendly wrestling match. That was when a woman from the office appeared. All she had to do was give the kids the evil eye and they straightened right up. It was like she unplugged the whole room. I wondered if the classroom was bugged or a secret camera relayed the chaos to the front office, just in case the police needed to get involved. Or the mental health practitioners.    

When I got home that day, I kissed my dirty kitchen floor. I rejoiced in the piles of dirty laundry. I picked up my cat and nuzzled my forehead against hers. I squeezed the stuffing out of my kids. "I love you so much!" I told them. And facing the horizon I said, "As God as my witness, I will never substitute again!" 

 

Comments

[MaryBeth]

oops...typo! I meant kids these days anyway! :p

[MaryBeth]

This was a music class? It sounds an awful lot like the "study hall" (more like detention) class that I subbed in at the High School in Fallon! I definitely prefer the younger kids....like under 4th or 5th grade!!
What is it with kids these anyway?

[Julie]

And that, dear sister, is why I teach Preschool. I'd rather deal with poop, potty and crying. And you can't beat the hugs and kisses I get.

[Shelby]

After I had Lauren, I stopped working directly in the classroom and became just the master teacher (wrote the curriculum for all the kindergarten teachers and trained the new teachers) One day, they asked if I wanted to sub. I missed interacting with the little ones so I decided to go ahead and do it.

Let's just say it was the last day I ever substituted. I came home that night and wrote a personal note to every sweet soul who ever came and substituted in my classroom for the years I did teach. I have a new respect for those who embark on that special adventure.

We've been out of town and I have been seriously missing your witty posts. Can't wait to "catch up" while I am at work this weekend.