A Few Thoughts on Subbing

I subbed for the class that has most of my students from last year. Goodness, I am glad to have a different job right now.

First of all, I would never sub for my school if I didn't know the kids. It would be a nightmare. Without a personal relationship, without trust that has been built up over time, it would be hell.

As it was, I I had to send the same kid out twice who I had to send out twice a day last year. (That was an awkward sentence, but you get the point). Another kid had a meltdown because I made the teams even during PE. Two little girls started crying hysterically because they thought another girl insulted them (they had misheard her).

It really is no wonder the district can't find subs. A few other observations:

Subs can't mail or fax in their time sheets. Nor can they fill out a time sheet online. They have to schlep themselves downtown (to a part of the city where there is NO PARKING) and turn in their timesheet in person, one one specific day. They can't turn it in early or mail it because (I was told) it will get lost. Great. Real professional.
The sub system has taken to assigning me to schools without telling me. Then I get a call from the principal the next day asking where I am. Turns out the sub office forgot to put my phone number in the system even though I gave them my phone number several times.
It's really funny when the other teachers think you're just a regular sub who doesn't know the kids and then, as a kid runs by and hits another, you yell the child's entire name, first middle and last, and the kid stops dead in her tracks, looks scared turns around, comes back and apologizes very sweetly, along with saying, "Please don't call my granny." It makes the teachers who are new this year stare: who is that crazy substitute?
I can't sub for the kids without bringing the gecko. I am convinced that the gecko prefers the quiet of my bedroom, but he was bought to be a class pet, so class pet he is...

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A Loss

(I have been putting off finishing this blog post for months. You'll see why) Today, I was cleaning a bookshelf and I found the journal from one of my third-grade students, who I call Fred in my book , in 2001. I still had it because he didn't come to the last day of school to get his stuff this year and I guess it got put in a pile and somehow I've kept it with me. He didn't come to the last day of school, probably because his family was a mess: dad in prison, mom in an abusive relationship, all the kids (understandably) acting out violently. Fred was expelled from our school in second grade for hitting a teacher. Then he was expelled from the other school, I don't know why, at the end of second grade. He came back on the condition from the administration that he be in my class because I had him as a student in first grade and he listened to me and worked well with me. We had a really good relationship, although Fred was definitely not easy to have in class.

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A New Prison, Part 1

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Bronwyn Harris, Author

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