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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! It is hard to believe the dramatic change in weather and the foreshadowing of snowflakes that fell at sunrise. As the maple trees commenced their yearly metamorphosis to produce luscious maroons, clementine orange, and daffodil yellow leaves, I floated among schools, grade levels, and districts. In one month, I traversed through preschool, kindergarten, and third grade, assisting as a paraprofessional and leading as a teacher. I returned to my former second-grade classroom, bridging connections with a different generation. In the hours dedicated to facilitation and on-the-fly simultaneous decisions, I spun through routines and around unfamiliar rooms, like a lost leaf in the wind.
After each shift, each milestone, I sat on my soft leather couch and wrote everything down. Every story, every frustration, every question, every lesson. So that ten years from now, when I stand in my own classroom with established rules and community, I can reflect on these few months of disorder and enlightenment. Substitute teaching presents the challenge of overcoming insecurity and foraging confidence when I am the most out of place. This job is a provider of second chances and a platform to practice, strategize, and most importantly, learn. “There is no such thing as mistakes, only lessons” is a mantra I have followed since high school. As a perfectionist, it is a reflex to denigrate myself after making mistakes. However, I long ago accepted the mutual relationship between teaching and learning, no matter how humiliating or obvious the mistake. Substitute teaching welcomes mistakes and offers success as a prized possession. On September 26th, I dove in head first, whether I was ready or not.
Despite working less than ten shifts as a substitute, my confidence and mindset have exponentially improved. Don’t get me wrong – I still struggle to manage students’ never-ending questions, tattling tales, and egging inquiries. But I now proudly introduce myself when students file into the classroom while calming autumnal music plays; stand my ground when students refuse or complain; and toss together last-minute plans with sudden schedule changes. I play with a balance between firmness and compassion. Above all, I approach the new morning with “Let’s work together to make today fun!” by dancing along to GoNoodle and cracking jokes between lessons. All of my efforts strive to build a positive impression, no matter how fleeting. On that note, here are the lessons I crafted from one month of transformative chaos:
. . .Young children remind me to slow down, relish play, and embrace emotions.
As an emerging teacher, I am always learning from my students. Work is filled with lessons on patience, time management, handling frustration or disappointment, etc. Preschoolers, however, offer hourly reminders to check in my emotional state. The language I have observed and now use with very young children provides structure and guidance to their developmentally appropriate dysregulation and emotional irregularity. As a grownup, I often neglect to recognize my emotions and fail to regulate them in the hopes the feeling will go away or I can tough it out.
Teaching young children taught me that this neglect is harmful to myself and to them. I cannot expect to guide and discuss their emotional regulation if I do not practice the same strategies in my own life. In college, I observed my mentors label children’s emotions and describe their body language: “You look frustrated. Your body looks very tight, and your eyes are scrunched closed.” I tell them, “It is okay to be frustrated, but you need to practice being angry safely. How can you do that?” What has this practice taught me? It is okay to be frustrated, disappointed, sad. It is okay to cry – to feel completely unproductive to a wave of exhaustion or lack of interest. It is unhealthy to put feelings aside, but I must learn how to appropriately and safely express these exhausting emotions. I adore playing with young children and observing their play. I gleefully watch preschoolers chase each other around the play area, over and over again, squealing in delight as they trip over soft wood chips until they eventually move on to something different. I respectfully stand to the side as they build fortresses, seesaws, campfires, castles, and homes for animals out of sticks, rocks, and giant tree branches. I am in constant awe of their creativity, energy, independence, and determined spirit. (If you work with young children, step back during playtime; you’ll be surprised how much they can accomplish and discover on their own.) What happens when I, the teacher, act as an observer, not a participant in their play? Where will their ideas take them, even when they ask for help? Patience is a learned skill; appreciation for slowing down, and taking the time to do something right is learned from a young age and often forgotten later on. In a capitalist society that pushes for speed and production, grown-ups dismiss the slow foundation in early life that allows for ease and efficiency after mastery. So when a five-year-old is determined to tie their shoes on their own while the rest of the class hurriedly puts on their outdoor clothes for recess, do I do the work for them or recognize their desire to learn and practice? When a child is beginning to dress themselves, zippers, shoelaces, buttons, and restricting gear are a nightmare for both the teacher and the student. It seems to take forever, and the first few weeks of encouraged independence are answered with complaints, refusals, or tears. But it is so important to take the time, to slow down, to focus on the task at hand, and to try. Attempting any new skill – whether dressing independently or learning a new instrument – involves preliminary failure and setbacks. Motor control is not yet memorized; the neural pathways are weak and require constant rehearsal and review. But in the end, it is “my work,” and I need to learn it for myself, without a hand to hold. As a substitute, expect the best, prepare for the worst, and welcome the surprises.
I never know how the day is going to go when I walk into a guest classroom. Depending on the sub plans, there may be notes regarding specific students who are special helpers or have planned breaks. However, this information is difficult to spontaneously process because I do not yet know what the students look like; most of the day is dedicated to aligning their names and faces. Most of the students’ mood and individual character will be revealed upon arrival. And it is up to me, the guest teacher, to set the tone for the day when they arrive.
Optimism is my survival strategy as a substitute. Whenever I welcome students into the classroom, I exude enthusiasm and positivity. “Good morning! I look forward to getting to know you better today,” is the first thing students hear as they unload their backpacks and supplies. Every work day is one that I chose, so I commit to making the four or eight hours as engaging as possible. This strategy uplifts not only the same-day experience but also my motivation to pick up shifts in the future. I want to want to go to work, to meet new students, to reconnect with former teaching teams. Without that spark, work days will likely start off on the wrong note. And as a substitute, first impressions mean everything. However much optimism I bring into the start of every day, I must also prepare for mistakes, empty time, last-minute changes, refusals, or students having an “off” day. These situations are inevitable, so it is my responsibility to respond calmly and swiftly when they do happen. There are preventative measures I take to encourage students’ safety and respect. For example, I explicitly state expectations for each routine or activity and then prompt them to repeat the directions. If they struggle to follow them, I pause and hold a whole-class discussion, give them a friendly reminder or redirection, or ask them to try again; my reaction depends on the students’ behavior. Furthermore, I recognize that sometimes students do not have the energy or capacity to complete the assignment or activity the regular teacher prescribed. In these cases, I hold a one-on-one conversation with students to remind them that all I ask of them is to try their best. I explain the concept and offer support, but I also restate the expectation: “This is your work right now. Try to complete as much as you can, and then come and show me your work.” Offering a short bathroom or drink break or time in the calm-down corner serves as a reset away from the triggering task at hand. When students put in the effort, I always tell them, “Thank you for trying. You did your best work, and now your teacher and I can see what you know to help you learn.” (Or something along those lines.) Follow through, follow through, follow through! (with expectations and reminders)
This response not only establishes rapport with students (that yes, I am still a teacher that has rules and expectations) but also helps me keep track of the rules throughout the day. For example, if one student or a group does not meet the expectations for lining up to go to lunch, I have them practice again. Some days, I paused the routine to discuss the expectation and how students will do better “next time”: the next day or when their teacher returns. I describe what I noticed without placing blame and label the issue as a “classroom community issue” because likely, more than half of the class was not following the direction.
Acknowledge the differences that come with being a sub – for me and the students.
I learned this lesson from neighboring teachers and my mom, who also currently works as a substitute teacher. Routine is everything for young children, so when their regular teacher is gone, their comfort in the classroom flickers. This is especially threatening for children who come from dysregulated home lives and rely on relationships and routine to build a sense of safety. When their teacher is gone, students hold on to what they know: the routines, the rules. Regardless of whether a substitute has worked in the classroom before, they expect everything to be the same.
It is my job to maintain a sense of normality and follow the routines as much as possible. On the other hand, I will unavoidably do things differently, forget a small rule, or rely on the students for their classroom language (e.g. attention getters, transition songs). It is crucial to acknowledge these differences in morning meetings, the formal introduction and whole-group preface of the day ahead. Typically, I explain that I may do things differently since I am not their regular teacher and request that we have patience with each other. That day, I am their teacher, so students are expected to follow the rules and expectations I provide to keep them safe. Morning meetings are the time to establish rapport with students and recognize that we have each other to ask for help. Ask for help, especially with computer issues! Use teaching teams as resources.
I probably ask for help too much. But I am clueless when it comes to computers and SmartBoards. Almost every school I have subbed in so far has a different computer or log-in system. Sometimes, there is a generic sub log-in attached to the substitute badge; this is the easiest system that is almost foolproof. However, I encounter problems when I cannot log out of the regular teacher’s screen, receive a personal log-in, or require a separate substitute computer.
The surrounding teachers have been extremely patient and kind as they coach me through these issues. I am not afraid to ask for help when it involves access to an entire list of online resources; teachers are always there to help out. As a first-year teacher (technically), I feel reassured whenever a neighboring teacher or random staff member reaches out to offer assistance or answer any questions I may have throughout the day. It helps me feel seen and welcome as a teacher, regardless of my short stay. Students lead with kind hearts; they are my support system navigating the classroom and the routines.
Every day revolves around the students. They are the system of normalcy in the classroom, and of course, they will attest that they know everything (they don’t). However, their confidence, initiative to help, and warmth calm my nerves when beginning each day. I know that if a rule is not written in the sub plans, the students will likely inform me.
It is hard to say whether I learn more from the students or they learn more from me. We dance around our roles and positions of control – who is leading who. I ask them questions (“Where do you keep your math books?”) and they reply with statements of confusion (“Miss H, how do I solve this problem?” or the classic, “What are we doing?”). Generally, they are the system of support I rely on – likely because they easily offer help or reminders like spare change to a tip jar. For example, they will swiftly inform me when I make a mistake. “We don’t do it that way!” is an alarm that rings through each routine due to their eagerness for normality. Despite this redundant phrase, they also provide feedback on my teaching. They inform me when they are confused and communicate whether their needs are met. Prioritize a safe, calm classroom. It is ok if not everything gets done.
Many teachers over-prepare for substitutes. In my first few shifts, I preferred when teachers over prepared vs. under prepared. In case I had extra time, there was always something for me to do! Now, I recognize my intimidation by paragraphs of text on the sub plans listing word-for-word the expectations for each routine and transition. I appreciate when I am given space to express my creativity as an evolving teacher with read alouds, transition songs, and teaching strategies.
When students escalate over a long period of time, it is most important to keep them safe and calm in the classroom. In those moments, their brains are probably unavailable for learning. Teaching the content may escalate them even further, causing frustration, anxiety, and exhaustion. Observing student behavior and emotions guides the structure of the day. I offer movement breaks and calming breaks when I notice the majority stirring in their seats or an increase in distractions. I still struggle, however, to maintain a sense of calm and safety when the mood of the classroom is dysregulated throughout the entire day. It seems there is not much to do than to call for help (as a last resort) and try to get through the day. If any of you have suggestions for games, strategies, or whole-class interventions for these situations, please share them in the comments!
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2 Comments
Colleen
11/8/2023 05:33:30 pm
I enjoyed reading your reflections on your experience so far as a new and substitute teacher! You have wonderful insight! Leave a Reply. |
AuthorMeghan Hesterman (she/her) is an aspiring educator, storyteller, and traveler. Through regular posts and commentary, she candidly reflects on her evolution as an educator and young adult. Categories
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