Everyone has memories of some of the more eccentric substitute
teachers who have graced their classrooms.
When I mention to the teenagers who work in my husband’s store that I
sub, they are quick to relay stories of their weirdest substitute teachers: teachers
who have strange mannerisms or grooming habits or who have accused their class
of stealing a DVD Player that simply ended up being misplaced. My “weird” sub
in elementary school was Mrs. G, a much feared, large, tall older woman with
light brown hair, curled like my grandmother’s.
We feared her strictness and seeming lack of compassion, but I still
remember how she taught us how to fold a paper in half the right way every time
I need to fold paper: starting from the middle and working our way to the
outside edges of the paper so that it doesn't fold all kittywampus.
Subbing, as we learned to view it in my teacher education programs,
was something you do temporarily while searching for a permanent job. Sometimes, teachers who are not quite up to
snuff (or some who decide that full-time teaching is not for them) may end up subbing for a long time.
That was back in Minnesota, where you actually have to be a licensed
teacher in order to substitute. Here in
Michigan, you need 90 college credits, a clean background check, and a pulse. To be fair to my side of the state, it would
be highly unlikely for schools to meet the daily need for subs if a license
were required. And perhaps, they would
need to then pay more than the average $75 per full-day job. No one interviewed
me. I took a personality test online
where I had to receive at least a 3. I
was a 4, and I don’t know what kind of scale that is based upon or what that’s
supposed to mean. Being a Generation Y-er,
I would have preferred a 9 or 10, a medal for outstanding personality test
participation, and possibly a visit from my staffing company CFO, eager to
witness my delicate genius.
After just over a semester of subbing, I don’t know how I could
have survived without having gone through teacher training. This has little to
do with conveying new ideas, since subs are not usually expected to do so; this
is just for the classroom management piece.
I suppose having children would help prepare you somewhat, but I don’t
see how that would automatically make one capable of handling 30 kids at once.
I always run into new moms and middle aged women who say they've considered
subbing. It seems bizarre to me that
someone could just consider dabbling in teaching, which took me years of work
and dedication to just begin to become competent.
This brings us to “weird” subs.
I estimate that at 75% of the subs that students call “weird” simply do
not possess the psychic ability to fill in the holes in a teacher’s skeletal
sub plan, cannot guess all the answers to students’ highly specific questions
about grading or deadlines, or are simply highly vigilant of students trying to
take advantage of their ignorance of classroom rules and procedures. The student who calls this kind of sub
“weird” probably popped his head in the room before class, ran through the
halls announcing to his fellow classmates in a voice of relief and excitement,
“We have a sub!” trying to stir up some pre-class anarchy. He will assume there are no rules, no work
will need to be completed or turned in, and he can ask for a pass to go to the
library to Facebook his friends. He will
be disappointed when this is not the case.
He will then ask the sub if that assignment due two weeks ago can still
be turned in when the teacher gets back, and whether he will still only receive
a 10% grade reduction. When the exasperated sub denies him a third trip to the bathroom, he will claim the sub is evil and unfair. When the
regular teacher returns, he will complain about how weird, horrible and
incompetent the sub was and how much the classed missed the regular teacher.
Now the other 25% of substitutes students claim to be "weird" may actually, in my mind, qualify as weird. I've seen some of them in the halls and have attempted to make small
talk with them. Across the board, they
all seem to have a vacant or disturbed look in their eyes. I’m hoping this is
simply slight social awkwardness on the part of the individuals and not the
effect of years of subbing, although I’m starting to believe it is the
latter. Perhaps this is an involuntarily
acquired survival skill that allows subs to appear too “out there” to respond
to student complaints or criticism. A
student may not approach the sub to tell him how the teacher “always” lets them
Facebook during work time, if it seems that the subs mind is floating off like
astronaut George Clooney somewhere between here and Tralfamadore.
In high school, we had a sub widely considered to be somewhat
“weird,” who I will call her Mrs. Gunderson.
Mrs. Gunderson did not have crazy eyes; her voice was just high-pitched
and cracked every now and then. Consistent
with the tendency of many adolescents towards cruelty and pettiness, students
felt it was important to discuss and complain about with each other. She knew my parents somehow, so she sometimes
spoke to me during or after class.
One day, Mrs. Gunderson apologized to me that the previous day she had seemed
upset in class. Her voice that day had been shaking more than usual and it
seemed that she was on the brink of tears. This was awkward for the class, and
since we were sophomores and not wise enough to offer her assistance or looks
of understanding, we squirmed in our seats and cast each other sideways
glances. After pulling me aside the next day, she told me she had just found out her son had a serious disease, and
she wanted me to let my friends know that was what was going on. Full of shame, I realized how awful our class had
been, and did not understand why she needed to apologize.
On another occasion, when I had been in the newspaper for attending
a diversity prom, organized by clubs for students of color and GLBT/ally
students, Mrs. Gunderson told me how great it was I supported that event. This
was still 2002, and although now the prevailing mainstream mentality is that GLBT
teens should be supported and accepted, this idea was not seen as a given at
that time. (And there are certainly still communities where this has yet to set
in.) My picture did not go up on the
bulletin board at school, where the school office stapled any mention of one of
their students in the newspaper. My
family had been concerned about my personal safety and whether or not I would
be confronted by people who would judge me. It was good to hear from an older Scandinavian-Lutheran
that I was doing the right thing.
Substitute teachers, including, and perhaps, especially “weird”
substitutes, can offer important lessons to students. Students should be able to adapt to a change
in routine, offer assistance to those in a new environment, and not take
advantage of a teacher’s newness as an opportunity to break rules. Students will also encounter many people they
deem to be “weird” in their lifetimes and it will be a mark of their character
whether they decide to point out and ridicule this weirdness or practice being
a decent, empathetic human being to this person. We, the weird subs of the world, though our
hair may be somewhat unkempt, though we cannot afford properly fitted clothes,
and our lunch from home may have stunk up the room, we may have something
valuable to teach, so please excuse our crazy eyes.
