As a recent college graduate I was living in an apartment in a small town. I had numerous jobs to keep myself in that apartment. One was as a substitute teacher.
It was a small grade school and one of the regular teachers had an emergency appendectomy operation. I was selected to sub for a two week minimum, as that was the expected time the teacher would need to recover. The principal greeted me warmly. I was young and had a lot of energy. He smiled and told me the basics. This was a class of very lively kids, as I recall now they were second graders. Old enough to know what school was, have a clue about behavior and know right from wrong. Basically.
The principal had one slightly ominous warning. "If they step out of line once too often, send them down to me and I will take care of it." Well, I did not think this was anything I could not handle. I had enough experience as a child myself in the Catholic school system to have an idea of what kids were not supposed to be doing and what might be done to get them in line.
The first day the principal dropped me off at the class room and introduced me to another teacher who had been holding down the fort. Moments passed and she, who was probably about 40, brown haired with glasses, and wearing a matronly combination of polyester said, “Good Luck, you will probably need it!” To be honest, she said that with a mixture of humor and pity. I was confused to be sure. I had no real concept of children not behaving for their teacher. So I set out to get acclimated. As the teacher exited, she gave me one more parting shot. “I will be right next door, if you need me.” Well, okay. I was going to forget that right away. I would handle this. I would not need to call out the troops.
So, she left shutting the door behind her. They all sat there looking at me and then like a switch was hit, it was a shouting, laughing, chuckling free for all. Desk, who needs a desk when you have the aisles to be in? The excitement and sounds kind of reminded me of a Christmas tree lighting count down or the demolition explosion of a very large building. Probably more like the building.
Papers flying, yelling etc. desks moving, I never knew that quiet to chaos was such a short road. I decided that I had a couple of ways of dealing with it. One was to try and get them to be quiet by calmly calling them to order, and starting the lessons. Well, that was not destined to work. I tried it. They could not hear me above the din. Obviously they had had a substitute before and knew perhaps the younger they were, the more they thought they could manipulate them. I decided to go for the theatrical, intimidating approach. I used this approach many times later in my life to call order out of chaos. It works best on small children and sheep like adults.
I had sat down at the desk in the hopes of calming them, you know, show them what to do. That did not work. So I stood up and very loudly cleared my throat and in about two octaves louder than my normal speaking voice, I told them what they needed to know.
“Look, I definitely am a two cup of coffee person. To be here on time today, I missed a cup." Holding up a cup of coffee, I began my speech, “This hot beverage makes me able to cope with just about anything. Since I missed a cup earlier, this is also a problem for you.” Quiet overtook them. Wait for it, big dramatic pause, I continued, “If you will sit down and take out your books, we can begin our lessons.” That was all it took. Authority, coffee, and a bit of old fashioned fear. I am sure the principal never realized he was giving me a prop when he had offered me a cup of coffee at our early morning introduction meeting.
At that moment in time I guess I was establishing my parenting style. I have always used humor, humanity, vocalizations and reality to be a parent.
Grammer School Kids
Apparently this classroom was filled with students who were considered in the system as behavioral disordered or learning disabled with some normal over flow kids. Back in this time it was all rather new, the labeling and diagnosing.
As the days went on with this group, they found me to be someone who was just a little different. If they did not behave, I changed their seats. You wanted to sit in the back of the room not the front. I would bargain with them on who could move back and when. In all of this chaos, learning did take place, there was some order. What threw the whole thing off was gym class. They had to physically leave this classroom for the gym and myself for another teacher. In this case they were marched out of the room by me and into the hands of the gym teacher.
One day, a boy who was already racking up the negative check marks pulled the last trigger of his demise. Yes, someone who went too far got sent to the principal and they had to have their mom called. Mom had to come in to check out the situation.
On the way back from gym one day he started to unbutton his shirt. Well, not so bad you might say, except he was naked under that shirt and while he was working to get it off, I was working verbally to get him to keep it on. He had it off one shoulder, and out of his undone pants. No amount of suggestion, mention of the principal was going to do it for him. Suddenly, he pulled his gym shoe off, and lobbed it. Well, he accidentally hit me in the chest. Frankly, it did sting a bit. I said, okay, you are now done. Tears, wailing, I didn’t mean it, etc., came next. In front of the other kids, it was after all a teachable moment; I told him that when you do something you have been told not to, you had to accept the consequences.
Now it is true that no one told him not to throw the shoe and hit someone with it, namely me, but the shirt issue and other behavior led up to the final consequence. Your mom comes to school. When she got there it was her, me and the principal. She pleaded for her sons behavior to be excused.
I suddenly felt a twinge of guilt, the shoe didn’t hurt that bad, maybe he was hot after gym, that’s why he was disrobing. The mother pleading was scarcely what I had expected. Her fury was directed at the school, me and the principal. Her anger directed at us was painful.
She was a thin woman seemingly about 30 something. I think she must have been here before. The mother and the principal both looked at me as if to say, well, its okay now right? I found that strange. I said what happened and that was it. I would not take it back and I could not.
What would he learn if I said it was all a mistake? The other children who had become unruly had stopped when he threw the shoe. For them it was a moment where they would forever know there were ramifications to your actions. Seven is supposed to be the age of reason. That means you know the difference between right and wrong, you learn the first of many steps in controlling your behavior so that you can function in what is after all a civilized society.
So here is where it all begins. Responsibility.
The rest of the sub assignment went off without a hitch. I was a much beloved teacher after all. I received several notes and hugs the day I left. Many years later I wore a suit that I had worn on that last day. In the pocket was one of the notes I received, from a little girl. Hers was very special. She had drawn a picture of a flower. She told me I was the best teacher ever and she loved me. Right back at you Kiddo!
Copyright 2010 SheilaTGTG55
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