Retiring and Substitute Teaching

Substitute Teaching After Retirement

            “The pilots on our western rivers steer from point to point, setting the course of their boats no further than they can see.  And that is all I propose to do in the great problems that are before us.”  Abraham Lincoln said this in the middle of the Civil War, but I think that it applies to me as a substitute teacher.  At the beginning of the school day I am assigned to take the place of a teacher or, sometimes, more than one teacher.  Throughout the day I move from point to point, or from classroom to classroom, without giving the process too much thought.  Over the past couple of years, I have become a familiar sight, walking through the halls, with my hands full.  In my left hand I carry my briefcase, which contains my lunch and computer, and in my right hand I carry a book and a newspaper.  Buried somewhere in the stack of newspapers is a crossword puzzle, which I work when I pull lunchroom duty or proctor a gym class.  If I cannot read or write, then I like to work the crossword.  The best way for me to get through the day is to vary my activities; I read, study the Bible, write a little, and catch up on the newspapers.  None of these activities are satisfying by themselves but, in the aggregate, they are worthwhile and make the days fly by.

            I had to quit my job as a classroom teacher because I wanted to avoid a heart attack.  My problem is that I have a controlling, type A personality and the years of unremitting pressure were taking its toll on me.  The constant stress brought on anxiety and depression.  My cardiologist suggested that if I wanted to keep my health then I needed to find a way to slow down.  Now that the time has come for looking back, I can see that I was close to cracking up at the end of my career as real teacher.  Fortunately, my last two years were my best years of my career, so I can look back with pride on what I had accomplished.  I am not bitter or angry in any way.  I have retired without any lingering regrets haunting me.  My career is over, which is alright by me, because I no longer have to grade papers or make lesson plans.  

In my job as the permanent substitute, I have learned to embrace a Zen philosophy.  I do not to worry about the future but instead concentrate on the here and now.  “Forget about yesterday.  Tomorrow doesn’t matter.  Stay in the present.  Live for today.”  These four short statements represent my mantra as a substitute teacher, and they come hard to me because they are against my nature.  It is not like me to live day by day and, as a substitute, I am living from class to class.  Ultimately, this is for my own good, because I avoid the stress that comes from anticipating what the day will bring.  Instead, I won’t even look at what the regular classroom teacher has prepared for me to do until the beginning of the class.  The students find out what the lesson plans are at the same time that I do, because I read the instructions out loud after the bell rings, and then they settle down to do the work.  

            I have been at the same school for my whole career and sometimes, as I walk through the hallways, I peer into the classrooms where I used to teach.  No memories are conjured up because the classrooms have changed so much.  After twenty-six years of teaching in one school, there is no physical evidence that I was ever in a classroom, or even at that school at all.  Twenty-six years is a tick of the clock; a trifle.  As much as I enjoyed teaching, and being satisfied that I did the job well, in the long run no one will remember that I was a teacher.  As the years go by even I will have trouble recalling specific memories of my time in the classroom. 

It has been a couple of years since I gave up the job and only now am I coming to realize that I was burned out.  Now that I am done with being a history teacher, I don’t really care about history anymore.  I have lost interest in the subject.  My ambition has flamed out.  Without the pressures of all the duties from being a real teacher, I am free to be my true self and can allow myself to be happy.  My nature is to greet the students with a ready smile and tell a quick joke or offhand comment.  I want to be a friend to everyone, whether they are a student, teacher, or administrator.  I am quick with a ready smile, a friend to everyone, and have a good attitude.

            I wanted to keep working in the same school, so I took the job as the permanent substitute, but I had to learn to go with the flow.  My reward is that I get to spend the day with highly motivated, energetic, and obviously smart, teenagers.  They are going to be something some day and I get to be a small part of their success.  In the past, at statewide educational conferences, I heard complaints from teachers at other schools.  They say that their students are lazy or who are willfully ignorant.  I am fortunate that I don’t see a lot of sloth at my school because these kids are on the college track.  Their parents have spent a lot of money to send them to a private school in the hopes that their children will have a successful career.  In the aggregate, the students at my high school represent humanity at its best.  It is fun to be a part of the teenagers most impressionable years.  They are still young and innocent and represent humanity at its best; ambitious, eager, determined.  For them, the adventure is just beginning.

            The biggest drawback to being a substitute teacher is that I know that I really don’t matter and can be easily replaced.  I cannot afford to get anyone mad at me.  To get along with the teachers, I ghost myself at the end of each day.  This means that I must leave the classroom exactly the way that I found it and I do exactly what the teacher has instructed me to do.  To get along with the administration, I volunteer to do extra assignments.  I don’t really mind because, deeply imbedded in my DNA, is the need to be needed. Depending on my assignments for the day, I can be in front of the kids from 7:10 in the morning to 3:10 in the afternoon, with only a brief twenty-minute break for lunch.  I don’t mind because I feel like I am contributing to the cause.  Every time I volunteer for extra duties, I feel like I am making a deposit into the ‘gratitude bank.’

            So, my career is over, and I am semi-retired in my job as a substitute teacher.  I have no power as the permanent substitute teacher, so I must earn the respect of the kids every single day.  I have become a poser who affects a commanding presence, especially while proctoring tests and presiding over lunch duty.  My posture is straight, my face is stern, and I have affected a demeanor of disinterest.  The students are free to form their own opinions about me, but they know that I am not important, and the level of my prestige is reset to zero at the beginning of every day.  But if I didn’t want to start all over again in a new career, I didn’t see how I had any choice but to become the permanent substitute.  As a retiree who I see at the gym is fond of saying, “There is nowhere to retreat and no one to surrender to.  There is no calvary coming over the hill at the last minute to save the day.”  He was talking about aging, but I think that it easily applies itself to my career.  Another line that comes to mind when I think about the end of my career comes from Paul Newman in the movie, “The Color of Money.”  Newman played Fast Eddie and his line was, “This is all there is!  There isn’t any more!”  He delivered the line after losing a game of eight ball and the line haunts me because the game of life is over for me, or at least my career is over, and there isn’t anything more.  At the end of the day, however, I am satisfied that I gave my teaching career everything that I had and have earned my time in the rocking chair when I become a full-time retiree.