Adventures with Mr. Quiet

No, this is not a post about my son (if only!).

I've started working as a substitute teacher. I've had quite a few different jobs in my life but none of them scare me quite like this one. I applied for it after a dozen emails came from the school district begging people to join the substitute ranks. I was also feeling sorry for our Principal who was never in his office because he was always in a classroom teaching.

Our district is a charter district, so technically they can set their own criteria for hiring. Subs do not need a credential, just a Bachelor's Degree. I'm a mom with a pulse and a sheepskin so they figure somehow I'm perfect for the job.

My first call was last Monday for a third grade class. I read the "Dear Sub" letter the teacher had left on the desk:

"This class can be very good or very noisy. You need to separate this one and this one and this one. This one is a special needs student and he will have an aide in class. Here is today's lesson plan. . ." It went on for FOUR pages. I couldn't even read it all before the first bell rang. I was doomed.

I had been so nervous about the job that earlier in the day I had grilled my kids (I have to stop a moment and laugh at that phrase, ironic because I started writing this blog when they wouldn't stop talking bout cannibalism) on what made a good or bad substitute. Drama Girl said the worst subs said "shhh" all the time, Wasabi girl insisted that bad handwriting made for bad subs, and Jungle Boy told me that the best sub had a Scottish accent, so I should just talk with a Scottish accent all day and I'd be fine.

Well, my Scottish accent isn't very good, so I couldn't rely on that, and my handwriting is pretty neat on paper but maybe not so great up on a white board, so I decided to dedicate my brief prep time to an anti-shushing strategy.

I grabbed this toy before I left for school and prayed for success.

The little angels were tough crowd. One of the first activities of the morning was tearing off a calendar page to reveal the number of school days left in the year. 13. Lucky me. These kids already had summer brain. I took attendance and a deep breath.

Then I played my hand. "This is Mr. Quiet. He wants to come meet all of you, but he's scared of loud noises. If you're very quiet, he'll come sit on your desk." As expected, the girls' eyes lit up, but the boys pretended not to care much. There were two boys in particular who just could not keep quiet. I put Mr. Q down on a desk and started through the lessons. We got through math and spelling and Mr. Q traveled to a few more quiet desks. He was watched. He was anticipated.

Handwriting time. I had to demonstrate a capital cursive "V" on the white board. From what I could tell in the handwriting textbook, it looks just like a capital "U" only slightly skinnier, and without a tail going back down to the line. It's not even pointy - just a narrow curve at the bottom. I think the sweat was dripping off my forehead as I tried to make consistent VVVs across the board. None of them looked alike. The poor kids. They'll make wonky V's all their lives now.

Mr Quiet moved from desk to desk. The kids were amazingly quiet, except for the two boys, who were just blurters. Had to blurt. Could not raise their hands to answer a question. One of them started asking why Mr. Quiet never visited his desk.

Story time down on the rug. Instructions said I was to read "Two Bad Ants" and I could choose another book if time permitted. Time did permit so I pulled out an old battered book I'd brought along: "No Such Thing" by Bill Peet. I explained it was Mr. Quiet's favorite book. The kids roared with laughter. It is a very funny book. Mr. Quiet was getting a lot of hugs by this point, and almost all of the boys had raised their hands for a chance to host him.

Then I followed the lesson plans and we talked about the elements of a good story. I loved it. Teaching kids in third grade to be good writers. I got pretty enthusiastic. Then I sent them back to their desks with their writing journals (old school blogs?) to write a story.

Five kids wrote about Mr. Quiet. I had them read them aloud. Priceless. I heard all about Mrs. Quiet (who knew?) and another story about Mr Quiet's adventures with Mr. Shy. I completely fell in love with these kids. All the stories were great.

I could go on and on about the challenging science experiments, PE etc, but the most important thing to me is that by the end of the day the 2 blurters each got a turn to have Mr. Quiet.

As the bell rang and kids filed out, I got some spontaneous high-5s from the boys and hugs from the girls. I was exhausted, but mission accomplished.

Today while you're reading this I'm subbing in a fourth grade class. In science they are learning sex ed. Oh my. I don't think I have a stuffed toy that's going to help me get through this one. . .