As the second group of kids comes noisily in I steady myself for the next hour and a half of what is supposed to be math but really feels more like babysitting and crowd control. I notice that there are a lot of spanish speaking kids in this group and I’m a little worried, but I soon realize that they all speak English just fine. They are loud, yes, but a little more inclined to work. They are definitely more interested in learning and slightly more respectful. I even get a few minutes at the board where they are all quiet and I think hey! I’m getting the hang of this. However, chaos soon returns with them ALL eager to take a turn at the board. This group manages to do the first two worksheets a bit quicker than the first group and I pointedly ignore the word problems on the bottom of the page. I just feel like it’s too much to take on and I’m not at all inclined to try it with them with the possibility of a language barrier hindering us. I hand out the third packet, which is supposed to be done with a partner but somehow ends up with several kids all working together in different areas of the room. No one is left by themselves, however, so I let the failure to follow instructions slide. As long as they’re working, I’m happy.
As their time comes to an end I realize it’s raining outside and they will not be going outside for recess. I wonder what happens in this scenario. I soon find out. The groups switch around again and I get the third group for a half hour recess INSIDE the classroom. I think I was at least hoping for the gym. The boys begin to play an indoor game of catch with a hat, of all things, and devise a game where whoever catches the hat has to leave the group until the last person remains and that person is then out. I watch idly and am impressed with a rather tall kid with long hair that I take to be a girl. (I was wrong!)
After recess they all exit the room for lunch and I breathe a sigh of relief for the thought of thirty minutes to myself. I try for the restroom but it’s full of girls so I decide I can wait. I eat my peanut butter sandwich silently and text Tony. He asks if I’ve wanted to throttle any of them yet and I laugh. It’s just hard, I tell him. A lot of noise and activity for a person who enjoys silence. I should be used to kids, but the fact is I’m better with one on one instruction and of course, HORSES. Not children. I have already started counting down – you only have four hours left. Three hours left. Two and a half hours. Two hours and four minutes.
The third group comes in and right off the bat I mistakenly say “her” regarding the kid with the long, shiny, dark hair and I am QUICKLY corrected by everyone but the boy himself. Geez! They say, every sub does that! Well, I reply, you have long hair and I don’t know any of your names. An easy mistake. I refuse to be embarrassed. This set of kids is very bright. They get through the first worksheet in record time. I know we only have an hour before the Veteran’s Day assembly we will all attend, presented by the fourth grade music class. So we persevere and get through the second worksheet, again with ignoring the word problems on the bottom of the page. I am just about to hand out the third packet when the Vice Principal starts to call for dismissal to the gym for the assembly.
We all troop down to the gym and I am gratefully uninvolved in seating or disciplining anyone. I am anxious for a glance of my own Baby Girl, so that I can remember that I do, in fact, like kids. The third grade has been on a field trip that day and are late in on the game. They finally arrive and I see her little blond head almost right away. She is scanning the area and finally her eyes light on mine and she grins and waves. I feel something run through me and I think it’s just relief. Oh yeah, my gut says, there she is. She’s ok, so you’re ok too.
The noise in the gym is INSANE. I squeeze myself as close to the back wall as I can and wonder how long this thing is going to last. I half want it to last until it’s time for dismissal but I also don’t want to stand on that hard floor for that long. My feet are already aching and I shift from side to side trying to find some relief. Finally the music teacher calls everyone to order and we are thus subjected to a motley of songs God Blessing the USA and all the military. One song has a bunch of kids with drums and I’m just wondering what the beat is supposed to be because this surely isn’t it. Several girls are meant to be giving solos but try as I might I hear nothing at all. I couldn’t even tell who was meant to be singing. I find myself tear up a time or two as I witness the veterans in the audience and think of my Dad, who I am missing a lot this day. But I quickly rein it in, it won’t do for anyone to see my emotional side here.
Thankfully, the program ends after about half an hour and we all troop back to the classrooms. I get the homeroom kids back and we are not halfway in the door before one boy shoves another and a fight starts to break out. Hey! I say, cut that out! And they briefly move away from each other. However, the two boys are determined to let the other know who is boss and it doesn’t take long for them to be back at it. I know I am not supposed to leave the room so I take a kid and tell him to go get the teacher next door. She comes straight in and sees the conflict- what the heck boys?! She asks. She pulls them all out into the hall and I am grateful. There is a few minutes of peace as the remainder of the kids have free time until the bell rings. Wow, I think to myself. A scuffle on my very first day! And a kid that went missing! How eventful!
At dismissal the teacher from next door tells me that I can leave straight away, that they’ve all “got this.” I don’t wait around and argue – I am out! I practically run for the office and to find my kid. As I turn in my badge the receptionist asks “how was it?” Oh it was fine, I say. No problems.
I’m not lying. It could have been worse. I have a huge respect for teachers, and all the staff that make a school go round. I am tempted to say this isn’t for me, but I’m not a quitter. I’ll be back. With more information and armed with an attitude and maybe a little something something in my lunch box. (That’s a joke).
