Entries from April 2008 ↓

“Take the Rushmore Exit”

Check.

“Turn left”

Check.

“Then, turn right on Gerry”

Check.

“Follow Gerry and you will see the school on your right. You can’t miss it.”

Running late, I took the directions my sister gave me without thinking twice. Normally, my friend Google just draws me a map to the school. I drive to school as quickly (and as safely) as possible before turning into the first school parking lot I see. It was where my sister said it would be, it just was not the right school.

Whoops.

Today’s Lesson: Always cross check oral directions with a map.

Double Check.

Just before I turned in my time sheet, yet right after I published No Drama, No Fun, I was treated to an encore performance. This time, the office secretary played the leading role in, “Pay Mr. John Half.” She did such a great job, I walked out believing I was only entitled to half a day’s pay even though I was there for five hours.

The Art of Timing

As I learned today, the school district determines the pay rate of a substitute teacher (full v. half day rate) by counting the number of instructional hours, not the number of hours present. The threshold to earn a full day’s pay is three instruction hours. Although I was physically present and ready to work from 9:30AM to 2:30PM, I only “taught” two hours worth of class. The rest of the time was devoted to lunch, prep, and personal reading. Thus, I was only entitled to half a day’s pay.

Silver Lining

Upon signing out, I caught a glimpse of a woman wearing a black dress. I did not think much of her because I was still kicking myself over accepting a half-pay job requiring a full day’s presence. I looked back down at my time sheet and then heard my name belted out with great joy.

“John! What are you doing here?”

Although it took me a second to recognize the face, I knew who it was instantly. It was my AP English teacher from senior year. Neither her straightened hair, nor her promotion to principal, could hide the brillant mentor I had known all those years before. It was so good to see her!

“Ms. X! I didn’t even recognize you, you look so different!”

Yikes! Did I really say that? No problem, follow it up with something cute and qwirky, such as, “But in an amazing way of course.” Go ahead, do it. Go ahead. Oh no, you are not going to. “Yes,” I thought to myself, “I just developed a case of foot-in-mouth disease.”

Ms. X, however, was gracious and let my socially inapt fumble bounce down the hallway and out the back door. After she told the secretary to get my name and number for future substitute assignments (”Put John at the top of the list” she commanded), I walked her to the parking lot and promised to catch up with her next time. Like any great teacher, Ms. X looked past who I was to see who I had the potential to become.

Bravo, Ms. X, Bravo.

“Is this part of the dance?”

Last night, Cristian de la Fuente developed a muscle cramp in the middle of his samba on ”Dancing With the Stars.” As he begin to stumble,  I wondered if it was just a misstep. Perhaps he might have been acting? Like the rest of America, I was confused and bewildered. I breathlessly waited for Tom Bergeron to explain the situation and somehow make the world right again. Then, while Cristian squirmed in pain, it became clear that he was really hurt.

Back to the Future  

After discussing the possible fallout from Cristian’s injury, I called into SLS to find an assignment. After two less-than-stellar positions, an English position at Mia High School (”MHS”)came up. This school had personal significance to me because I had graduated from MHS some years earlier. I jumped at the opportunity, pressed “2″ to accept, and then later realized the horrible truth: I would be going back to high school–a place I could not wait to escape. Whoops!

Production Value

It is 9:30 AM and I walk into the main office. The interior, like the rest of the school, had been renovated as almost looked brand new. Approaching the secretary with a burst of confidence because I did not have to ask for a map, I put on a big smile and said, “Here to teach English for Mr. X.”

“Oh, you mean Drama. Great, let me get his role sheet.”

Drama? I signed up for English, not drama. I am used to teaching under-preforming, dry, talkative, and predictable kids. Drama students are smart, witty, outspoken, and intellectual–they are, well, students. These are the type of students who are ready to soak up the world. After learning how to babysit kids for a month, I am not ready to suddenly start teaching students who actually want to learn. My only hope would be to put on a show and pretend like I knew what I was doing.

Act I: Comedy of Errors

Substitute arrives at school. Walks toward theater. Substitute gets lost. Substitute wonders if it is too late to go home. Substitute has to ask for directions at his own Alma Mater. Substitute puts tail between his legs and whimpers under his breath.

Act II: Ocean’s Eleven

My first period class has about 11 students. I use the seating charter to take roll without calling names. I call this method “roll charting the class” or “roll charting” for short. I roll chart and find that 5 students are absent. Then, a few latecomers walk into class. Now, 2 students are absent. Then, a girl claiming to be “Jane” walks into class.

“Hi, Jane.”

Wait, there is one Jane on the seating chart and I already have a Jane checked off. I look to the other girl that is seated and ask,

“What is your name again?”

“I am Jane.”

“Jane what?”

“Ah,” she looks behind to seek help from a friend, “Jane S-s-s-smith”

“I don’t care what your name is but you are not supposed to be in this class”

“Okay, but I am her to help my friend on her project. Can I stay?” She smiles and tries to be cute after blatantly lying to me in my face.

“You know, ‘Jane,’ if you had told the truth, I might have let you stay. Now, I want you gone and I am going to call campus security if you do not leave right away.” Then I look to her friend and say, “Are you who you say you are?”

“Yes, you can check my id card,” she mutters.

“No need.”

Act III: The Final Cut

It turns out that Mr. X just needed me to take role and then release the students. No teaching, no drama, no fun. I did not get to develop my teaching skills. I did not get mold young minds. I did not even get to hear their clever jokes. I just sat in the theater and read The 4-Hour Workweek. Then it was off to lunch, one hour prep period, and a final 2:15 class that was excused after role.

Turns out I had the “chillest” day ever.  Too bad it was one of the most boring. Bring back the kids, drama students do not make the cut.

Chillest (Is that a word? If not, made it up myself) day of the school year so far. Had a cool, quiet junior English class. Two preps and two lunch-can’t get any better than that. I’ll try to see if anyone can top this job. At “New High”, I’m hooked up with cool teachers who handled their kids well, so I get to substitute the best classes. I can pick and choose what I want. Great gigs!

“Hello. This is the Substitute Locater System. Please enter your pin.”

I look up at my clock. Everything is blurry so I rub my eyes.

“Please enter your pin.”

“Is that a six or an eight,” I ask myself.

“Please enter you pin.”

Okay, it is 6:12AM and I am not really interested in getting out of bed. Curiosity gets the best of me though. I plug in my pin number.

“There is a job available. You will substitute for Ms. X. The job is at New High School.”

Click.

I imposed a ban on NHS and I refuse to go there. I think I can take today off. I have other projects I need to work on. Besides, I have someone special coming into town today and I need to save my energy. So I just settle back into bed.

Can pick-up where I left off in my dream?