My unforgettable first week as a substitute teacher

My first substitute teaching job was a couple of weeks ago in a second grade class. It was the week before Thanksgiving and their regular teacher said the main project of the day was for the kids to make “balloon turkeys.” Each student was supposed to create a turkey by blowing up their own balloons, decorating them, then gluing them to a Styrofoam plate so it could stand upright. There were boxes full of glue, glitter, eyeballs, ears, feathers, pipe cleaners, markers and, of course, multi-colored balloons of various sizes to create their masterpieces. I explained what they were supposed to do and turned them loose.

The stampede for the materials was the first clue that I was in for trouble. It made the Oklahoma land rush look like Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood. Stuff started flying. The rubbery sounds of balloons being inflated by hyperventilating kids filled the air. Some of them had a hard time blowing up the smaller ones so they asked me to do it for them. I blew as hard as I could and came close to exploding my head before realizing that I was probably on Candid Camera. Others asked me to tie their balloons. I can hardly tie my shoes so most of the balloons shot across the room. Pretty soon the word got around that I was pretty much useless so they turned to the three parents who showed up like the cavalry at Little Big Horn. And we know how that turned out.

The kids ran back to their desks with handfuls of stuff and copious amounts of glue and began attaching the decorations. That’s when the popping started. And the moaning. And the laughing. I wasn’t sure how much of the popping was accidental and how much was deliberate but the net result was we were running out of balloons pretty fast. So we scaled down our expectations to one balloon per kid, not the two or three we had planned. That made for a whole new breed of mutant turkey. Some had feathers where the beaks should have been. A few had multiple pairs of eyes. Others had their faces obliterated when the students printed their names over them. Most of the turkeys looked like victims of the nuclear meltdown at Three Mile Island. They were also cute and creative.

When I got home that afternoon, I asked Tammy if we had any whiskey in the house. She reminded me that we didn’t drink so the answer was no. She calmed me down with a nice dinner and soothing assurances that tomorrow would be better. What she meant was that I was scheduled to substitute for a first grade class the next day and that the odds were good that the younger kids would be easier to work with.

HA!

First graders have Thanksgiving projects, too! There were stacks of paper turkeys and their feathers waiting to be cut out by eager hands. There was enough glue to sink a cruise ship. Dozens of ominous-looking round-tipped little scissors – almost certainly from an assassin’s toolbox – were scattered around the room. Mean-looking clusters of colored markers were bristling for action like so many surface-to-air missiles. I was relieved that I ended the day relatively unscathed.

My final assignment just before the holiday was two days with a sixth grade class. It was great, except for the part where I couldn’t do the math. You know, the kind of questions like “If a train is going east at 80 MPH and a vulture with a 7-pound rabbit in its beak is flying south at 30 MPH, how fast is a ship going if it’s sunk at the bottom of Lake Erie?” That stuff makes me crazy! So I found the kid with the best math skills and pointed the ones with questions to him.

It was near the end of the second day when the class across the hallway was going nuts with noise. I stuck my head in the door to see if I could help quiet things down. Apparently, they were getting ready to have a party before starting their Thanksgiving holiday. Tables were laid out with all sorts of goodies. Kids were running around the room screaming and squirting each other with whipped cream. One flustered girl came up to me and said their substitute teacher wasn’t there. I think she was halfway to the state line.

Despite the barely controlled chaos that marked much of my first week as a substitute teacher, I also felt a lot of satisfaction. As I watched “my” sixth-graders puzzling over a math test on their laptops, I was struck by what a privilege it was to be a small and temporary part of their education. I found that I loved helping them learn. As they skipped out the door on their way to a holiday vacation, a couple of them shouted “You’re the best sub we ever had!” It made me feel good. I seriously wonder if I should do this full time.

I can hardly wait to see what Christmastime brings!

If you’d like to read more of my humor, feel free to check out my “More Stuff” page where I’ve provided links to several of my humor articles that were published in the Deseret News, Utah’s largest daily newspaper. You can also click on the “Humor” box below and all of my humor posts on this website will come up.