You Think You Know, But You Have No Idea: A Day in the Life of a Substitute Teacher

I’m jerked awake by the phone. I peek at the face plate, but I already know who’s calling me at 6:00am. I let it ring twice more, then croak “Good morning.”
“Hi, SaxPlayer2,” the person on the other end coos. “Its Sandy* from Pretty View Schools*. Are you available today?”
“Yes,” I mumble as I continue to gather my wits. I listen as attentively as possible while I’m told my assignment for the day. Spanish or shop, music or math, English or economics, what will it be today? Sandy says good bye with a cheery “See you soon!” I moan and groan after I hang up, then rub my blurry eyes and stretch my weary body. Finally, with a big sigh, I force myself from my cozy cocoon and drag my butt out of bed. Thus begins another day in the life of a substitute teacher.

I eat breakfast and get ready for the day. I’m cheap and school food leaves much to be desired, so I pack my own lunch. My 6:00am wake up call has left me with just enough time to do what I need and at 6:50am I’m out the door. The drive helps me shake off the last remaining cobwebs that have accumulated over night. Twenty-five minutes and I’m at the school. I sign in, a crucial step in getting paid, and pick up the key to “my” room for the day. I’ve been in the school several times now, so navigating is becoming much easier. Today I’m a 6th grade math teacher, so I head to the 6th grade wing and unlock the classroom.

Most of the time teachers leave out some directions or e-mail them in, and today there even some worksheets on the desk. I scan through the meager directions; this teacher has not been much help in the lesson plan department today. The words “2-step equations: Worksheet 12-B” are my only my guide. The worksheet is, thank god, easy. 2x + 3 = 15? Yeah, I still remember this stuff. But the worksheet is also extremely short. Only 15 questions. Crap. How am I supposed to make this take 45 minutes? Its 7:25 and even though the bell won’t ring for another 10 minutes, students are already coming in. I’m greeted by high fives, fist pumps, and cheers of excitement. “YES!!! Sub today!!!”

In the meantime I try to jot down some example questions that we can go through together on the board. The bell rings and the announcements ramble on for 5 minutes. Finally they end and I can take attendance. Every day is like the first day of school for a substitute; you have to learn everyone’s names and establish yourself as the authority figure. Not impossible, but certainly no easy task. The students are chatty and resistant to any type of work. We go through my measly 5 examples and then I hand out the worksheet, even though its supposed to be their homework.
“Finish this sheet now and you’ll have that much less to do tonight,” I tell them. “Plus I’m here to answer your questions.”

Some listen to me. They raise their eager hands and I do my best to come up with different explanations for what I just demonstrated on the board. Some disregard everything I’ve said. The noise level is beginning to creep up.
“There shouldn’t be any talking,” I gently remind, and it quiets down again. But some guys in the back start laughing. I’m walking around the room trying to monitor behavior, answer questions, learn names. The sound level is slowly rising again.
I put on my best authoritative voice and ask “Didn’t I say no talking?” The guys are still giggling, so I see what’s up. Not a single question is filled in, so I remind them they need to do their work. One student needs help, so I stroll to the desk and crouch down to help. Apparently crouching down to talk to a student at eye level is the signal for everyone to go crazy. I shoot up from my crouch and yell, “I said no talking! The next person I hear talking will have their seat moved to the office!’ That keeps them quiet, but I hear whispers of “What’s her problem?” and “ We didn’t do anything!” but I can’t pinpoint who’s spoken.

I hold on for dear life for the last 10 minutes. The worksheet was too short and the natives are restless. I take notes about who was particularly disruptive and struggle to remember all the names. So I take another cruise around the room to sneak a peek at papers to try and catch some more info. Its only 1st period. Hopefully my day will improve. The bell sounds and my 4-minute relief floods in. I pick up some loose papers on the floor to discover what the boys had been laughing at, a pen had exploded on the floor. Another class is coming in so I cover it back up and tell everyone not to sit there. It will have to wait until lunch. Right now, I need to get 2nd period going.

Lather, rinse, repeat. 5th period is lunch and my first break of the day. I sit down with the group of strangers in the faculty room and go through yet another set of introductions. I’m trying, but probably won’t remember their names tomorrow. There’s nothing more uncomfortable for me than to meet new people while I’m eating. At least they’re all eating too. We swap war stories and talk a little bit about life outside school before its back to the grind.

6th and 7th fly by. 8th is a prep period. A glorious 45 minutes I can spend in solitude and silence. Some days I read or do crossword puzzles. Today I decide to write. Ideas for ProU have been building up. I jot half a dozen first paragraphs before I pick a topic. But now its 9th period; study hall. The kids are amped up and ready for the day to end. They can’t seem to hang on for those last 45 minutes. I’m as anxious as they are for the day to be over. But unlike them, I can control myself for 45 more minutes. It gets noisy, so I try to calm them down. There’s one kid, Tom Jones* who decides its his mission to push my buttons. He yells out whatever pops into his head, sings, throw papers, and tells dirty jokes to the whole class, strong-arming me into writing a referral. When I confront him he whines and complains and can’t seem to figure out what he’s done to deserve a referral.

And the school day is done. The kids pour out of the room whooping and hollering. I write down detailed notes for the teacher. I mention what got accomplished, who was good, who was bad, and apologize for the blue ink stain on the floor. I neaten the rows and switch off the lights. I lock the door and return the key. I drive my 25 minutes home and, trying to be eco-minded, decide to run my errands along the way. Groceries, post office, dry cleaning. It’s a good thing I’m done at 3, otherwise this stuff would never get taken care of.

I make it home by 4, completely exhausted. I know I should get some exercise, so I hit the pavement for a half hour. I shower and get dinner started. My family is all home by 5:30, and we sit down to eat and unload our day’s baggage. I like being able to talk things through but my introverted nature has my brain screaming for some alone time. Its a good thing I’m a musician. I can hole up in my room for an hour and half to practice and no one will bother me. I log into ProgressiveU and read for a while. By now its nearly 10:00 and I want nothing more than to sit on the couch and let my brain turn to mush. I flip on the tube and channel surf till 11, when I decide to hit the hay. Because who know what I’ll be doing tomorrow?

All day aren’t this bad, but I’ve had some that were much worse. Substitutes are at the mercy of the education gods. My certification is K-12 Music, but I’ve also taught math, science, Spanish, shop, computer, English, kindergarten, and art as a sub. I never know what the kids will be doing that day. And they all seem to think that having a sub means they don’t have to learn anything for the day. I refuse to let the kids walk all over me, I’m the one in charge, not them. I want them to think I’m cool, that I’m the nice, young sub, but there are days when they test my boundaries and I’ve been called a bitch by a middle schooler more than once. All I want to do is go in there and do my job. When they put up a fuss and cry and whine, of course I’ll get cranky. I want to shake them and say “One day you’ll be in these shoes. And we’ll see who’s the bitch then!”

The students love the idea of having a sub until they find out that I’m not going to let them slack off for a period. The teachers are appreciative of someone who comes in and keeps their classes on track. They don’t want to lose an entire day because they’re out. And some are really fantastic. They leave very detailed instructions and plenty of material. Some just aren’t as organized and subs are forced to improvise on a subject we may not be totally comfortable with in a classroom full of students that we don’t know. And around here we do it for $85 a day.

So the next time you call a sub a bad name, whine about a normal day’s schoolwork, or simply feel defiant remember that a sub’s life is not so glamorous. And that we’re there for you, not for us.

*names changed for privacy*