ID badge in hand, bag slung casually over my shoulder, I move efficiently through crowds of raucous high school students. Flirtation and chit chat fills the hallway, but a magical hush falls over the students as I pass. "I know that sub," someone whispers. "He's cool," another student says with conviction. I smile in quiet acknowledgement and move on. This high school has recently been named "Mr. V. High" by the student body. A fitting tribute. The murmured accolades follow me as I--
beep! beep! beep! beep! beep! beep! bee- smack!
Slowly, I wake up. 6:00 a.m. and time to get moving...
An hour later Lindsay and I are tentatively walking over icy pavement and into North Kansas City High School. We sign in, wish each other well, and part ways. "Hey, that's your wife!" says the secretary in a moment of epiphany. "You know, couples who sub together stay together," She beams at me. "That's right!" I smile back in hearty affirmation of the conjugal bond. Subbing has been great for us...
Or it could be, once Lindsay forgives me for forcing her to deal with aspiring thugs and rappers-in-d-makin' on a weekly basis. Then again, her basketball vocabulary seems to be gradually improving...mere coincidence? And certainly, this job has its perks. Like...like-
The thought is jarred loose as I reenter the frozen wastes outside, heading across the parking lot to the Business Tech building. I'll be teaching Computer Programming today, one of my favorites. I always seem to get a lot of reading done in that class. But the door is locked.
As I study the numerical keypad guarding the entry, another teacher approaches. Phew! He says: "Today is late start day, that's why you can't get in yet." I, of course, know this, but give a fairly good impression of feigned ignorance. "Oh, that makes sense." Why doesn't the office ever give me keys to these stupid doors?! He opens the door. I follow him in. Or try to, anyway. He bars the door, a questioning expression on his face. Quickly I discern the problem. "Oh. Well, actually, I'm a sub." Gotta keep the ID badge more visible.
"Ah." He hurriedly gives way and silence reigns for an awkward moment. Then, "I, uh, thought you looked kind of old," he amends unconvincingly.
"That's all right." Mercifully, I change the subject. "Is there anyone upstairs?" I have a feeling my classroom will be locked. It is.
Later, having persuaded the teacher next door to open my room for me, I settle down at the desk. It's warm in here. The students won't arrive for another 40 minutes. Silent computers line the room, begging for life, pleading to be used in creative bloggish expression. I turn mine on.
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Life of a Sub
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6 comments:
awe, a man who can make the dank smells and grey concrete atmosphere of a city high school exude poignancy and charm. i lift my suburban bottled water to you, my friend.
But he still get's carded by the "real" teachers :).
When I subbed, I'd bring my sketchbook along and sketch the students or the palm trees outside.
Nostalgia wafts o'er me as I remember fights to break up, children to coax out from under desks, flying chairs to dodge.
I learned to pack a substitute tool kit for the times when the elementary teachers left nothing for the students to do. The flying chair experience was middle school. I don't do middle school. In fact, I don't do substituting, either, nor will I ever again.
The only good thing about it was the free time to sketch and read and the setting of one's own schedule. But the cost was too high.
Forgot to sign my previous comment.
aj
Thanks for the eco-friendly props, Tim.
As Bagel points out, I have a long way to go before I reach real teacherhood. Ah, to be real. Then again...
aj, I wish I had the ability to sketch in my downtime. That would probably be more productive than playing hearts vs. the computer. ;) Your nostalgic memories definitely hit a responsive chord here. I'll always remember the great Coca-cola/Walkman brawl...but that's a story for another day.
>>I don't substitute, nor will I ever again...the cost was too high.>>
There is a certain finality to that statement that I appreciate. Perhaps someday I will say something similar.
Reminds me of the time when I was a sub and a teacher came up to me as I was walking through the hall. She asked what I was doing walking around during a class period... I thought, "why does she care?" Then it dawned on me... she thought I was a student. So, I politely explained that I was a teacher associate (the puffed up, "professional" name for a sub they give us in our district, which no one uses and doesn't at all make me feel more professional.) She then advised me to go get an i.d. tag so the staff would be able to tell the difference between me and the students!
And honey, don't worry, subbing has drawn us much closer together. No one can understand the pain, humilation, and stress that subbing causes as well as another sub! It has gotten to the point where we can just look at each other at the end of the day and have a silent "knowing" of what each has been through!
Great post,
Lindsay
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