Substitute teachers were not called in to cover the half-day before Thanksgiving break, so I was surprised to see the phone number for the middle school come up on my caller ID slightly before ten o'clock on a Wednesday morning in 2009. I was still lazing around in bed and tried to muster up the most awake sounding hello I could manage when I picked up the phone. The principal was calling to offer me a long term sub assignment-- instead of waiting each morning by the phone for a call, I would show up every day and be in the same classroom. He kept referring to the class I would be covering as small group. My first indication that something was amiss was when I asked if he meant I would be subbing in a special education classroom and he would only repeat that it was small group. I asked if I should go to the school before Thanksgiving break to pick up lesson plans or books and he said I wouldn't have to worry about it, everything I needed would be in the class on Monday. It was still early enough in the year, and in my teaching career, that I was willing to do just about anything to increase my chances of having a full-time job, so I agreed without much consideration.
I showed up the Monday after Thanksgiving filled with enthusiasm and good intentions. In the main office, the secretary handed me my schedule and directed me to the classroom I would be teaching in indefinitely. I got there early to poke around and prepare myself for the day. I would find out later that the teacher I was replacing had decided teaching wasn't right for her, had given her two weeks notice, and left the day before Thanksgiving. As for the lesson plans I'd been promised, she left behind a narrow strip of paper, suitable for a shopping list, that said, "Kids can learn to distribute." and "Chapter 9 vocabulary." She hadn't left any lesson plans, student grades, student work samples, or any indication as to what she had taught the first three months of school. I didn't even have a class roster. When the students came in I walked around the room and had each write their name on a piece of paper. I asked what they had done for the first part of the year. In the MCAS reading class they had read the first nine chapters in a slim fiction book, the algebra class couldn't say with confidence what they had learned, my supportive help class claimed they just played games on the computer the whole period. For the remainder of the day I followed students to their core classes to act as an inclusion teacher. As if I weren't unprepared already, I discovered the kids were telling the truth when they said they didn't have math books. For the remainder of my time in the classroom I spent nights writing up algebra problems-- thinking back to sixth and seventh grade when I'd learned to solve for x.
With limited classroom management experience, and having taken over in a less than ideal situation, I struggled to manage students' behavior and keep them engaged. I'd leave the middle school feeling exhausted only to swerve around traffic to arrive on time to my second job at a car dealership where I sat in an overcrowded box of a room with gray walls and exhaust fumes from the shop nearby. I was the receptionist, which meant I handled money and phone calls for he entire dealership-- sales, service, and parts. No matter what they were spending on, people felt they were being overcharged (rightfully so) and had no trouble voicing their frustrations to the quiet, worn down blonde working alone behind the counter. After work I'd come home and make dinner and lunch before settling down to write out and solve algebraic equations. I was awake well past midnight every night and could barely bring myself to get up in the morning.
To make my position more challenging, the team of teachers I was working with acted as if I didn't exist. They turned me away during our common planning time, never mentioned in advance what the students would be learning in any of their classes, never offered an answer key, lesson plan, or support system. I heard from another colleague that the school was searching for a certified teacher to take my place. I was never told directly, but suspicion said that I wouldn't be returning after winter break. After being treated like a shadow the entire month I was in their classes, I was shocked when the other teachers handed me a gift bag the day before the break.
Inside the bag was a white pen with puffy feathers and snowman at the top and the scented candle pictured above. The pen was something I might have used in seventh grade and I was allergic to the scent emanating from the unlit candle. Despite the fact that I knew I would never use the candle, I kept it in the original bag, wrapped up in the original tissue paper in the closet filled with Christmas ornaments. As I was emptying out the cabinet recently, the candle resurfaced and I wondered why I had held onto it in the first place. It's been four years since the team English teacher handed me the red snowman gift bag-- why hadn't I just given it away?
I was never alerted by the principal that I would no longer be needed in the class, but I was hardly surprised to find a new teacher sitting at my desk when I returned from the break in January. I told him everything I'd pieced together from before I took over and left detailed plans for all that I'd done in the month that I was in the class. He didn't seem interested or thankful; he was filled with the same enthusiasm I'd felt on the first day and thought he could handle anything with ease and confidence.
No comments:
Post a Comment