Law of Gravity

Sometimes, I really feel how long I've been subbing. Friday. I was covering the ASB class. They spent the period painting posters for an upcoming rally. Sarah walked in. She wasn't in fourth period, but she had gotten permission from her fourth period teacher to go to her ASB class. I recognized the teacher's name. She teaches AP statistics. The AP statistics test has already happened, so that class is done for the year, hence the reason why Sarah could leave class without missing anything. As the kiddos painted (and they got a lot done that period), they talked. Sarah is graduating, and she's going to attend ASU in the fall. Her twin brother is going somewhere back east. (He's the ASB president for the school and was also in this class.) I remembered where and when I had first encountered Sarah. It made the blog. It was summer school. Health class for students who hadn't taken health during the school year. She made that silly PowerPoint.  (You remember the o...

It was one of the severe special ed classes. Lunch time. While the kiddos were at lunch, their instructional aides were out supervising. But the aides get a lunch, too, so there's a bit of a juggle. They have to find time for their lunch (usually during class time) while making sure the class is manned. As the teacher, my lunch is when the kiddos go to lunch. However, there was Jason. Jason was non verbal and confined to a wheelchair. He was fed through a tube by his one-on-one aide a couple times that day. He could not be left alone. Jason's one-on-one took her lunch before the actual lunch so she could be back while the other aides were out supervising lunch. But, because of time constraints, there was a small gap of about five minutes (normally, but this was a block schedule day, so the gap was more like ten) where Jason didn't have supervision. On a normal day, the teacher took over for that time. If it was normally the teacher's job, then on this day it was mine. I...

Today's post is NSFW. Apologies. I try to keep things PG around here, but I really want to tell you about this...  "That's not what that means." It was a rather weird Monday where I ended up covering four different classes. Fourth period it was a US history class. They were supposed to be perusing a chapter on the Cold War. (It was next door to the class I covered the week before spring break .) But if they were on task, this wouldn't be a very interesting post. One girl explained to another the definition of the term "cockblocker". Or, at least, she thought  it was the definition. It was a rather literal interpretation, involving smacking/slapping a certain part of the male anatomy. That's where I chimed in. I jump into student conversations when misinformation is being perpetuated. "That's what it says on Urban Dictionary . I took a screenshot. Want to see?" she replied. I did not. "Well, then Urban Dictionary is wrong."  I ...

"Would you like to buy my AirPods ?" Tuesday. Period four. World history (sophomores). It was day two of a week-long assignment. Alan only asked me about the AirPods (and gave me the hard sell) when I questioned why he wasn't in his seat. He explained that he had to sell them. He was looking for a buyer. Alan gave me a sob story about needing money to contribute to his mom for *mumble mumble mumble* . While this may be true, the whole scenario played out less like a needing-the-money and more like a game Alan played. In a middle school class, this would have been chaos. But the older kiddos have learned (mostly) to not be distracted by such silliness. Alan showed off his ware to a friend. He demonstrated its features. The friend looked at it, but decided against. He tried a couple other of his classmates. At one point, Alan even went over to a girl on the other side of the room when she expressed interest. He returned, his AirPods still in his possession. Did he do any w...

It was Friday, and I was surprised by a minimum day. That's a good surprise. Although, it wasn't actually a minimum day for the students. It was what they call International Day, which is a day where the campus clubs sell food, and the kiddos spend time in a carnival-like atmosphere with dancers and other performers. The entertainment and the food are from many different nations. So, while the classes ended just before 1 PM, the students were still "at school" until their usual dismissal time a little over two hours later. However, they let the subs go after the classes were over. I had checked out, and I was on my way to my car. At the above gate, there was a girl climbing over. (This is known as "hopping the fence". Read: ditching school.) She was almost to the top when I got there. "What are you doing?" Yes, it was pretty obvious, but I had to open the conversation somehow. She did not have an answer for me, of course. She got her legs over the ...

Emily was the only one actually doing any work in second period. This was the continuation high school, so students not accomplishing much is a normal Thursday. Emily managed to complete two assignments. And she wasn't even enrolled in the class. (Emily was in wood shop second period, but it was too cold in the room. She received permission to switch to the warmer room.) During the passing period between second and third, I noticed Emily had left a paper behind. I scanned it. Assuming she'd return for it, I left the paper on her desk. Then third period arrived. One of the boys picked up the page. "Does anyone know Emily? She left a suicide note." In seconds it had gone through five sets of hands, everyone wanting to see the "suicide note". "It's not a suicide note," I informed them. "Give it to me." "How do you know?" a student asked. "I've read it." "What does it say?" He folded the note and held it ...

Iris seemed fine as she entered class. She wore a t-shirt with "Baby Girl" emblazoned on the front. And she was talking and joking with her classmates. The class: seventh grade science. I did my intro and got the class started. Then someone asked to use the restroom. When that girl came back, she didn't go right back to her desk. She hovered at Iris'. (Iris' desk was next to the door.) When I went to shoo her back, she informed me that Iris was crying. Whenever I'm crying, the last thing I want is "sympathy"... (I'm not heartless. I offered to let Iris go see her counselor or even just to sit outside. She said no and left her head on her desk.) Another girl from across the room when to "help" Iris. I overheard something about a boy and "finding out on [her] own". I shooed girl two away. Not five minutes later, Iris and the girl seated next her her are happily sharing a set of earbuds and discussing the music on one of their ph...