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!"