The Snarky Sub

The fifth-graders in the “rough” part of the city have been waiting for this all year: the dash to the rock on the hill and back. This is their chance to make their mark, to be legends before moving on to middle school.

The gym teacher dramatically announces the all-time record and waves the flag. Dozens of feet pound across the field and up the hill, they reach for the rock, and they’re back already.

“We have a new record!” announces the gym teacher, and congratulates the new champion, who seems proud but stunned.

The other kids move on to tug-of-war, but the champion stays behind, talking to a friend. “I knew I could do it,” he says, in awe of his own power. “I had a feeling I could do it, but I wasn’t sure I really could.”

“A frog!” someone calls out, and all the kids gather around to see.

A teacher on the scene has them all sit down in a circle and pass the frog around. Tug-of-war can wait.

“Does anyone know what frogs are called when they’re born?” she asks. The frog is passed from one set of little hands to the next, the kids beaming in delight and a little squeamishness.

“Tadpoles!” someone calls.

“That’s right,” she says. “Watch how it breathes. Right now it’s breathing in air, you can see how its throat expands. But it can also breathe underwater. Because it can breathe both in air and water, it’s called an amphibian.”

Even the few kids afraid to hold the frog are grinning ear-to-ear. But eventually tug-of-war calls, and we release the frog to the woods. The teacher guides them to their next activity, but I spend the rest of my afternoon chasing kids back from frog-hunting in the woods. It’s a beautiful day.

I know that music performance classes are often larger than your typical class.

But seriously…

WHO PUT 64 KIDS IN MY SIXTH HOUR CLASS

hithertokt asked: I seem to keep missing you on my dash lately, so came directly to the source to get the fix/updates. And while I'm here, just wanted to drop a line and remind you that I think you're awesome. #theend

Aw, thanks! One reason you may not have been seeing my posts as frequently is that I have not been posting as frequently…I’ve been keeping really busy with a lot of really good things. But I am making an effort to increase the updates! More soon!

Running late for a 7 am start time, I grab a bag of nuts and an apple and plan to eat breakfast before class starts. I’m setting up for the day, reading the lesson plan, when the school nurse walks in.

“Have you ever been here before?” she asks, looking worried.

“No.”

“We have some students with SEVERE allergies,” she tells me. “Make sure you look through your folder.”

Normally when I sub in an elementary school, I might see one or two medical plans about students with allergies in the folder. But in this folder they just keep coming. To be fair, the art teacher during the week has every student in the school. But even so, there are at least three students in every class that have what are labeled LIFE-THREATENING ALLERGIES. Fifty, sixty, seventy plans.

What is going on? I wonder. Is this school some kind of magnet for kids with severe allergies?

“I guess I should put these nuts away,” I say sheepishly.

The nurse nods. “And the apple,” she adds severely. “We have some students with raw fruit allergies.”

I never, ever teach without eating breakfast. But I put my food away.

“If you see a student coughing,” she says, “don’t hesitate to call 911.”

“If they’re COUGHING?” I repeat.

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Usually as a sub it’s hard to make connections in the buildings where you come and go, but I’ve been getting along great with my colleagues in the ESL classroom where I’ve been working. It’s Teacher Appreciation Week, and they are getting paraded with candy and T-shirts and who knows what else.

“Probably the reason there isn’t a Substitute Teacher Appreciation Day is that everybody figures that substitute teachers are appreciated enough already,” I muse.

Many of these teachers have been subs themselves and think this is hilarious. “Yeah,” agrees one spunky young teacher my age. “We don’t want you guys to get narcissistic.”

The spunky young teacher and I head to the office to cash in on the cookies the teachers’ union has brought us. There’s a nice note there about how teachers are unsung heroes but everything they do matters and will be appreciated someday. We walk down the hall contentedly munching our cookies.

“It was nice of the teachers’ union to bring us cookies,” I say.

“Yeah!” agrees my new friend.

“I would prefer collective bargaining rights,” I add.

She nearly spits out her cookie in laughter. “But cookies are nice,” she chortles.

And we spend the rest of our break at a coffeeshop sharing our life stories.