Follow Journal of an Evolving Teacher on social media!
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!
"power struggle"“You look like Taylor Swift!”, one of the third graders blurted.
This interruption was the highlight of my day. Today was my first shift as a substitute teacher, and the students threw all they had at me. The past few weeks, I repeatedly fall asleep dreaming of worst-case scenarios and brainstorming my morning meeting introduction and expectations. Before September 26th, I was terrified of being alone in a room with twenty or so eight-year-olds with unpredictable behaviors, attitudes, and characters. I played the same what-if scenarios on repeat. What would I do if a student “eloped” from the room? How could I manage disruptive behavior without the respect of the students or routine attention-getters? Substitute teachers earn respect – through confidence, creative comebacks, and a stoic yet gentle demeanor. With the hope of connecting with their bright and colliding dispositions on day one, I put on my best disguise of that personality. My alarm went off almost two hours before I departed for school. Giving myself plenty of time to slowly get dressed, brew coffee, eat breakfast, pack lunch, and take deep breaths while walking anxiously up and down the stairs. Before I left the house, I looked in my bathroom mirror and said, “You are capable. You are patient. You are prepared. You are a good teacher.” It felt ridiculous, like a tip from a self-help book, but I was desperate for any strategy to calm my nerves. The walk to school dragged on; I slowed down, breathing in the apple-crisp air, watching the sunrise peak over the rooftops. I arrived exactly on time: 7:15 a.m. Once I reached the school doors and checked in, I was embraced by the familiarity of the building, the staff. I thought, “Today’s going to be ok.” I studied the sub plans after taking a brief tour of the classroom. All of the activities seemed straightforward: games, read-to-self, and simple rotations. And then the day began with a bang at the warning bell, like the shotgun at a track race. The teacher was serious about the class being chatty. And by that, I mean they did not stop talking . . . for the next seven hours. Morning meeting was one of the two smoothest routines of the day. The students kindly guided me through the steps of the meeting, I took attendance briefly, we set dedication and goals for the day, and we moved on to the next thing. Each routine afterwards was a drawn-out battle for control and whose turn it was to talk. Pushing, kicking, throwing, running, yelling, arguing, and waiting. It felt like challenging a forest fire: after I put one flame out, another would burst. The same students begging for my attention ignored me or refused to follow the directions. By the third hour of the day, I was defeated. No strategies were working, and every time I began to instruct, an interruption blocked its delivery. I had already called for additional support one time before lunch. But I had to push through. The subsequent routines were like landmarks on a long run route. “I can do one more,” I thought with each exhale. When I needed help, I asked for it. My mission changed from making it a good day to simply making it through the day. The eight hours simultaneously flew and defiantly advanced in slow motion. At 2:15, I said “goodbye” to students as they loaded the buses, offering high fives with the scraps of leftover positivity I carried. I climbed up the three flights of stairs, my feet heavy after an unaccustomed day of standing and backward walking through the long hallways. The previously tumultuous class atmosphere abruptly rested to an eerie silence. Breathing meditatively (in through the nose, out through the mouth) I collected the forgotten pencils and markers on the floor. I rescued the crumpled-up drawings and assignments with missing names. I attempted to sort the stacks of papers, trash, and recycling. I lost hope for reuniting the markers with their lost caps. I took my time sitting at the teacher’s desk, adrenaline pulsing through my tired limbs, processing the stillness. It looked different without swirls of bodies and chairs blurring together. It sounded serene, returning to the calm before the storm the following day. After writing my note to the teacher, I packed my backpack and lunch box, chatted with the lovely, encouraging substitute next door, and signed off for the day. “You really earned your paycheck today,” my mom told me on the phone later that afternoon. And she was right. I walked home overwhelmed, vanquished, and exhausted. But I need to pick myself back up for tomorrow, my second day as a substitute in a different school, different grade. The optimist in me hopes that it can only get better from here. I guess we will have to see tomorrow: a new day. . . .Lesson: On challenging shifts, focus on making it through the day, not making it a good day.
A week after writing the original reflection, I have space away from the initial reaction. I encountered a recommended short video outlining strategies for maintaining a calm, regulated classroom environment. Quickly recalling the series of power struggles, I listened intently as the teacher described practicing routines and expectations, no matter how many times it took to get it right. I realized that I approached my first day with the wrong mindset. What matters the most as a substitute teacher is the establishment of a calm and safe classroom. It is okay if I do not make it through all of the planned lessons in the future. Especially as a noticeably young teacher, I must fight for respect and establish the same expectations throughout the day. If students talk out of turn repeatedly, neglect safety rules, or are insubordinate in simple routines, I will pause the lesson and lead students in practicing the expectation. Next on the Substitute chronicles:
|
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
All
Archives
February 2025
|
RSS Feed