While I’m not teaching English at JCC, I will be a
substitute teacher time and again, mainly at high schools. It’s actually a
pretty nice deal. For the most part, I sub for English teachers. It’s a
win-win. The teacher gets a day off, and usually I have time during class to
grade papers, or prep for my next college class, or even work on my next
book—and I get paid to do so. Granted, the students come first when I’m
subbing, but in all honesty, I do have time to work on other projects as I’m
watching over them.
Most days are pretty straight forward. I have my assignment
the night before. I arrive at the school a half-an-hour before school starts
(usually 6:55 AM for high schools), I visit the main office to find out what
room I’m teaching in, and then I try to find it; the whole time I’m trying to
look like I know where I’m going.
What makes this a challenge is that most of the high schools
I sub at have the same design—almost. The main buildings are exactly alike, but
some are reversed. And just about every school uses a different numbering
system for their classrooms. What might be room 2721 in one school could be
2317 in a different school.
Once I arrive at the classroom, the real fun begins.
Teachers are supposed to have clear lesson plans set up for the day, telling me
what I should have the students do at any given time. Most of the teachers do
an excellent job providing this information, but once in a while I’ll show up
and there will be a sticky note on the teacher’s desk with the words, “Sub:
show movie to class.” Then I need to figure out which movie and how to play it.
That’s when I usually pop into the classroom next door and ask another teacher
for help.
95% (or so) of the time, things run smoothly. Then there are
days like the one I experienced recently.
When I arrived at the school that morning, I got my
assignment from the front office and went up to the third floor where I would
be teaching. There are four periods during the day, and the teacher I was
subbing for had first period planning. Still, I went to the room to make sure I
knew what I was doing for the rest of the day.
The teacher had a nice binder with specific instructions.
The only hitch was that there was a single paper of the worksheet. On it was a
sticky note which read “make copies.” Because I had arrived early, I headed
over to the teacher’s workshop area. The door was locked and no one was inside.
No problem. I had time. I could do it during the planning period.
Upon returning to the classroom, there was another teacher
there. She looked surprised to see me. I explained who I was, and she became
even more perplexed.
“We’re doing PSAT testing today in this room for the first
three hours,” she told me. “Go down to room 3228 to find out where you should
be for the rest of the day.” No problem. I took the binder the teacher left for
me and off I went to 3228.
The room was filled with teachers, each grabbing their
testing materials and going off to rooms they didn’t normally teach in. When it
was my turn, I explained who I was subbing for. The lady in charge frowned at
me. “Subs can’t give the test. Let me check.” She flipped through her notes,
and then after finding the information she was looking for, said, “The teacher
you are subbing for was not assigned to give out a test. Go to the sub office
to see where they need you.” No problem.
I descend the stairs, back to the first floor. When I arrived
at the sub office, the sweet lady in charge of subs was a bit freaked out. Two
of the other subs hadn’t shown up yet, in addition, she wasn’t sure where to
send me because it turns out my second period class would be taking the PSAT,
so I didn’t have classes for first or second period. No problem. I brought my
laptop with me and I could work on things in the media center. At that moment,
the teacher I was filling in for showed up—just briefly. She told me that she
forgot to make copies of the worksheet. I have the worksheet with me, so she
scooted off and made copies while I waited for the sub coordinator to figure
out what to do with me.
Since two of the other subs hadn’t shown, the sub
coordinator asked if I would cover one of those classes instead. No problem.
She was about to send me to cover In School Suspension when that sub arrived—five
minutes before class started. I dodged a bit of a bullet there. That meant I’d
be asked to cover for the other missing teacher: a girls’ gym class. Slight
problem, since I was wearing a shirt and tie, but I’d manage.
I arrived at the main gym, only to find it locked. On the
door was a note telling the students to get dressed and then meet by the small
gym. No problem. I pretend I know where the small gym was located, and then found
it soon enough. There was another gym teacher standing in the hallway. She was
nice enough, and it turned out she was the other gym teacher. Because of
testing, they were combining all the gym classes into one big class. She
expressed some concern because that was a lot of students in a small area—and it
was raining outside, so we had to stay inside. I asked her, “What do you need
me to do?” She answered, “Help make sure no one gets into a fight or gets
hurt.” No problem.
However, just after the students came out of the dressing
room and were headed to the gym, the sub who was missing arrived. I was off the
hook. No longer with a class to teach, I headed back to the sub office. She
didn’t have anything for me to do at that moment, so I offered to go to the
media center and hang out—that way they know where to find me if they needed
me. The sub secretary agreed.
It was a great plan, until I arrived at the media center. It
was off limits because they were using it to test for the PSAT. The nice lady
at the desk suggested I go to the teacher’s workroom instead. No problem.
Before going back up to the third floor, I remembered that
the workroom was locked. Instead, I went back to the sub secretary and asked if
I could get a key. She graciously supplied me with one.
Back up to the third floor I trekked. At this time, classes
had started and so the hallways were quiet. With key in hand, I went to unlock
the workroom, only to find that the door was slightly ajar. I entered, picked a
seat, and set up my laptop to begin working. In the corner was a vending
machine which sold soda. One of the options was Sunkist—a drink I like and hadn’t
had in a long time. I dug out a dollar bill from my wallet, put it in the
machine. I pressed the button for Sunkist, and a Pepsi came out instead. Uh. No
problem. Yeah. No problem.
Five minute later, another nice lady entered the room. “Are
you the sub that doesn’t have anything to do at this time?” she asked. I almost
told her I had plenty to do, but instead I answered, “That’s me. What can I
help you with?”
“We need your help in the other wing. Head over there and
find a teacher standing in the hallway. She’ll fill you in.” I replied, “Sure.
No problem.”
I packed up my stuff, and headed to find this mysterious
teacher. I found her easily enough. “Oh good,” she said. “We’re doing PSAT
testing and need someone to be on that side of the hallway to make sure
students aren’t leaving the room to cheat.” No problem.
She got me a chair and I placed it next to a power outlet so
I could plug in my laptop. It then occurred to me to ask how long we’d be
there. The answer? “About three hours.” Three hours? Yeah, ok. No problem.
It wasn’t three hours. After an hour-and-a-half, another
lady approached. “We need you to go downstairs to the cafeteria. There’s going
to be a sprinkle of students who need to be watched over.”
Unsure how many students made up a “sprinkle,” I packed up
my stuff again and headed back downstairs. In the cafeteria there were two sets
of students. One was an English IV honors class which had a rather dynamic
teacher. The second set were a bunch of students who looked like they would
rather be anywhere else in the world aside from school. Without any specific
instructions, I told the second set of students, “Ok. You may work on other
homework. You may listen to music if you have headphones. You may talk quietly
with other students. What you may not
do is be a disruption or do anything illegal, immoral, or unethical.” This
statement was met with blank stares.
Ninety minutes later, the class was dismissed and I booked
it upstairs to the third floor, again, to teach a class that started in five
minutes. The students shuffled like zombies—they were the ones who had just
taken the PSAT. Class started ten minutes later than it should have because all
the testing hadn’t been completed.
For third period, the students were assigned to complete a
study guide on Oedipus. The challenge
was that this class had “B” lunch—meaning that the class was divided into two
sections: half before and half after lunch. In addition, third and fourth
periods were already shortened because the test was longer than normal first and
second periods. I gave the students the handout and explained what we were
doing. Most of them just sat there and stared at the paper, realizing that they
were going to lunch in just a few minutes. Lunch arrived about fifteen minutes
later, and suddenly the zombies came back to life. The room cleared out quickly
as they headed downstairs to the cafeteria.
For half-an-hour I had a moment to relax and eat the peanut
butter and jelly sandwich my wife made me that morning.
The students returned, refreshed. I got them refocused on
the task of completing the worksheet. I told the students I would not be
collecting the worksheet at the end of the day. When one student asked why, I
answered, “Bring the worksheets to class tomorrow. If I collect them, some of
you will insist to your teacher that you gave me your paper and that I lost
them. We’re not playing that game.”
The last period of the day rolled around. The lesson plan
was easy: the students were supposed to read a story out of their books and
answer questions. The challenge? The story was a section from Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare. These
freshman students struggled with reading English in general, so Shakespeare was
like a foreign language. I spent the rest of the class helping them with the
questions and explaining what they were reading. Several of them expressed
their gratitude for my help. My response? “No problem.”
At last, the dismissal bell rang. The school day was over. I
went to the front office to return the key I borrowed. The sub coordinator
asked me, “How was your day?” I smiled at her and answered, “Fantastic.”
She looks relieved. “Oh, good. Testing days can be so
tricky.” I wish her a nice day. As I turned to leave, she asked me, “Oh, Mr.
Morgan. Are you available next Wednesday?”
I paused for just a moment before responding, “Sure. No
problem.”
