What she wore: jean capris, black polo with white trim, black flip flops with white polka dots.
I usually try to blog about the joys of teaching–the little things that make it all worthwhile: that moment when a student actually "gets it," the hillarious things they say, the hugs.
This is not going to be one of those blogs.
I’m an inclusion teacher. This means that I team teach with another teacher modifying the curriculum as neccessary for special needs kids. I also pull out small group from the regular classroom to reinforce concepts not understood or read to kids who can’t handle the text book alone. This is a very rewarding job as it involves more one-on-one teaching and less paperwork (except during IEP season).
Whenever there’s a substitute for the regular teacher, the inclusion teacher dreads this. We go from being helful adults in the room to screaming bizzos trying to keep order. Sometimes, there is no sub and we are left disciplining kids who don’t understand why our role has changed. It’s frustrating and we don’t get a lot of helping done.
On Friday the sub looked hung over. She came in late, sat at the desk, and did not move. She made no attempt to speak to the other students, move about the room, or answer questions. She was inert. She did go to the door at one time to talk to a student that must have been her "buddy." I tried to pull together a small group and she just sat there doing nothing. The kids started acting up and she still did nothing. I had to abandon my small group to tell the kids to be quiet–surely, you don’t need a teaching degree to tell kids to be quiet. I took one kid out into the hall to discipline (ie: talk to) a student.
When I went to back in the room, the door was locked. Crap. I knocked. I knocked again. I knocked again. The kids sat there giggling while I knocked. Did the sub stand up and let me in? Of course not–she wasn’t feeling well.
I almost burst a blood vessel. I went and complained to the assistant principal who did not seem to think this was a big deal.
I went and found the sub who at this point was in the hall trying to figure out where I had gone. I told her I’d be down the hall working on some paperwork. I spent the next hour and a half typing up some neccessary paperwork and ignoring the woman who had kept me out of the classroom.
Was this mature? no. Was it fair to leave a sick woman to watch a room full of kids? I’m not sure, but that’s what she was getting paid to do and I’m not going to help someone who lets me stand in the hall. Sorry. No, I’m not sorry–I’m pissed.
Well, I was pissed on Friday. I’m better now. Sometimes teaching is hard.