Elective Memory

I subbed for an elementary school's PE class for the first time this week. I was a little nervous, being the kid that was terrible at all things "sport" (my parents used to make me play soccer... a few seasons of that mess and they realized I was destined to be their "musically inclined" child). This nervousness was compounded by the fact that when I arrived, there were no plans for the day.

What I did have, however, was a whistle, an ipod with some wicked speakers, and a closet full of props. I poked around the hanging jumpropes, industrial-sized plastic trash bins full of basketballs, and shelves of balls, tennis rackets, and other plastic playthings. I eventually set up a sweet obstacle course race:

1.) Pick up the hula-hoop and put it your body through it.

2.) Run to the scooter. Get on your tummy and snake through the cones (this turned out to be way harder than I had anticipated for the kids, but they liked it, and it made the course take a long time to get through, thereby making my timing perfect for each class).

3.) At the end of the cones, make a basket. If, after 5 tries, you haven't made a basket, you may move on.

4.) Get on your bottom on the scooter and snake back.

5.) Slap the hand of the next person in line. Sit down when you're done. The team with everyone sitting down first gets... wait for it... a BUG STICKER!!! You'd be amazed at how cool they think that is.

Of course, I made up a warm-up and stretch routine as well, just by remembering what we did when I was in school. The kids seemed to know all the stretches I was doing, so that worked out.

I had so much fun! I'm doing it again this week.

*******

Last week, I subbed for a junior high math teacher, who also happened to be a music teacher. Being a "music kid", I was excited. The instrictions to her music class were to create a program cover for the concert coming up. At the end of class, a group of boys were giggling over one of the finished products. Knowing that something was wrong, I confiscated it and put it on the desk to read later. It was so funny that I kept it. Here it is in painstaking detail:

FRONT COVER:

It's the [school name] shitty MUSIC BAND!!!!!!

Check, check, check it out

DAAAAWWWWWGGG!!!!!!!!

INSIDE LEFT:

Two hours of ear-bleeding music from kids!!! Isn't it cute that they think they have talent :):):).

Make sure to spend all of your money on our overpriced snacks.

INSIDE RIGHT:

It's what you pushed your kids into!!!!!

CHOIR

BAND and shittiest of all...

...MARIMBA.

And remember, you have to be there to tell them they don't suck!!!!!

Incerdibly insightful, for a 6th grader, if you ask me. I guess some kids hate music as much as I hated PE.

I updated my blog layout. I know it's not as cute as the last ones, but the traditional blogger templates are easier to work with and easier for people to read.

Sorry it's been a little while since my last post. I needed to muster up the energy to re-live Tuesday. Aunt D told me that she doesn't think I can top this story.

I accepted the call at 5:45 am. I was instructed to be at the school in a special education classroom at 8:00 am.

With traffic, heavy rain, and the usual morning madness, I arrived about 10 minutes late (so not good!). I felt okay, though, because the system noted that the students wouldn't arrive until 8:55. There were two buildings on the lot, and I wasn't sure which one to run to, but I picked one and went to the office.

When I got inside, I was told that I was in the wrong building.

"So I need to go to the other building?" I asked.

"No. You want to go to [anonymous school]."

"But I've been sent to this school by the system!" I said.

"Yeah. This happened last time. This teacher starts the day at the other school and ends the day here. You need to go to [anonymous school]. I'll call their secretary and let them know you're on your way. We should really get them to fix that in the system." The secretary gave me the address of the other school and I punched it into the GPS in the car. It was on the complete opposite end of the city!

After 30 more minutes of driving, I arrived at the correct school. The secretary asked a gentleman to show me where the room was, as it was a rather confusing building.

"But that's my room," he said. I was happy about this development, because most special ed classrooms have 3-5 'paraeducators', or people who are trained to assist special ed teachers in the room. I knew he was one of them, and had he would tell me about the day. Boy, was I wrong.

"I'm just finding out about a sub in my room now?!?" He angrily walked toward the classroom and I walked behind him, unable to catch up.

"I'm sorry I'm so late, but I was sent to the wrong school this morning." No response. Walking. Walking.

"My name's [anonymous]." No response again. This guy was completely, rudely ignoring my existence. I'm thinking to myself, "Are we gonna have a problem today, buddy? Huh? 'Cause... sorry about your luck... I'm definitely the teacher today, whether you like it or not." 

He unlocked the door, flew into the office and picked up the phone. As I'm standing in the same room, he yells into the receiver, "The sub just got here! Nobody told me there'd be a sub today! You know what today will be like, don't you?!? I don't have to take this. You tell them I'm having an emergency. I'm not doing this today." He hung up the phone and left. Just full-on left work. Really makes a girl feel welcome.

Luckily, the other paraeducator, "K", was extremely nice and helpful. He acknowledged that the other guy was a real jerk, but added that he acts like that all the time. "He must know something we don't, 'cause he sure gets away with a lot around here."

The administrators sent another guy to help out, so I felt okay about the whole thing. At least I didn't have to deal with "the jerk" all day.

"When do the students get here?" I asked.

"Oh, there's only one student," K said.

"Really? He has his own classroom? And three teachers?"

"Yeah. They didn't tell you about this class, did they? They really should have."

Now I'm getting nervous. We'll call today's student 'R'. R's car pulls up to the school. R opens the door, and proceeds to bolt into the street. Both paraeducators (grown men) busted out the doors to chase R and bring him into the school. My heart dropped into my stomach as I realized that R is about 5'11" and 300 pounds.

I survey the room. Holes in the walls. Locks on the doors. I'm really scared now. R could really, really hurt me. I'm in fight or flight mode as they get him into the room. The teacher notes say to "stress safety above all else, keeping at least an arm's length distance away." I kept about a ten yard distance as we went down to the gym to play basketball.

"There are three doors in the gym, and we all need to stand at one or he'll bolt," K told me. About three minutes in, R started barrelling toward me. I held out my hand in the "stop" fashion and said, "No! No! Stop! stopstopstopstopstop!" But R did not stop. In fact, I'm pretty sure he sped up. I jumped out of the way at the last minute, and R was tackled by the my handy dandy assistants.

He was led back into the gym, picked up a basketball, and hurled it at my head. As I told you earlier, I was in fight or flight mode, so my cat-like reflexes and heightened senses were able to spare me from certain head trauma. We decided that R was being unsafe and went back into the confines of R's room, which was an old walled-off stage. Sort of like a pen. Which is what the day felt like: being in a closed pen with a wild animal, like a big cat, or maybe a polar bear.

Being that R was angry, he started to hit the large table in the classroom. He picked up the table and began to tip all of the contents onto the floor in my general vicinity. Then he walked to another table and slammed it into the wall, over and over again, until the table had created large, long holes in the wall.

"Well, you're the teacher today... do you want to work with R and his flashcards?" K asked.

"Listen," I said. "the only thing I want to do today is keep R happy and keep myself safe. I just want to be safe. And I really feel unsafe. R could really, really hurt me," I said.

"Heck yes, he can, " K said. "He could really hurt me if he wanted to. There are several people on workman's comp right now."

I began to feel angry. I felt like the district put me in a dangerous situation. Not only could I have been injured (seriously), but also I was useless. There was no way I could have helped if R decided to hurt someone. I was more of a hindrance, if anything, because the PE's needed to worry about my safety.

So, R actually chilled out after a while. We played his favorite music video DVD most of the day, and he got picked up early. But my adrenaline was pumping all day, and I was exhausted. But I have to wonder: At what point is a student just "too much" for public school? His own classroom, a staff of three, and various building repairs no doubt cost a lot of money. I know that it's our civic responsibility to care for and educate everyone equally, and that it's illegal to do otherwise, but this was just nuts. At some point, something's gotta give.

Edit: I forgot to mention the diapers. This kid wore diapers. And at one point in the day, he came out of the bathroom ass-naked. Penis and all.

Secret Agent Band

I subbed today for choir at a local high school. On my plan period, I was asked to step in and hold the fort for a sub who hadn't shown up yet. Room 105: Band.

"Are you our sub?"

"No, I'm the sub for your sub."

"Oh, okay. Well it's time for marching practice."

Word got around the class that it was time for marching practice, and everyone grabbed their stuff and walked out the door and down the hall. I asked a few kids to stay back and tell the sub that we were outside practicing. Having no lesson plans, I followed the kids outside about 100 yards behind the group.

We kept walking. And walking. And walking.

"Uh, where are we going?" I asked after I caught up with them about 1/2 mile down the road.

"Oh, well, some kids are going to Subway, some are going to Starbucks..."

"So... there's no marching practice?"

"Oh, no... 'marching practice' is code for free time. We usually don't get anything done when there's a sub so we leave and have lunch early."

And I thought CIA agents were the only ones talking in code.

They grow up so fast

I taught at an inner city high school today and yesterday, notorious for its "rough" student population. I'm a suburban kid through and through, and totally not used to being one of maybe five other white people (students and staff combined) in a school. The kids were, honestly, model students for the most part. Here's what happened today:

1. A 15-year-old girl who lives with her grandma told me about her aunt, who was serving time for killing her boyfriend. Oh, and also, her mother was in jail for killing her boyfriend. Apparently both men were abusive to their women, nearly killing both (on seperate occasions). Such violence to deal with at such a young age!

2. A cross-dressing sophomore complained that the staff made him change out of his cheetah-print mini skirt. Apparently boys can't wear dresses at school. I want it to be known that I have nothing against homosexuals, and nothing against those who need to express themselves in this way. BUT, I learned that it is indeed a distraction to have a boy in a wig, lip gloss, and earrings flamboyantly sharpening pencils and stomping around the room. As a student I would have believed that he should be able to wear whatever he wants. As a teacher... notsomuch. The other boys couldn't stop staring and were making fun of what was apparently his butt crack sticking out of his low-rise skinny jeans. But I guess I support this kid's decision to be who he needs to be.

He asked me if I would be angry if I found out that I had a brother I never knew about. When I told him that yes, I probably would be, he told me that his mother passed away when he was twelve and his father just told him that he has two siblings, both from different mothers.

With issues like these, it's no wonder that the school scores lower on standardized tests. Would you be able to concentrate? They have other things to worry about besides filling in the right bubble.

This video takes place in Texas. I am not affiliated with the school district discussed here. I apologize for the poor quality.

Where do you keep YOUR dentures?

evanescent ev·a·nes·cent (ěv'ə-něs'ənt) adj. Of short duration; passing away quickly.

I started substitute teaching last week. I was really lucky to get a job in a district that is planning on cutting hundreds of positions next year, so let's hold out hope that I'm spared from the jaws of Economic Crisis 2009.

The first week of subbing was rough. I hadn't taught in a while and didn't know what to do with the trouble makers. I basically had no control whatsoever.

Embarassing moment:

It was lunch time at a large high school, and I went on a mission to find the teacher's lounge. Armed with a map of the school, I made my way downstairs. Inside the double doors was a room with 2 sofas, a few coffee tables, round tables and chairs, a microwave, and computers. There was another teacher in there who nodded at me as I walked over to the couch.

I sat down on one of the sofas and began to spread out. I started to read the paper and eat my lunch. Students were filing in and out of the room, which I thought was odd for a staff room. "Wait a minute," I thought. "Where are all of the other teachers? There's only one lunch period here." I finished my sandwich and started looking around. Backpacks. Students. Computers. One teacher. Oh my god. I'm not in the staff room. I'm in this dude's CLASSROOM!

I packed up my stuff as quickly as I could and got the HELL out of there.

This week, though, was a lot better. I think I was made for elementary school teaching. they are absolutely hilarious!

Funny moment #1:

I was conducting a small group reading activity with 2nd graders. The book was about recycling.

"What do you know about recycling?" I asked.

"Reduce, recycle, and reuse!"

"Well, what kinds of things do you reuse at home?"

"Umm... hamburger boxes for my grandma's dentures!"

Funny moment #2:

I was walking down the hall when a 1st grader went running by.

"I'm really late today!" she said. She has no idea who I am.

"Oh, is that so? Why's that?"

"It's my mom's birthday," she whispered, "and we went shopping... but I'm just gonna tell 'em I went to the dentist!"