A Glimpse into Sub Life Take III

    It's a frigidly cold Saturday morning in February, and I am luxuriously enjoying my "free" day since my husband is away on business. It's nearly 11 a.m., and I am still in my pajamas, drinking my second cup of coffee, and I have no intentions of changing the state of things any time soon. I have enjoyed an absolutely delightful morning happily flipping through the first four chapters of the latest edition of "Mosaic of Thought", noting "a-ha" moments with my yellow highlighter. To be honest, I'm also recuperating.
     Yesterday, I had the subbing experience that prevents many people from filling out the subbing application. I've met many people who have said, "Wow! You're so brave to sub at the middle school level" or "I could never do it. The kids scare me too much." I've shrugged off the comments because frankly, the classroom is what I do. I've never questioned my competence to handle a classroom of kids for a day.
     I have subbed about 40 days in the last five months, and I've had a lot of so-so days, a few really good days, and one day that I'd chalk in the bad column. I have never had a terrible day... until yesterday.
     I was subbing at one of the two middle schools in Great Falls. This school definitely has the reputation for being the tougher of the two schools with approximately 60% of its 700 students on free and reduced lunch. I've subbed in the building on two other occasions, and neither day was great, but very do-able.
    I had arrived on campus about 15 minutes before my required check-in time so I could leisurely familiarize myself with the lesson. The walkway to the front doors of the middle school was filled with throngs of students waiting for the morning bell. As I walked past a small cluster of students, a fight broke out. A short girl  with spiky blue hair and wearing an androgynous baggy sweatshirt and jeans lunged at a gangly boy, screaming profanities and kicking and clawing at his body. He quickly started back-pedaling and yelling back.
     I hurried to the scene and separated the two and asked if this needed to be taken to the front office or could they settle their differences and go separate ways. The girl was quick to inform me that I couldn't make her go to the office and since I didn't know her name, she wished me good luck with tattling on her. I wanted to point out that she had blue hair, and therefore, was a rather easy person to identify, but I bit my tongue and said I would be reporting the incident to the office. As I turned and walked towards the front doors, I was called a f*&%$#@   c*&%. This was my first five minutes on campus. I should have known this was an ominous sign.
    After I had recapped the incident with the assistant principal, I learned the blue-haired student was actually a boy, but more importantly, I ended up walking into the classroom with the kids. So much for my lofty plans to be prepared for the day. The first 25 minutes of the day were spent in a computer lab where students were supposed to sign up for second semester clubs, but of course there were technical difficulties that morning, so these 25 minutes were sheer chaos.
    Then I had the teacher's first hour class, which was an 8th grade English class. Twenty-five kids were jammed into the room, and I couldn't get their attention for the life of me. After futile attempts to get them quiet and look at me, I finally went to the classic, "Ok, I'll wait." Usually this works. That day, a kid laughed and said, "Yeah you will," and that's when I knew I was screwed. I survived first hour, which the teacher aide assured me was the teacher's worst class of the day. I believed her as the rest of the day actually progressed smoothly... until the last hour of the day.
    I thank the Lord for teachers who supply subs with seating charts because this is one tool out of a sub's measly classroom management toolbox. I started the last hour class the same way I had started all the others. I started by telling kids I would be taking attendance by using the seating chart so please be in the assigned seat to avoid being marked absent. A few kids grudgingly moved seats. We started into the bell ringer and a few minutes after the bell had rung, a large girl about 6'0" and pushing 200 pounds, strolled into the classroom. She smirked as she entered and slid into an empty chair.
    The tardy student and the girl next to her were obnoxious with their disruptive behavior and disdain for me. Anything I asked the class to do became a battle with these two. I asked kids to study their vocab words for their upcoming quiz and these two didn't have their vocabulary list and thought studying was stupid. I asked kids to take out paper and writing utensils for the quiz and these two had neither of these. I started giving the vocabulary quiz and these two interrupted me and talked over me and complained I was going too fast and demanded repeats. I lost my cool and snapped for them to be quiet and listen. And then I grabbed the seating chart because no way were these two supposed to be sitting next to one another. And I was right.
    At the completion of the quiz, I walked over to the large girl and quietly asked her to move to her assigned seat. She looked at me, smirked, and said, "No, I don't think so." Persisting, I quietly informed her she had two choices: sit in  her assigned seat or go to the office. She rolled her eyes, groaned, "Oh my God, this is SO dumb" and stood up.  Her 6-foot frame towered over me, and she smirked again and loomed over me and said, "You're real small, you know that?" And that's when I felt my stomach do its first somersault. I stood firm and said, "Come on. Keep going. Get back to your seat." She proceeded to slam her book and binder onto her desk to communicate how unhappy she was with the new seating arrangement. Then her friend grabbed her supplies and said, "Well, I'm sitting next to her" and quickly moved and took the vacant seat next to her friend.
    I could feel myself begin to lose my cool. I looked at her and, attempting to keep things from escalating (although we were definitely the center of attention in the class by this point), quietly said, "No, you have a choice, too. You can sit in your assigned seat or you can go to the office."
    "What, are you dumb or something? Why are you talking so low. I can't hear you," she retorted, her eyes darting around the classroom to see how many laughs she got. She got a few.
     "I'm only going to say this one more time and then I'm going to call someone from the office to escort you out of the room. You have two choices: you can sit in your assigned seat or you can go to the office," I said, concentrating hard on keeping my voice at an even level. The girl sighed loudly, scooped up her materials, and returned to her original seat. I followed her, leaned over, and quietly asked, "Now what are you going to work on? Your reading or your vocabulary corrections?" She promptly answered, "Neither," with a grin on her face as a few laughs erupted around the room. "I'm going to go to the bathroom."
    I informed her she was not going to go to the bathroom because she needed to get some work done. The disruptive (white) girl erupted, "You're a racist!"
    "That's it. You're gone. Head to the office. I'll let them know you're on your way." I picked up the classroom phone, and the girl made a scene as she left the classroom, pausing at the doorway to give me the middle finger before she stomped down the hallway.
    At this point, I was shaken. I'll admit it. I could feel my stomach doing flips and my chest was starting to feel tight. The class grew significantly quieter at the girl's departure. About ten minutes passed and things were going okay, and then suddenly a boy from the back corner of the room collected his binder and with assignment in hand said, "I gotta get out of here. The assignment... where do I put it?" I was utterly confused. We had seven minutes of class left, and he seemed so jittery and this had come out of the blue.
    "Do you have a pass?" I asked confused. He stuffed his assignment into the tray and stumbled out of the room saying, "I gotta go." Then the large girl got out of her desk and lumbered after him. I hurried to the door and called to them as he back-pedaled down the hallway and she followed him, "What is going on? Come on, you guys can't leave. Get back in here." No response. At this point, my stomach was positively flipped upside down, and I was feeling sick, I hurried to the classroom phone and dialed the front office and said, "This is Ms. ___ sub again and I need help in here. Two kids just walked out. Could you send someone down to the room to support me?"
     I have never had to call for back-up in my seven years of teaching. And I was desperate now. I had no idea where those two kids went, why they left, if they were coming back, and if they were returning, what they might be coming back with.
    Within a minute, an assistant principal popped his head into the room, and I felt immediate relief. I was sitting next to the phone, and I could feel tears welling in my eyes. Then the principal proceeded to shock me. He scanned the class, gave them a crooked little grin, and joked, "You guys bein' good in here?" A few kids laughed and nodded, and one boy, with ponytails jutting out from all angles on his head, called,"Hey Mr. T! You like my hair?" The principal laughed and said, "I don't think you want to hear my answer, " and then he disappeared.
    I was shocked and felt small. Very small. I had called for help as a sub and this principal had proceeded to make light of the worst teaching hour of my life. Whatever remnant of authority I still had was completely eviscerated by his dismissive behavior.
    I could feel my face crumpling, and I eyed the clock. Four minutes remaining. I took a deep breath. I could start to feel the convulsive sobs coming to the surface, and I tried to push them down. I sat quietly in the teacher's chair. Kids started packing up. And I took a deep breath. No way was I going to end in defeat. I stood in front of the class and seized a teachable moment. A teachable moment in which I shared my sadness that kids had learned it was okay to treat someone the way I had been treated that hour, that kids had to endure such a negative and fearful learning environment, that there was such little pride in their school culture that this type of behavior was tolerated and arguably the norm, and that none of the other kids had been brave enough to speak up and to help me. Later, I regretted that last point because I know why none of the other kids had spoken up. They were scared. Hell, I was scared. Anyway, I laid it out. I had nothing to lose at that point. And I said all of this in the midst of ugly crying. Really ugly crying. Like hiccuping sobs.
    I had just finished my one-minute spiel when a teacher from down the hall came to my rescue as the last bell chimed through the building. This teacher held the class after the bell to get more details and then she and another teacher ensured I was okay and extended their apologies that my day had gone so poorly. They asked me if the classroom teacher had left me notes about the students because they said the large girl was physically violent and had been suspended last semester for engaging in a fist fight in one of her classes. They said she was "absolutely terrible" when she got upset. I agreed that all of these things would have been helpful to know prior to the class, but nope, not a single note was left for me in regard to students. With a quivering voice, I thanked the teachers for their concern, grabbed my bag, and hurried out of that building.
    I'm still processing how awful yesterday's subbing experience was. I'm still not exactly sure why it went the way it did and how it got to be so bad. But I'm starting to feel more calm as I think about it. Soon I'll be able to reflect on it. It was one terrible day out of the 40 decent subbing days I've had.