Lessons from a substitute teacher

Taking roll is no joke

Hey everyone, before we get to the newsletter, I have good news: I got a job! I’m going to be the English Language Development coach at Hoover High School. I've subbed for these classes, and the kids are so, so nice. I’m truly thrilled at this opportunity, and excited to take on this new challenge. 

Also, it’s my birthday on Friday. Yay.

There are a few constants in life: death, taxes, and the look on a kid’s face when they realize they have a substitute. It’s universal: they enter the classroom, briefly freeze with a quick caught-in-the-headlights look. 

And then give you, like, the most sinister smile.

They disappear. You hear them just beyond the door, telling everyone approaching that the teacher is gone. The teacher is gone. The teacher is gone! The effect is like a battle cry, instilling fear in the opponent. Psychological warfare. You sit in the classroom, listening to this excitement, becoming increasingly more terrified. 

The kids file in, all with some variation of that evil grin. They are waiting to see what you will do, a tacit, indiscernible test that, if you fail, will make the next 90 minutes hell. In these few seconds, the students will determine the extents to which they want to respect you or fuck with you.  

No substitute teacher ever really passes this test. The best you can hope for is to not fail too badly. It’s a fool’s dream to expect respect, but at least maybe you can get a pacified apathy. Apathy is definitely a W in the substitute’s book. 

The bell rings and the class quiets. You stand up and gaze out at 40 pairs of eyes staring back. You take a breath, summon your bravest voice, and say, “good morning!” 

* 

If someone told me a year ago that I’d find myself speaking in front of hundreds of teenagers every day and trying to get them to do work, I’d have said, “Why are you describing a very specific nightmare to me?” I mean, we all remember how we acted on sub day, right? Those days didn’t count. At that age—when our impulse controls were not fully developed—it was easy to forget that we even had teachers. Perhaps in high school, we begin to think about the consequences of actions when the teacher is gone, but that kind of foresight is all but absent in middle school. 

*

It’s the beginning of the year, and I haven’t been able to land a teaching position. I’ve just spent a lot  on a teaching credential, and it looks like it’s going to go to waste. My options are: 1) go back to looking for writing jobs in fields that have already destroyed my soul, 2) find an additional part-time restaurant/bar job, or 3) enter San Diego’s substitute teaching pool. 

I enter the substitute pool because the other options feel like regression or stagnation.

I want to teach.

*

The first sub placement I accept is at a middle school in an affluent neighborhood, north of Interstate 8. This geographical distinction comes up many times among educators. On more than one occasion I’ve heard substitutes and even regular teachers say they won’t work “south of the 8,” and it never fails to bum me out. 

A lot of substitutes avoid middle schools because it’s difficult as hell. Kids at these stages (and there are even huge differences between 6th, 7th and 8th graders), still have that unhinged, youthful energy that has yet to fade away during the awkward, lethargic years—but they’re also learning to push boundaries, rebel, and lie. That is, they’re learning to be assholes. That is, they’re learning to be humans. 

Regardless, there’s something in middle schoolers that still wants to appease a teacher, regardless of whether it’s a sub or not. They’ll still do what you tell them if you say it loud enough and they think it’ll keep them out of trouble. High schoolers do not misbehave, but they also won’t really do anything a sub tells them if they don’t want to. And addressing a classroom of high schoolers is a little like addressing a brick wall. They give you looks like, “Why the hell is he asking how we’re doing? Who does he think he is?” 

But here’s the thing with middle schoolers: they are super funny. A day subbing at a middle school will never be boring. And they engage with the material. The best classroom discussion I’ve had as a sub was getting a seventh grade class talking about “The Red Scarf Girl.” There are very few moments as a sub where it feels like you’re actually teaching and not merely babysitting, and I guarantee those moments happen more in middle schools. 

The day goes well, and the kids are nice. During the last period, I witness an 8th grader being led to the principal’s office, and he asks—in all seriousness—“Is this something I need to call my attorney about?” 

Fucking north of the 8, man. 

* 

I’m subbing in a high school social studies class on the day that Queen Elizabeth dies. The kids are supposed to be filling out an online worksheet about Ancient Greece or something—some are working on their laptops, others are working on phones. 

As a sub, policing phone use is a futile endeavor. The job of a sub means constantly willing to weigh what you want to make a big deal about, and telling kids to get off their phone is low on the list. When I started student teaching, one of the first things my guide teacher told me is that at the end of the day, you just need to keep kids from hurting each other. If you can do that, you haven’t failed as a teacher. 

But as technology increasingly becomes embedded in education, I don’t think it’ll even be an issue in a few years. Plus, these kids are getting ready for the real world, and in the real world, we look at our phones. 

In fact, I learn about the queen’s death from a kid in the back of the class. “Whoa, the queen just died,” he announces, reading off Twitter. 

A girl in the middle of the class looks up from her work and asks me, “Isn’t this a big deal?” 

“Well, she was very old,” say. “I actually don’t know that much about her.” 

“But aren’t you supposed to be, like, a history teacher? Shouldn’t you be talking about this?” 

“I’m actually an English teacher,” I say.

“Oh,” she says, aggressively disappointed. 

After a few seconds, I add: “I knew she had a lot of corgis.” 

Nobody says a word.

* 

Really, the main roles of a substitute are: taking roll and preventing an uprising. Everything else is secondary. But substitutes, in general, are a weird breed. When I was student teaching, I’d often deal with substitutes while my guide teacher was gone (which is weird because they’re getting paid and I’m not, but that’s a whole other newsletter I could write about the exploitative nature of the student teaching program [similar to an unpaid internship, imo]). 

I’ve seen many subs fall into cyclical argument traps that kids love to set. There was one time when a sub just wanted to talk to me about movies after learning I had attended the Sundance Film Festival one time. Just imagine: her back to the class, asking about my favorite Spielberg movie, while behind her kids are sword fighting with chairs. 

The bar to be considered a good sub is very low, and not to toot my own horn, but I’m a master at meeting low bars. In fact, after co-teaching a period with one of the school’s regular teachers, she asks for my direct number to get in touch for future job assignments. “You seem like a normal person,” she says. “That’s rare among subs.” 

*

Taking roll is no joke. You mispronounce or use the wrong name, and it’s not the kids turning on the teacher, but turning on the one whose name you mispronounced. I always start each class telling them to please correct me if this happens. 

But one time I forget to do it, and keep calling out this kid’s name. “Alex?” I say. (I’m using fake names here) 

“Is Alex here?” 

Someone points at another kid and says, “That’s Alex.” 

Later, as I’m checking in on everyone, the kid whose name was “Alex” on the roll tells me, quietly, “I prefer to be called Serena.” 

Oh no. 

“I’m so sorry,” I say, but the damage is done. There’s a good chance that I just immediately ruined that student’s day. Still makes me cringe. 

*

I accept a three-day job at another rich high school north of the 8. I’ve never done consecutive days at the same school, so this feels like a real opportunity to get to know some kids. 

When I arrive, the teacher’s plan calls for two days of independent reading for all his classes, which is pretty much like handing a firefighter a single extinguisher to put out a burning house. Most kids will read for a day, maybe. But multiple days? No way. I believe stuff like this feels insulting to students, because even though they’ll inevitably treat it as a social hour, I think deep down, they crave tasks, or at least having a sense of purpose. 

On the third day, I toss out the teacher’s plans and bring in the first Simpsons “Treehouse of Horror”—the episode where they tackle Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.” Seeing that it’s October, “The Raven” seems appropriately spooky, and I come up with short writing prompts based around the poem.

After the second period, I’m sick of watching the same episode, and I still have to watch it three more times. During the third watch, I fucking hate it. It feels like an ironic punishment for wanting to bring joy to the monotony. Never thought I’d kill my own love for movie day. 

During the last period, the regular teacher comes back. He sees that we’re watching a cartoon instead of following his lesson plans. It seems like a power move, a little territorial, and I can’t help but notice the thinly-veiled annoyance when I hand him all “The Raven” papers from the previous classes. 

Here’s a lot more work and grading I created for you, sorrrrry. 

He says to leave my contact information at the front desk so if he needs a sub again, he can call me. 

I kind of don’t think he will. 

---

MARK YOUR CALENDARS

Here are two awesome events coming up in the next few days 

Saturday, October 15

Sam Lopez has been keeping San Diego’s music scene…er strange for me quite some time with his Stay Strange experimental music collective. This Saturday from noon to 5:00 p.m., Stay Strange is invading the Downtown library with Checked Out: An Experimental Music and Art Festival. The festival promises to expose listeners to a “new style of sound that is innovative, progressive, and daring.” Some of the artists featured will include QUADRA, Dark Friends, and Christian Hell, among others. I’ve only seen Dark Friends, but it was a truly captivating experience. I hope everyone takes it upon themselves to check out these innovative sound-makers—it’s good for your soul. 

Wednesday, Oct. 19

How many kills are there in the Friday the 13th franchise? What's in the box? These will definitely not be questions that I ask at Horror Movie Trivia Night, but that doesn’t mean you can’t use them to start thinking about horror films. [Evil Dead voice] JOINNN US... at the Whistle Stop on Wednesday, October 19th at 8 p.m. for the ultimate test of horror cinema knowledge. I will have some pretty awesome prizes for the winners, supplied by Re-Animated Records, Verbatim Books, and yours truly. Start boning up, ghouls!