Why I Only Lasted One Day as a Substitute Teacher

Having recently divorced and being solely responsible for three children as the ex is not involved much nor does he contribute much, I thought it might be a promising idea to obtain my teaching license. Best case scenario, I could be a positive influence, help a few kids find a lifelong passion for literature, and have the same schedule as my youngest daughter who goes to school in the same district. It can be challenging to be a single parent, but it is a lot better than being abused, which was the alternative for us if I stayed in my marriage. It is even tougher being a single parent to a disabled child, where usual childcare options are out of the question due to said child’s vulnerability and inability to communicate since she is nonverbal. Landing a job teaching English in the same district would provide a steady paycheck, benefits, I could still write in my free time, and I would be on the same schedule as my daughter-so worrying about holiday breaks, days she has off from school, and things of that nature would present minimal issues.

When I finished my master’s degree in English with a Specialization in Gothic Literature this past December, I submitted my resume to my local school district’s employment website just to have on file. I did not see any open high school English teaching positions available, but I am one who likes to be prepared and ahead of the game. I was quite surprised to get a phone call the Friday before school resumed after Christmas Break to set up an interview the following Monday. I gladly accepted. I should not have been THAT surprised, though. In my state, there are over 1600 teacher vacancies this year. That is a 9% increase since last year. Before the beginning of the 2023–2024 school year, over 7,000 teachers resigned. The retention rate is low, with over 50% of teachers leaving their positions within the first 5 years in the profession. Little did I know, I would soon have firsthand knowledge of why this mass exodus is happening in American schools, but I digress.

I arrived on time for my interview. Being self-employed for the last twenty years, my interview skills are rusty. However, it went well. I interviewed with three people, the Principal, an Assistant Principal, and the Head of the English Department. I was advised that the selection would not be made until the spring, with the job starting in the fall. I would need to get certified to teach through an alternative path, of which there are many. It was also suggested that I begin to substitute teach for classroom experience. I applied with ESS, the company that hires substitute teachers not only for my local school district but many others across multiple states. I was quickly hired after sending my transcripts, background check, and the results of a TB test. I attended a virtual meeting that lasted a few hours. Classroom management was the theme. The pay was laughable, a mere $10 an hour, but I was not doing it for the pay. I needed the experience.

The first assignment was at the same high school I originally interviewed for a teaching position. I was elated to get in to a classroom there, and even more excited I was substituting for an English teacher. I knew I would not be teaching per se, but I could get in there and see how I liked it. I was supposed to arrive at 7:45am, but I pulled in at 7:35am. I made my way to the front doors of the sprawling brick high school. There was a staff member standing there holding the door open for a disabled student. She showed me to the office I needed to check in with. Although I was under the impression “secretary” is an outdated term, that is what the plaque on the door said. I entered and introduced myself. She stated, “Oh, you are here to sub for Ms. Amarynth.” I corrected her and told her I was there to sub for Ms. Haywood. She told me that there had been a schedule change, and that I was to sub for Ms. Amarynth’s first two Biology classes and then sub for Ms. Haywood’s last two English classes to end the day. I inquired if I needed to switch classrooms, and she advised me that I would be in Ms. Haywood’s classroom all day. I was handed a folder that contained a map of the school, my class schedule, attendance sheets, and a laminated paper with emergency protocols on it. I thanked her, departed her office, and began to find my way to the designated classroom.

An unfamiliar face in a sea of familiar ones, a tall teacher with blue hair noticed me and offered to guide me to my classroom. She walked me to the end of the hall where it was located. She said, “It is the third room on the right.” I thanked her and persisted towards the classroom.

I sat down at the desk. Anxiety took over for a moment because I realized that the English teacher left detailed lesson plans, but the Biology teacher left nothing. I had no idea what to tell her students to do in class. I walked across the hall to another teacher’s room, and he said he would find out for me. I went back to my assigned room and sat at the desk. The teacher I asked for help a few minutes ago appeared and said, “Just tell them their work is on their computers in Schoology.” I thanked him and he left.

Children that looked like young adults began walking into the classroom. Fifteen-year-olds with the size and appearance of twenty two year olds. This was my first time back in high school in 25 years, and things have changed a lot. The first class, or block as they call it, were mostly well behaved. They worked on their laptops quietly and I did not have to do anything other than take attendance and make sure they did their work. There was a knock on the door about 20 minutes after class started. I opened the door and the overwhelming scent of cannabis hit me. Of course, I was not going to tell the children that I am familiar with that smell or can place it in an instant, but I am quite certain that they knew by the look on my face. Standing there were two boys, higher than Snoop on any given day. They walked in and sat down. I asked their names so I could mark a ‘T’ for tardy on the attendance sheet. At one point the two of them were on their phones, showing each other their screens and giggling. I asked them to put the phones away and they complied. The rest of this class was uneventful. I tried to engage the students in a small conversation at one point. I asked what they are learning in biology, and was met with silence, and blank stares. I asked if they still dissect frogs, and they replied, “not yet.” The bell rang and the students filed out of the classroom, making their way to their next class.

No one told me where to use the restroom when I arrived, but fortunately an older woman with a kind face who taught in the classroom next to mine peeked in and said she would show me where it was. The “Teacher’s Workroom” was directly across the hall but needed a key to unlock it. They left it unlocked for me all day, knowing I did not have a key. One of the rules of substitute teaching is you cannot leave the classroom unattended, so if you must use the bathroom during class, you just wait. That is less autonomy than the students are allowed, because all they have to do is raise their hand and ask to go during class. Knowing I had such little time between classes, and other teachers may be trying to use the same bathroom, I hurried and made my way back to my assigned room.

Once again, students begin to file in. Unlike the first class though, the eyes walking into the class for second block met mine with disdain. Once everyone was seated and the bell rang, I began calling out names for the attendance log. Some did not even bother to respond, prompting other students to point out the silent students. “He is there” or “she is over there,” they said. I told them that their work was on their computers in Schoology. Some retrieved their computers out of their bookbags, others just stared at me with the continuous disdain mentioned before. The chatter amongst the students quickly escalated. I asked them to lower their voices and work on their assignments, but they did not care what I had to say. I got up and closed the door, as I did with all the classes that day, to eliminate noise. This class was the opposite of the other three classes I had that day. I closed the door to keep their noise level from permeating the hallways, not the other way around. Roughly twenty of the thirty students had their phones out, scrolling and laughing with each other as they perused social media. I reminded them that they are not supposed to be on their phones, and again that drew glares of contempt in my direction. One boy mumbled under his breath, “If she’s not careful, Elijah is going to punch her in the face.” He looked embarrassed when he realized I heard him. I quietly stated, “That is not going to happen.” Two students sat quietly and tried to work on their assignments, while every other student in the class gave zero fucks about rules, assignments, or anything I had to say. They refused to listen. As they talked amongst themselves, a few turned to stare at me. They laughed and I heard “white bitch” a few times. One student in a bright red synthetic wig, giving Rihanna circa 2010 vibes but much less expensive, asked me, “Are you a teacher?” I said, “No, I am a sub.” She thought that was hilarious, and loudly laughed to let the rest of the class know how little she regarded me. I did not have the heart to tell her about my thoughts on where she would be in her life at the age of forty-four, the age I am now. Based on her lack of manners and interest in academics, most likely her name will be listed on the public index sooner than later or if she is lucky, she may get hired at McDonalds. If it is the latter, she would be making more hourly than substitutes, apparently. I just looked at her and shook my head.

Teachers are limited in the disciplinary actions they can take, and substitutes are even more limited. I asked the class if they were this disrespectful to their regular teacher, and they just chuckled. I had a choice to make. I could call the front office and ask for an administrator to come deal with the disrespectful students, but that may not look great since my main goal in substituting was to gain employment at that school. I also wondered if the children would retaliate the moment I picked up the phone to call someone. The boys were all bigger than me, even though they were only freshman and sophomores. It was already suggested that I get punched in the face. Other than the teachers with classes around me that I had small interactions with earlier in the morning, I had not seen another adult much less an administrator at all. I feared for my safety and decided to ride it out until class was over. The class continued doing what they wanted, other than the two students that worked on their assignments quietly as mentioned before. When the bell rang, I felt a giant sigh of relief and hoped that the last two classes of the day would not be like that.

I made my way to the Teachers Workroom again to use the restroom because I drink a lot of water, and unlike a camel I cannot hold it. I saw Ms. Bingley in the Teachers Workroom, the teacher that showed me where the restroom was after the first class. I told her that the students did not want to listen, threatened to punch me, and called me names. She did not look shocked, but she looked annoyed that I experienced that. She whispered, “Sometimes you just have to be a bitch. That must be why Ms. Amarynth is going to observe my classes next week for classroom management skills. This is her first year and she is an international teacher.” I just raised my eyebrows and widened my eyes, and she replied, “Yeah,” as she hurried out and down the hall back to her own classroom.

I was not aware I could not leave campus for lunch when I took the assignment, so during my thirty-minute lunch break I refilled my water bottle and sat at the desk, sipping water, and scrolling on Facebook. I saw a few posts about one of the local elementary schools being on lockdown for yet another prank bomb threat. It was not my daughter’s school, so that brought some relief. However, I started thinking about how I was given a laminated paper with emergency protocols in the folder at the start of the day. What if this school was on lockdown for a shooter situation? Or another emergency? It struck me as odd, pathetic, and quite frankly irresponsible that I was never given any direct or verbal instructions about what to do in an emergency situation. Imagine the feelings and hormones coursing through your brain and body if there was an active shooter roaming the hallways, especially during an unruly class like the second block of the day, and how a person would navigate the instructions mindlessly slipped into a folder? Parents are not aware that this is the only insight given to substitutes to navigate an emergency situation, at least in my district. Shouldn’t we, as substitutes, be mandated to attend a virtual class to go over emergency protocols, as well as the classroom management meeting?

Around this time, an unknown male adult who I can only assume was a staff member entered the room. He was tall and appeared to be around fifty years old. He did not introduce himself. He said, “We are about to give you another class.” Confused, I stated, “I already have a class, but they are at lunch. They will be back soon. Is there enough room in here for two classes?” Annoyed, he responded, “We will figure it out,” and marched out of the classroom. He was the last adult I saw for the rest of the school day.

The third and fourth classes were well mannered and quiet. They worked on their assignments without any issue. A couple of girls in the third class attempted to hide their phones behind their laptops, and I requested that they put them away. I had no concerns with the fourth class, which was compiled of ESOL students. The majority were native Spanish speakers from various places, and one boy was from somewhere else, although I am not sure of exactly where. I found them adorable, especially when they were practicing their vocabulary and sounding out words like “butterfly.” I did not even have to tell one of them to put their phones up, either.

The final bell of the day rang, and I said goodbye to the fourth class as they left. They all responded with a casual, “Bye.” I gathered my things and resisted the urge to sprint from the school. I already knew I never wanted to return, and that teaching anything other than college courses is not for me. I had to go back to the Secretary and check out for the day. I wrote detailed notes of what happened in each class, including the horrendous second block, and neatly put the paper with my notes in the folder along with the other pieces of paper given to me at the beginning of the day.

As I walked to the office, a girl with a green bun pointed at me in the hallway and told her friends, “There’s that sub.” I ignored her and continued my way to the office. I handed the lady the folder and told her about the threat and name calling. She nonchalantly said, “Next time you come it will be better. They had a big field trip today, so we are very understaffed.” What the hell does that have to do with how the kids in the second class of the day behaved? We quickly discussed how we did not have cell phones when we were in high school, and how they are a big problem in class. I asked if I was free to go, and I was, so I left. As I walked to my car, which was parked in front of the school, I wondered if any of the kids from the second class would take note of my car with my Edgar Allan Poe and bat stickers on the back glass.

I felt numb and deflated. In twenty years of working in real estate, owning various bars and even an adult club, I never felt as unsafe as I did during that second class. I felt gross and violated. I do not associate with toxic people who have nasty attitudes, nor do I associate with racists. I am an anti-racist and advocate for equity. It took me all weekend to decompress. On Monday morning, I wrote an email to my contact at ESS and told her of my experience and that I would not be returning. She was disappointed, and said she understood. They have a challenging time keeping substitutes, much like they do teachers. I made it my mission to brush it all off and chalk it up to an experiment gone terribly wrong. I was grateful that I was provided with enough experience and information early in the process to know that I absolutely do not want to get certified to teach.

Imagine my surprise when around 1pm that afternoon, I receive an email with Substitute Feedback directly from the school, via ESS. It said, “The school shared you had a negative attitude towards the students and staff at — — — — High School. When asked to cover another class during the planning period due to having multiple unfilled absences that day, you were not pleased about the request. When you went into the classroom, you began slamming doors and yelling at the students. Moving forward, please remember everyone you encounter as an ESS employee is entitled to the same respect you expect in return. Be sure you remain professional, respectful, and courteous during every assignment. Unfortunately, you are no longer eligible to accept assignments at — — — — High School.” First, I was flabbergasted, then I was angry. This is not what happened at all! Who is drafting this report and where were they all day long? I hardly saw any adults, and not one bit of these accusations is true. If I am guilty of these things, where is the video evidence since every child had a phone? I called my contact at ESS, who shared with me how angry she was because I am the fifth substitute to quit substituting for the district in the last four months because of this school. She said no other school in the district has these issues, or reports such as mine and those that went before me shared, and that no other district throws subs under the bus as this school does. All substitutes have the same experience; threats, name calling, and disrespect. One substitute was even intentionally hit in the face with a basketball, not once, but twice.

I must admit, although it makes me sad that others had similar experiences to me, it made me feel better that the way my day at the high school played out was not an isolated incident. They didn’t hate me because I am white. Well, maybe they did, but it was an overall disrespect for their elders and authority. Clearly there are serious issues within that school, and that generation. This can’t be the only school in the country that is like this. As my contact at ESS stated, it is a trend at that school for substitutes to be treated as subhuman not only by the students, but the staff as well. She said they routinely blame substitutes that report anything negative about behavior. I was speaking to a friend of mine after all of this went down, and she told me she knows of a former teacher from that school who was threatened in class. She walked out that day.

I cannot say that I am surprised that there are so many teaching vacancies, not only in South Carolina, but also across the nation. I am surprised that the school engages in gaslighting and covering up for their inability to do their jobs and control their student population. When did students start running schools instead of faculty? When did schools start gaslighting and launching false accusations at the people that are there to help? The disruptive behavior I witnessed amongst the students starts at home. Many of the students in that one class seemed to only be there to avoid truancy, not to obtain any sort of education. Teachers and administrators have been put in an uncomfortable dynamic, one where students can do whatever they please and the teachers have zero recourse. The starting salary for teachers in my district, with a master’s degree, is $49,241 annually. Is that enough to deal with what I dealt with, but every single workday? In my opinion, no, it is not. So, I will keep writing and selling real estate, where I do not get threatened, gaslit, paid low wages, or fear for my safety. I make my own schedule and my end of year profits are more than what a brand new teacher gets paid. I am also extremely grateful that my two teenagers, who are zoned for that school, are homeschooled. My reasoning for homeschooling them is due to an overall lackluster impression of the American education system, and this experience only reinforced my position.