Screendoor Sub

Wow, cool article about a cool band

2007-02-01T21:11:00.000-08:00

Interesting article by an interesting band:

Matt Cooley, lead singer for Aftershocker, surveyed the bar for that Friday’s gig. His eyes caught on the single beer on tap, a silver bullet on a wood lever. Behind him, someone continued fiddling with the PA; the speakers had yet to receive signs of life from Aftershocker’s instruments. They should already have been three songs deep into their set, yet this guy—the bar’s manager or a relative of the owner, but definitely not possessing a drop of techie blood—obstinately refused help. Stranded in this stripmall bar, unbearably pedestrian off the stage, having just paid for a pitcher of the one beer on tap, Matt Cooley ran his hands through his hair and issued a bold proclamation:
“We won’t be playing here again.”
Although Aftershocker has a few things in common with the slew of bands formed during college by friends and roommates, they are a bit of a different beast. Unlike a lot of the college sect, they played outside their campus’s vicinity and after a few band members have graduated, they’ve stuck together.
Perhaps the biggest difference is in the quality of music Aftershocker performs. These guys know their way around their hardware; they practiced weekly before regular shows made weekly practice superfluous; and they have a surprisingly professional stage-presence.
Lead guitarist Dave Marchand can shred like nobody’s business. His solos on lead guitar leap and bound up scales as his hands move with the nonchalant quickness that is the obvious result of lots of one-on-one time with his ax. Other band members’ talents don’t quite stand out as much as Marchand’s, but they hold their own. Ralph Patterson keeps a tempo on drums that teeters on the verge of over-clocking into a frenzy. Bassist Chris Choate and rhythm guitarist Dylan Haas are both plenty competent. Josh Rau plays keyboard, saxophone, harmonica and accordion. Matt Cooley—we’ve met Matt Cooley—he fills the role of lead singer aptly.
Still firmly entrenched in the bar circuit, Matt Cooley’s ultimatum is a bit of a laugher, but also a bit telling for who this band is. We won’t be playing here again—keep in mind he said this with a complete lack of irony that would make it almost painful to recollect, if sometime around the fourth or fifth song in their stripmall bar set the talent and enthusiasm of a polished, earnest rock band didn’t assert itself; and sink the invalidity of Matt Cooley’s cocksure presumption.
100.5 The Zone’s Battle of the Bands (which Aftershocker exits in the semi-finals) operates out of the Powerhouse Pub in Folsom. The pub's décor has an unrestrained western, touristy theme that could have been found in a turn-of-the-century, Tombstone, AZ Applebee’s.
The winner of this several round tournament goes on to open for The Zone’s 10th Annual Exotic Ball, with a reported audience of 15,000 (reported at the battle by one of the radio station’s morning DJs).
The Jerry Jenning’s band (Aftershocker’s competition this round) sets a calm, almost comatose mood with their sort of soft- rock, jam band style. Seconds into Aftershocker’s set, the mood shatters. The crowd is startled awake by Matt Cooley’s demand to “get on their fucking feet.” (most don’t comply, but it gets their attention). Aftershocker veers into a raucous, nonstop, three song block. Talking excitedly to each other, the DJs snap pictures of Aftershocker jamming onstage. If not on their fucking feet, the crowd is at least onboard, whooping and bobbing their heads emphatically in-time.
By the end of their hour set, Aftershocker has managed to cajole the audience to pump their fists and shout on cue to “The Next Step,” (AS: Ya know/Crowd: YA KNOW) ending on a euphoric high that really, possibly makes this next thing totally alright:
After the show, unprovoked, they give someone a signed set list.
For a moment she seems confused. Sure, she enjoyed the show. But this? She exchanges a curious glance with her friend. There’s this unbearable inevitability that they’ll throw their heads back and laugh at the whole thing, crumple up the list and chuck it.
But, that doesn’t happen.
They leave the bar shortly thereafter. Except, and it’s a little fantastic to see, the woman with the set list carries it cumbersomely and carefully at her side, attempting not to crease it.
Ultimatums never to return at sights of unsatisfactory gigs? Distributions of signed set lists? Who do these guys think they are? Then it hits you: Despite the bars nestled by AM/PMs and the early exit from battles of the bands, Aftershocker thinks—is absolutely convinced—that they are the next great rock band: the newest saviors of rock in a long line of saviors of rock. And at their best moments, when they stir a dive’s crowd of distracted regulars into synchronized fist pumping and unison shouting, you’re on the verge of believing them.

9 days

2006-06-01T20:25:00.000-07:00

Nine left. The over/under of the grasp on my sanity? Tenuous.

Has it really been 2 months?

2006-05-17T14:43:00.000-07:00

Been awhile blog.

I've tied down a long-term gig at a middle school teaching algebra. Teaching middle school algebra is about as fun as it sounds. No, scratch that, it's about as fun as having your balls eaten by fireants sounds.

The problem with being a long-term sub is kinda like the problem of being a large Mario, but not a fire-throwing Mario, in the underwater levels of Super Mario Bros. Large Mario finds his powered-up size works against him in the narrow confines of the water stages. So what if I'm bigger, older, and stand in front of the classroom? All these signs of power egg the kids on. If only I was fully powered up in the eyes of my students, if only I could find that elusive fire-flower, which effectively nullifies Mario's size disadvantages with the ability to hurl flames.

Eh, then again that doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

Highlights?

- Discovered a note informing me that I "suck monkey balls." "A Student that doesn't like you" addressed it to me "hate." At least that's not as bad as having a student that hates you addressing a note "don't like." I think.

- A plot to put itching powder on the sub failed when I refused to shake the suspicious outstretched hand of this one knucklehead. That's right, his idea was to first spread the itching powder on his hand and then shake mine. Honors students they ain't.

- Going back to "knucklehead." Just about every teacher's lounge I've been to throws this phrase around for the school's utmost punks. It's kind of a catchall that fills in for "jackass," "dumbshit," "douche bag," and anything else you shouldn't call a 13 year old.

Two more days of PE

2006-03-17T17:31:00.000-08:00

Two calamities struck in the midst of otherwise uneventful periods involving the dispensing of crunches and pull-ups.

Calamity 1

Someone touches your shoes. So you touch his backpack. What's the next move? Fight, of course. I mean, those might be your favorite shoes, but you have the audacity to touch his backpack! What else is going to happen?

Breaking up fights. Frustrating.

Calamity 2

Some freekin' genius set a stink bomb off in the locker room. Imagine rotten egg mixed into the olfactory jambalaya that is a boy's locker room. If you can't quite imagine that, try the following.

An orangutan has finished a 10k and really exerted himself. You know, gave it his all, didn't walk, and as a result is absolutely covered in sweat. On his way home, he stops at his favorite Mexican restaurant. Unfortunately, Guillermo, that night's cook, has been battling an unusually potent stomach flu. Unbeknownst to our orangutan (let's start calling him Petey) the super burrito he ravenously consumed had been infected with Guillermo's bug.
The flu acts with lightning quickness.
Petey's relief in the restaurant's public restroom is short lived after the discovery that his stall's toilet paper reserves are exhausted. Faced with no alternatives, Petey unlaces one running shoe and removes the fetid socks from his still moist foot. Using this reeking orangutan sock, Petey smears the barely digested burrito from his densely haired rear.
Forget about Petey and focus on that sock. Now, imagine pulling that sock over your head (which shouldn't be too hard, orangutans have large feet).

But other than that, a great day, really.

P.E. Streak

2006-03-15T19:12:00.000-08:00

For the past week it's been nothing but P.E. spread between two middle schools. The thing about subbing P.E. is it really ain't that interesting. Watching kids chuck basketballs is easy, but doesn't make great campfire stories. But there were still a few mild entertainments.

If every kid in every period did 20, then I've supervised 20,000 push-ups this week. But only one did those prison style push-ups you see in movies, you know the ones, using the knuckles. What did he do after he was done? Shank? Trade some smokes? No, he gingerly cradled his bruised and scrapped knuckles.

This one school makes kids pick up trash for detention. Great idea, they're still miserable and they're doing good for the school.
Two kids I didn't recognize joined my class' basketball playing frenzy. I ask if they should be picking up trash. They say no.
But something doesn't add up.
There's some kind of knavish glint in their eyes, which craftily dart leftwards as they talk. Also These kids are standing near two scantly filled trash bags and have plastic gloves for picking up trash.
I decide to investigate.
I ask them their names. The first, out of earshot of his buddy, tells me "Michael." I walk over to the second. He tells me Michael too. Befuddled, I point out they have the same name.
"You told him Michael too?" says the second one.
And they picked up trash for the rest of their days. The End.

Back to the Wolves

2006-03-09T19:20:00.000-08:00

Hey, remember that one class I subbed for, like, three days? The one that by the third day was starting fires and forming bike gangs in class? (This Class)

They greeted me with huzzahs and ovations. The principal, who was subbing for me (it was one of those last minute deals) asked the class, "Is he the sub you were talking about?"
"YEAH!"
Aw, shucks... or aw, crap?

Turns out, Aw shucks. The kids were fantastic today. Intelligent, diligent, and not delinquent.

I still managed something terribly unprofessional (bringing my Ripken-esque streak to, like, 40 days). Because of the suddenness of today's job, I forgot to grab food. Lunch rolls around, me starving. Me starving bad, me think great unright. So I raided one of the lil darling's earthquake food supply. Hey, I'm a jerk.

Battle with the Creatures of Habit!

2006-03-07T13:50:00.000-08:00

Everything I did in yesterday's third grade class got the same response. "Mr. Regular Teacher doesn't do that." I mean, everything. My handwriting, how I dismissed tables for recess, the way I asked them to open their math books before they put their names on their papers, my preference for an open palm slap as opposed to use of a yard stick for discipline, everything.

Then there was this passage from Charlie and The Chocolate Factory. If it had been a batch of older kids, and one of them had started laughing I think I might have too, which reveals tons about my maturity. Anyway, it was during that part when Wonka describes the everlasting gobbstopper and it went something like this:

"It's amazing! You can put it in your mouth and suck it for hours and it won't get any smaller! You can suck it and suck it and suck it and suck it all day and it won't lose any of it's flavor. It'll be great for children with little pocket money!"

What's wrong with our society when third-graders aren't laughing at this stuff yet! Parents must be notified.

Let's Talk Movies Today

2006-03-05T22:35:00.000-08:00

Well, Girl's PE was nothing special. A rainy day schedule confined everyone to the Gym where every class shared the basketball courts without any problems. Since I didn't get to break up a fist fight or save anyone from an exploding car, anyone who reads this thing (Mom) is going to have to hear why the Academy Awards was sucky baby.

Why the Academy Awards was Sucky Baby
All this talk about how Crash and Brokeback Mountain were necessary films that needed to be made and seen. Well, these were the two AA movies I saw this year and it seemed to me either would have been alot more necessary (necessarier) ten years (at least!) ago.

CRASH - This movie got me thinking, could densely populated urban areas really be hotbeds for racial tension? Naaahhhhhhh.

BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN - Sure, it was great to have a few queers portrayed in a realistic (well, Holly-listic) way. A great movie for anyone who hasn't seen cable television over the last decade.

Both were great movies. But necessary?

A First Tomorrow

2006-03-02T22:43:00.000-08:00

No job today, but I did get work for Friday. I've done just about every grade level and every subject in the middle schools, except... Girl's PE.

Even though the classes are Co-ED and this is only middle school, I still felt dirty old guy vibes accepting the job. Are male substitutes supposed to avoid Girl's PE? I guess I find out tomorrow.

Stuck in the Middle Schools

2006-03-01T19:28:00.000-08:00

Tuesday

An RSP class at a tough school. An inexperienced sub. Recipe for disaster? Surprisingly, no.

I recognized several of the kids from other classes. Bracing for the worst after seeing their names on the attendance sheet, I couldn't be more nonplussed to see these baskets o' trouble behaving decently in RSP.

Knowing that some of the harder cases actually try to grasp the concept of surface area under certain circumstance broadened my outlook a bit.

If only every class size was four!

Wednesday

Whenever three periods go by harmlessly I get worried. You know, the whole calm before the storm/law of averages thing. If you don't have to many nascent nutjobs early, you're bound to get extra late, right? Sho 'nuff.

Since the kids were making propaganda posters (from both us/them perspectives) for a slew of American wars today, a fitting war metaphor would be:

(Oh, but first a sample of their work. One puny professor came up with these rousing slogans for the Iraq War:

(Oh, and one thing really quick, Iraq War? Too soon?)

(Anyways, the slogan for the Iraqi perspective, "Kill the Americans." Slogan for the U.S. perspective, "Kill the Iraqis." Unrelated fact: Alcoholism is on the rise among educators.)

And finally, the metaphor. Among historic battles for strategic high ground, periods 1, 2, and 3 were San Juan, fun, easy, almost vacation-like. Periods 5 and 6 were Bunker Hill, heavy losses on all sides.

A Week Off

2006-02-26T17:10:00.000-08:00

Well, it's back to the savages tomorrow. Hopefully I'll have demonic and hygienically unsound classes to regale y'all with. Until then, here's something to tide over whoever stumbles over this thing:

The best anagram for X-man Wolverine?

"Wine Lover"

Can students be friends?

2006-02-19T18:03:00.000-08:00

At least for subs, the answer seems to be no.

A class starts the day on-task and quiet (like Friday's 6th graders). I notice this. I think, hey this class has it together. So I let my guard down. Crack a joke. Appear approachable. Maybe it's something as small as allowing myself to smile.

And every time, by the end of the day my back is covered in footprints.

Maybe the kids read these as signs of weakness. I don't know. Can I have a good time and keep the kids on the lesson plan?

Shhhh....

2006-02-15T19:57:00.000-08:00

Today the best behaved fifth-graders in the world got me as a sub. Quiet, hard-working, pleasant, nothing interesting can be said about this class.

Whenever one raised his voice to a respectfully subdued whisper a devilish grin spread across his face, as if he was getting away with something. I played along, giving them a dangerous glare whenever I caught one of the punks so much as leaning towards another's ear.

How useless was I today? As the entire lesson plan called for the uber-kids to work on their own, I tried my best to wedge instruction anywhere I could. While they read a story (The one about the frontier kid who teaches an Indian to read and write using Robinson Crusoe) I occasionally interrupted, trying to teach something.

"You know, uh, Robinson Crusoe was written by Willem Dafoe."

Like the great kids they were, each would smile warmly and nod, as if they were actually giving my desperate ramblings thought.

A Very Strange Day in Junior High

2006-02-10T20:54:00.000-08:00

I may have done my first horrible thing today. The kind of thing that kids will remind each other of years afterward. "Do you remember that one sub? That crazy sub?" I'll blame the steadily mounting pressure of the day, starting with...

The Kid Who Wouldn't Take Off His Hat

Five times I tell this one lil angel to take off his hat. And six times he put it back on. Then he took a picture with his cell phone without turning that unmistakable digital picture click sound off.

My first confiscated cell phone!

Michael Freekin' Moore

Back row, center aisle. Here's this perfect tiny human being tracking me with a digital camcorder.

What. The. Hell.

I get up from my desk. He tilts the camera up, keeping his eyes glued to the flip out screen.

I walk down the aisle. The lens follows.

I'm standing over this delightful cherubic specimen of innocence. He leans back to keep the camcorder trained on my face.

"You can have that back at the end of the period"

"OK"

Finally, that Terrible Thing

How does a kid get a pen with a built-in Operation game?

This thing was the size of a cucumber and perfectly mimicked that annoying buzz from the Operation home game.

I see this monstrosity, I ask the shining beacon of scholarship if he has to use a pen that big. He says it's his only one.

It buzzes and buzzes, I tell him he can borrow a pencil. I don't want to see the board game again.

He puts it away and as soon as my back is turned...

BUZZ!

When I turn around, there's this mini man of letters smiling with that damn pen.

I'm sick of confiscating things at this point. So, I chuck that football sized pen into the trash. I tell the flawless academic he knows where he can pick up his pen after class.

A synchronized gasp sweeps over the room. Didn't have too many more problems with that period.

Am I a monster?

Back in the Game!

2006-02-09T18:17:00.000-08:00

Three days, three jobs, starting on...

TUESDAY

It's nice when a teacher tries to make the usually monotonous day of a sub a little more interesting, like by hiding the lesson plan.

Luckily a fellow teacher heard about the problem and was able to look for it with me while the kids did a distracting journal write. We didn't find anything, but she gave the class a stern talking to on my behalf, here's the gist of it:

"OK, now we couldn't find your teacher's lesson plan, but he (jerks thumb in my general direction) is just like a real teacher. In fact he is a real teacher! So treat him like you would a real teacher."

As if they couldn't already sense my panic before little miss divulge-all tells them I've got nuthin'. But at least she ordained me a "real teacher!" Oh boy Geppeddo, just like I always wanted!

Bright side: Lesson plan eventually found, mixed in with a stack of papers on her desk. No title and the whole thing was typed in a single paragraph, how'd I miss it?

WEDNESDAY

Half day at a kindergarten less than a mile from my house. Ahhhhhhh.

The tykes were polite, this bowl haircutted Cherub even complimented my shoes.

Like anyone with the dietary staple of paste, they were full of non-sequiturs, the best:

Yesterday somebody farted at the YMCA.

I think that might be my new favorite sentence in the English language.

TODAY

What could be easier than a batch of well-behaved kindergarteners? Try middle school PE.

After five periods of saying perhaps the same dozen words to the kids ("Take roll," "exercises," "run a lap around the grass," "play basketball.") accompanied by the same gestures (hand roll sheet to TA, point towards exercise area, point to field, nod towards bag of basketballs) I started feeling like one of those robots on a Disneyland ride.

Best reason to sub middle school? The off-chance of getting a prep period right before or after lunch. That's a two hour break! Tell you what, my index finger needed it.

Bird flu's bright side? Work.

2006-01-28T12:28:00.000-08:00

An avalanche of student teachers has blanketed every available job.

My most recent work--last Friday, third graders, one gave me a note in an origami box telling me I was "the greatest teacher he ever had," that note is now on my resume--seems years ago.

Monday I turn in applications at another district and with the high schools.

I'm also considering expanding beyond the classroom. Customer service, mail delivery, sandwich maker, street sweeping, waste management, professional curling, taffy pulling, massage, barnacle scraper, candy inspecting, yes manning or fall guying, old-dude monitor, gravel churning, crab appler, acupuncture, I'm pretty sure I could sub for any of these things. So, if one of your regular crab-applers calls in, give this blog a hit.

The Pitch

2006-01-18T20:18:00.000-08:00

Hey, how about this for a TV show, Kids Mumble the Darndest Things to Themselves.

What? You're not sold?

Picture this kid (We'll call him Brandonly). Kindergarten age. Coloring his drawing of the Little Red Hen (Remember her? She didn't get help from the other farm animals to make bread? And then ate the bread all by herself while watching the life drift from their hunger-racked bodies? Remember her?).

Anyway this kid, coloring. While he's coloring he presses harder and harder with his red color pencil, making darker and darker marks. Now get this, the whole time he's mumbling to himself:

"Press with greater power Brandonly"

Kids! They're nuts!
I subbed Kindergarten today

I'll start updating daily, really.

2006-01-14T17:23:00.000-08:00

Three whole days of subbing to review!

Wednesday

Second day in that 5th grade class. Luckily that recycling video I got from my brother killed about a hour. After the video i asked the kids to think of things they could recycle, reuse, use less of, and compost. (The tables that thought of the most ideas got table points. Table points!)

Like I was stretching time, some kids were stretching their ideas pretty thin. One sweet lil' special angel had almost 20 ideas for composting. The list included:

Banana peels
Orange peels
Lemon peels
Melon peels
and so on

Call me a curmudgeon, but I had to repeel a few of those answers.

Thursday

Last day in that 5th grade class and thank God. I pretty much used up any authority I carried into the class on day 1. The lesson plan was watered down into a weak mix of her thrown-together suggestions and my half-baked ideas.
Players of the game today? Silent reading time and Minimum day.

Friday

Finished the week in a fifth grade class that I had subbed a few months ago. The class still loves their computers, although Nanosaur has taken a backseat to this bug game that rips off that one movie about bugs and the lives of bugs.

But, boy howdy, did they get a new toy.

After lunch I notice the class has a slightly higher energy level than usual. I'm always trying to offer insight into this job for the lay person, so I'll tell you how my finely tuned perception skills picked this up. One girl, her name escapes me, had this subtle gleam in her eye and a certain delicately pensive way of holding her shoulders as she sprinted circuits around the classroom while her classmates jumped in place and squealed.

I soon discovered the source of their excitement. Immediately after taking my place at the front of the classroom, the class loudly chanted:

DDR! DDR! DDR! DDR! DDR!

That's right, Dance Dance Revolution. They had it. I couldn't believe it. Somehow I held their attention long enough to get through a spelling test and science ditto. With about half an hour left in the day I had a choice, turn on the Playstation and let the DDR mats come rolling out or face certain trampling.

A two person video game? In class? What's next a pig head on a pole?

Get this, the kids shared those two DDR mats perfectly for thirty minutes. They never made fun of the less coordinated of the bunch. The wallflowers were even encouraged to join le revolution, even if it meant a good player waiting a little longer. Sure it's flashy, noisy, and enjoyed by the kids, but I think it may also be valuable.

Hear me out, hear me out-- these 5th graders are what, 10? They're getting old and it's time to get introduced to lovely algebra and chemistry, but they're still learning to play too, right? "Learning to play," I know that sounds soft, really soft. But if thirty kids are all waiting patiently and happily for one of two spots at a game that they all want badly to play and a (substitute) teacher never gets involved, something good has got to be developing. Something that, based on how some of us growed-ups act, may only have a chance to develop at a certain age.

Flag Day

2006-01-10T22:40:00.000-08:00

RED FLAG! Smack center on the teacher's desk is a note from yesterday's sub.
RED FLAG! The note explains in detail how yesterday's sub used most of the material intended for today.
REDDEST FLAG! The VCR is broken!

So today was all about stall/delay tactics. Kids lined up outside? Wait a minute to let them in. Silent reading scheduled to last 15 minutes? Stretch it out to 20.
I made it, and even got a whole week's worth of assignments out of it. That's right apparently the teacher will be out Wednesday and Thursday as well. How will I kill two more days of lesson plan-less classtime? Any ideas?

The Heroic Return

2006-01-09T21:56:00.000-08:00

So, I lived and returned to sub another day, four other days since the last post actually.

Three of those days were wayyy back in 2005 before Winter break. Not much happened, except one day I subbed two half days, that means I made a whole 15 bucks over the usual day pay. w00t.

My first 2006 assignment was pretty stupendous. Last Tuesday I covered an 8th grade history class. It went a little something like this:

"Hey my name is Mr. Gire, your teacher wants you to copy this timeline and map. If you don't then I might just give you this optional homework he left for you guys. Now I'm going to read a book at the front of the class while you work quietly under the fear of extra homework."

Kids and their stupid, stupid, stupid germs

2005-12-10T23:24:00.000-08:00

It finally happened. The past few days I've been bed-ridden with this nasty bug I picked up somewhere. The worst part was that it hit me right in the middle of teaching this kindergarten class on Thursday.

Luckily that class has some very talented aides that were able to handle things while I sat at the teacher's desk, shivering, sweating, and trying to resemble authority between throaty, hacking coughs.

So back to this cold. It's really not all the bad though. Two days with a fever around 102 is kind of like a vacation to the tropics on the sub pay scale!

ROVING!

2005-12-07T23:15:00.000-08:00

Three hours, four classes. I refed dodge ball, supervised a computer lab, explained the difference between Greenland and Iceland (Icelanders are a bunch of dirty, dirty bastards), and heard 6th graders unveil such riveting facts of Jackie Joyner-Kersee's life as "She ate junk food."

Not a bad day at all.

The Invisible Teacher and Noses

2005-12-05T22:06:00.000-08:00

Alright two days I've got to cover, but it'll be quick.

FRIDAY
Called into a kindergarten class, nothing unusual about that. What was unusual, however, was the teacher's sudden appearance a hour into the day. She walked in, the class barely acknowledges her and she looks for her car keys for a hour and a half. This was the entrance of a drifter, not the class' teacher.

And, hey, why call me? Wouldn't it have made more financial sense if she had taught, and maybe asked her aide or even paid a hobo a few bucks to look for her keys? Instead of calling in the 100 buck-a-day pro?

TODAY
Here's an unfortunate truth:

The amount of hugs a student will give his teacher is in direct proportion to the runniness of his nose.

Today I was a freekin' rockstar. The kids loved me. They did what I said. When they didn't, they listened to the stern-talking-to. Most of them assumed I would be back tomorrow no matter how much I told them I wouldn't.

The kids just wouldn't stop hugging me either, which is great anytime of year 'cept cold season. So these hugs were entirely one-sided, the sweet embrace of a child versus all of my desperate pushes and shoves.

Retreat

2005-12-01T21:04:00.000-08:00

So this phone call wakes me up at 6 and of course it's the district. I'm on the verge of accepting a job in a 3rd grade class at a great school, when I hear this recorded note from teacher.
I don't have anything planned, you'll have to bring your own activities for the class.
Here I am smothered under a down comforter while outside there's this squall. The rain is coming down in sheets, an H2 is blown past my bedroom window, and I can't think of anything that would keep a bunch of scab-picking, snot-ignoring, brats occupied for five minutes. The automated system hangs up on me before I can bring myself to accept or decline the thing, so I sleep in three more hours.

But yesterday was great. I had the perfect day. The teacher left no homework for her fourth-graders. A X-Ray technician dropped by and talked to the class. One of the girls even brought Hawaiian cookies from her trip to Hawaii.
I could do no wrong.
At the end of the day this French-Canadian-American boy couldn't bring himself to leave the class. He finally pulled on my khakis to get my attention and, shyly avoiding eye contact, said:
"You're the best sub I ever had."
Sure, it might have been the Macadamia-Chocolate Chip cookies talking, but I'll take it.

Two Days in First Grade

2005-11-29T22:34:00.000-08:00

Adorable first grade class with some great names (Ivee and Zion were the best). Like any class, they had their terrific moments.

Monday
Thanksgiving came and went but left me some pretty heavy chest congestion. This coughing fit absolutely jumps me in the middle of a sentence. My face is red, tears building up, and I cannot stop coughing. And the kids? Do they rush to bring a glass of water to their poor teacher? No, they cough back at me and laugh.

Tuesday
Killed a solid half-hour with BINGO (eh, educational 'nuff). Hit a snag whenever I called out a N number. A combination of sinus blockage and my already lazy speaking habits had me pronouncing "N" like "in". I got away with slips in arithmetic and incorrect elaborations with the history of Thanksgiving , but once I screwed up on their phonic turf I was toast.
"Not 'in!' N!" They shouted. "N! N! N! N! N!"
"I can't tell you the next number until you're quiet," I replied, palming an un-read N-7 and hoping to re-draw a B, I, G, or O.

Welcome Back Me

2005-11-18T18:49:00.000-08:00

This was my first time working at a school that I had gone to as a kid. Pretty surreal. Sharing lunch in the teacher's lounge with my old history teacher. Working next door to the guy who organized these wicked pick-up hockey games after school. Taking a leak next to my 7th grade science teacher (Why no third urinal? They could at least install some kind of a buffer urinal between two working urinals).
The school had a surprisingly low amount of turnover over the years. There were plenty of great reunions, but the best had to be with my old English teachers. When I told them about my majoring in English and all, well the look on their faces was worth the promise of a life trapped in a lower earning bracket.
Oh yeah, the teaching was great and all.

Haiku

2005-11-15T15:48:00.000-08:00

Inquisitive minds, abundances of patience, and respect for authority make for an easy--but not terribly interesting--day. So, here's a haiku I made up about this one kid playing on the jungle gym during recess:

Kid with shoes untied
walking over monkey bars.
Will he break his neck?

Code Red in HomeEcc

2005-11-10T17:19:00.000-08:00

That's right, subbed for a 7th/8th grade HomeEcc class today. No cooking, or mixing, or budget planning though. Today they learned newspaper reading, as the lesson plan called for a newspaper scavenger hunt. Some red flags:

Flag 1: Every nook and cranny is teaming with old newspapers in this class.
Flag 2: One group tries to turn in a completed hunt after only a few minutes of work. Date erased and re-written in top left corner.
Flag 3: Class groans not again when I introduce scavenger hunt.

(Speaking of red, today was also a "Code Red" drill. That's like an earthquake drill, except for school shootings. As soon as the announcement blared over the loud speaker, the kids cheered wildly and gleefully began constructing a barricade in front of the door. Maybe for Growed-Ups things like "Code Reds" are a bleak reminder of our morbid times, but for the kids its an excuse to turn a table over.)

So, today was a classis example of the proverbial scavenger hunt that broke the class' attention span. So loud. So crazy. So many newspapers ripped up and thrown around.

The peak of Mt. Insanity was reached (and this is 100% fact) when a student--making eye contact with me the entire time--tore off a strip of newspaper, put it into his mouth and started chewing a spitwad. I shook my head in confused shock. The freak smiled, and thank God, he plucked it out of his mouth and threw it away. This is the future. Newspaper-chewers.

A Thrilling Earthquake Drill and Forbidden Love

2005-11-09T14:44:00.000-08:00

(Part 2 of 2)

It seemed as if Day 2 in the 8th grade science class would unfold uneventfully. Sure, there was an earthquake drill during the 6th period honors class (living up to the name, most of them continued their classwork under the desk). But, overall it was another quiet day, at least except for one unforgettable...

4th period. You may remember 4th period better as the paper-ball-throwing period from yesterday. Well, today I was pelted again, only instead of wadded up Little League fliers they pelted me with passion!

I discovered the following note on my desk, coyly addressed to "Mr. G." It has been reproduced exactly as it appeared on the purpley-pink stationary:

Dear Mr. Gyer,
I know this sound odd, but I really like you. I like the way your hair curls & your voice is so depp & exotic. It's quite the thrill. I know I'm only 13, but you take my breath away. From your beautiful eyes, to your depply matured voice, you make my heart choke & gasp for air. Your arms & hands look so warm, welcome, & strong. It's almost like you cast a spell on me when you first spoke to our class. Do you like Classis? I do. Especially "The Phantom of the Opera", because it reminds me of a love only a man like you could offer.
Love, .....
(Please don't show this 2 the office, because I don't want to get into trouble.)

My heart hardened after the paper ball incident, and yet, after finishing the last dulcet word of this note, somehow--how could this be possible?--it melted. Oh, giggling, overbite girl in the front row, while your words will never be forgotten (Yes, how I love the Classis!) they, unfortunately, can not be acted upon... yet. Wait for me darling. Wait and count the seconds until we may act! Oh, and try not to get fat or nothing like that.

Another Fascinating Two-Part Episode

2005-11-08T15:02:00.000-08:00

Part 1 of 2

After nearly nine years 8th graders finally cave into the tall people. Did they boo? Did they leave their seats to do whatever they wanted. Sure they talked, but even the caged bird sings or something, right?

Each period ran like this. "Hey kids, look your teacher wrote some instructions on the board for you. Oh yeah, I need to mispronounce all your crazy names for roll. Whoa, now, I'm going to read my book and look up every other minute or so, making a face like I think you're up to something."

The only hiccup in today's digestive process of the kids' free will came when they got these Little League fliers. Who plays Little League nowadays anyway? What with their TV games and the internets and electronic poker and the crumpling up of Little league fliers into projectiles. Yeah, the punks threw some paper balls around, big deal.

Headlocks: 0
Jump Kicks: 0
Origami Ninja Stars: 0
A Few Crumpled Up Paper Balls: big deal.

But this one girl's jaw hung open in disgust.

"Are you just going to sit there?" she sounded exactly like someone sounds when they're being a total bitch.

So I had to put my book down and walk around the room until I saw some punk throw one of those paper balls (big deal, right?). Then I gave the punk the Sub Stare and asked him for his name. I pretended to write a scathing note about the punk in full view of the class. Finally, I got back to reading.

The Exciting Conclusion

2005-11-05T16:52:00.000-08:00

Maybe it was Friday or the assembly about the cookie dough fundraiser (Sell 20 tubs, get a limo ride to... In 'n' Out!) for whatever reason the 1st graders were out of control. Their ring leader (wearing a black shirt with "Daddy's Little Girl" in scorching hot-pink across the front) actually had the entire class booing me when I introduced a math lesson. I set face on "stone" and once the booing died I asked, "Do you boo your regular teacher?"
"YES!" they screamed back.

Other highlights:
Class takes pencil sharpening addiction to new levels; shaving reservoir filled by recess. Kid with the racing stripe shaved into his haircut leads the effort, repeatedly breaking his pencil in order to re-sharpen it.

Daddy's Little Girl writhes in agony when I ask her to write one more sentence about her favorite toy (some cat doll). The following pouting, languishing (On the floor as well as in her chair) and tearful pleas of I can't do it or Please don't make me yields this masterwork:
I like the cat.

With the last twenty minutes of class I'm faced with two choices. Correct the math or play Heads Up, 7-up. Math promises more booing, all around pouting. Heads up, 7-up means I get to sit down.
Heads down, thumbs up.

The Stone Age

2005-11-03T13:30:00.000-08:00

Part 1 of 2

First day of a two day assignment. 1st grade class. Kids fine, 'cept for their pencil sharpening addiction. Sort of makes sense because the pencil sharpener may have been the most advanced piece of technology in the class. Their computers ran AOL 5.0 and had built in zip drives. Zip drives, who remembers those? Made for the few people who weren't quite ready to say goodbye to things that looked like floppy disks. But I digress, these kids loved their automatic pencil sharpener.
Today was also a bit of a milesotne for me, my first time playing "Heads up 7up." Had one jerk not only try and stand when her thumb had not been pressed, but also not press any thumbs when it was her turn. The outrage!

Second Graders Try Basketball

2005-11-02T16:13:00.000-08:00

Back to work today with the sweetest class of second graders imaginable, well until PE, but that can wait.
If sometime between Kindergarten and 1st grade kids become tattlers, then sometime between 1st grade and 2nd grade kids turn into compulsive storytellers. Every question elicits some minute long anecdote about grandparents and pets and how last summer the brat went camping and lost a tooth on a rollercoaster before she got a goldfish for Christmas.
Thank God one kid had the monosyllabic response down (The following happened, word for word):
ME: Can anyone tell me what "conservation" is?
PUNK: Paper!
ME: Not exactly...
PUNK: Trees!
But they were good kids, until the aforementioned PE. The class played basketball, 4 on 4 at a time. And if you've ever tried to get kids that age to play any organized sport you might as well call it rugby. I couldn't believe the pushing, the shoving, the complete lack of dribbling and utter contempt for the triangle offense.

Nanosaur!

2005-10-27T13:27:00.000-07:00

Woke up at 6am to the gentle pre-recorded request that I show up at some 5th grade classroom in a hour and a half. Caught a break everywhere else though, this was one of those classes who take their spelling workbooks seriously and whose teacher owns an extensive video collection. Add a minimum day cherry on top of that and we have ourselves an easy-100-bucks sundae. Oh, and computers! Sweet, sweet computers with their attention grabbing, kid quieting games.
Remember Oregon Trail and Number Munchers, educational computer games? Well they've been replaced by "Nanosaur." Kids love Nanosaur; they control a Velociraptor during prehistoric times, evading the jaws of a T-Rex here or a Stegosaurus' spiked tail there during their search for prey. All they have to defend themselves is their own wits and nanosaur's freekin' jetpack and laser gun!
How did the dinosaurs become extinct Billy?
They ran out of fuel. Fuel for their freekin' jetpacks!
Maybe I'm jealous, after all what was there to look forward to in Oregon Trail? Fording the river? Cases of dysentery? But, at least it was educational. Like, I learned that, well, the toll road is a rip, because it's easy enough to raft down that river by Oregon, you know that one river, with the rocks.

Kidznewz!

2005-10-26T19:16:00.000-07:00

2 classes today, both 6th Grade. First batch wanted to be "friends."
How old are you?
What's your first name?
What kind of music do you listen to?
Are you seeing anyone?

Told the freaks what they wanted, except the age. Couldn't get the image of all 30 raising against me. I have a sister older than that! GET HIM!!!

They're working on a pretty cool project, though. In groups of three they're reading short stories from a book they will eventually record on a book-on-tape for the library. I guess the idea is for kids who can't read good to hear kids their age reading them stories. Couldn't help giving the class a very flattering speech about how great they were for doing it. I laid it on pretty thick. When I was done, they applauded--couldn't figure that one out.

The second class wasn't as interesting, and I was getting damn tired by then to tell you the truth. Spent the rest of the day in this comfortable chair at the front of the class, occasionally ringing the quiet bell when the noise level distracted me from KIDZ Newsweek.

a whole week. yay.

2005-10-25T19:56:00.000-07:00

Update, and I'd appreciate it if you would try to update this blog more often Jeffrey, OK? Look at me, is this OK? Don't you think this would be OK? Alright, go back to your seat.

Last Tuesday
A public school with black-tie fundraisers! And a freekin' elevator! At most public schools if a student says they're "going down" it usually means trying to pay for lunch. (Oh, burned! You're burned most public school students!) On the appliance-o-meter, the kids were as quiet as bread-makers (because who uses those things, right?), but what can you expect when the pacifying smell of cash is everywhere.

Wednesday
Took on three sixth grade classes, teaching math and science for this rotating teacher schedule they have at the school. Teaching math to sixth graders is kind of like feeding a duck with chop sticks, except the duck can tell the difference between mean, median and mode. Overall the sixth graders get a refrigerator on the A-O-M.

Thursday
First middle school class! Repeated the same lesson on Magellan 5 times. Think my act was club-ready by the end of the day, I did this one bit on the Euro-Asia spice trade that murdered, absolutely murdered. A-O-M: Toaster, except 2nd period, 2nd period gets Blender on Ice Crush.

Friday
Special day kindergarten class. Rode the gravy train today: ten kids per AM/PM group and an aide in each group to help. A-O-M: George Forman Grill

Monday
First go as a roving sub, except no roving was required. Instead the day was spent odd jobbing in the office. Implemented sophisticated anti-piracy measures by stamping over 2000 raffle tickets with the school's name.

Tuesday, Today!
Subbing 1st grade. All first graders are rats. If they took just half the energy spent on their constant tattling and applied it to their busy work and dittos they might actually make something out of themselves. Today's A-O-M, Electric Toothbrush, 18 electric toothbrushes, brushing my ear drum.

My Very First Post

2005-10-17T21:20:00.000-07:00

Prologue, Saturday
The phone rings and this hollow, pre-recorded voice offers a 4th grade class on Monday. 1 to accept, 9 to decline.
I push 1, and it begins.

Conlogue, Today
Jesus, those kids were sharks and I was a hemorrhaging meatloaf.
Behind those sparkling eyes and gap-toothed Dakota Fanning grills lies some kind of unblinking Satan. A single minded Satan that works each one of those bastard cherubs against me like twisted orc pawns in a Lord of the Rings chess set. Worksheets? Movies? A tie??? Only holy water can help now.

Huh?: Second bullet on lesson plan, "1015 - 1100, positive/negative pumpkins." No pumpkins anywhere, kids get "STOMP: the movie" instead. Eerily, they seem to have every routine memorized, clapping in-time at several points.

Oops!: Challenge punks to finish some worksheet involving newspapers and numbers as fast as they can. Winners get to choose their job for the week! Result, worksheet done in under ten minutes, winners not only get choice of weekly job, but also prime seating for the encore presentation of "STOMP: the movie"

Sweet!: The littlest, quietest girl in class brings me a picture she drew during the second stomp. It's a graveyard scene. Witch in front of moon, sheet ghost, whatever. But look there, on one of the tombstones, the last words, "I told you I was sick!"