Blogging Excuses
I'm so sorry I've been MIA! I do have a really good excuse, though. Really. You see, the dog ate my laptop.
I thought it was due next week?
Someone stole all my ideas?
No, I remember now. I got a new job. I will be an actual Real Teacher for the remainder of the school year. So over the Spring Break (which we old-timers always called "Easter Vacation" back in the day) I've been holed up in my new room playing catch up.
I have read novels, I have had acid-flashbacks over the Geography book, I have cleaned through eons of school-created dust strata, I have rearranged hundreds of National Geographic magazines dating back to the 1950's, and I have graded a pile of papers that teetered at an impressive 18"tall.
And... for the first time in my life, I have created full-on lesson plans. See, I've been busy.
As I want to teach full time, anyway, this is a great chance for me to get my feet wet. But this does mean that I'll no longer be subbing. And you know what? I'm actually going to miss it a little. I enjoyed getting to meet all sorts of different people, and the excitement of never knowing what the day would throw at me, and being wakened at 6 am with an emergency sub assignment, and being pulled out of the nice comfortable English class I had been planning on to cover the ISS kids who just sent their sub home crying.
Waitaminute. I won't miss any of that. I'll get to know where I'm supposed to be every day, and when I should be there, and I'll still never have to worry about getting bored... 'cause no one has EVER said that teaching is boring. :)
But this does mean that
Sub-Sister will now be defunct. It isn't needed anymore. It has let me vent and share things that I thought might give you a chuckle, but I'm not a sub anymore. But I am a REal Teacher, and I'm sure that will provide more taht enough fodder for blog-land... if I can find the time to write. Try me here:
Miss Teacher Lady, But give me a week or so to get all my ducklings in a row, OK?
I'll leave
Sub-Sister up because I've put alot of time and effort into it. Goodbye and good luck, my dears!
Kinder Lists
I had a few sub days in a Kindergarten class recently, and I have a few observations to make. And just because I do love me a good list, I shall divide my experiences into list-form. You're welcome ;)
5 Not-So-Great Things About Kinders1. They're always sticky.
2. The boys miss the toilet, and so you have to mop up little boy pee. Yay.
3. They'll tell you uncomfortable personal information about their homelife.
4. Trying to get them to go anywhere as a group is like herding drunken midgets. (Thanks Deb!)
5. They are at full-speed ALL THE TIME.
5 Great Things About Kinders1. All of them want to sit beside you at lunch. You're an instant Rock Star!
2. When they hug you, they pat your butt. Which is just funny.
3. They always remember your name.
4. They ask you to "open" bananas for them.
5. They love you unconditionally simply because you're their teacher.
Crispy-Fried Teenagers
Last week at the High School, I was sitting in the computer lab watching the ersatz typing class as they played Space Invaders. "Ersatz". Heh, how do you like me and my SAT words? ;)
Anyway, I'm happily babysitting when the fire alarm goes off. After I pick myself off the floor (MAN, those things are loud!), I head toward the door. Now, every other time there's been a fire alarm when I've been subbing, I've been in the Elementary school. Those kids are on the ball. Before I can even say, "Line up!", they're in line and quietly filing out the door.
But not so with the High Schoolers. They don't move an inch. I say, "Come on, guys. Fire drill!" They look at me, and sarcastically inform me that "they" have been testing the system all week, and we're supposed to ignore the alarm. Since I'm not an utter idiot, I went to the class next door to ask that teacher. She agreed that we should ignore it, and since there weren't any other classes tromping down the hallway towards the nearest emergency exit, I went back to my, um, work.
Here's the fun part of this incident. The alarm shuts off. Yay. A few minutes later, an administrator doing his rounds to make sure everyone was out, comes down the hallway and tells us that there is a fire alarm going off "in other parts of the school" and we should evacuate. We go outside, and hear an unholy racket of alarms, sirens, bells, whistles, and yelling teenagers. There are fire trucks on the scene because apparently... there really was a fire. A small one no where near where I was, but still.
Two things: First, why were the alarms by the computer labs shut off? I mean, they were obviously working, so if they had continued working, I probably would have figured something funky was up. Secondly, if there had been alarm testing all week, why not come over the intercom and announce that THIS IS NOT A DRILL?
Yep, I nearly had me some crispy-fried teenaged critters.
I Am A Sell-Out
I called a child "Bubba" today.
I was driving a yellow bus, and it was easier than yelling my little
explanation-jig into the child-watching mirror,
and keeping an eye on the traffic,
and making sure the 5th graders weren't stuffing a kindergartener through a window.
Look, I needed to know if "Bubba" was on the bus. In a hurry.
Leave me alone.
Me, Bubba, and Tater
I was calling roll in a 2nd grade class the other day when I came across a bit of a problem.
"Karen?"
"Here!"
"Caleb?"
"Yep."
"Steven?"
...
"Steven?"
"Ms. Substitute, he's called 'Tater'."
So I wander over to Tater and ask "Hon, what's your name?"
"Tater"
"No Baby, what do your parents call you?"
"Tater.'
"OKaaaay. What does your
teacher call you?"
"Tater."
"Really?"
Nods.
"Huh. What name is on your Birth Certificate?"
"Steven."
"Alright! Now we're getting somewhere! Now, your name is Steven. Think you can remember that? Good."
See, I'm the kind of teacher who won't call a child by a nickname. I really just don't want to. It makes me feel silly. Now, I have no problem with calling Jennifer "Jenny" (or "Jeni" as is so often the case these days), Samantha can be "Sam", William can be "Will", and Malcolm can be "Mal". Neither do I have a problem with calling someone by their middle name, or even their first and middle name together this being the South and all. So you might hear me call out "Jenny Louise" or "Margie May".
But you will never catch me shouting "Cookie", "Peanut", "Red", "Little Man", "Fatboy", "Cooter", or any other ridiculous appellation across the room. Even the idea of that makes me feel foolish. I am a grown woman. I shouldn't ever have to utter the nickname "Froggie". Ever.
Seriously, people.
The Bestest Kid In the World!
Now I don't know about the rest of you subs out there, but I read all the stuff that kids turn in to their teacher. This is how I keep myself occupied, and also how I get to know the kids a little better. I used to feel guilty about this, like I was invading the kids' privacy or something, but I soon got over that. In fact, now not only do I read the students' work, I read whatever strikes my fancy in the room, and I go through the teacher's desk. Real Teachers Be Warned... because I'm fairly certain that all other subs do this.
Anyway, I was subbing for a middle school computer class where the students had to design and print a flyer that listed why they were The World's Best Kid. Now, ignoring the fact that not a single one of these kids knew to put the apostrophe in "World's", I was pretty impressed. Most of these people think pretty highly of themselves. There was alot of:
Smart Attractive/Pretty Popular Athletic Cool/AwesomeThen there were the amusing:
I'm weird I rarely get in trouble I have long hair (LOL)
But my favorite flyer was from a kid who apparently knew her shortcomings. She wrote, and I quote:
I hardly ever lie unless I'm in big trouble and my parents ask me why I did something and then I can stretch the truth a little. And that's why I'm The World's Greatest Kid!
Short 'n' Sweet
On a bus, I hear my name called repeatedly. Sometimes it's important information like, "Bobby threw up!" or "My nose is bleeding." But more often than not, it's important only to the child: "Look at this bug I found it's green and blue and green and it bit me so I threw it on the ground and then I saw this cool rock but the bug crawled up on it and I like it again and I named him Paul!" Anyway, the point is, that I've developed the ability to drown out all the useless chatter and only really "hear" stuff said in truly urgent tones.
Which is why I heard this the other day:
"Red light, Miss Bus Driver!"
So I stop (which I was going to do anyway, really, but anyone would perk up at a 5-year-old screeching about stop lights in their ear). And look in the rearview mirror to see my usual view of a kindergartener:
Then the child says, "Very good, Miss Bus Driver!"
Heh. Praise is always welcome :)
Sexy Beast
I have a confession. See, most of the time my brain doesn't work quickly enough. Usually, I'm thinking of a clever comeback or witty rejoinder about 30 seconds after the moment has passed. But then there are times that the ol' brain works at full speed, and those smart-alecky comments just race to the tip of my tongue. Those are inevitably the times that I
don't need to say anything. Oh, the irony. You want an example? Why, I just happen to have one on hand right here!
Recently, I took a group on a field trip out of state (we're near the state border, so that's not as big a deal as it sounds). On the way, we had to go through a toll. Now, school buses get to go through those puppies for free as long as they're transporting students. No problem.
But on the way back home, the second time through the toll that day, I got asked the stupidest question ever. By the way, they had closed the wide load lane so I had to maneuver the Beast through the regular itty-bitty lane which is like threading a needle with yarn, but that's a whole other story. Anyway, this was one of those times that my brain actually worked.
After I squeezed (that sounds wrong... squoze?) the bus through the lane up to the toll booth, the toll-worker-lady looks up at me, squints at the tinted windows down the side of the bus, and asks, "Are there students on the bus?"
Think about that for a sec. I'm in a vehicle that guzzles gas like it's free, and handles like a drunken elephant. I'm not only across county lines, but in an entirely different state than the one emblazoned on the side of the vehicle. And she wanted to know if there were students on the bus.
My immediate urge was to say, "Students? On
this thing?! Why? Nah, I'm just cruisin' the strip for some men, 'cause this Beast is so SEXY!"
But what I actually did was smile and say, "Yes."
I'm actually right proud of myself. I proved that my brain can work quickly if it wants, that I can control my tongue if I want, and that working with children hasn't smothered all my lovely sarcasm. Wonderful.
Heartfelt Plea to "Real" Teachers- #2
Please, please, please. Please keep in mind the length of your classes when you make your sub-plans. For example, I recently had a day where the plans looked something like this:
1st block: Take spelling test.
2nd block: Have students type up their resumés.
3rd block: Spelling test.
4th block: Read Lincoln's speech in Literature book.
Now, just for clarification, each class is and hour and a half long. Got me? AN HOUR AND A HALF to take a 20 word spelling test. And to make life even funner, that last block assignment didn't come with a page number... or a book. When I managed to find a student who actually had their book on them (although why a 9th grade ESL student had a 12th grade Honors book on him I'll never know) I discovered that the speech took up half a page.
So please remember that I can only take so much conversation about how cute the Varsity Basketball center is, how "emo" the new kid is, how awesome the new Wii is, and give me enough material to fill the whole class period.
Besides, teenage boys tend to start practicing their wrestling moves on each other when they're bored and I'm running out of explanations as to why another three desks were destroyed, why Bobby has a bloody nose, and why Kevin has two fingers and a toe that are turning a lovely shade of plum. Although I must say that I have perfected my Michael Buffer impersonation.
"Lllet's Get Rready To Rruumbllllle!!"
The Best Day Ever
You know what I love about subbing in High School? I'd like to say that it's seeing the teenagers' faces light up with understanding after a particularly brilliant explanation, or their joyful expressions when they see that they have
me as a sub, or even when they manage to remember that my name isn't actually "Miss Substitute Teacher-Lady" or "Hey, Don't You Drive The Basketball Team Bus?"It would be closer to the truth to say that what I like best about High School subbing is seeing the teenagers' faces go blank when they realize that I actually
am smarter than they are, or their first bumbling attempts at having a conversation without using "Duh", ""Whatever", or any number of profanities. But that wouldn't be the truth. The truth is even shallower.
I love subbing in High School because most of the teachers have planning periods, or as I like to call them, Nap Times. I understand that this is a necessary time for Real Teachers to organize their stuff, grade papers, go to the restroom, or have a nice little cry, but since I don't have planning to do (the pottying and crying are another matter), I get to have some free time.
Last week I had the best time ever. This particular teacher had a planning period, lunch, and a Journalism class that as far as I could tell involved letting 10 students wander off to do their own thing. So I had roughly three and a half hours to myself. THREE AND A HALF HOURS, people! I ate my lunch, I read my book, I wandered the halls trying to look nonchalant as I went in search of a particularly handsome single male teacher (Stalker? Me? What?!?), and I surfed the internet. Yep. All in all, a very productive day.
I even found that with a little creative rationalization, I could give myself an imaginary payraise:
8 Hrs
-3.5 Hrs
---------
4.5 Hrs Actual Time Worked
Crappy Daily Pay / Actual Time Worked = Not So Crappy Hourly Rate
Sweet.
