Friday did not end with junior high band. I dashed home for lunch prior to heading to a high school to teach biology. I knew I was close as I began to see bumper-to-bumper parking along the city streets. I quickly joined suit and began walking towards the school. I could see by the white "15" above the nearest door that it was not the main entrance. Fifteen is quite a large number, and I began walking towards the increasing numbers, thinking I would be at the main entrance soon. I rounded a corner and continued to walk, spotting school brick on the next city block. Surely the school couldn't continue onto the next city block? It didn't, though it filled its own block and spread upward with its multiple floors. After striding past door 19, the main entrance came in sight. I found the main office and then my classroom.
The afternoon's nemesis was to be technology. I already knew that I had to show videos in the classes (not my favorite, but simple enough), and I saw that the DVD player was attached to the computer and I would need to sign in--or someone would need to--in order for me to project the DVD. I quickly called for assistance. After being redirected, a tech guy told me that I should use my login. Well, somewhere along the line, I never received my district login information (a task for Monday). After talking with him, he gave me what ought to be my login, and some hints as to the password. Striding across the room, I uttered a prayer, unsure whether I even knew the answers to the tech man's hints. As I was within arms reach of the computer, I heard a noise and swiveled my head. Lo and behold, the classroom teacher entered. She had been at the school in the morning and was departing for the afternoon. She signed in to the computer and gave me some further information prior to departing.
The classes were rather unremarkable. There were friendly students, to be sure, but the film was only able to hold their interest in waves. During my first class, a student asked me if I were a student-teacher. That same hour another student asked me if I was a "real" teacher. When she continued questioning and found out that I don't have a permanent teaching position aside from substituting, I think I negated my answer.
The next class, a rather talkative student reached out his hand to me and introduced himself. Not thinking, I introduced myself by my first name--as I typically do with adults who offer handshakes. He reacted immediately, complimenting my "real" name. The rest of the class was pretty ordinary, the aforementioned student did question me later in the class, wondering if I'd memorized all the student names. Apparently I had used enough of the names that I remembered from taking attendance to impress.
I went to the office prior to the last period--the teacher I was subbing for didn't have a last hour class. En route, I heard a student in the hall exclaim, "Man, my substitute today was a b****." I chastised him (hiding my substitute teacher badge as I passed). As I continued on, I heard utterings of a walkout among the students. By the time I got to the office, staff were communicating about students crowding outside. As I neared the school exit, I saw stern-faced staff, urging students to leave if they were going to and to not come back. One student uttered, "a lot of kids probably don't even know what we're doing." As I descended the stairs, I saw the alley before me crowded with students--as if on a pilgrimage. In the journey toward my car, I saw scattered groups of students as well as a police car circling the school. I'm not sure what spurred the walkout, but then again, I'm just a substitute.
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