"Come Paint with me!": a half day in preschool

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The Substitute Chronicles

This series features the reflections after each of my shifts as a substitute teacher. I candidly disclose my complex emotions, reactions, and experiences in a job that changes every day. Follow along as I process the absence of routine and the ups and downs of working as a guest teacher!

​This post was written on October 3rd, 2023

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"'Come paint with me!': a half day in preschool"

I picked up today’s shift last minute – less than twenty-four hours before it began. I chose the unexpected. Originally, I was scheduled for an afternoon first-grade position. When the teacher took back the shift, they offered a free day to sleep in, treat myself to coffee, and take my time packing before I drove to my hometown. Instead, I woke up at 5:15 am, drove up and down a familiar hilly side street, admiring the red and pink hues mixing as the sun poked its inviting head out of the treeline, and clocked in four hours as a preschool aide.
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Despite the temptation of an additional vacation day, I clicked “Accept!” on a half-day posting for a preschool paraprofessional. The notes read “This class has eleven students. You will assist with breakfast and lunch. Be prepared to go outside.” I was immediately sold! Four hours of playing and chatting with eleven three- and four-year-olds sounded like a fun, relatively smooth shift to add to the mix. (I do not intend to diminish the craft and science of preschool education to play and talk. As a substitute for only a half day, however, I aspire to provide positive experiences through play and interaction.) Furthermore, finding substitutes for paraprofessionals and support staff, especially in preschool, is an uphill battle. Substituting is reciprocation for the service that the caring, driven staff invest in every day.

​Whenever I transition back to preschool, I am always shocked by how little the students are. At 5’ 8”, students’ tufts of tangled, matted hair hit only my mid-thigh or knee. To them, I am a gentle, clumsy giant. The new three-year-olds are evidently still growing out of their toddler years: puffy cheeks, bodies full of energy, defiance, and emotion, and hair too short to be pulled back into anything but taut space buns. 

Today, the tufts, coils, and tangles were neatly pulled back, gelled, combed, and tied up. It was picture day, so the careful hairdos were coordinated with sharp plaid dress shirts, sparkling dresses, and heeled shoes. Each preschooler took their turn sitting straight and flashing a rehearsed smile for the camera. When we returned to the classroom, they returned to being kids. They dumped puzzles, chirped over breakfast (today was pancakes), and giggled during a round of “Head, shoulders, knees, and toes.” They got messy outside, unraveling their picture-perfect styles and pressed pants. One of the students introduced me to “Nightcrawler,” the longest worm in a reserved pot filled with wet sand. 

Although the day was short, I still managed to fill my shoes with sand and build new connections with another lovely teaching team. Preschool humbles me as an emerging educator. And I believe I will always return for another story, another dance, another lesson.

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Lesson: young children remind me to slow down, relish play, and embrace emotions. 

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