Less than awesome.

Yesterday I arrived at a certain Middle School in Schenectady to substitute for a certain Special Ed teacher. I follow sub protocol: arrive, sign in, wait to be told room number, arrive at said room, look for sub plans.

So this room is in the basement. It is a single digit. I enter the classroom, and there are already 2 students present. Each is sitting at a table (for some reason, behaviorally challenged students always seem to get large working surfaces). Neither is talking, but one has headphones on, and I can hear his music from the other side of the room.

There is a paraprofessional (read: aide) in the room. He is wearing cargo shorts, a striped polo shirt, and skater sneakers. He is watching Lil' Wayne videos on YouTube.

"I'm here for such-and-such a teacher," I tell him.

"You're in the right place," he tells me, hardly looking up from the computer.

I look around for some sub plans, a blue and yellow folder, a typed or written piece of paper that says "plans" on it, anything.

Nothing.

There are stacks of papers on one of the front desk-tables. There aren't any instructions included with these.

"Did she leave me any plans?" I inquire.

"No, she forgot to write 'em." It is as if I am bothering this guy.

At this point I am just standing there, pissed. Usually, if I am the only adult in the room, I will take this time to put my things somewhere and familiarize myself with the plans. If there are other adults in the room, they will usually give me a rundown on how the day will go, tell me where I can keep my things, etc.

But he is still watching music videos on YouTube. Lil' Wayne, The Used, and other great musicians in the whiney-rock category.

I am staring at a bulletin board across the room, at remnants of wood-grain contact paper clearly left from a half-hearted attempt to remove said paper by tearing. I am gritting my teeth.

After what must have been five minutes, I turn to him and ask as sweetly as I can muster: "Is she going to be e-mailing her plans?"

"No, we'll manage" he assures(?) me, unconcerned.

"Well then can you at least give me an idea of what the day is like?"

"Sure, First period is math, second period someone comes in for science, third is home ec, fourth english, fifth is their lunch, sixth is health, seventh is sort of a free period, eighth is history and ninth is gym."

Never was I told when my breaks were, what my responsibilities were, any classroom rules, consequences, what I should or shouldn't do.

So I sat down at the table with all the stacks of paper on it. I rotated a chair so I could be facing the students, and I took out my book.

A second para-professional arrives. She takes a seat at a table in the back of the room. A third student arrives.

Unlike the students already in the room, this student is a bit chatty. He talks about his track meet to them, scolds the noisy-headphone boy for having his music too loud. I decide I like this boy. I think about this quick decision in my head, dwell upon it for a moment.

This boy opens up his backpack and pulls out what appears to be a bagel with cream cheese.

"Smells like sweaty balls!" he exclaims.

With an expression both disgusted and concerned, I ask him if he is referring to his breakfast.

"No! Ew! What?"

"Oh, if it was, I was just going to say, don't eat that!"

"Why, you know what sweaty balls taste like?"




Awesome.

By the way, the punishment for that gem of a comment was this:

both paras said his name in a disapproving manner.

Never sub for such-and-such a Special Ed teacher at a certain Middle School in Schenectady.

How do you spell a "u"?

I am currently reading Jonathan Kozol's Savage Inequalities. I suppose I was destined to read this book, as it haunted me for two years while I worked at Ben & Jerry's. Someone had once left a copy and it sat on our shelf waiting to be claimed. For all I know, it could still be there. I don't believe I ever really read more of the book than the author's name and the title, but later when people began to mention the work of Kozol, I had a vague sense of familiarity - 'oh right! Savage Inequalities!' Some time later, in a discussion with my friend Ian about the repercussions about names like Tanajaiqua and Queenasia versus names like Madison and Francis, he recommended (what else), as it deals with inequalities (clearly). I read this to fend off the bourgeois intruder persona that could creep up on a person who grew up in Saratoga and now would like to do community-based work (art projects) in three small cities. The book looks at equity from an education standpoint, seeing this as the seedling to society. As a teacher, this resonates with me.

I substitute teach nearly every day, in districts both urban and suburban. I usually do not consider the race of the students unless the majority is overwhelming (for being practically in Troy, the school in Green Island is awash in white). Kozol talks a lot about how poverty and race lines often break at the same point. He talks about urban schools a short distance from suburban schools, and about what a difference money makes. What a school in disrepair with not enough supplies speaks to children. About using rooms for purposes they were never designed for - such as a classroom in a urinal.

As a sub, I mostly notice the behavior differences within schools. More often than not, the suburban kids are more quick to bow to authority, and kids in the city schools will press this a little more. I never really considered the facilities unless it made my job more difficult; ie, a classroom without walls, in a 'cluster' with two or three other classrooms of this type, or perhaps subbing for the art teacher who did not have a room or even a cart. She was art in a milk crate.

Things like this make my job as a glorified babysitter (some days) a little more difficult. I never really considered the effect on the students.

I began to think. I felt a little weird reading this book in Schenectady High while fighting with students who I shouldn't even bother fighting with. I think - your facilities are beautiful! You have a DANCE STUDIO in your art WING for crying out loud. I shall feel no pity for you.

Then I think back to some schools in Troy. The things Kozol was talking about, I found there.

Some elementary schools have converted bathrooms and locker rooms into offices and remedial reading / math classrooms.

There are not enough supplies for the students. I know that the art teachers depend on the supplies each year, they do not have enough to last from the year before, and it might be October before they begin receiving anything.

For a few years I have done a lot of equating children's success with the involvement of the parents. While I still think this is important, I am beginning to understand what Kozol is talking about. We trap people into self-reproducing societies. We usher our middle class tax payers into the suburbs where their children will go to school in well maintained buildings with well funded programs. Many of the people still living in cities with the money to afford it will send their kids to private schools. The people who understand how to push for better conditions are pushing for those improvements in areas where the current standard is something that many in city schools only dream of.

There are many people who are fans of the notion of pulling oneself up by one's bootstraps. How is one to do this when one's old bootstraps have disintegrated and there isn't money for a new pair?