For one of my classes I have to write these perodic "reflections" on the teaching profession and our place in it. I use it as a chance to write absurd anicdotes from my time in the chalkboard jungle. Here is an example, vintage Chipper I assure you, that my professor loved. Enjoy!
In retrospect it’s amazing that I want to be a teacher at all considering how I started out in the field. After a long while globetrotting I was back living with my parents while trying to figure out what to do with my life. Since I had nothing better to do I took a job subbing at the local middle school. My first assignment was for seventh grade English, by any standard a baptism by fire.
The day began very calmly, the school secretary welcomed me and showed me to my room, room 25, Mrs. Kebalka’s class. The room was remarkable in that it was completely unremarkable. It was a seventh grade classroom designed by central casting. Various student projects adorned the walls intermingled with inspirational posters cajoling students to read. Along the back wall of the classroom sat Oreo, the class guinea pig, squeaking away in her open plastic bin. I found the assignments for that day and began mentally running through them when I noticed a post-it on the sheet. It said “Warning: the fourth period class can be rowdy, and they have been known to get out of hand.” Prophetic words indeed.
Then I experienced the parade of the Stepford teachers, one by one the other seventh grade teachers would come in to my room and repeat some form of the following dialogue:
ST: Sooo, welcome
Me: Thank you
ST: Do you have everything you need? Did she leave you good instructions
Me: Ummm, I think so, but I was wondering about this…
ST: Great, well watch out for that 4’Th period class, they’re a handful. Call me if you need me.
Usually they would have one foot out the door by the time they uttered the last line, no doubt rushing back to the staff room to get their bets in now that they had surveyed the new guy. By the third time I danced to this song I was starting to develop a complex about this class. Were these kids aliens of some sort? Were they going to tie me up and leave me bound and gagged in the chair? Should I get to the staff room now to put in my own wager? I was starting to sweat.
First period was prep, I had a cup of coffee, read the paper, made sure that Oreo had enough food and water, and waited. Second and third periods came and went. Both were very smooth. Assignments were handed out, work was done, they even laughed at my cheesy jokes (second more than third but hey, what are you going to do?) I was now relaxed. Then the fourth period kids started filing in. I would later learn that of the 22 students in the fourth period class a whopping 10 had IEPs. Yet because of chronic understaffing in the special ed. department there were no aides to help in the classroom.
Along with showing classic ADHD symptoms, Mitchell was a middle school alpha male. Mitchell did not like taking orders from anybody, and he had the ability to start, and lead an insurrection against any teacher he chose. Spartacus with an IEP. And I a sub, a new sub at that, was fresh meat in his eyes. It was clear from the start that this class was going to run differently. Vocab drills dissolved as disinterested students started focusing on other things, namely Mitchell who was enjoying the attention. At this point my classroom management techniques were weak to non-existant, so my attempts to steer the boat back in my direction failed miserably. I handed out the writing assignment as the general din in the classroom grew louder and louder. Students were getting out of their seats and milling about the classroom like it was a break time. Surely I could put a stop to this, and for a few minutes at a time I did, but it would slowly decompose back to a state of chaos that had become the baseline.
“Mitchell sit down!” was uttered so much I could have put it on a loop. Up at the blackboard…“Mitchell sit down!” over by the windows…”Mitchell sit down!” It was no use. I caught myself glancing g at the clock to see just how much time there was in this period. It was when I was helping one of the students who was working on the assignment that I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, Mitchell over by Oreo. I hadn’t fully processed the thought when I heard “Hey Zack, go long!”
At this point, like a car accident, everything went into slow motion. I turned around hearing myself saying “Mmmmiiiiiiitccccchellllllllll, Nooooooooooooooooooo!!” But I was too late, soon Oreo was airborne. No longer encumbered by gravity she sailed across the room, there was nothing to do now but watch. For a split second it was, dare I say, beautiful. Here was this humble, ground dwelling rodent, its body grossly inflated due to constant overfeeding by students and ignorant subs alike. But for a moment she ceased to be this cylindrical mass of fur. As she arced across the room she was now free, graceful, and liberated…for a split second. Then she landed.
Oreo landed on a table and skidded across clear to the other end where she then fell into the lap of a 12-year old girl. As you can imagine the reaction of this girl upon having a large rodent suddenly appear in her lap was not one of mild curiosity. The shriek echoed throughout the whole building, and I am convinced that dogs as far as three towns away stopped in their tracks.
Bedlam, pure bedlam was the result. I turned to Mitchell and said nothing. I said nothing because if I opened my mouth I would surely have used words that would get me fired on the spot. I pointed out the door and in the general direction of the office, and made some sort of mumbling noise, Mitchell got the idea. Fortunately the class was almost over at this point, lunch was next, and I had a referral slip to fill out. I wish I still had it I would like to have it framed. As a postscript everyone thought I had done fairly well, it being my first day and all. Mitchell’s behavior was neither unprecedented nor unexpected, and we would actually go on to have quite a cordial relationship. Mitchell spent the rest of the day in the resource room and had detention for the rest of the week. His parents also had to come in for a conference, I think the office had their number on speed dial. Soon after this incident the special ed. department did find someone to cover the 4’Th period class, a fact for which Mrs. Kebalka was immensely grateful.
The guinea pig was fine.
This guy was 11 when I graduated high school
Turns out TP is just as good in the dugout
But you have to admit, this is a cool picture.
