Restroom Pass

Seems that one of the many ways kids really take advantage of having a substitute teacher is by "needing to go to the restroom."  Sometimes, I would swear that the entire class needs to go and eventually does over the course of the short time we are together. I usually let no more than 1 at a time out of the room. That practice seems to cut down on the trouble they can get into while out of my sight.

One day, in a middle school class, two girls approached me. These 8th graders, eye-to-eye with me, whisper that they both need to go to the bathroom. I reply, "No problem. One at a time."
      "But," one said, "we have both started our periods..." They are both looking expectantly with wonder on their faces....wonder and hope that I will believe and submit to their request.
       I didn't reply. God only knows what my face revealed.
      The other added, "...for the first time," with first time emphasized.
An air of faux-innocence has been added to their faces. They both held my eyes with theirs.
      I turn, walk away  while they dog me saying "Can we? Can we, huh?"
      Finally I turn to face them. "Seriously Ladies?" The innocence evaporates and I almost think I see a quick eye-roll. "One of you can go and when that one returns, the other can go."

     One produces a fuscia-colored container indicating it holds 2 items of feminine protection. She further pleads their case by stating, "We have to go together...."
     Sinking into disgust at this point I query sarcastically, "What? Do you need to help each other use those?" As they exchange "now what?" looks with each other, I continued. "Do you think I was born last night?"
     They are both totally lost at this point and say "What?"
     I ask again, "Do you think I was born last night, cuz I am NOT buying that. You need to come up with something a little more creative, a lot more plausible." As soon as it's out of mouth, I know what I'm going to get. Big words, 8th grade girls intent on deception. They don't go together.
      "Plausi-what?" one starts as the other repeats "Cre-A-tive?" And they're exchanging looks like I'm the one who's nuts. "What do you mean by `creative?'"
     "Here's an example. One of you could have said `we need to go together cuz like she has this cyst on her butt that has just burst and she can't reach it to put on a fresh band-aide, and this is an emergency cuz .....' I would have been inclined to believe you and let you both go together."
     "What's a cyst?" one begins while the other elbows her co-hort in crime and asks, "Will that work? Can we use that one and go?"
     Power! Absolute power! A substitute rarely experiences such relish!  "Oh my goodness no, Dearies! You have to come up with your own creative reason."
     As I begin to walk away, one says "Ok, can I go and when I come back, can she go?"
     "Certainly."

A half day

I can mark another Middle school off my list. Those people are so unorganized. My right hand is hurting and I'm not sure why.....not like I hit anything with it. But nobody knew a sub was coming in from 1-4, and I was being given the 3rd degree by some little office chick...until I saw my name on a yellow sub slip lying on the counter. So, then she told me where the classroom was -- no map or anything. Told me the teacher was in his class with a class and would be able to give me his lesson plans. Got there - a long walk. And no teacher, no kids, no unlocked door. Hung out there til a couple of bells had rung. Tried calling the Main Office with my cell phone and kept getting a message that Verizon can't call that number. I have Sprint, not Verizon. But maybe the school board locks out cell phones??? Anyway, finally walk all the way back and then I'm told that the teacher is on his planning period and that I need to go to the café to get his class. And she will call a janitor to unlock the classroom. So I go to the Café, make my way thru the hoards of kids  to the teacher with the mic in the middle of the café, tell him I'm there for Dr. Chipolte's class and guess what. No one responds when the guy calls out for them. So back to the class I go. 

There's a whole bunch...like 100 kids sitting in the hall and I'm praying, Dear God....not 100! Surely NOT 100 kids on that attendance sheet. Finally, I ask some little boy what class he is in and what teacher he's waiting for. He's intimated....says "me?" looking all scared. I say "no not you. Yes, you. All of you." He says "Coach" somebody. But then this cop black mixed woman-might be a man, asks if I need something. I tell her my story. She asks what she can do to help, has keys in her hand, so I say "unlock my door??" She says "Ok. Do you want it unlocked and locked back or unlocked and left unlocked. Cuz if I unlock it but lock it back, it will be locked, but if I unlock it and leave it unlocked, it will be unlocked." I'm like "Seriously???" I say "unlock it, let me in and then lock it behind me." And then I say, "Thank you Ma`am," and then look real quick to see if there is evidence of breasts or bra, cuz suddenly I'm not so sure she is female. Never did see. She didn't seem pissed that I referred to her in the feminine, so I figured all is well.

Can't find lesson plans. Not real lesson plans. A couple of sentences that end up passing as lesson plans.... Beautiful huge classroom. About the size of 4 of Forest Hill's classrooms put together. Beautiful workstations on 2 sides, all with computers. Another side of the classroom has faux medical rooms with hospital beds, wheel chairs, bedpan chairs, etc. and then there are glass-enclosed offices beyond the medical room setup. No one in those. But pretty soon, the bell rings again and kids begin coming. Bummer! In the meantime, the janitor unlocks the door. :) 5th period is pretty bad...I have to yell a lot to even be able to take roll. Got a DVD put in for those who don't feel like doing their classwork...I've got kids climbing around under workstations playing hide and seek.. 6th hour is a little better, although 1 computer gets some kind of disease and is continually rebooting. A keyboard hits the floor and little buttons go flying across the floor, and a set of headphones crashes onto a workstation...

7th hour starts off well. Am patting myself on the back that I incorporated what I learned in 5 & 6 and so 7 will be a breeze. It is pretty much til about the last 20 minutes. Then, a little hispanic boy wants to get rude and ends up calling me a long line of profane endearments. I'm willing to forgive, but tell him to see me after class. About that time, the mature looking male that has been playing with 3 of the more mature looking girls ... well a little bird tells me he doesn't even belong in my class and they are getting loud, drumming on tables, won't stop....and Mr. Profane won't shut up and is sitting with them, like cuz they're bigger, they will protect him??? So I hit THE BUTTON. Black man and large white woman APs arrive. (The walkie-talkies look like side-arms-hehehehe) My DVD is still playing so by meeting them at the door, I can tell them without being overheard. The boy that should NOT be there is almost hiding. He has a bookbag in front of his face, and is quickly snagged out. The little  nasty-mouth is snagged out as well. I get about 10 minutes of peace and then school was out. Asked another little boy to pick up a wad of paper. He asks which one. I tell him both, and he wants to argue that neither wad is his. I pick it up. Straighten up all the chairs, desks and table and make my way back to the MO. White lady AP that came to my room is there with referrals for me to fill out. I have truly forgotten what Mr. Nasty Mouth said.....other than his name was Miguel Perez and I had 3 of them in my class according to the official attendance sheets. So I just wrote down he called me a bitch after I told him to turn off the computer and have a seat. He said a lot more than that...said something about "shit" and "f--k" and "kiss my ass" but I am too mentally exhausted to even put those into a correct sentence. I told the AP that I would let it go at that. Didn't know the other boy's name....but I wrote that up cuz she had gotten his name. She said she was sorry. I said, "Such is the life of a Sub." Anyway...just feel like all that was worth more than $39.00!! hahahahaha Today makes my 11th day though, so I definitely have my 10 days in for the semester.

Yes, I am looking for a job for tomorrow..... haven't found one I want yet. Is the last day of the pay period.

A Day in the Life....

They see me in the halls. I am identified by the badge I'm required to wear around my neck AT ALL TIMES! Sometimes, it feels like a noose.

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.

My heart jumps in ecstasy when I am seriously asked an earnest academic question that has to do with an assigned lesson. Even more joy abounds in my heart when I know the answer. Thank You, LORD! Most of the time, a raised hand is followed by a request for a pass to the restroom. :(

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!

What?

First.....getting a definition. Just what is a Sweathog?
Here are a few descriptions of what a Sweathog is NOT....

• NOT a hairy, stupid, bulky female found living in Trailer Park, USA
• NOT necessarily an ugly person in appearance of any age, race or gender
• NOT having any relation to any sports team, players or fans.

While Sweathogs are usually male adolescents, there have been a few females.  They share common characteristics of being rowdy, unruly, rebellious, loud, possibly even delinquent. First impression is that these are unteachable. As students, they often dominate remedial, basic and even regular classes in the public school system. While usually immature emotionally, they possess the bad-boy or girl persona. Some exist as sweathogs into their 20s and 30s. Whatever their age, race or gender, they pride themselves on their rudeness, crudeness and lack of manners.

A perfect example of a Sweathog is John Travolta, who in his role as "Vinnie Barberino" on the 1970s sitcom, Welcome Back Kotter, coined such terms as "Up your nose with a rubber hose" and the over-dramatized "I'm so con-fused!"

Such students comprise my days as a substitute teacher. It is my intention, to relate some of these experiences in order to lighten whoever's day that chooses to read my works.