Memoirs of a Substitute Teacher

Chapter I The previous night, I received an offer to substitute teach Spanish class to seniors from the Substitute Management Calling System. I accepted the offer because I thought it was going to be an easy class. I wanted my very first day subbing to be relaxed, comfortable, and undemanding. I assumed because of the nature of the class (it being a foreign language), the teacher would pretty much have a study hall for each hour. All intents and purposes, how many substitute teachers know Spanish; in addition, why would the Substitute Management Calling System call me since my education background is social studies. Staff is supposed to arrive thirty minutes early before first hour begins, however, I arrived forty minutes early. I checked in at the main office and received directions to the foreign languages teachers’ office, which was about five minutes in walking time. I walked through the door and into the office where several teachers were milling about. We exchanged greetings, and I asked, “Can you show me where Mrs. Johnson’s desk is?” They pointed to it, and I walked over and saw the Post-It note that indicated the lesson plan was in the classroom, so I left the office and found my way. I walked into the classroom and there were no kids present. Good, I thought. As I walked into the room, I noticed there were numerous posters on the wall emphasizing Spanish and Mexican culture, a large map of Mexico, and a few piñatas that were dangling from the ceiling. I walked to the desk and looked for the lesson plan. I saw graded papers, a calendar, little notes, etc. Everything was in Spanish. I was still looking for the lesson plan when I realized to my horror that the lesson plan itself was in Spanish. I thought, what? WHAT! Are you serious? At that moment, the fragile confidence I had built up inside me was completely crushed. As a dozen thoughts flashed in my mind, I looked up at the clock and it showed 7:05; hence, I had twenty minutes to figure out what to do. How the heck am I going to teach Spanish? I thought. How am I possibly going to get through this? I wondered. Considering my knowledge of Spanish were the numbers one through fifteen, water, yes, please, hello and good-bye, I knew I had a problem - a serious problem. Completely deflated and confidence gone, I decided to go back to the foreign languages office; however, this time I walked briskly. I barged right in, and now all the teachers were there. Looking like a deer in headlights, and without addressing anyone in particular, I blurted out, "I need help!" A few teachers merely looked up at me from their desks, but one teacher stepped toward me and asked, “What’s wrong?” In one long breath, I said, "This is my very first day substitute teaching and its Spanish and look here the lesson plan is in Spanish and I don’t know Spanish!”” After looking it over, he calmly said, "All you have to do is ask the best student in each class to lead." When I heard that, I became even more alarmed. I said, "Do you know what this says, so I at least have a general idea what's going on?" He answered, "No. I'm a German teacher. Michelle can you come over here and take a look at this lesson plan?" A second teacher came over now, and she obviously was a Spanish teacher. After she looked at it, she explained class was to review for a test for hours one, two, and four. Hour three was a prep period. Hour five was a study hall, and I was to assign homework for hours six and seven. On the attendance list for each class, she placed a small "x" next to the name of each star student. As she was wrapping up, I realized I should have refused the offer from the previous night, and waited for a different one. It dawned on me that I should have known Spanish class with 12th graders would absolutely be hard-core Spanish. I thanked her, and as I left the teachers' office dejected and rather gloomy, I heard the Spanish teacher say, "You'll do fine," as the door closed behind me. I walked into the classroom, plunked down onto the teacher’s chair, and looked up at the clock, which now showed 7:12. (I remember thinking how the desk seemed like a bunker that I wanted to crawl under.) I found myself staring at the lesson plan --which made absolutely no sense --and wondering how I am going to pull this off by allowing one of the kids lead the class - in every class. However, I knew that was the best option I had. Forcing myself out of my thoughts and back to the present, I stood up and wrote "Mr. Kritzeck" on the whiteboard and sat back down, wishing I could reverse Time itself. At that moment, a girl walked in with her books, sat down at her desk, and cheerfully asked, “Are you the sub?” I answered, "Yes. I am." She pressed, "Do you know Spanish?" I answered, "No."