At first, I was proud of this identifier. It was visible proof that I had indeed survived the many hoops required in order to be approved, and I had passed! It was, in my case, my pink badge of courage. However, it has become an albatross that hangs from my neck, a millstone that rubs my neck raw and on rare occasions threatens to strangle me like a hangman's noose!
Relatively few other staff or faculty wear their's. I suppose it is because they are "known." It's a plus to be known. There is respect in being known, maybe even awe. Sometimes fear. But a sub neither knows, nor is known. We are hated, despised, shunned, ridiculed ignored, insulted. We are sometimes playthings to be abused cruelly. Overall, subs are pretty much the bottom of the food chain, mired into the muddy bottom of the bog. Did I mention, underpaid?
As I was packing my cart following the end of a particular 1st period, and straightening out rows of desks, collecting and disposing of trash left behind, a student for the next class arrived. Not mine. On this assignment, I am a floater, which means that my next class is in another room on another wing of this massive and architecturally beautiful institution. But this boy sees me picking up trash and arranging desks...Ahhhh, excuse me, I meant to say, this young man sees me doing these things and immediately assumes I am there for his class. He runs to the door yelling "Sub!!! We have a Sub today!"
His facial expression is almost one of horror, of revulsion. Without acknowledgement, I go to my cart and push out of the room into the sea of humanity amidst the din of many waters. Am hopeful they don't see my badge which I try to hide inside my jacket. Hopefully, nothing falls from my cart or is purposely or accidentally jostled off to be trampled on by the stampede of many feet.
I have many collected assignments - These are truly my "badges of courage" and I have suffered greatly, in some cases, to prod these teenagers into producing them. Class assignments of essays, worksheets, vocabulary and reading packets have been amassed. Each set clipped neatly and in order according to class.Walking many miles daily, up and down rows, ever wary to ensure I am not accidentally tripped, I have yelled and grimaced smiled and feigned laughter. I have even resorted to sarcasm. I have ignored briefs and boxers, profanity of all types, cell phones, food, Ipods and ear phones.
Yet on those rare times I have asked for, sometimes demanded, silence in order to answer a raised hand or call the roll, I have been reviled and, at times,verbally assaulted.
But today is Friday. My last day with this class. Kids can do their assignments if they choose. I am letting them work together, like their regular teacher does -- even though I hear very little academic chatter. Today is when the final collection of assignments are due as well -- the proof of my labor.. I'm not being abused today. Life is good!
No comments:
Post a Comment