Chapter Four

Even though I figured I couldn’t get a full-time job until the next school year started, I was eager to begin substitute teaching immediately. This involved going down to the school board building, filling out an application as well as a half-ton of other paperwork, showing my credentials, going to the police station to have my fingerprints taken, having an ID made, and other such particulars necessary to begin working. After spending the better part of the day, I was given a piece of paper. "Take this wherever you wish to teach. The schools themselves call the substitutes so you need to get placed on their lists of available people. Then, all you have to do is wait to be called."

Sounded easy enough. On my way home, I stopped at three schools. At first, I went only to high schools even though I could substitute anywhere I wanted including elementary. I felt as though I was destined to teach older children so I wanted to stick with that for the time being. My plan was to substitute as much as a could during the day, and continue a part-time serving job at night. After I officially graduated in May, I could at long last look for my ultimate full-time teaching job for the following school year.

Within a few weeks, I was substitute teaching about three days a week. As it worked out, I received most of my jobs from three schools: Wolfson High School, Sandalwood Jr./High School (the only school in Jacksonville that is still a middle and high school combined), and the school where I completed my internship: Edward H. White.

At first things went very well. I got used to arousing myself in the wee hours of the morning expectantly waiting for the phone to ring----or to take the phone off the hook on those days I chose not to work. Out of the three main schools I taught, Wolfson definitely had the nicest staff. Everyone knew that I was still "wet behind the ears" and offered me a hand when needed as well as advice that came in handy. My jobs usually went from one day to the next. I never knew what I was going to teach the next day, or where. Being brand new, I looked at that as one of the adventures of the job. On rare occasions, I was fortunate and taught two or three days in a row for the same teacher.

I caught a glimpse of a unique teaching experience at Sandelwood. Despite my trepidations, I taught middle school students for the first time. I survived the experience, though I was doubtful at the beginning. Why the uncertainties were ever there in the first place is beyond me - particularly considering that is the group I have taught ever since. I also taught in a real "open classroom" environment. Sandalwood also adopted the "open classroom" philosophy when it was constructed in the ë60's. Unlike Ed White, it had not erected any walls to isolate classes and teachers from one another. It is unusual to hear other students besides your own, other lectures, and other lessons being taught simultaneously to your own. It turned out to be an interesting experience. One thing is certain: you’ll never get claustrophobia, but there is a definite chance of a draft, as well as a little bit of knowledge from another class sneaking in.

During my substitute teaching in Jacksonville, I also managed to have a week’s sojourn at Bishop Kenny High School - the school I graduated from. At the time, I was hoping to possibly get a position at my old alma mater. I decided to let them know I was in the substitute teaching business. What a better way to break in than to walk through the door and to provide them the service I was hoping to eventually render full-time.

Within a few weeks I received a call from Sister Mary Thatcher.

"Do you think you can come in for a week?" she started out.

"Sure" I replied, "What will I be teaching?"

"Physical Science."

They wanted me to come and substitute----for a week! I was really excited. Not only was I going back to my old stomping grounds, but I would be in the same classroom with the same students for an entire week! That was the longest I had taught anywhere since my internship.

I began my week at Bishop Kenny in mid March. Not only was I familiar with the school but with the classroom itself. It was Coach Key’s room. Of course, it wasn’t his room anymore; Coach Key left after my freshman year. It was the room, however, which I endured Coach Key’s antics for an entire year. The current Physical Science teacher, Mr. Wilson, had left detailed plans for each day. This should be a piece of cake!

The week started out very well and without incident. With one exceptionóthe day was a long one! The teachers at Bishop Kenny worked with fewer breaks and a much shorter lunch than their colleagues in the public schools, and for less money to boot. I suddenly had much more respect for my old high school teachers and wondered whether my future would be in private schools after all.

For the first part of the week, my students were well-behaved and I had no problems at all. This is a cinch, I thought to myself. Then Thursday rolled around. When the students strolled in to class, they were an entirely different group. The class was loud, refusing to work, throwing things, making noises behind my back. Was I in the right room? The right school? This was a religious school, right?

After a short while of tolerating nonsense, I had enough and needed to let the students know I meant business. I raised my voice and told the class how I felt about their sudden change in behavior and attitude. As it turned out, that was all I needed to do. They had tested their boundaries and discovered that I wasn’t going to put up with everything they wanted to throw my way. After that, they backed off. They were no longer the perfect darlings they had been earlier that, but they were better.

Teaching at Bishop Kenny that week taught me one valuable thing. All students, no matter where you go, are going to act up. It is something I would have to learn to deal with and it is something all students everywhere will do. They are teenagers, after all. I surmised I wouldn’t have any behavior issues because I was working in a private school, and I had been wrong. I should have known better. Was I always obedient or my class always perfect because we were attending a private school? NO! Why would I expect these students to be any different? I discovered that I always needed to be prepared for discipline problems. I would need another strategy, and I needed to be ready. I found out a short time later that I was far from being prepared despite my new knowledge and attempts to be so.

My substitute teaching in Jacksonville came to an abrupt and unexpected end in April of 1988, a month before school ended for the summer. It occurred at Ed White, the school I had come to know throughout my internship and the first school to accept me when I began substitute teaching. I came in on a Tuesday morning to substitute for Ms. Hanley, the French teacher. The day started out uneventful. Then the first period’s students walked came in. They were the worst students I had up to that point. They were absolute pros at driving away substitutes. What was worse, they knew it and reveled in the fact. It was as though they all huddled together prior to class to make bets on how long I would last. I can practically hear them now:

"Okay, how long do you think she’ll last, Tony?"

"I say she won’t be back after lunch. What do you think, Vic?"

"Shoot, I wouldn’t give her THAT long. Johnny’s in her first period class. Give her until the middle of second."

And after that, setting a game plan with Johnny calling the shots:

"Lori and Tabitha, you be the noise makers. Make sure you’re not noticed. Marc, you’re the paper thrower and Wesley, get ready to let the spit balls fly. I’ll be the name caller. We’ll make this one not know whether she’s coming or going. The rest of you, make sure to laugh whenever she tries to be serious and feel free to ad lib when you see an opening. Lets show this sub we mean business."

It came time for the students to put their plans into action. When I tried to write on the board, spit balls and wads of paper came flying at me from several directions. When I turned around to try and catch someone in the act, the class would laugh. Several students would make high-pitched or obscene noises but I could never determine who. A student would then say "What’s wrong, teacher, do you hear something?" or "She must be going crazy, she’s hearing things."

The hard part was that it was the entireclass. I couldn’t pinpoint one or two people as being the trouble-makers or instigators so I couldn’t send anyone out of the room to get a handle on the rest of the class. It seemed to be allof them. I chose not to summon for help. Yes, I was new, but I could handle it. I had to handle it. If I can just make it though first period, I thought to myself.

When first period was over, I breathed a sigh of relief. I made it, I thought to myself. Things are surely to be better now that thatclass is over.
Meanwhile, the students were probably gathered down the hall:

"She’s close to cracking....don’t let up. Donny, you take over for Lori. The noises seem to get to her the most....and don’t forget the laughing."

Second period started. I had gained my second wind as well as my composure during the five minute break in between classes. I was prepared to put that first class behind me and start off fresh. I quickly learned that the students were prepared too.....to start over again with renewed verve.

Within five or ten minutes of second period I raised the white flag. Even though the flag was visible only to me I’m sure the students sensed it. I could no longer fight back or raise my voice, nor did I really attempt to. I sat behind the teacher’s desk, crawled into my shell as far as the bombardment occurring around me would allow, and did my best to endure it while I felt more and more desperate to escape.

When second period was over, I broke away to the office. I told the first person I came across that I had to leave, that I couldn’t handle it anymore. I then fled from the building. That was the last time I substituted in Jacksonville. The incident distressed me so gravely that I refused all subsequent jobs. The word must have also gotten around because Ed White never called me back.

About a week later, I received a package in the mail. Mrs. Hanley had heard about what had happened and she made all of her students write letters of apology. I flipped through the letters and threw them in the trash. I was completely dismayed that I could be treated so poorly. I felt entirely humiliated that my need to leave was so strong and overpowering and that I didn’t know what to do. I never told anyone what happened on that day until now.

Despite what happened, I still wanted to teach. For me to get over my shame and move on, I had to find something or someone to blame. I ended up blaming Jacksonville and the Duval County School Board. I convinced myself that I had to teach somewhere other than Jacksonville, and that Duval County was not a good place to work. I even found several "practical" points to support my line of thinking. I started to search for a teaching job away from home. I made myself believe what had happened was an isolated incident and if I got a job away from Jacksonville things would be different. What was awaiting me would be a surprise.

For now........comments?

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