My daughter was walking in the mall with me a few months ago and recognized a substitute teacher from years earlier. Her whisper to me was “There’s a lady we mentally deranged”.  My daughter, apple of my eye, who was always good in school and got good marks too, admitted that when the class as a group agreed to create havoc, she sometimes went along.

One time in band class, the game with the sub apparently was for every player to change instruments for the day.  The sub never realized. Interesting gambit though and when I told a grade 7 boy about it years later he said “Sounds fun”

The problem is that kids are creative and bored. The sub is not a person but a construct, an idea, who is guaranteed to pass this way but once. It is a phenomenal opportunity to try out new antics with nearly no consequences. The teacher does not know you, can’t find you, is clueless about routines and has only limited knowledge of the consequences tomorrow of things going badly. The sub is pretty well guaranteed to need to get out of the building when the day ends and is unlikely to ever make you stay late. It’s prime territory for even nice kids to stray.

In addition, subs by repute and let’s face it, have a bum wrap in our culture. From generations of kids who now adult remember some less than stellar teachers, some traumatic humiliations and who never quite felt they were able to get even, the school system has a mixed reputation anyway and subs seem fair game for venting.

We are as if wearing a huge dartboard on our backs or a big X to aim at.

Look at the media and its glowing lessons about who subs are. There is a current that they are not really teachers, maybe undercover police, aliens or spies.  They may be emotionally unbalanced as in the kids’ book “Miss Nelson is missing” . One recent local newspaper actually did a story about a substitute teacher this past month including in the first paragraphs mentioning the ‘bad rap subs get in the popular culture”.  It’s so pervasive it’s just assumed.

Maybe it’s the word. Sub is linked to substandard, subversive, sub iminal, and anything that substitutes seems to be less than the real thing.  I’m a pinch-hitter, a stand-in, but my delusion to spur me to keep going is I am the Lone Ranger, rushing in to save the day, Superwoman in a cape, come to heroically get the kids through the lessons despite the tragic absence of their fearless leader. 

But to kids I am ‘just a’ sub.

The younger kids just think this is a time to get away with breaking rules. They try hiding under my desk, running or crawling around the room when they’re supposed to be lining up, climbing on the desk, or in some cases, taking the teacher’s special felt pens from the ledge to appropriate what they’ve always craved.

For the little kids now is the time to get that special privilege the teacher metes out only after careful earning and qualifying – but which the sub is clueless about. So now the kids say they can indeed use the electric pencil sharpener, they can ask for a new pencil or two even though their old one is only half used. This is when they try for the special pencil crayon kit, a new plastic pencil sharpener, anything from the big imposing ‘teacher only’ supply cupboard.  And I have to admit that not knowing, I usually let them have the item, if it’s small.

There have been times even in kindergarten or grade one classes where one child is over the top active, taking pencils, giggling, running around the room, ‘bothering’ the other kids till they are coming up to me frequently to complain, or times where the child by talking nonstop and interrupting others incessantly is able to nearly shut down the learning.

It is amazing to discover that phone calls home to the parents of such children are not always what you’d might hope. Sometimes the parents turn around and say the teacher is not doing her job well and the child is actually fine. Sometimes I have seen indication of kids in grade one who were suspended for a few days already, this young, for bad behavior.

For some this is just a chance to chat more, to delay doing the work because after all tomorrow they can report to the teacher their version of what we accomplished and I won’t be there to counter it.

For kids in grades 4 and up this is sometimes the chance to write on the board and my back is turned, to wing a paper airplane, pencil or ball strategically across the room. I’ve even seen to my surprise some senior high kids still trying these more childish amusements. I even sometimes have had to suppress a smile at the cleverness. The boy who quietly at his desk as I spoke was shaping a small plasticene man, and then who suddenly smashed it flat.

Older kids are more clever of course.  They say this was the dismissal bell when it was only the warning bell. They stand by the exit door and if I look away for a second, a few have sneaked out.  They open the blinds I closed or close the ones I opened, unplug cords or delay a long long time in helping me work the VCR.  Those are just normal.

The antics can be however  more malicious. They can hide the textbook or, worse, my lesson plan. One actually wrote on my lesson plan when my back was turned.  A sub I know had her purse stolen and one teacher had her wallet not only stolen but all the ID cards in it cut up into pieces.

This is not the place to take anything of value, at all. I would like to think we have a trusting environment where you could leave on a desk your car keys, cell phone, calculator, but let’s not be naïve. I only cringe for teachers who do that.

In schools where just for the fun of it kids have gone through every computer mouse in the lab and stolen the little ball I only wear vests with zipped pockets. Anything I really need is zipped in.

The older kids’ ruses are more convincing at least.  It is just possible, though I doubt it, that the teacher does let them go early, that she does let kids from other classes sit in at the back.  I am told she lets them play cards in class, she lets them work on other subjects if they want, or that she lets them use the classroom phone. It is remotely possible I suppose that she did promise them, despite the lesson plan, that this class they could all go down to the gym and watch a basketball game. But I doubt it.

Little kids claim they have tummy aches, their teeth are loose, someone is hitting them or ‘looking at them’, or talking too much so they can’t work. I suspect these are usually legitimate and part of the ongoing nature of the teacher’s day.

But older kids claim they have a doctor’s appointment, that their mom is picking them up early, that they have to talk to another teacher right now before the teacher leaves, and yet without proof, I have to say, uh, no. 

The kids who walk into the class when it’s nearly over, smelling of cigarette smoke, the ones who mutter under their breath some swearing insult about me, the ones who yell out while I’m teaching, to insult each other across the room,- those have more serious problems and yes, some of the schools I teach in have seemed troubled.  I’ve heard loud threats in hallways over the noonhour, seen blood on the hallway floor after a class change, talked to kids about youth justice and learned that in a class of 25 three had easy access to a gun.

I’ve been at two schools that had actual lockdowns, one because a disgruntled parent had phoned in an angry threat and another because someone across from the school had been firing a gun. In both situations the ending was happy. The parent never did turn up in the one case, and in the other the kids who had been shot at found evidence of pellet gun shots in their coats but nothing worse. The police arrested the shooter.

I  had one of the best discussions of my life with classes of students after the Columbine disaster. We divided into groups to make the case about who was at fault- parents, the school, poor policing, video game manufacturing, etc. I was amazed at the sophistication of the high school kids’ arguments in this regard and it became evident to me that students and teachers are both very much at risk were such an event to happen. And I realized with a kind of gulp that were a crisis to develop, my job would be to defend the kids.

It will likely never come to that.  Mercifully.  

However it does  take a certain courage actually to teach grade 12 kids who are taller than I am, big beefy men now really, and to ask them to sit down, to tell them to leave the room and go to the office and have them refuse.  I have never felt scared for my safety per se, but I have felt my authority was on the line and it was my job to enforce any decision I had previously made. If I said they had to go to the office, they had to go and I have to then phone the office and get a principal down here to enforce it.  But I don’t like to have to call for help.  I try very hard to handle things myself.

If I park in the school parking lot, it is not hard to tell which car is mine. It has to have a pass on it and where I park, though assigned by the call desk, does make it kind of easy to see who is the sub. Generally this is not a problem but I have found my car egged, one time my mirror was broken and one time my front passenger window was smashed.  I realize but have to keep telling myself, this is not about me.  They don’t know me.  It is about schools, being alienated from education, and venting.

As for whether I am fair, I guess there is always a little element of doubt. It is just possible I am wrong.  One day I was told on the lesson plan to administer a test to all the kids. I announced it and did my routine introduction about no talking, no use of textbooks, sit far apart etc. and the kids’ mood was decidedly negative. Several of them said this was not supposed to be the day of the test, that it was for tomorrow and I was wrong.  Well they may have been right but the thing is, I am supposed to follow my directions so I continued, adamantly, to administer the test.  Take no prisoners.   But I felt I was roundly hated.  That evening the teacher phoned me at home to apologize. She in fact had had the date wrong and was sorry I’d been put in the awkward situation.

There are sometimes warning signs that the sink the sub antics will not be just a light-hearted game this day.  Some students are coded officially and others are just noted in the teacher’s instructions with pleasant little warnings like ‘aggressive’, ‘may need extra direction’. Notes to make sure keep apart certain students, to not let a certain kid near the computer, or to not ‘touch’ in any way certain others, are warning signs.  Notes that certain ones are to be watched out for because they were suspended and should not turn up in class, or notes about the coding for defiant behaviors of others make me wonder if I should not just make a mad dash for the exit before the day even starts, but it is too late. I am committed.

The older kids however understand a lot about this subbing situation and with a kind of sigh, accept that the lesson will go on, but not necessarily completely as the teacher would have done it. Some come in before class, for tutorial, see the regular teacher is unavailable, usually ask if she is there, for some I-am-still-hoping reason, and then leave saying they’ll ask the question when she returns.  I am not even a good candidate for too many of their games in some schools. Their social world is their top interest, followed closely by upcoming crises of exam or homework deadlines I did not set.  Occasionally a student will ask me to proof-read an essay written for this or another subject, and be quite desperate for the help. I’m flattered they realize I am able to do this and happy to help.

For many though, the whole purpose of ‘sink the sub’ is to kill time. If they can get the sub off topic, to use up the precious minutes talking about some other tangential topic, this will register as not being able to get the required work done. Too bad, how sad, the kids have to delay their learning till the next day. They generally are more than willing to make this kind of sacrifice. However I am not.  And yet I am pretty prone to that temptation too since at the age I am, and enthusiastic about some subjects as I am, it is possible for me to ramble on.  I have to catch myself.  And I notice when the kids’ questions are getting  very long, when they are making comments about things completely unrelated to the topic at hand, that the game has begun and I am being  asked to feature prominently in their time-killing.

And yet, these are basically nice kids. Good kids even. One day in a grade 8 class a student took  my notes and wrote on them with felt pen. Another tried to steal my book. I clamped down on them both and sent them to stand outside in the hall. One banged on the door immediately to get back in, causing ripples of raucous joy back in the classroom.  I dealt with this, eventually sending the students to the office. But the rest of the class had been amused by it all. At the class change as they left the room, one walked by me and whispered “Sorry for that. You put up with a lot.”

One little girl in about grade 3 had watched her fellow students giggling, whispering and trying to mislead me about the routines and she came up to me and said “Are we giving you a hard time?”

I think that is where there is hope in society.  It’s not in departing from the rules that we fail utterly. It’s in how we wander back to them, out of principle.  When the kids are a little rowdy I clamp down of course, but am quietly amused inside. There’s a

French saying ‘nice try’. ‘tentative interessante’. 

If they’re more troublesome though, if they are shutting down learning for the group, defiant and swearing at me, it’s my job to make them face discipline the school metes out.  I am actually pleased to do this, buoyant even because I tell the kids it makes me happy to show them what is not permitted in polite society.  I look forward to the chance to teach them and save them the heartbreak of the police or employers being the first to deliver the message, when consequences are much more severe.

But there is a middle ground and sometimes I have been able to find it.  When the kids are playing their games but not letting up, when a few rowdies are pushing the limit and not getting the message to shut it down, I often will invite them to come one at a time to the hall. I close the door behind me and talk to them one on one.  Generally this rowdy show off in front of the class suddenly when isolated is quite a reasonable person, if I make him an offer. He has to write me an apology for his behavior and date and sign it. I will readmit him only if he does this and generally he complies.  I return to the room for him to think about it, pen and paper n his hand.  When I check back with him he usually has written the note. I check it to see if it actually is an apology – for sometimes it is not and needs rewriting – and then I readmit him. I do however staple this note to the lesson plan for the teacher next day to read.  This scares the kids.  It’s all I need.

Kids sometimes forget that I am a teacher but also that I talk to the regular teacher. I leave notes, I have her phone number and I have a direct line to administration.  One time I noticed a girl who kept leaving the room to use the washroom, ostensibly, but who did not return for significant intervals but recorded them as only five minutes.  Since the classroom teacher had asked me to keep an eye out for her anyway, I looked back in the sign out record and noticed a pattern of the girl’s late arrival for the past few weeks and of her frequent leaving the classroom for long intervals. As the students worked I jotted down this entire record and then left a note for the head of the department. Amazingly the department head decided to act swiftly and called the girl in for a private talk. I had given the teacher enough background information to make a pretty good case and the girl could not easily deny.  The department head thanked me and expessed how good it was to work as a team.

Another  time the results were also quite impressive. At a high school Spanish class that lasts about 80 minutes I noticed that about 6  minutes before the official end of the class, about 10 kids had slipped out the door. Instead of calling them down the hall, or phoning the office to have them chased or  paged, I simply took attendance of all the ones who did not skip out and left a note back of their name.

To my surprise the next time I taught for that teacher, and we’re talking about several weeks later, there were on the desk written apologies to me from every single kid who had skipped out. That’s teamwork.