LJ Idol, Week 17: Bringing a Knife to a Gun Fight
A scuffling of chairs, and then--”Punch him!”
Um, what?
I look up to see two teenage boys facing off against one another. The big one is posturing, throwing his chest out and leaning into the the smaller kid. But he has an air of amusement underlying his provocation. The smaller boy--the awkward, geeky type (I know my own kind)--is the angry one.
****
In my state, in order to become a substitute teacher, one must meet the stringent requirements of having a Bachelor’s degree and fifty bucks for the application fee. Actual teacher preparation is optional.
My very first assignment, the teacher left pretty much the same lesson plan she would have done had she been there herself. Had I known then that most teachers give you more lesson plan than they think you’ll actually get through, I might have been less terrified. Not that it would have helped me in the “classroom discipline” department.
Those freshmen nearly ate me alive.
****
This will not do.
I get up, march across the room--all the while the class is encouraging the smaller kid to punch the bigger boy--and insert myself between the two boys, putting an arm out toward each of them. Even the little guy is a good head taller than me. The big one towers over me.
I demand to know what’s going on--apparently, the bigger kid was throwing things at the other one when I wasn’t looking.
As a sub, I can’t actually discipline students, so I order them both to return to their seats and stay there for the rest of the period.
****
Subbing can be a very easy job or a very hard one, depending on the lesson plan and the kids--which means the job can change from hour to hour. Sometimes you have to stand in front of the class and actually present a lesson. Sometimes you just get to pass out an assignment, and you can read or knit or whatever while they’re working, as long as you get up and circulate the room every once in a while.
This was supposed to be an easy one. Classroom driver’s ed on a half day at the end of the school year. Give them a test, and then keep them from making too much noise for the rest of class. I’m rather fluid in my definition of “too much noise”; I have a less stressful day sometimes if I just live with them being a little louder than I’d prefer, especially near the end of the year.
****
Some students are still saying the one kid should’ve punched the other guy, so I put on my best teacher voice and admonish them that it isn’t appropriate to just up and punch somebody just because they pissed you off*, and that they shouldn’t be encouraging anyone to do so. I also tell them that I don’t want to hear another word about the incident. And that nobody had better start throwing things again.
As they resume their chatter, I go back to the desk, smooth my skirt, sit down. Then I start to shake as I write my report of the incident for the teacher.
What on earth was I thinking?
The whole thing was over in less than a minute, but I spent the rest of the day thinking about what might have happened. I had stepped in without a any thought--what if the boys hadn’t backed down? I am a small woman and not very athletic; I could not have effectively held either one back had they truly wanted to get into it, and I stood to get hurt just as much as either one of them.
What worked in my favor is that the bigger boy really just thought it was funny to egg the other kid on, and wanted to see how far he could push him. Of course, he was ready to flatten the poor kid if he did throw a punch, but he wasn’t serious enough to keep going once I intervened.
It would have been nice if the kid had just told me people were throwing things at him, but that could've been fodder for being picked on even more, so I guess I can see why he decided to take matters into his own hands.
I just hope he earned himself a little respect by doing so, because I still suspect we both got lucky that day.
*Okay, maybe I didn’t use that exact wording.
Um, what?
I look up to see two teenage boys facing off against one another. The big one is posturing, throwing his chest out and leaning into the the smaller kid. But he has an air of amusement underlying his provocation. The smaller boy--the awkward, geeky type (I know my own kind)--is the angry one.
****
In my state, in order to become a substitute teacher, one must meet the stringent requirements of having a Bachelor’s degree and fifty bucks for the application fee. Actual teacher preparation is optional.
My very first assignment, the teacher left pretty much the same lesson plan she would have done had she been there herself. Had I known then that most teachers give you more lesson plan than they think you’ll actually get through, I might have been less terrified. Not that it would have helped me in the “classroom discipline” department.
Those freshmen nearly ate me alive.
****
This will not do.
I get up, march across the room--all the while the class is encouraging the smaller kid to punch the bigger boy--and insert myself between the two boys, putting an arm out toward each of them. Even the little guy is a good head taller than me. The big one towers over me.
I demand to know what’s going on--apparently, the bigger kid was throwing things at the other one when I wasn’t looking.
As a sub, I can’t actually discipline students, so I order them both to return to their seats and stay there for the rest of the period.
****
Subbing can be a very easy job or a very hard one, depending on the lesson plan and the kids--which means the job can change from hour to hour. Sometimes you have to stand in front of the class and actually present a lesson. Sometimes you just get to pass out an assignment, and you can read or knit or whatever while they’re working, as long as you get up and circulate the room every once in a while.
This was supposed to be an easy one. Classroom driver’s ed on a half day at the end of the school year. Give them a test, and then keep them from making too much noise for the rest of class. I’m rather fluid in my definition of “too much noise”; I have a less stressful day sometimes if I just live with them being a little louder than I’d prefer, especially near the end of the year.
****
Some students are still saying the one kid should’ve punched the other guy, so I put on my best teacher voice and admonish them that it isn’t appropriate to just up and punch somebody just because they pissed you off*, and that they shouldn’t be encouraging anyone to do so. I also tell them that I don’t want to hear another word about the incident. And that nobody had better start throwing things again.
As they resume their chatter, I go back to the desk, smooth my skirt, sit down. Then I start to shake as I write my report of the incident for the teacher.
What on earth was I thinking?
The whole thing was over in less than a minute, but I spent the rest of the day thinking about what might have happened. I had stepped in without a any thought--what if the boys hadn’t backed down? I am a small woman and not very athletic; I could not have effectively held either one back had they truly wanted to get into it, and I stood to get hurt just as much as either one of them.
What worked in my favor is that the bigger boy really just thought it was funny to egg the other kid on, and wanted to see how far he could push him. Of course, he was ready to flatten the poor kid if he did throw a punch, but he wasn’t serious enough to keep going once I intervened.
It would have been nice if the kid had just told me people were throwing things at him, but that could've been fodder for being picked on even more, so I guess I can see why he decided to take matters into his own hands.
I just hope he earned himself a little respect by doing so, because I still suspect we both got lucky that day.
*Okay, maybe I didn’t use that exact wording.