Substitute Teaching

I canceled my substitute teaching job for tomorrow. This is not normal and perhaps it's even frowned upon, but let me assure you it was for my own good. Not all sub jobs leave me feeling deflated and mentally limp by 3 p.m. But this particular group of eighth graders has the ability to take every ounce of energy I have (which, if you know me, is a lot), suck it right out of me, and then keep taking energy from me so I'm deep in the negatives. It takes a good 12 hours for me to come back to zero on days like this.

Why am I subbing? Well, most days I will tell you it's an investment. Other days I'll tell you because I really want to. And still others I'll tell you I haven't a clue. Most of the time, I'm floating somewhere in the middle of this triad.

Teaching has been a part of my life since I was a little girl. My clearest memories of childhood play involve a classroom full of stuffed animals, a mini-chalkboard, and my mom's pencil skirt and heels. I sent more pretend friends to detention than time-out. In high school, I considered being a musician, actor, roadie, psychologist, wedding planner and professional student. But I always saw a classroom ahead of me full of eager minds and stories waiting to jump out of textbooks and into discussions.

Every new teacher battles idealism and expectation during the first few years. You want to be the teacher with the cozy chair, the stereo, the aura of a poetry reading. You want to be endlessly available to talk about break-ups, a B-, or a dominating parent. The "open-door" policy, the "I'm available anytime you need me" mentality is refreshing and admirable. I do believe it can be achieved, but not to the extent that new college graduate anticipates.

The dim realities of teaching school overshadow the sparks, ah-ha moments, and victories. Like most things, teaching requires you to have thick skin, big perspective, and the ability to let the little things go. I've developed the first two quite well, especially while subbing. But the third will probably always be difficult for me.

As a person who wants so desperately to see the good in everyone, it's extremely challenging when I feel like there is little to no good about a student to curses me out, throws a pair of scissors across the room, or walks out to leave, communicating that he/she has no respect for an educator or an education. It's disheartening and burdens me beyond what it probably should. Even as a substitute--where I have very little impact on these lives because I see them inconsistently and infrequently--I want to enter their lives and help their problems. I want to meet the needs of every student, open their world a little more and let a bit of potential shine in. I also want to dynamically captivate them. But most of the time, when I'm standing alone before this muddy audience, I can barely make through a sentence without an interjection like "Keep it down, guys" or "Bring that note up here." Or worse, "I'm not tolerating that. Get outta here and take your stuff." It's difficult to lead when you're deliberately being tripped or struck down.

This year, I've been reforming my views on education. I won't address that now; but it's impossible to observe a squeaky wheel every week without at least desiring to put some oil on it. Public school has a long way to go. And I'm thrilled that my life is pulling me slowly back to the classroom, where I belong. But until then, I will perform my duties as a substitute teacher (that is, when I don't cancel assignments) the best I can without allowing the weight of school day to sit on my shoulders the entire evening. I don't trust my ability to do that tomorrow, so instead I'll be designing pieces for Karla's place, feeling guilty that I'm not stumbling through a history lesson in front of defiant, rowdy teenagers.

I can only hope and pray that our politicians, our teachers, and the parents of every child in every school are going to sleep well tonight and wake up ready to change the world. That's what school is intended to do: prepare. Tomorrow, however, I'll be drinking coffee, tending to my needy child, and changing the world one diaper at a time.