THE FIRST GRADE

Yesterday I remembered why I generally hate subbing for kids below the third grade.

I went back to my Alma Mater, La Patera Elementary School, which is always fun. Some of my old teachers are still there (I sat next to my fifth grade teacher at lunch, as a matter of fact). But here is why I don’t like subbing for first grade:

Nicholas F (not Nicholas E, who is an angel from heaven) transgressed the rules for a third time and lost his recess privileges. At that, he began to cry. Violently. In fact, he sobbed so hard that he was literally screaming into a pillow for about 12 minutes. While he was still lying there the principal came in and took him away for about thirty minutes. Later, near the end of the day the school psychologist came and took him out. This is not teaching, my friends. This is behavioral management.

Nicholas was the main source of my pain yesterday, but others helped add salt to my wounds—Kayla the space cadet (who, while we were reading about different houses that people around the world live in, kept saying "Oh, I live in that," [igloo] and "Oh that's my house," [mud and straw hut] whereupon the other students would turn to her and exclaim "You don't live there! Liar!"), Llovani the ADHD kid, Ismael the rambunctious, etc.

Last thing—For younger kids (and sometimes old ones, too), I go by Mr. V. I do this because Mr. Van Nostrand can be quite a mouthful and pretty hard to remember. But I’ve never had it happen like this before: I was called Mr. F, Mr. S, Mr. B, and just plain “Mister” by these kids with faulty neuron firings. All I kept thinking anytime someone called me by a wrong letter was “This is gonna be great for my blog!”