The First Grader

The low-slung sun is casting long shadows with its buttery rays.  The dew sparkles and reveals a surprising number of spider webs that span every gap in the trees and bushes…and lawn furniture and mailboxes and power lines and walkways. These signs point to one thing:  Time for School.  For many parents this is time to celebrate the fact that their kids are out of their hair for nine whole months.  For me it’s time for a virtual rat’s nest in my hair, for I am a Substitute Teacher.

As I have said before, I love being a substitute teacher (most of the time).  It’s like being a Grandma – I get to come into an organized classroom, play with children for a whole day, and then go home.  No assessments to stress over, no parent phone calls, and I’m free to parent my own kids.  On the best days I win the students over, successfully manage behavior, and hopefully dispense a few nuggets of knowledge along the way.

This year I will kick off my year with a day in First Grade.  This is the first fun age, as I seriously believe that Kindergarteners are of a different species.  The Kinders arrive at school much like feral cats – they all have their own way of doing things and they have no concept of how to be part of a group.  They have always been the one apple in their parents’ eyes and now they’re expected to be hanging out in a big ol' orchard.  You’ve heard the term ‘herding cats’…try herding FERAL cats.  Gives me the shivers.

First graders at least come with the language of school.  ‘Lining up’ is part of their vocabulary, and they are usually 50% successful with raising their hands before blurting out whatever is on their minds, “I have a hole in my sock!” or “My cat threw up this morning!”  First Graders know their way around the building, but usually travel in pairs for comfort and safety.  Most importantly, the time span between the realization that they have to go to the bathroom, and the time when it is too late, increases to at least three minutes.  Although, as soon as I see a First Grader doing the potty dance I give them the “okay” to dash to the appropriate place.  Nobody likes an accident.

The 6-7 year olds are sweet and easily won over with kindness.  When bombarded with praise they will usually puff up their chests and rise to the occasion to prove that, indeed, they are big kids now.  And they are helpful.  Very helpful.

I will probably begin Monday morning with a meeting on the carpet where I will introduce myself.  I will ask, “Do I look like Ms. M?”  And they will giggle and respond in a chorus of “Nawww!”  I will go on to explain that since I am not Ms. M, I cannot possibly do everything exactly like Ms. M does, and that is okay.  This is important because  the little guys really like routine.  If something isn’t just right you get to hear ALL about it.  I assure them that I will do my best and they should, too.  Our goal is to have a great day so that Ms. M will return busting buttons because she is so proud of her great class.

Ms. M recently warned me that she has a large class this year, and they’re still learning routines and rules.  She said I may have to start out on Monday impersonating “Viola Swamp,” the mysterious story-book substitute who is super-strict and doesn’t smile.  I will do my best, but it might be difficult to scowl when I see those pudgy cheeks and wide-open, sparkly eyes.  Wish me luck.