Just Plain Bill

“Mom always liked you best.”

Back in the 60s, there were two comedians, Dick and Tommy Smothers, enjoying great fame and fortune who liked to make fun of each other. Their routine often-included Tom’s signature line, "Mom always liked you best!" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smothers_Brothers)

As I’ve been writing about my three children, that line occasionally comes to mind, even though I love my three children equally. There’s always the possibility I would either talk more about one or another, or in some way give attention to “a more favored one” at the expense of the other two; you get the point.

As my recent birthday came and went, thoughts of my legacy occasionally came up, and my intention to dedicate one or more of my blogs to my three children was strengthened – a most sincere example of one’s legacy.

If you’ve read some of my early blogs, you may remember I’ve written a few times about my youngest daughter, Jessica, after fondly recalling a comment or question she had asked over the years. I often found them to be humorous – even when some proved to be embarrassing at the same time. These remembrances, while considered funny, are most vivid in my memory as there's over 30 years difference between my older children and my youngest daughter.

So, my first child, Karen, will be the subject of this blog and I’ll be dedicating a future blog to my second child, Carl.

From the first moment she entered this world, Karen’s pleasant demeanor and natural smile endeared her to all she met. It seems she was born smiling, and she truly lit up any room she was in.

At age two, Karen's word for screwdriver was “scurfdaugher”. It was her version of the word she picked up from me, one I used quite often chatting away while performing household chores. Even when there is a repair to be done today, I’m reminded by a little voice in my head that I have a need for a “scurfdaughter”, when it’s the right tool for the job. 

Karen loved to help. One most memorable time she "helped" happened when she was barely two years old. I was working on the door lock of a closet…and she closed the door while my fingers were in the door jam. She just may have heard her first cuss word from her father that day – which scared her of course and she cried. The pain in my fingers was far outweighed by my guilty feelings. I felt bad, and was not the worse for wear.

Another cherished and memorable time Karen “helped” with another chore occurred when she was a little older. We were painting the small fence in our yard that separated the lawn from the garden area, with white paint. While she was hard at work making sure the paint was applied evenly, I made the mistake of giving her an ice cream bar, vanilla of course. You guessed it! She mixed up the paintbrush with the ice cream bar, which resulted in a call to the poison hotline to see how best to clean latex paint from Karen's tongue. 

The most endearing memory I have of my Karen is when she was about eight years old. Adorned in one of her many “dress-up” outfits, complete with her customary much-too-long dress, a flowery hat, a scarf, and a much-too-large pair of high heels, she was dancing outside our patio sliding door so she could see her reflection. At that moment in time, Karen was queen in her world, without a care in that world, sharing all her talents without any limits or pretense. So transfixed, she did not notice I was on the other side of the glass taking it all in…with a tear in my eye.  

She went on to enjoy performing at church and school events, even earning her high school letter in gymnastics, and making me quite proud yet again. She helped me with the words to a song my 3^rd grade class was writing to celebrate our nation’s bicentennial, and she also added a wonderful verse to one of my favorite songs, “Tomorrow”, from the musical Annie.

Karen’s love for reading helped me to nearly memorize all of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books, and all the Shirley Temple movies and songs. I am reminded of these feats of mental accomplishment, whenever I hear or read about any of those creative works.  

This proud father could go on and on, but let me finish with the most meaningful elements of one’s legacy: As a mother of four, Karen and her husband, Dave, are raising four “perfect” grandchildren (I am known to them as “Goofy”). All are known for their sensitive, creative, and caring personalities, making me the proudest grandfather on the planet.

Just Plain Bill

“You’re Not The Boss of Me!”

My budding career as a substitute teacher has included a few "challenges" from the students from the over 300 with whom I've worked. To my surprise, none was more direct than what a four-year old said to me when I was working in a pre-K class. I had asked Esther (not her real name) to please stop throwing the Legos in the room. Her response was, "You're not the boss of me!"

After my initial shock, I responded as follows: "You're right, I'm not the boss of you. Who do you think is the boss of you?" To which she responded, "My father is the boss of me."

I replied, "You are the boss of you, and I don’t like the choices you’ve made." Almost immediately, Esther said, “I’m sorry, and I won’t say that again.”

Not sure if it will stick, but it felt much better than getting into just whom is or is not one’s boss when you’re four years old…never, ever intending to lessen the role of her father as her “boss”.

And Esther did put the Legos away without another word spoken! 

Just Plain Bill

“Oh ‘Sheet’, another worksheet.”

As a substitute teacher, I've been reintroduced to "worksheets", those pervasive and innocuous parts of the majority of substitute's activities that have been assigned in far too many classrooms.

Having spent more than two decades as a learning and development professional, I don't recall ever running across a "worksheet" in the performance of any meaningful duties, either in the halls of higher education or corporate workplaces. I wonder why?

Plus, invariably some students finish the worksheets before others, and both the substitute teacher and the students are left to their own devices to “fill” the remaining time in class.

I know I'm being just a tad facetious here, but other than a time-filler, the classroom worksheet tends to be a time-waster. Go figure.

Suggestions anyone?

Just Plain Bill

“Will you be are next substute?” (sic)

Throughout my life, I’ve been amazed where recognition, a reward, or a compliment might come from. Like many, I usually associate recognition with some type of remuneration or something tangible; a raise, a bonus, time off, a plaque, praise in a public event, and so on.

Now that I’ve committed my senior years to substitute teaching in public schools, I’ve been overwhelmed by the recognition I’ve received from many students. One would certainly not become a substitute teacher for the compensation, for in my district it is just below minimum wage.

For reasons as simple as “you don’t yell”, “you ask us about us”, “you are so fun”, and various others, many students have candidly shared their feelings about the time I spend with them as their substitute.

I’ve received an origami flower from a hulking 11^th grader and a coloring book page from a four year old that said, “I like you”, in addition to numerous little notes received from students ranging in age as young as four, up to high school seniors. I must admit, the side of my refrigerator at home has taken on the look of an honor roll of sorts, capturing the thoughtfulness and kindness of many children with whom I’ve had the pleasure of working.

After spending a two-day assignment in a 2^nd grade class last week, one student passed around a paper for classmates to sign that contained the question above:

“Will you be are next substute?” The assignment was the best one I’d experienced over my short substitute career, but had a special meaning as the student took the initiative and “secretively” passed his note around for all to sign.

In spite of all the criticism our public schools receive, I can speak confidently from experience from my small sampling: Many schools and their students are in good shape!

Just Plain Bill

One Substitute’s Pet Peeve

The life of a substitute teacher can be rewarding, as well as frustrating – and not for many of the reasons you might think. I’ve been subbing for about six weeks now, working 24 of 27 possible days, in seven different schools, with pre-kindergarten through high school senior students, in schools that range from those quite “well off” to those that might be described as “worse for wear”. All in all, it’s been most rewarding because of the great kids with whom I get to work.

But it’s been most frustrating because far too many teachers are not doing an adequate job in leaving quality directions for their sub (me) to use. I’m often left to my own devices to deliver quality instruction. Although I have several learning activities that will involve and engage the students, their time with me as their sub has not been providing a meaningful learning experience for them, i.e. it wastes their time. I’ve been asking myself this question: “Is this the case due to an image that the sub is just providing ‘babysitting’ while the teacher is away?”

I know how to teach. I know how to engage students. I know to look them in the eye and ask them how they’re doing. I know to ask before I tell. I know how to make students sense that I actually care about what they are feeling, what they already know, and what they’d like to do with the time that we’re together

I know many of them will “test” me. Some will be curious to see what it might take to push my buttons. Others may accept an imaginary or very real dare to challenge what little authority I may have. I suppose either of these off-task behaviors is probably because I’m old enough to be their grandfather…or even their great grandfather! And, I’m only taller than most until I get eighth graders and above. I also realize that in no way will I replace their regular teacher, yet I can teach. I think many adults can too.

During my entire ten years as a classroom teacher many years ago, I had the need for a sub fewer than six times. Each year, I prepared and updated a substitute’s enrichment guide, one that contained learning activities for which the students were prepared – and often looked forward to doing if I’d only been absent.

The tragedy is the monumental waste of students’ time each day a substitute teacher “babysits” or muddles through. Each and every day in the life of my “substitutestudents”- if there is such a word - is precious and needs to be something of value in their lives and mine.

With the focus and attention on learning through massive federally funded programs and legislation like Common Core and No Child Left Behind, I’m dumbfounded the lost learning time spent with a “babysitter” does not seem to have received its own share of attention for improvement