Well here we go everyone (or at least those of you who have decided to play along). Today’s the day to post your crazy/funny/sad/horrific/unbelievable job memories on your blog and then come back and leave a link here in the comments or a trackback will work too. If you don’t have a blog, but you wanna join in, feel free to use the comments for that as well. I can’t wait to read your stories!!

You can read mine by clicking –>

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away - okay okay it wasn’t a galaxy far far away, but sometimes it seems like a lifetime away. Anyway, after I got my teaching degree (almost 11 years ago), I became a substitute teacher - because December graduates have a really hard time getting a teaching job unless they are very lucky or in the right place at the right time, or even better, know the right person. But since none of those applied to me, I got stuck ended up substitute teaching.

Now let us pause for a moment and think back to our childhoods and how substitute teachers were treated. And let us also think about how they are treated on tv and in the movies because it’s really not too far removed from the truth. No, I didn’t have horrible enough experiences that I went crying or running or screaming out of the classroom, but there were moments, oh there were moments.

Let us also pause for a moment and try to understand the Karin that existed back then. I know this will be hard for my friends in real life who know me now to believe, but I was actually very shy and reticent way back then and new situations like an unfamiliar school or class were really hard for me. It took everything I had to walk into those schools and those classrooms and do the job, but somehow I got through them, even though some of them were a little crazy.

For instance, there was the traditional school experience. First of all, I pretty much refused any assignments that were over 3rd grade. I student taught 3rd grade and primary school was my focus. Any older than that scared the crap out of me was just not my comfort zone. However, one morning the substitute coordinator called (which in and of itself was unusual since there was an automated system that usually called you to offer you the job and you could accept or refuse it by the push of a button) and practically begged me to sub a 4th grade class at the “traditional school” in that district. I hemmed. I hawed. I did everything but hang up on her and finally she guilted me into doing it I agreed to do it. And off I went.

It’s interesting how 11 years later, many of the details are blurred with time. But there are some things that I remember as clearly as if they happened yesterday. First of all, I remember the rooms feeling really dark. I’m not sure if this was because there were no windows or because the lighting was just not sufficient because the dark paint and/or brick sucked it all in. Either way, the rooms were not bright and cheery but rather kind of drab and depressing. I remember that the lesson plans were pretty sketchy and I had to try and figure out what the heck the teacher wanted (but this was nothing unusual really…happened all the time).* I remember that I was supposed to teach phonics using something I’d never heard of called the Spalding Method** which, unless you’ve had the training to teach it, looks like so much gibberish in the teacher’s manual. And, of course, the kids were not helpful at all. Well, actually, they probably could have been, but they chose not to be. Surprise surprise. I remember that the principal stopped in to see how I was doing and that she lectured them for not being quiet. Which was nice, but I didn’t think it was as bad as she made it out to be. I was managing. Well, okay, some of the kids were rotten, but there are always some.

Finally, I remember the fire drill. Now, journey back to your school days or to a day you’ve been volunteering at your child’s school when the fire alarm went off. What is supposed to happen is that the children are to walk out quickly and silently in straight lines to their designated area. What usually happens is that they walk out semi-quietly in semi-straight lines and hopefully the one in the front of the line remembers where they are supposed to line up or else you are mouthing “sorry!” to the poor teacher whose spot your class stole and who is now trying to frantically find somewhere for her class to line up. Then you spend the next 10 minutes taking roll, shushing your lips off, giving the boys the “teacher look” every time they turn around, getting the hyper ones back in line, and griping under your breath to your fellow teachers about what lesson was interrupted when the fire alarm went off. But at the traditional school? The kids filed out silently, and when I say silently, I mean it was so silent you could hear their sneakered feet bending the blades of grass and the wind rustling the leaves on the trees. It was eerily silent. And it kind of freaked me out. Because seriously, I have never ever EVER been in a school where the fire drills are that silent. And it seems a little unnatural to me. I literally got chills and wondered if all of these children had been replaced with aliens. It was just weird.

When it was finally time to go home, I was never so happy in my entire life left posthaste and I don’t remember ever darkening the door of that particular school again. {shudder} I have nothing against traditional schools, really I don’t, but I like kids to be kids and normal kids do not march out to fire drills like zombies little soldiers.

Later on in my substitute teaching career (which was all of 5 months long), I got tougher. There was one class that I substituted for on a weekly basis so their regular teacher (who was union president) could go to a regular meeting. Let me just tell you, if you think you’ve seen or met or heard of the class from hell? You have not seen or met or heard of the class from hell unless you were in that classroom. I don’t know if it was her management skills, their chemistry, or a combination of both, but they were horrendous. So, nicey nice Karin went out the window, and tough strict Karin came through the door. In fact, one day one of the boys said, “You’re mean!” And I said, “Yes I am. Now sit down and be quiet.” And you know what? He did. At least for awhile. I hated those Tuesdays. But I probably learned more dealing with that class that prepared me for a regular teaching job than anywhere else. What does not kill us makes us stronger. That should be the substitute teacher’s motto.

*When I got my own classroom, I always left amazingly thorough lesson plans with everything numbered and all the materials and supplies laid out with sticky notes attached with corresponding numbers. I always got compliments from the subs on those lesson plans. And even if I had to call in sick, I would get up and either email or fax in a lesson plan so the teachers wouldn’t have to feel lost like I did so many times as a sub.

**The Spalding Method is a method of literacy instruction that is actually based here in Phoenix. Some people love it. Some people hate it. Either way, if you haven’t had the training to teach it and are not at all familiar with it, you’re SOL if you’re trying to figure out anything from the teacher’s manual.