As you may notice, I haven't ventured to actually use this blog to, well, blog. I've been rather busy, you guessed it, SUBSTITUTING! I had the pleasure of working with a second grade class for the majority of the first semester, but I was still stuck with that dreadful title: substitute.
There's just something off about that name. Nobody wants to have a substitute. Nobody really wants to be a substitute, for that matter. Sometimes I'm in a position for several weeks--doing all the work--all the scolding, reminding, prodding, planning, all the hundreds of stars and happy faces that must be pasted on even the most banal worksheet--and still, I am merely the substitute. Expected to do much more, but referred to as much less.
Would the stigma of a "substitute" smell as sweet by any other name? Sometimes I wonder. Using advice that I commonly give students, I looked up the word in the dictionary in hopes of finding a better one.
sub·sti·tute noun \ˈsəb-stə-ˌtüt,-ˌtyüt\: a person or
thing that takes the place or function of another
Synonyms: backup, cover, designated hitter, fill-in, pinch hitter, relief, replacement, reserve, stand-in, sub, alternate, understudy; apology, makeshift, stopgap, surrogate.
I have to admit, Webster got it right. As a substitute, you are a makeshift, stopgap measure used to stand-in until the rightful teacher can return to his or her throne. Sometimes I feel like the back-up, the understudy who can only pinch-hit instead of being in the regular line-up. When I was actually in elementary school, I wasn't chosen for the regular line-up either!
But, enough complaining. Someday I know I'll make it to the majors (a.k.a. Being in a school district long enough to join the teacher's union and be a fully-trained staff member allowed to use both the laminator and the Ellison machine.) However, until then, I know that some one has to be the surrogate-alternate that can fill in for Mrs. SoandSo or Mr. BlahBlah. And, let's face it, sometimes I actually am better than the tired old starting line-up.
Well, that was quite a pep-talk to myself. Sometimes you just need to look yourself in the mirror and say, "Damn, you look good. You're the real thing." And when I'm done with all that blathering on, it's time to go be a substitute. I am the relief, the reserve stock, for the teacher who sorely needs a personal day or has to stay home with her sick child. Granted, I am also a walking target--but I'm perfecting my mean teacher glare. It's part of the on-the-job training for a substitute.
Maybe they could change it to Super-Stand-In. Or I-can't-believe-it's-not-Mrs.-Coffee-Breath! But those don't have quite the right ring to them, do they? Suggestions?
13 December 2010
31 March 2010
The First Day
The first day I subbed was only a mild disaster. I walked into the school with my lunch box and a nervous smile. I walked out with a dazed look and my lunch still in my lunch box.
It was middle school Language Arts. I knew things weren't going to go well when it took me ten minutes to take roll in first period. In each class, the teacher assigned a passage to read aloud and then a completely unrelated grammar assignment. I hate group reading aloud. Whoever invented that was a fool. When I was in middle school, I would either read ahead or fall asleep. How could I expect more from sixth graders?
We all suffered through the reading aloud--I made them do it popcorn style. Meaning, they never knew who would be reading next. Sadistically, I love to choose the kids who are paying absolutely no attention. One of the few joys of subbing is getting a kid who clearly never pays attention to focus for a stretch of five minutes. And there's always one kid who is so nervous to read and doesn't know how to pronounce half of the words. As soon as that kid starts reading everyone in the class collectively groans and promptly tunes out. There has to be a better way to make sure kids read the material. But I'm just a lowly sub, so that's not for me to figure out.
I wrote the page numbers for the unrelated grammar assignment on the board. I expected the class to open their books and start writing. Wrong. After about five minutes, I asked a student if they had ever heard of an adverb. They hadn't. As a proud card-carrying English Major, I should be able to throw together an impromptu lesson on adverbs. Unfortunately, that's not what happened. I did my best to explain. My lame definition of a "An adverb is a verb plus -ly. Use it to tell about a verb," just didn't cut it.
They had to write out the sentences and underline a word. For example:
1.) This substitute innocently thought she could control this class.
I don't think I've ever heard so may complaints. Most students got to number two on their papers and gave up. As a sub, I'm pretty sure that I'm just a place holder. The classroom teacher will probably throw the assignments in the garbage as soon as she gets back. My threats are always empty, "This counts as a grade! You better get to work; I'm collecting it at the end of the hour." How intimidating can a 5'3" white lady in ballet flats be, after all?
Alas, the life of a substitute is like a box of chocolates: you never know what you're going to get. Some things usually remain the same: lame lesson plans and unruly and bored students. Maybe I should learn to tap dance.
It was middle school Language Arts. I knew things weren't going to go well when it took me ten minutes to take roll in first period. In each class, the teacher assigned a passage to read aloud and then a completely unrelated grammar assignment. I hate group reading aloud. Whoever invented that was a fool. When I was in middle school, I would either read ahead or fall asleep. How could I expect more from sixth graders?
We all suffered through the reading aloud--I made them do it popcorn style. Meaning, they never knew who would be reading next. Sadistically, I love to choose the kids who are paying absolutely no attention. One of the few joys of subbing is getting a kid who clearly never pays attention to focus for a stretch of five minutes. And there's always one kid who is so nervous to read and doesn't know how to pronounce half of the words. As soon as that kid starts reading everyone in the class collectively groans and promptly tunes out. There has to be a better way to make sure kids read the material. But I'm just a lowly sub, so that's not for me to figure out.
I wrote the page numbers for the unrelated grammar assignment on the board. I expected the class to open their books and start writing. Wrong. After about five minutes, I asked a student if they had ever heard of an adverb. They hadn't. As a proud card-carrying English Major, I should be able to throw together an impromptu lesson on adverbs. Unfortunately, that's not what happened. I did my best to explain. My lame definition of a "An adverb is a verb plus -ly. Use it to tell about a verb," just didn't cut it.
They had to write out the sentences and underline a word. For example:
1.) This substitute innocently thought she could control this class.
I don't think I've ever heard so may complaints. Most students got to number two on their papers and gave up. As a sub, I'm pretty sure that I'm just a place holder. The classroom teacher will probably throw the assignments in the garbage as soon as she gets back. My threats are always empty, "This counts as a grade! You better get to work; I'm collecting it at the end of the hour." How intimidating can a 5'3" white lady in ballet flats be, after all?
Alas, the life of a substitute is like a box of chocolates: you never know what you're going to get. Some things usually remain the same: lame lesson plans and unruly and bored students. Maybe I should learn to tap dance.
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