Missing Student

And so, I ended the school year not far from where it began. Literally. I started the school year in room 906 and ended it in room 915. (Both classrooms are within sight of one another.) 

Thursday. Seventh grade math. Fourth period. 

It was the last day of school. Each period was about 28 minutes long. The lesson plan was basically "do what you want". As I have been in this situation before, I knew I didn't have to have them do anything. 

What I did have to do was take roll and make sure I knew where the kiddos were. 

At the beginning of the period several students descended upon me to request permission to go elsewhere. I growled at them that they'd have to wait until I had taken attendance. 

(A science teacher three doors down must have been having a bacchanal as that's where everyone wanted to go. But there were a couple other teachers' classes they wanted as well as the art teacher--the one they hired for that vacant class--needed help cleaning her room.) 

I went around the room, checked in with each kiddo asking their name, and I marked each student present. Then I got the names of those who left, and I wrote them down so I knew where they were. 

Roll taken, I had a group of girls request to go outside so they could film a TikTok dance. Others had grouped up and were playing video games. I didn't much care so long as they didn't trash the room. 

Then the phone rang. Was Jamir there? 

I checked my roll. He was marked absent. No, he was not. 

"His mom is going to be pissed..." 

Just to be sure, I called out, "Jamir..." Nope. Not there. 

Groups of students were coming in and out of the room. (Teachers called to ask if they could send kiddos. I had given permission.) There was one boy in a Lakers jersey who I thought belonged in class, but he did not check in with me, and then he left again. 

Towards the end of the period (so, about fifteen minutes later), I went to check on the TikTok girls. Who should have been back in the room already. Security drove up and stopped the boy in the Lakers jersey. "Jamir, your mother is looking for you," and she gave him a paper. 

Security gave me a hard stare. "You're marked absent," she told him. I protested that he was not around when I took roll and he had not checked in with me when he arrived. 

I mean, seriously? I'm a sub. Most kiddos know to check in with me if they arrive after the bell. But last day crazy... 

I did fix the attendance. Growled at Jamir. He asked to go to his PE class. Well, now that I knew where he'd be... 

And just like that, the school year is over. 

Next week I'll share my year stats, and then the summer schedule shall begin. 

Not a Newbie

The Thursday before spring break. Tenth grade English. Third period. 

The assignment: they were working on "independent projects". After some observation, my guess is those projects had to do with the book they were reading, Night by Elie Wiesel. 

I did my usual intro which I managed to finish just before the daily morning announcements. When the teacher leaves a vague lesson plan, that's because the kiddos have been working on this and should know what to do. So, I expected them to get to work. I opened the seating chart in the attendance software, and started to take roll... 

A boy walked in late. He sat in the corner. I went to mark him tardy, but he did not look anything like the picture of the boy in the seat. As I looked around and compared the live students to the seating chart photos, I noticed that the two bore no resemblance to each other. Um... 

"Why are you not in your assigned seats?" I asked the class at large. 

And suddenly, a third of the class remembered, "I don't sit here," and a minute of flurry ended with a live class that actually looked like the seating chart. 

What? Do they think I'm new? 

While some teachers' seating charts are out of date or they don't really enforce them, I knew Mr. C's chart was accurate (he said so) and that he did enforce it. 

I noted the attempt in the note, and I moved on. 

It was funny how the class was very laid-back and talkative right until I insisted on assigned seats. Then things got very, very quiet. Hopefully they got some work done, but sophomores. Some are still not quite focused on getting it done. 

Have you ever read Night? Did you sit next to your friends in school? Did you get your work done?

Today's A to Z Challenge post brought to you by the letter...

Out-of-Date Seating Chart

Tuesday. Fourth period integrated math two (read: geometry/sophomore math). 

I was in for Ms. L all week, and I was expecting to find Mr. J. Instead, I found Mr. H. Oh, a two sub day... 

Mr. H has been a sub about as long as I have. (We even went to college together, although we didn't know each other then. Big school.) So, we greeted each other, and I found Ms. L's desk and sat down. 

As Mr. H was covering the general ed teacher, he went about taking roll. Mr. J had left his seating chart, and Mr. H was going about verifying who was there and who wasn't. Only, the kiddos weren't precisely in their assigned seats. 

When I covered for Mr. J when he was out on paternity leave two years ago, I learned that his seating chart was more of a suggestion. The kiddos could sit where they liked as long as they were on task, and some of them drifted to other parts of the room. Mr. J tried to keep his seating chart up-to-date, but it wasn't a priority. (This is true for many teachers.) 

Mr. H asked the kiddos who were out of their "assigned" seats to return to them. The kiddos were not pleased. 

One kiddo loudly complained to me. Others in the class came to his defense. I asked him to sit there just for the day. 

"You think I'm lying about my seat," he complained. 

I assured him that I did not. I knew how things worked in that class. But, I also knew that undermining the other sub in the room never helped things, and it was just for one day. 

Reluctantly, the kiddo remained in the seat, but I could see him stewing. 

The next day I ran into Mr. J. He apologized for also being out. (These things happen. I wasn't concerned.) I told him about the seating issue. 

And... Mr. J had warned the kiddos early on that if they drifted, they might be asked to return to their old seats by any subs who covered the class. It was the risk they took. 

Kiddos can be creatures of habit. They don't like being moved. 

(I did tell Mr. H about the seating chart's inaccuracies between classes so he wouldn't run into that issue again the next class. Or he would know if he chose to enforce the seating chart. 

Kiddos will lie about their assigned seats, and they'll sit someplace they shouldn't--like next to someone who will distract them. Or, they'll sit someplace where they can pester someone they shouldn't. So we subs generally make them sit where the seating chart says, because it will save us from other issues later on. It's one of those things that sometimes need to be enforced and sometimes don't.)

Seat Shuffle

(If you haven't seen my Monday post, you probably should. It's here.)

Wednesday. Eighth grade U.S. history, fourth period. 

I generally wait to deal with attendance until after I've gotten the kiddos started on the day's assignment(s). So, I had done my introduction, passed out their work, and explained what they needed to accomplish. (They had vocabulary, questions, and a game on the Bill of Rights.) 

They had been inattentive, but not loud, so I felt I had been able to get my message across. I told them to get started on the work.

Then, with the seating chart in my hand, I visibly started working on verifying who was absent. 

The first corner seat was empty. I called the name. The student was on the other side of the room. 

As he hurriedly reclaimed his assigned seat, a handful of other students suddenly remembered where their actual assigned seats were. There was a flurry of movement as kiddos shifted to where they were supposed to be. 

I mean, what am I, new? Did they really think I wasn't going to check? 

I waited until they once again settled, and then I began working on attendance again. Suddenly, the room was a whole lot more settled than it had been. 

I haven't had a group try the whole seat swap thing in a while. I suppose I was due for the challenge. Sigh.

Attending the Wrong Period

Note: You may have heard my area has been hit with multiple wild fires. As of now (Thursday night), my immediate area is safe. The fires are north of me. We are, of course, holding our breath as the red flag warnings are still in effect as our area is dry and anything might spark a wild fire nearby. (I'm not tempting fate. I'm knocking on wood, crossing my fingers, and doing anything else in hopes that my area remains safe.)

Thursday, the last week before winter break. Seventh period. 

Elise hovered at the door, looking in. "I'm not going to be in eighth period today." 

Me: "I'm not your teacher. You need to tell your teacher this."

Ms. D had a class called "math support & enrichment". This is an extra math class for kiddos who have difficulty in math. Which means that for a sub it's an nightmare, usually. Imagine a room full of kiddos who hate math, who will avoid doing any math work, and it's their second math class. 

As Ms. D is a co-teacher, she only used the room seventh period. For eighth period, Ms. F took the room for another math support & enrichment class. As I'm sure Elise was well aware. 

Elise: "I have cheerleading practice today, so I won't be here."

Me: "I have no access to Ms. F's attendance. You have to tell your teacher." 

It was a weird day, with us having every period for 29 minutes. (Usually they're on block schedule with only odd periods or even periods.) So, when Elise asked to stay, I allowed it. (Some of them might not have a seventh period but will have an eighth. It's weird.) 

Of course, this was a mistake. Elise was with her friend, and there were two boys. And, the four of them were in play mode. (They had no work to do. Normally I'd tell them to get caught up on missing work, but we were near the end of the day, and the grades were due. There was no work for them to get caught up on.) 

If the class had been any longer, I would have kicked her out. As it was, I had to separate the group for doing inappropriate things in a classroom. ("But we're friends. We always do this at lunch.") 

(Read: swiping each other's cell phones, taking video and pictures of each other, kicking each other, pulling elastic and smacking each other with it, etc.) 

So, since Elise hung around seventh period, she remained behind for eighth period to tell Ms. F she wasn't going to be in class, right? 

Nope. I ran into Ms. F the next day and asked. Elise was not there. Nor had she checked in with Ms. F. 

Friday. 

Elise: "I won't be here eighth period."

Me: eye roll.

Then I shooed her out. She asked to stay. After Thursday? Nope.

Taking Over

I've been doing a lot of co-teaching lately. That is, I've been covering in classes where there are two teachers, either covering the general ed teacher or the special ed teacher. And I've done a lot of days where both of those teachers were absent, so it was me and another sub running the class. 

My rule of thumb is if I'm covering the general ed teacher, I'll take the lead but if I'm covering the special ed teacher, I'll take a step back and let the other sub take lead. (If one of the regular teachers is there, they generally take lead.) 

Tuesday. English 10. 

I got to school at my usual time, but I had to wait outside the classroom as the sub covering the general ed teacher got the key to the room. Alas, he only arrived just after the warning bell rang. Deep sigh.

We got into the room with a bunch of the kiddos. I found Ms. B's desk and read through the lesson plans as the other sub did the same for Ms. U's plans. The plans were the same, of course, and we both needed to know what was going on. 

The bell rang to start the first class, and I waited. He would surely get things going, right? 

He kinda did? It... wasn't good. Or clear. Or... well, I guess I have high standards, or something.

After giving him a minute to do something I realized he wasn't going to, so... I just kinda... took over...

I am not proud of this.

I jumped in, introducing myself, and then giving a brief overview of what they needed to start. 

(They were reading Act V of Macbeth and then they had questions and a writing assignment.) 

I knew several of the kiddos. They had been in that ninth grade English class I started the year in last school year. 

Once the kiddos got to work, I waited to see if the other sub would take roll. We were both given seating charts and access to the online attendance. Again, this is generally the job of the general ed teacher, although we might discuss and come to some other arrangement (depending on the day and what the assignment is). 

The other sub did not take roll. So, I did it. 

I tried to engage him in conversation a couple times. He gave me monosyllabic answers. 

I circulated around the room, hovering over kiddos who were on their phones. (The lesson plan was clear on no phones and them on task.) The other sub? He got up a couple times in the first class, but not so much the rest of the day. (I did not circulate the whole class, but I did get up more than a couple times.) 

I mean, it wasn't a challenging class. We weren't having to deal with students off task. The room was pretty close to silent. 

But still... He could have done more than sit at the teacher's desk. 

Are my standards too high? 

The rest of the day I just assumed I was in charge, so I started off with my introduction (giving him a chance to introduce himself as Mr. T) and continued on. At least I know the kiddos knew what to do and roll got taken. 

Newbie Mistake

Monday found me back on the day-to-day subbing grind. I got to cover high school biology. 

And... It was kind of a boring day, really. This, of course, is what I want, and seriously, it's how many of my subbing days go. The kiddos had a project to work on. Most did. Some did not, but they didn't disturb those who were working. 

Fifth period, my last class of the day. I checked attendance on the seating chart, and then I walked the room. Someone asked a question. 

Nothing of note really happened.

The class left at the bell. I checked to make sure their computers were plugged in. (They put them away, but they did not plug them to charge overnight.) I got ready to pack up...

Wait. Did I input the attendance? 

I had not logged out of my computer yet, so I checked. And sure enough, I did not.

What am I, new? 

Yikes. you'd think I wouldn't forget one of the basics after a month and a half in a long-term. 

Sadly, I did. Well, at least I didn't completely forget. Phew. 

Not Really Missing

It's Thanksgiving break. I have no school this week. So, per my usual routine, last week's events will appear next week when I'm back in school, and this week I'm kind of on a summer schedule. Today's post is something that happened several weeks ago. I had written this post, but then something more interesting happened, and this got pushed. Knowing this vacation week was coming, rather than deleting it entirely, I just left it in draft until now.

Third period. AP Statistics. 

This was the period where they do the announcements. As the student leadership read through the various activities and such that they want to let the students know about, the class got to work on the day's assignment. 

I looked over the seating chart. I had one absence. 

"Logan's not here..."

It was more of a question, really.

Several students pointed up. "He's doing the announcements."

(The speaker is actually on the wall, but I knew what they meant.)

Ah. 

This was the sort of class that the students who do the morning announcements would be taking. 

Sure enough, Logan arrived in class a few minutes after the announcements finished. His desk neighbor had gotten his computer for him, so he sat down and got to work. 

(Yes, I do get the good classes sometimes. Yes, they are boring to write about.) 

The Vanishing Student

The long-term special ed social studies class I'm covering is all juniors and seniors. And I haven't had any major behavior issues so far. The classes are pretty mellow, and the students mostly do their work. Kind of.

But there is some drama.

Elena is a student I met in success seminar last year. She's bright. But she's got some issues. 

On Wednesday, Elena was on time for third period. She was all ready to work. Problem was, she was enrolled in fifth period, not third. 

She didn't want to leave, but I figured her science teacher would be missing her. I sent her on her way. (I even called her science teacher to tell her that Elena had come to the wrong class.) 

She did return fifth period. But she wasn't so much in a working mood. She finished quickly, or she didn't do the work, I'm not sure which.

And then, towards the end of the period, she went to "get some air" just outside the classroom. 

Then I saw her through the window, walking away from class.

Sigh. 

***

I don't usually do this, but right now it's Tuesday the 14th, and I'm editing this post to add information. (I wrote the above on Sunday.) Because I just got a call from the attendance office. 

The attendance clerk called to verify Elena's attendance on that Wednesday. See, I was the only teacher to mark her present (although that mark was a tardy), and Elena's grandmother was calling the school to verify.

Luckily (or unluckily) for Elena, her presence that day was now memorable, so I could relate to the attendance clerk the above story. (Although, now I see that Elena never did make it to her third period class.) 

This leaves me with questions. Elena came to school, but only attended one period? I know she was on campus third period (as she had been in the room), but since she didn't go to her third period class, where did she spend the rest of third period? 

I'm not sure exactly what's going on with Elena. I get a sense that she's going through some things. Some major things. 

I'm used to not getting the whole story. I hope Elena gets the help she needs.

Nailbiter

Wednesday was my last day in the English 9 classes. 

When I began the classes (oh so long ago--3 1/2 weeks prior) I had requested and received access to the class' gradebooks. (I had to set them up. Link them. And get all the grading that had been done input.) 

The one hiccup was in the transition, the seating charts that Mr. P had made went poof. I had to recreate them. (Usually I keep a copy on paper, but I hadn't had a chance to print out a copy with all the other things I was trying to keep up with.) Yes, there is a way to do seating charts in the attendance software, and it makes taking roll go so much more quickly.

Knowing this, I was a bit paranoid about the gradebooks. Would they go poof when Mr. V got full access? 

There was a way to make a PDF copy. So, Monday evening I did. 

But Tuesday and Wednesday... 

The progress reports had gone out. The students were suddenly very interested in what assignments they were missing. 

(The previous week, they had a good hour of class time--some had longer--to go through their grades, see what was missing, and talk to me about it. Some did. Most spent the time playing games on their Chromebooks.)

So, I was getting late work. Some students hadn't started the class with everybody, so they had assignments that they weren't responsible for. (That's an easy enough fix, but they had to tell me as I only knew who was in the class when I started. I didn't know if they started the first day or later. If later, some of Mr. P's assignments didn't count.) 

By Wednesday I had made multiple adjustments to the gradebook.

Mr. V got his district account set up Wednesday. 

Because of computer access, I couldn't back up the gradebook again from school. I planned to do it from home. I got home, only to find that the classes had been removed from my account. 

And now I was worried. Would I be able to recall every change I had made since Monday? Or did the gradebooks make the transition to Mr. V intact? 

Luckily, I had his cell phone number, so I texted him.

It turned out, they had. And I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Fully removed from the class, I no longer had to think about it at all. Yay!

(Although, Mr. V doesn't have the right access to take the Google Classrooms for the classes. Yet. That's in process, and I can hold onto them until I can pass them over. He just can't give them digital assignments until then.

And, on Friday, I learned that one lone student hadn't been transferred out of "my" class with the group. I only learned this when the attendance clerk chided me for not submitting attendance. On a day I did not work.)

Such a Karen

Monday. Fifth period accounting. 

They were half doing the assignment, half talking about random stuff. 

The phone rang. It was the attendance office. Demetrius was going home.

This happens a lot. When a student has an appointment or the parent wants to pick them up for any reason, they go to the attendance office. The attendance office calls the class. They tell me who they need. And I send the kiddo.

Many times the student is expecting the call and will already be ready to go. I've had a couple times where the phone rings and the student leaves before I even have a chance to say anything. But usually we at least exchange a glance.

I checked the seating chart for where Demetrius was. I called his name. I told him to get his stuff, he was going home.

Only, he wasn't happy about it.

"Really. On a Monday*... Why? Why do I have to leave? I don't want to leave."

At this point, it's not up to me. He's been summoned. I told him he could take it up with the individual who had shown up to pick him up. 

He left. 

His friends...

"If Demetrius was a girl, he would be a Karen." 

I couldn't help it. I laughed. 

Demetrius didn't return to class. I assume there was a reason he was picked up.

*Monday is our short day, when school starts an hour and a half later and the classes are shortened. 

Peer Pressure

Friday, St. Patrick's Day. It was a minimum day for the end of the quarter. 

(In 2020, the last day of the third quarter was the last day we had school. We shut down and stayed home that following Monday. So, the last day of the third quarter now makes me pause.) 

I was on my way out. I had to stop in the attendance office to submit my attendance for the day.

(This is not a usual occurrence. We usually are given a temp login for the online attendance. But, the secretary in charge of subs quit on us--long story--so another secretary, who's now doing her job as well as her own and a third secretary's who's been out for months, can't login to assign us logins. It's a tech issue. They're working on it.) 

The attendance clerk was busy. A student was using her phone, talking to his mother. 

I guess the minimum day had taken him by surprise. He was requesting a ride home. (Read: he was haranguing his mother about the change in schedule which he should have been aware of as it was on the school calendar, and I'm sure his teachers had mentioned it a few times.)

His mother's reply: his grandmother was already there, waiting for him.

He looked out the window. He saw her car. 

So, he was wrapping up the conversation. He was about to leave. 

He had two friends with him. The two friends were not pleased with the way the boy was getting ready to just leave. 

"Now, tell your mom 'bye' and that you love her." 

The boys were not going to have their friend disrespect his mother. 

It took him a moment, but then he did as they asked. 

The attendance clerk and I shared a glance. We both laughed. 

The boys left. I turned in my attendance to the clerk. And I headed out.

Some boys know how to treat their mothers. They expect that others do the same. 

Sometimes peer pressure is a good thing.

Not His Seat

On Tuesday for my extra period assignment, I was sent to an English class that I had covered before. But luckily it wasn't for the period with fake Evan.

They had just finished reading Lord of the Flies, and their assignment was to make a slideshow summarizing each of the chapters. 

But before I could settle in to the period, I had to take roll.

Because eighth graders will try the seat swap, I call out the names of students I am marking absent.

"Jasper."

He was on the other side of the room. 

When I questioned him on why he was not in his assigned seat, he explained that the teacher had moved him because he talked too much in the other seat. 

This did not pass the smell test:

1. He was sitting in the middle of a group of African-American students. He's also Black. 
2. His assigned seat was in the middle of not Black students. 
3. He was clearly "hanging out" with the group he was sitting with.
4. The girl whose name was on that seat was sitting nearby (rather than having traded seats with him). 

I insisted that Jasper move back to the other seat. After some back and forth (and the threat of a referral), Jasper finally relented. And the girl whose seat he had taken got her seat back (much to her relief). 

Did he do his work? No. Did he talk to that group of students on the other side of the room? Of course.

I'll take the victories where I can.

Because Jasper gave me that much trouble about sitting in his assigned seat, I made sure he had a starring role in my note to his teacher. And because I email my notes to the teachers nowadays, the teacher replied.

She absolutely had not moved him. And she was not pleased with his lie. 

I wonder how upset with me Jasper will be the next time he sees me. I hope he learned his lesson and will sit where he's supposed to.

Catching Up

Eighth grade English. Fifth period. And I was confused. 

Class had barely started when a student asked me for a restroom pass. I checked the seating chart to get a name. "Evan?" I asked. He confirmed.

But, just before the bell had rung, another student had asked for a different hall pass. He needed to retrieve belongings from the PE locker room. Before I let him go, I asked his name so I wouldn't mark him absent when I went to take roll. He said his name was Evan. 

There were not two Evans on the roster. 

Getting roll taken takes a couple minutes. I was squaring away who had asked for hall passes (a girl had asked to go to the health office) and making sure I noted who was out of the room (the office had called for another boy) while checking for empty seats against the seating chart. I hadn't quite gotten my feet under me. 

Then the Evan who went to the locker room returned and sat in Evan's seat.

And now I knew what the problem was. Restroom Evan was not Evan. He was only pretending to be Evan.

Ah yes. A name swap. This I'm familiar with. 

Restroom Evan returned to greetings of, "Hello, Jose." 

Jose's seat was occupied. Jose attempted to sit in Evan's seat, not noticing that Evan was sitting there, all the while saying, "My name is Evan." 

Uh huh. Dude, the jig's up. 

Caught, Jose went back to his seat. The boy in that seat protested that Jose had told him to sit there and pretend to be him. (Considering his behavior up to this point, I'm more likely to believe that he was a willing participant.) 

A couple minutes later, and the boys were all back where they were supposed to be. A couple minutes after that, and the class settled. 

And then I had some time to write this all out for their teacher. I can't be the only one to "enjoy" their antics.

Avoiding Deadnames

Tuesday. I was covering the social studies classes at the continuation high school.

Fifth period. I was walking the room, asking students their names...

(I don't call roll if I can help it. I hate "calling" the roll with a fiery passion. Instead, I take a class roster, walk the room, and ask each student their name.)

Student: "MK. It's at the top." The student's friend said the last name, and then: "Different first name. We don't want to use his deadname." 

Actually, both the student's preferred name and the student's deadname were on the roster. (I printed the screen of the online attendance.) The deadname was the name listed, MK was in parentheses. I marked him present.

I continued asking names around the table.

Student gave his last name, and his last name only.

As I was searching for it on the roster, the girl sitting next to him asked, "What's his first name?"

The student shook his head. 

I located the student's name.

The girl: "It's Charles, isn't it?" 

The boy had two names listed. One of them was Charles. The other was Mason. Charles was in parentheses. I marked him present.

Me: "I'm not getting in the middle of this." Although, I tilted the roster towards the boy so he could see how he was listed. 

As all the students at the table had been accounted for, I walked on to the next table.

Regarding Attendance

Last Monday I had this email exchange with the school secretary who is also the attendance clerk. (It's a small school. All the clerking-type stuff is done by one person.) 

Secretary: hi Elizabeth, did you the attendance today in AERIES? or was everyone present???

Me: I did input attendance, or at least I thought I did. [Logan] and [Sushi] were absent.

S: Ok, thanks. [Logan] was put in, but not [Sushi]. I just put him for absent today.

Me: Weird. I must have run the cursor over [Sushi's] absence and it blanked it out. Oh well. Thanks for fixing it.

S: I know what happened. [Flash's] mom called and said that she got a phone call that he was absent and he wasn't

So I think instead of [Sushi] you hit [Flash]

I'm taking his absence out of [Flash]. If that is not correct let me know, but since you said that you only had 2 absences I think this is correct. Please check your attendance if it is correct.

Me: Yes, that must have been what happened. [Flash] was present. Only [Sushi] and [Logan] were absent. (This won't be the first time I miskeyed an absence. I can see how I could have done that.)

So, yeah, um, I totally marked the wrong student absent. I've done this sort of thing before. I'll hit the absent key for a student above or below the student I meant to mark absent. But in this case, Flash is near the top of the list while Sushi is closer to the end. There's like four students between the two of them.

How I made that mistake, I have no idea. 

(And I know it was me because I had written it on my paper copy of the attendance that way as well.)

Sushi was out of school all week. He sent me an email saying he had the flu. And he was requesting a Covid test. We got official Covid contact notification that Monday, but later I found out it was a different student, and that student (who is not in my class) didn't necessarily have it, but was a close contact of someone who did.

Ah, the joys of pandemic attendance.

Special Delivery

On Wednesday, Eddy informed me that he wasn't going to be at school the next day. 

So, on Thursday I was not surprised that he was absent. 

The school's secretary emailed me to ask if I knew why he was out. She's been working from home as she travelled over the winter break. One of her duties is to determine whether absences are excused or not. 

So, I told her what Eddy told me. His mother was expecting a package to be delivered, and he needed to be home to sign for it.

Now, I totally understand the why of this. Sometimes it's just easier to stay home rather than figuring out who can be around to get a package, especially if it's something expensive. (No, I don't know what package it was. Eddy didn't tell me, and I didn't ask.) 

But, that's not an "excused" absence. 

The secretary accepted my explanation and coded the absence. It's technically unexcused, but she called it "other". 

If these students missed a lot of school, I'd be more concerned. But most of the time they're all present. Sometimes you just need to take the day off.

The Seating Chart

Students are creatures of habit. They like their routines. Once something has been established, like requiring them to wipe down their desks at the end of the period, they just continue to do that thing. They don't like it when we change things up on them.

In the co-taught classes, I am in charge of taking roll. (I'm in charge of roll in the classes where it's just me, too, of course.) After a couple weeks of not remembering any of the names of the in-person students, I decided to take advantage of their tendencies. I decided to make seating charts. 

We have not assigned seats. Now, you'd think that me making a seating chart and then not requiring the kiddos to sit in the same seats would mean that my seating charts are useless. They are not. 

Second period, Tuesday. Four students arrived. All sat down in the front row. I went down the line, and all had sat according to the seating chart. That they were unaware of. 

After a month of in-person learning, they have chosen their seats, and they are sticking to them. 

It's not 100%. In third period, a girl and a boy have done battle over the back far corner seat. It goes to the student who arrives first. (The one day that they started an argument over it, I forbid either to sit there. Since then, they've accepted the first one to get there gets it.) 

Save for a couple other adjustments daily, the kiddos pretty much stay in the same seats. And with my chart, I have started to learn their names. Or, at least, I'm way better at "guessing" who is who. 

Seating charts are how I learn students' names. It's the way my brain works. So, might as well play to my strengths, right?

The Weird Kid

The first day back from winter break, I was called to cover middle school choir. Because of course. 

The lesson plan had them looking up traditional/folk songs sung in a different language (hopefully one that they were also familiar with, but not everyone was bilingual). 

That I got lots of questions was not surprising. Middle schoolers always have lots of questions. But add in something that they are totally unfamiliar with, and they were lost. But that's good for me. It meant I had something to do rather than look at a computer screen with all their cameras turned off. 

But that's not what I want to talk about today. 

Every class has one. The weird kid. They're more prominent in middle school classes (as by high school, they learn to hide it better). 

Seth logged in early. His first question was about who I was. I explained that I was just an ordinary, run-of-the-mill, daily substitute teacher. I said it that was because of the way Seth asked about me. He wanted to know if I was their new teacher. 

Immediately I knew he was the weird kid. He sounded younger than middle school age. There was a bit of whine to his voice. And he had lots of questions. 

While I might tell you that he's weird, to him and the rest of the class, I act like nothing is different. Because he may be weird, but that's not a bad thing. 

All period I was fielding questions from the whole class as to whether this song or that song was one they could use. (They wanted to choose "Happy Birthday" but in Spanish.) 

Seth "raised his hand". (In Google Meet and via an extension, the students can indicate that their hands are raised.) I called on him. 

"My hand's not raised," Seth informed me.

Sure enough, the indicator that shows a raised hand was not on.

Another student chimed in. "He does that a lot." 

The indicator beeps when the hand is "raised". It also beeps when the student turns it off. So, when my computer kept beeping, I noted that Seth was raising his hand and putting it down. Repeatedly.

So, I went back to what I was doing. I did not call on Seth again.

"I do have a question," Seth piped in a bit later. "Why do you keep turning your head?" 

What I had been doing was marking the roll on my second computer. (Yes, I have two computers going most days. It's easier that way.) And I do this most days. But no one had ever questioned me on it before. Leave it to the weird kid to notice. 

I told him what I was doing. It wasn't a secret.

Ah, the joys of middle school (virtually). 

The Honor System

Two weeks ago Wednesday I started covering a special ed. social studies class. The teacher was going to be out for the rest of the calendar year, starting from Tuesday. But on Tuesday, I was already covering the band class. 

So, they got a different sub to cover the class that Tuesday. (I don't know why that other sub wasn't given the gig for the next couple weeks. I'm just grateful that I got the work.) 

When I went to take roll for the first class of the day, I noticed the big red note: "Attendance not submitted". This note pops up all the time because the time in the attendance software for the classes isn't the time they're actually meeting. But in this case, the note was letting me know that attendance hadn't been submitted for the previous day. 

Sigh. 

One of the main functions of a substitute teacher is to take attendance. Sure, we're supposed to teach the lesson plan and make sure the kiddos don't get up to no good (very easy to do virtually), but attendance can't be forgotten. 

I could, of course, just ignore this. I wasn't there on the Tuesday, so I didn't know who had been there. Not my problem. 

But I hate red notes in attendance. 

The virtual schedule has each class meeting on alternate days. So, on Thursday I did the only thing I could do. I asked the classes for honesty. I asked them if they had been "in class" on Tuesday. 

The students were seniors. Yes, they could lie. But I rather thought they wouldn't. And didn't. 

I haven't heard any complaints about students being marked absent that were present since then. So, I think I'm safe. (And I could go in and fix that if necessary.)