So I sub now. Yeah, I’m a substitute teacher. I mold young minds.
They call me Miss C-----. Awkward.
Ever go into the teachers’ lounge at your old high school? Yeah, that’s weird, too> or try seeing your teachers have real conversations and even call each other by their first names. Or, worse, hearing bubbly grade school teachers curse (gasp!). It’s like another dimension.
But, don’t get me wrong, subbing isn’t half bad. It’s flexible hours with decent pay. It covers my gas money from support appointment to support appointment, church to church. And I get to see how classrooms work and I get the challenge of teaching—a stretching experience for me. I like to learn new things.
The only downside is high school, where most of my job is just glorified babysitting—and boring. The last few days, I’ve lowered myself to honest-to-goodness begging the real teachers for busy work.
Aaaah, yes. Molding young minds… through busy work.
I guess the other bonus to young grades is that I’m less likely to be mistaken for a student. Student teacher, yes. Student, no. (Though the lady who gave me the kids menu would gauge me at about 5th grade or less, I suppose. So I guess I’m not safe anywhere.)
I was mistaken for a student at the high school yesterday during lunch. Twice. First by a lunch lady who was actually quite snotty until she found out I was an adult. And second by a “fellow” student who was informing me that the only Coke machine available was in the teachers’ lounge and “we”—in this context, he and I, fellow students at large—couldn’t use it.
Everyone keeps telling me how great that is, how when I’m 40, 50, 70, I’ll just love it.
But, malarkey. Right now I really don’t love it.
But, yes, definitely enjoying the subbing otherwise. Very different than Lopit.
No comments:
Post a Comment