With my second "first day" as an OT (occasional teacher) just around the corner, I've decided to reflect upon my FIRST first day as an official supply teacher. Until this point, only my husband and immediate family have known the full account of that infamous day. Fortunately, enough time has passed that I can now look upon that day with a sense of humour, and write this for the overall enjoyment of anyone who can get a chuckle out of my disastrous birth into my Life as Mrs. A.
When I think about my first day as an OT I can see now that it was not a single bad moment that kiboshed the day, but in true Lemony Snicket fashion, a series of unfortunate events. My sad tale begins with my drive to school, palms sweaty on the steering wheel, printed map quest directions on the passenger seat (these were my naive days before bumming a GPS from my dad). Of course, I had accounted for morning traffic and arrived at the school 25 minutes early with plenty of breathing room. All seemed rainbows and sunshine as I introduced myself to the secretary as the Grade 8 supply for the day, who kindly showed me to the classroom and the neatly laid-out lesson plans for the day. I took my time familiarizing myself with the classroom and day plans before heading to the office to collect the attendance folder. Upon entering the office, I hit stumbling block number one when I overheard an emergency supply teacher discussing with the secretary the fact that she was in for the Grade 8 teacher. The secretary asked her if she was sure the call was for *Eastwoods Elementary School, and while the emergency supply responded that she was certain, my mind exploded with the knowledge that I was in the wrong school with ten minutes until classes started! I hurriedly asked the supply teacher if there was another school on the street by a similar name, and sure enough *Eastbridge Elementary School was 5 minutes down the road. With no time to curse the genius who came up with the idea of putting two schools with those names on the same street, I ran to my car, raced down the street, apologized to the Eastbridge secretary for my last minute arrival, and entered the classroom (literally!) 5 seconds before my Grade 8 students.
While quickly scanning the shockingly sparse day plans, my new students bombarded me with comments and questions such as "How old are you?", "Are you a dancer? You look like one.", "You're pretty!", "I love your hair!" Though the compliments were welcome at the time, experience has since taught me that the students who are bold enough to call out compliments are often the students who are also bold enough to call out profanities. We made it through first period math with few hiccups, but the moment we entered the gym second period I knew I was in the trouble. The plans left by the teacher read, "Fun Friday! Students can choose any activity and play inside or outside - monitor from door. i.e. basketballs, scooter boards, frisbees, etc.". Within 5 minutes of Fun Friday chaos reigned, and I had just raised my whistle to bring all the students in when the vice principal entered the gym with a no-nonsense expression. From the look on her face as she approached me I could tell she thought I was foolish for allowing the students so much freedom, and I was faced with the two equally unappealing options of taking the blame and appearing inexperienced, or throwing their regular teacher under the bus for his instructions. I reluctantly decided to show the day plans to the VP, who took it in stride and suggested I move on to a game of dodgeball. I endured the complaints and criticism from students who claimed "Fun Friday is always like this" for the rest of the period, and looked forward to a change of pace when the Grade 7s would enter the gym third period.
Unfortunately, I was rudely awakened when it took less than fifteen minutes of Grade 7 dodgeball before two boys were engaged in a wrestling match on the floor. After having pushed another boy to the ground, one boy was violently kicking his fallen classmate. I will openly admit that I had NO IDEA what to do. Do I allow the kid to keep beating the other while I go for help? Do I trust another student (who I don't know) to get help while I verbally admonish the student? Do I physically restrain the student? Is it even okay to do that?! I settled for a middle ground of sending a seemingly trustful student for help while I simply placed my body between the two students as a human shield. I said a prayer of thanksgiving under my breath as the VP quickly entered the gym and aided in separating the two students, and continued a noticeably tense game of dodgeball once the boys were taken to the office.
I went back to the classroom for a period of planning time (praise the Lord!) before my last period of the day, believing the worst of the day was over. When the Grade 7 students entered the classroom I received some mumbled apologies for earlier behaviour, but instinctively felt that the atmosphere had only become more strained. The students opened their math books and began the day's lesson without complaint, but it wasn't long before a movement in the corner caught my attention. One boy had stood up with binder in hand, and before I could open my mouth to say a word he had whipped his binder at the head of the kid in front of him. I won't deny that a few choice words entered my head and had to be forced into submission before I calmly said, "Please pick up your binder and go down to the office." I was mentally patting myself on the back for my composure when the student sat himself down and simply replied, "No."
Well. Now what? I had always said that I would only send a student to the office as a last resort, but I had never thought about what I would do if the student wouldn't go. Fortunately, the students were quicker on the uptake than I was. "Mrs. A, if someone won't go to the office you push that red button and someone will come help." Who knew a classroom would have a big red button to hit when students downright disobey you? After pushing the button, I spent the rest of the day observing the VP attempt to remove binder boy from the classroom while the rest of the students unkindly called out suggestions on how to make him leave.
When the bell finally rang at the end of the day, I heaved a sigh of relief that I am sure must have echoed through the hallways and been powerful enough to blow my students out of the school. I felt a tautness in my shoulders that would soon creep into my neck and make my head pound for the duration of the car-ride home. I replayed every scenario over in my head and how I could have reacted better, and when I saw my husband that night, I admitted defeat and cried on his shoulder while he told me what a good teacher I was.
I am so glad to say that that first day of teaching was also, by far, my worst day of teaching. There would be many more wonderful days (and not-so-wonderful days) to come, but I will never forget the trial by fire that was My Worst First Day of School.
Until next time,
Mrs. A
*All places and students names have been changed
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