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.