last days and first-timers

a few thoughts on routine, youth, and community

Friday was my last day as a substitute teacher, at least for the foreseeable future. I didn’t know it was my last day so neither did any of my students. Leaving like this seems right for the role — if you do your job, which my District described as providing a “routine day of quality learning” — then your impact should be nearly imperceptible. A day that isn’t lost, but also isn’t filled with anything particularly exceptional.

And that’s what subbing was, largely. Keeping students safe until the bell rings. If everyone is alive and nobody cried, the day was successful. Even better if no one goes to the “bathroom” for 30 minutes only to return with a Chick-Fil-A sandwich and milkshake. Absolutely excellent if everyone turns in the worksheets on their way out the door.

I learned a lot as a substitute. I learned, after just one half-day shift, that middle school is not for me. I learned that strangely, the high school classroom feels good — which made me wish I had found my way into public education earlier. I felt the impact of staffing issues directly, as some days would pass with no time for lunch (or even bathroom breaks) as I moved across the building to cover multiple teachers’ absences. I experienced the background anxiety that comes with our nation’s violence and developed reoccurring nightmares where gunshots echo down cinder block hallways. I met teachers who should have been cops. I met teachers who should be canonized. Mostly, I got a lot of reading done thanks to lesson plans that simply said “check itsLearning” or “it’s on Canvas.” All of this is a routine day.

During one study hall, only a single kid showed up. After 40 minutes of existing in silence together, he said, “Ms. Johnson, can I tell you something personal?” He came out as gay. He shared about his non-affirming family, his worry about being kicked out of his home if they found out, and his college plans. He asked me to come to his chorus showcase the next week. This is a routine day.

I very quickly realized I didn’t like calling roll. Too loud, too easy for me to butcher a name. I began each class by going around to each student individually, asking their name, marking them present, and most importantly asking them, “how’s your day going?” As a substitute, you walk in with no rapport. You have to use every opportunity you have to establish a relationship with the people in your room. In a class I had been to before, a visibly queer student told me a first name that wasn’t on my roster. Outdated and inaccurate rosters, this is a routine day. I told them, “I’ll make sure to update this attendance sheet with your name.” They said, “ummm, today is my first day using this name. I saw you were our sub and thought I could try it out to see if I like it.” This, also, is a routine day.

Slowly, you build a reputation with students. You hear “yessss! Ms. Johnson!” or “aw man, I wish you were in my class today.” You give fist bumps and high fives. Gradually, students ask to eat lunch with you, request you as a sub to their teacher, try to skip their actual classes by hiding out in your room. Funny thing is, you still have no actual colleagues. You can go all day without speaking to an adult. The work is alienating. You come and go, and if you did it right, almost no one can tell a difference. Routine day.

Some days of subbing reminded me of the passage on taming (or as the Fox defines it, “to establish ties”) in The Little Prince: "You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me — like that — in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day…” Students were rightly skeptical of my presence, but with time and respect, we found meaningful ways to be in community with one another.

My last year in Greenville, I learned so much from my friend Cat about what abolition looks like in a classroom. Keeping kids safe also means ensuring their moments of poor judgment don’t result in life-changing disciplinary action. In my few months of subbing, I managed to never write a discipline slip, never call admin. I’ve never regretted showing a student grace. We kept each other safe, even though a few days were messy. I found myself lacking emotional tools and self-discipline far more than I found my students lacking those things.

Before I started subbing, I asked a few educators in my life what they’d want from a substitute teacher. My friend Geri said, “I’d like to know who stood out positively.” This led me to develop a practice of listing daily rockstars for my teachers — and the criteria wasn’t who kept quiet and did their assignment. Our rockstars were often helpful, funny, kind, and honest, even if they fell down the TikTok hole for a stretch instead of knocking out their assignment first thing. There’s so much more to being a good human than following orders.

My final day was a fitting ending, I was bounced across 8 different rooms in one day. I followed a Literature class that had been displaced due to testing. I talked to the students about what they were reading, wished them luck on finals, asked my seniors about their after-graduation plans. Mostly, I stayed out of their way and gave them time to laugh, sign yearbooks, study for AP tests, take end-of-the-year selfies with their friends. Another routine day. High school students are people you’re meeting during a particularly strange time in their life. They could use all the kindness and patience and curiosity we can offer.

Really, we’re all just meeting during a strange time.

All first-timers on this rock, we’ve been thrown here, by God or absurdity or perhaps both. Young people are stark testaments to this awkward reality; as adults, we do our best to hide the truth from ourselves and others. We posture ourselves as regulars — well acquainted with the way the world works, sinking ourselves into the delusion that we are anything except incredibly, disturbingly, magnificently free. There is no such thing as a routine day among the miracle of existence. We could use all the kindness and patience and curiosity we can offer.