I'm a big fan of history--a narrative of time which always casts back to the same themes throughout differing contexts. So seeing a full-day need for a high school social studies sub, I instantly accepted the absence. I arrived at the enormous high school, scoping out parking spaces and hunting for the main entrance. I entered the building and saw three offices. I decided to go for the center one and signed in on the blue sheet available. I then stood awkwardly--having never taught in this school before. The secretary saw my puppy dog eyes and directed me to another office within the catacombs. I was given a badge, a binder, and instructions about a drill for that day. I wandered up some carpeted stairs within the unending offices and found myself in an expansive room with rows upon rows of cubicles. I thought I was in a high school, but perhaps I was mistaken.
I wove through the rows, searching for the brown name plate of the teacher I was to be that day. I found her desk and put down my jacket, then began picking through binders and folders, wondering where her sub plans were. I left the space and went to a hallway--seeing numbers near doors but no names. In my continued confusion I took another lap and a gracious woman found the number of the classroom I was in. I found my way easily enough, and then began the search for sub plans again. Finally I noticed two stacks of paper on some of the student desks and read through the plans.
Films that day. In every class. There were a few other responsibilities--giving out worksheets for notetaking and for an upcoming test, taking attendance, and conducting the drill that day. Overall, however, my main task was to press play, adjust the volume, and wake up sleepy students. I recognize that these films were chosen for the educational enhancement of the students, however, I was bored out of my mind. At length, I allowed myself to read the occasional paragraph out of the book I had brought along while I sat in the back. So the rhythm of my actions changed to: read a paragraph, scan the room, redirect (if necessary), read a paragraph . . . At the end of the day I had a planning period. I read. The end.
Yes, the life of a sub can be exciting, full of jumbles of activities, worksheets, referral forms, and getting lost in schools, but it can also be remarkably ordinary--void of disruptive students and involved lesson plans.
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