Well, I'm about to embark on my latest adventure - substitute teaching.
A lady in my water aerobics class gave me the idea saying she thought I would be good at it. I guess she figured if I can control a couple of menopausal ladies in a pool of water, then I shouldn't have any problems controlling hormonal middle schoolers in a classroom. At least I won't have to contend with hot flashes other than my own. Plus, it allows flexibility for my reconstruction process, adds a little extra cash to our account, and gives me new purpose.
So, I applied and went through the background check. I've been finger printed and been given a pep talk by the school district official. The substitute teacher coordinator gave me six substitute teaching assignments at the middle school. All in math. The last time I was in a math class was when they didn't allow calculators in the class. The other week, my husband was watching a YouTube video on how to operate my daughter's calculator for advanced algebra.
"Don't worry, we're basically looking for people who can control the class. You'll been fine," she told me with a smile.
I guess she figured that since I have two middle school children of my own, I am uniquely qualified.
Tomorrow is my first day at the school. And you know what most people are asking me? What am I going to wear. Yes, it's true.
"You're not going to a corporate office," my neighbor told me.
Then there's my daughter's comments.
"Mom, don't tell them your last name," she said. Then she added, "So, how are you going to be?"
I wasn't following her question and asked for an explanation.
"Well, are you going to be a mean substitute or a cool sub?" she asked.
'Well, I don't know. I guess I'll be myself,' I told her.
A moment of silence. Then she said, "Well just don't tell anyone your last name."
Then I called my dad figuring I could at least get some parental support. I overreached.
"Really?" he said. "Math?"
A moment of silence.
"Oh. Well that should be ...good."
At least he didn't tell me not to tell anyone my name. Or tell me what to wear.
I've faced a corporate layoff and cancer, so how hard can it be to face seventh graders?
I'll let you know.
Wondering if I can bring candy into the classroom as a motivational tool. Without peanuts of course.
The Wondering Texan
A lady in my water aerobics class gave me the idea saying she thought I would be good at it. I guess she figured if I can control a couple of menopausal ladies in a pool of water, then I shouldn't have any problems controlling hormonal middle schoolers in a classroom. At least I won't have to contend with hot flashes other than my own. Plus, it allows flexibility for my reconstruction process, adds a little extra cash to our account, and gives me new purpose. So, I applied and went through the background check. I've been finger printed and been given a pep talk by the school district official. The substitute teacher coordinator gave me six substitute teaching assignments at the middle school. All in math. The last time I was in a math class was when they didn't allow calculators in the class. The other week, my husband was watching a YouTube video on how to operate my daughter's calculator for advanced algebra.
"Don't worry, we're basically looking for people who can control the class. You'll been fine," she told me with a smile.
I guess she figured that since I have two middle school children of my own, I am uniquely qualified.
Tomorrow is my first day at the school. And you know what most people are asking me? What am I going to wear. Yes, it's true.
"You're not going to a corporate office," my neighbor told me.
Then there's my daughter's comments.
"Mom, don't tell them your last name," she said. Then she added, "So, how are you going to be?"
I wasn't following her question and asked for an explanation.
"Well, are you going to be a mean substitute or a cool sub?" she asked.
'Well, I don't know. I guess I'll be myself,' I told her.
A moment of silence. Then she said, "Well just don't tell anyone your last name."
Then I called my dad figuring I could at least get some parental support. I overreached.
"Really?" he said. "Math?"
A moment of silence.
"Oh. Well that should be ...good."
At least he didn't tell me not to tell anyone my name. Or tell me what to wear.
I've faced a corporate layoff and cancer, so how hard can it be to face seventh graders?
I'll let you know.
Wondering if I can bring candy into the classroom as a motivational tool. Without peanuts of course.
The Wondering Texan
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