you're the best sub ever

"You're the best sub ever," the girl with the fading pink hair said as I came around the corner to the door of a very-familiar classroom at a very familiar school.

"Wow, thanks! That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week," I told her.

And will I ever get tired of hearing that? Probably not. It's the highest compliment you can get as a sub--kids who are happy to see you. I love working at this school, so I do it on a pretty regular basis. It's kind of a standing gig I have, and part of a project I've kind of created for myself this year (project EBD-getting more practice working with "tough cases".

One of the reasons why I signed on to do classified jobs this year (even though I'm certified) is that the range of potential assignments vastly exceeds what's available to certified folks. (Plus, there aren't enough certified jobs to go around right now anyhow, so why sit at home like a rejected suitor when I can spend more quality time in SPED). Classified positions vary way more than most certified jobs, and often involve multiple grade levels, multiple subjects, and multiple settings, all in the same day. And that's before you even factor any Special Ed considerations into the mix. So aside from increasing my pool of possible job prospects exponentially, it also add some variety to what can occasionally feel like glorified crowd control or highly paid babysitting. And in terms of getting a broad exposure to everything that happens in the world of education, you could hardly to better.

How does all of this relate to what I'd like to be doing (teaching ESL)? Well, there's quite a few paraeducators who work intensively with ELLs so I get to do this sometimes. Other times, I get to work in mainstream classrooms where there just happens to be a lot of ELLs. In fact, it's pretty rare to work in a classroom (mainstream or SPED) where there aren't at least a few ELLs. But more important than all the days I spend working exclusively with ELLs on a sporadic basis, I get to see the entire picture of what these guys are expected to be able to do to function in school. I can see where the language barriers create problems in math, science, and even electives. I know what happens (and in what order) in most of the secondary grades. I have a pretty good idea what kind of language support needs to be happening in ESL support classes to make the time spent in mainstream classes more productive. I can't imagine another way of gaining this much information about the workings of a school.

And incidentally, project EBD is starting to show some payoffs. As I had always suspected, part of the secret to working with kids with EBDs is knowing which battles are worth fighting, part of it is being consistent and stable, part of it is being clear and direct, and part of it is cultivating a relationship that's strong enough to survive all the little "tests" these kids need to give you. The last part is the most encouraging--I'm pretty good at connecting with kids.

As much as we wish all kids came to school ready to learn, the fact is that they don't. Kids with EBDs really have a tough time in school because they're not as good at regulating themselves as the rest of us. One thing I've noticed is that people who aren't successful at working with "tough cases" usually don't understand that part of the problem is the assumption that the kids know what to do and can do it consistently on their own.

Another thing you don't ever want to do is allow yourself to caught up in a power struggle with an adolescent (with or without an EBD). When you encounter resistance from a student, you don't have to get sucked into a conflict. As the old saying goes, it takes two to argue. If you refuse to play the game, that goes a long way toward solving the problem. I used to freeze up in these kind of situations. I wouldn't escalate the conflict, but I just kinda got stuck. Now I can usually get both of us past the impasse and moving forward. If you can do that with an EBD kid, you can do it with anyone.