We Interrupt This Lesson...

One thing I learned as a substitute teacher for elementary school children is to be prepared for interruptions—interruptions that start while I’m trying to take attendance before the morning announcements and flag salute and interruptions that continue during lessons, collaborative work, quiet reading time, tests, assemblies, and conferences, and during walks to and from the library, gym, music and art room—at any and all times throughout the day.  

Some interruptions are for attention or because of inattention, others for real or imaginary illnesses and injuries, and still more for no reason whatsoever. I have pledged myself, like Faust, not to linger awhile over any fleeting moments but to keep a straight face, make a judgment call, and continue to keep the life of the classroom moving on to the next pleasure. It’s a juggling act at times, but the trick is to try to keep all the different balls or objects in the air even when a new one is unexpectedly introduced.

The younger children have not yet learned how to filter the information traveling from their minds to their mouths. I have been innocently informed, apropos of nothing, of some alarmingly personal details of life at home: “My dad had to sleep in the car last night because he and mommy were arguing.” “My mom loves wine!” “Daddy got a ticket for speeding.”

Sometimes the interruptions are for attention and because of a perceived injury. At least once a day a kindergartner would approach.

“Mr. K., my finger hurts.”
Let’s have a look.
She shows me an unblemished pinky.
Where does it hurt?
She points to an invisible dot.    
Run it under the cold water. That will make it feel better (which it always does).

Occasionally, unforeseen circumstances interrupt the students’ ability to perform. One day, filling in for a teacher on sick leave, I was checking the second graders’ work for the week: homework, handwriting pages, math and spelling sheets, and so on. One little boy’s portfolio had fewer pages than those of his classmates.

Where is the rest of the work, Raymond? I asked.
“Oh, I was absent for two days,” he said.
I see. Were you sick?
“No, I had diarrhea.”