Substituting for rowdy classes can test the professionalism and patience of many new teachers. Substituting for an in-school suspension coordinator, however, will drive even the most seasoned teacher to the limit. There are many positive ways to handle these types of classes, but Carolyn Jones of Stone Mountain, Georgia, choose none of them.

See what she did, and why you should not imitate her.

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It is Friday. Normally, I look forward to Fridays for the same reason all people look forward to Fridays: getting through them earns you a ticket to Saturday. Today, I had an extra reason to be excited; my chickens were coming home to roost. In day one of my extended middle school assignment, I had assigned an oral presentation to my 7th graders. Now, the students would be going up in front of the class to give their speeches.

Would they take it seriously?

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“Have you ever taught about substance abuse before?” she asked.

It was clear from the blank look on my face that I clearly had not. For a brief moment, I thought I had walked into a land mine.

Today, I substituted at an inner-city school in California–although by its fresh paint and perfectly manicured grounds, you would never know. I had agreed to substitute for an 8th grade class. Before accepting the job, I had no idea what subject I would be teaching. All I could count on was raging hormones: macho boys acting up to look cool and insecure girls dressing up to hide themselves.

Surprise number one: the teacher was in the class before the bell rang. She greeted me with a warm smile and explained that she would be there through first period. “Great,” I thought, “She will be there to watch me stumble through class.”

Not quite. Ms. X explained that she would be teaching her first period English class. However, when she asked if I had experience teaching about substance abuse, I just stared at her blankly. Then, as if my brain finally realized that my body was starting to look like a big stump, I shrugged and said, “No.”

“Good,” she said with a smile, “Neither have I.”

Ms. X had three block periods. First and second would be politely forced to brainstorm reasons why marijuana and cigarettes were used and why they should not. As Ms. X pointed out, the students’ responses did not matter because we (meaning I) would direct the outcome of the brainstorming. The script–and there was a lengthy 9 page script I was expected to follow–required me to indicate that “Peer Pressure” was the number one reason that teenagers started smoking marijuana and cigarettes. It seemed easy enough, especially when Ms. X was going to show me how to do it during her first period class, that is, before she threw me to the sharks waiting in second.

Overall, I do not recall all the details of what Ms. X taught today. I do, however, clearly recall how she taught it. She had style, presence, and most of all, she commanded the respect of the class. She would be my personal guru as I sat quietly in the back soaking up her method of teaching.

For example, Ms. X, did not tolerate talking. There was absolutely no side chatter during her lesson. None! I have never, in my three long weeks as a substitute teacher not heard a class. Were these kids mutes? No, she controlled their innate desire to talk by filling up every second with questions, deadlines, and repetition.

Every time Ms. X asked a question, she quickly picked a student to respond. No confusion or dead air. Every time there was group work, she clearly defined how long the students would be given to work and stuck to it. No time to plot a hostile takeover. Lastly, she would state a fact and then ask the entire class to repeat what she just said. No time to forget that only pens, not pencils, are to be used.

By the time I got to second period, I was ready to try out the lessons I had learned. Unfortunately, I had chosen the English as a Second Language (”ESL”) class as my muse. First, these students may be Hispanic, but their English was fine. Second, these students may have a reputation for ruckus, but I found the loudest ones to be the most bright. Third, ESL classes are not for the faint of heart.

These ESL students thought they could walk all over me. From the moment they walked in, the teenagers paired into self-selected groups of six. That was my fault, I should have assigned the groups from the beginning. I learned that when you let students pick their own groups, they end up just sitting with their friends. I tried to have them sit boy-girl-boy but there where not enough girls to go around (story of my life). Instead, I ended up with one group of angels and three groups of bright little devils–devils expected to talk about why marijuana was bad for you.

Ultimately, with just 20 minutes left to go in a 120 minute class, I finally broke and sent one boy to the office. He had been part of a group that had been talking out of turn almost the entire class period. One of his group members, a girl, claimed she learned how to smoke marijuana from her mother. Thanks mom! Another group member, a boy, will probably grow up to be a very successful investment banker if he can make it out of high school without getting into a gang or otherwise getting out of line.

I found that once I sent that boy to the office, the rest of the class quieted down. In fact, it was dead silent. I asked the class,

“So, it took a green slip to get some respect?”

It was silent until one faint voice whispered, “You should have done it from the start.”

Lesson learned.

By third period, I was ready to take on the world. It turned out that I had some of the same honors students from first period and some of the scared-straight students from ESL in that class. After threatening to write another green slip to the first person to talk out of line, the entire class feel into line–no smiles, no jokes, no nonsense. That class was totally silent the entire period. Well, until I felt bad and allowed them to talk softy to their neighbors. I had broken for the second time.

Overall, I am too nice to be a teacher. I am too forgiving and too interested in good relations. I love to threaten with green slips, but, like so many things in life, the glory is in the follow-through. It is a good thing–for schools and students–I am only a substitute.