Tag: teacher

No Substitute

Posted on November 9, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

I am not a very good sick person. I don’t like stuffing my pockets full of Kleenex, dosing up on Sudafed, and trying to make it through my day. But I don’t like the alternative, either. Hunkering down in the house with a stack of unread newspapers, that novel I’ve been meaning to finish since last summer, lotion-infused tissues, a remote control and satellite TV isn’t what I’d exactly call my dream day off.

No, I’m not a good sick person at all. I don’t savor the time away from my students. When a teacher is sick, there’s still work to do. Teaching isn’t the kind of job a person just doesn’t show up for. Those kids don’t sit quietly and study when the adult decides they can’t make it to work that day. The substitute doesn’t just show up and create a fantastic lesson plan guaranteed to make them forget all about me. Sad to say, when I get sick it just gets harder. I’m stuck with what’s the better of two evils: trying to communicate intelligently to my students between blows of the nose, or trudging down to school in the dark to write step by step plans that anyone walking in off the street could present for four different classes? Not an easy one.

But this week, I had no choice. I was down for the count, and hunkering under the covers was my only option. So I did what most teachers do-teach one day, write sub plans, stay home, teach the next, write sub plans, and stay home.

It’s not that I think I’m irreplaceable. Hardly. I know there are many young people out there looking for work, eager to earn a paycheck. But in my experience, not many of them are substitute teachers. Last year my students reported that one of my subs whipped out a grapefruit and proceeded to eat her breakfast at my desk during class. Another one surfed cars.com on my computer. And still another decided to ditch the lesson plans I’d prepared for my English class and instead gave a drawing lesson and then proceeded to decorate my classroom with student art work.

Now don’t get me wrong-there are some subs out there who do an awesome job. They really do substitute for the teacher. They take their job seriously, follow the lesson plans, organize the papers, and spend time helping students. The problem is that these subs are the ones everyone wants, and when I’m requesting someone at the last minute those stars are not who are available to show up in my classroom.

So, I’m not a very good sick person. Or maybe I’m just not very good at letting go. I remember junior high-have mercy on the substitute. It really is one of the toughest jobs out there. But in the big picture, what difference does a day of chaos here and there really make? Maybe I should just settle in, drink my herbal tea, catch up on the news, and get lost in HGTV and rest. Maybe I’ll even get lucky when I go back to work, and those students will be glad to see me. I know I’ll be glad to see them. I’m really not a very good sick person.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Why I Write

Posted on October 21, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

Words allow my unspoken and uncertain thoughts to come to life without having to use my quiet voice, and gives me time to think before I speak.

Today is The National Day on Writing- a great day to celebrate our favorite writers, and to thank a teacher (in person or in spirit) who encouraged, inspired, or taught you about writing.

Thank you, Mr. Carey. It is because of your kind humor, your compassion, and your understanding of ‘quiet Jenny’ that inspired me to become an English teacher, and has given me the courage to share my voice with the world. I miss you your presence, but your spirit lives on in me every day.

For more on why writers write, please visit http://www.ncte.org/dayonwriting/testimonials.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Learning Curve

Posted on September 16, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

Every day I’m in the business of learning. It’s what I trained for, it’s what I get paid for, and it’s turned into one of my life’s passions. The interesting thing is that over 20 years of teaching, I’ve spent more time teaching other people than spending time focusing on directly teaching myself a new skill.

I’m not a big fan of taking classes-wow, that’s funny for a teacher to say! I’ve never been a jazzercise-boot camp-training team kind of exerciser. I haven’t unleashed my inner artist in a clay studio or au-plein air painting group. I can’t imagine making time to learn how to do all those household repairs that I pay someone else to do (although maybe I should!). I love gardening but have never attended a rose pruning clinic or composting seminar. Cooking, baking, writing – all things I love to do, but never have I registered for a class. College doesn’t count-I’m talking about learning just for the sake of learning, no ultimate goal or ulterior motive.

Learning, for me, has become something done by osmosis…something that I often don’t even notice until it’s over. And sometimes that’s a really good thing. But sometimes I wonder if I’m missing out. Maybe I should find a cello teacher. Or go back to the yoga studio and really commit to learning the practice. Perhaps I should take a writing retreat and consciously try to improve my craft.

Or maybe, just maybe, I should simply learn how to be present in the everyday. To take in the lessons that are all around me~lessons from my husband, my students, my children. Maybe if I really show up for this class, the teacher might just surprise me with her lesson plan.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Friday Blog Hop ~ Learning Curve

Posted on September 16, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

Question of the week:
What would you REALLY like to learn?

Jennifer Wolfe

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9/11: It Started Like Any Ordinary Day

Posted on September 11, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

9/11: It started like any ordinary day.

After maternity leave, I’m still getting the hang of getting out of the house on time each morning. I’m up early enough to have some ‘me’ time – 5:30 a.m. – before the pitter patter of my 23-month-old boy’s feet signal the start of mommy-time. Must plan Cameron’s birthday party for next weekend, I think. Coffee made, candles lit, I start up the desktop as part of my morning ritual, eager to check email and read the news. Having children broke us of our TV news habit when we realized they were transfixed with images of stark reality we were trying so desperately to shelter them from.

A breaking news alert flashes into my inbox – “Plane crashes into building in New York.” Hmm. I’ve never been to New York. Worlds away from my cozy study. I hope it’s nothing serious.

Pitter patter pitter patter…here comes my boy, blankie, and book in hand. My heart thrills at the sight of his big round head. “Make sister juice,” he chimes with a smile as big as any Cheshire cat. I switch off the computer, eager to start the morning snuggle and reading time. It is just another ordinary day.

The 11-mile commute to school is nothing unusual. I drive past the harvested tomato fields, crop dusters skim the highway. Lesson plans fill my mind. Exit right, then left, then straight down the walnut tree-shrouded road towards Douglass Junior High, where my 7th grade English students stand lined up, waiting for me.

“Hey, did you hear about the plane crash?” they shout as I open the door.

“Yes, I did,” I answer, and switch on the lights. “Let’s get started.”

“But, can’t we watch the TV? I have an aunt that lives in New York, and I’m worried,” a child pleads.

“TV? When do we ever watch TV in class?” I respond with a smile. ‘Let’s get started – it’s grammar day everyone’s favorite!”

Moments later, an announcement is delivered by a TA telling us the grim news. Not one plane crash, now it’s two. What??? The Pentagon? Three planes? Buildings collapsed? People dying? But it’s just an ordinary day!

Why don’t I have my cell phone? This ancient classroom has no Internet; the only technology is the old TV mounted in the corner of the classroom. Where are my babies? Did Lily make it to kindergarten? What the hell is going on? I want to go home…

Thoughts flash through my head as I try to process what to do. Thirty sets of eyes stare at me, searching for comfort. I’m the teacher. I’m in charge. I know what to do? Frantic thoughts of my own children race through my mind. Are they OK? What will happen to us? Are the terrorists on their way?

Then I realize-someone is taking care of my children, just as I’m taking care of someone else’s. I know what to do. They need me to make sense of it. That’s what I would want my child’s teacher to do. Reluctantly, yet desperately, I turn on the TV. I have to know. I can’t wait all day.

After two hours, no word from my family, I switch it off. Business as usual – that’s what educators do. Keep them calm, keep them busy. I know it’s only going to get worse, and it’s only 10 a.m.

Two more hours and I’m done. As I jump in my little gold Escort wagon, I’ve never been so relieved to only work part-time; 11 miles fly by-not enough time to decide how to explain the unexplainable to my 5-year-old. The radio news drones on and on. Thousands dead. The children. The mommies and daddies who will never commute home again. The parents who will never see their babies again. The young people who will never have the joy of holding their child in their arms. It’s more than I can bear. The tears stream down my face as I safely reach home. It’s clearly not just an ordinary day.

‘Mommy, why are you sad? What happened at school today?” Lily whispers, her big blue eyes boring into mine. How do I answer? She’s only five. Far too young to have to learn about such horrors. I tell her a story about a plane crashing and good guys trying to stop the bad guys. “Did the bad guy go to jail?” she questions.