“Hi Y'all, Mrs. Levinson had to leave for an appointment, so I’m covering her class today. The first thing we need to do is collect your–“
“Ms. Marlowe? Ms. Marlowe?” A hand waves frantically in the air, attached to a freshman with mussed hair. “I’m supposed to have an extra day to finish my project because I was absent on Thursday.”
“Well, fine, as long as you’ve cleared it with Mrs. Levinson, but I suppose she’ll talk to you about it tomorrow. The rest of you, please put your finished poster over here.” Most of the class gets up to take their posters to the back table, but the rumpled freshman is trying to get my attention again.
“Um, can you tell Mrs. Levinson that I’ll have my project on Monday? My family is going out of town, and I’ll be gone tomorrow.” He smiles in what I’m sure he thinks is an encouraging way.
“No, Todd, I’m not going to do that. You have email, and so does she, and you can and should email her about this yourself. Besides, I understand this project was assigned a week and a half ago,” I tell him firmly. I’m not going to act as a messenger, plus this isn’t my class. He can take care of this himself. I’m sure the teacher won’t be surprised by this. I’m not.
“But –“ he starts to plead.
“Sit down, Todd,” I say. “Take this up with her. I need to get class started.”
He mutters as he sits down. Class members wander back to their seats. I go to the board and look at the clipboard I’m holding, which the teacher left for me with instructions on it.
“Now, put everything away and get out a pen. I’ll hand out the quiz…” Collective groans fill the air. Someone from the back whines, “Do we have to?”
I blink. “Uh, yes, because she said you do. Put your books away.”
“Can’t we just have fun today?” This comes from a smarmy looking boy who’s leaning back and has one foot resting on the top of his desk.
I roll my eyes. “No. This is school. It’s not about having fun. And take your feet off the desk; that’s rude.” He does so reluctantly as I start handing out the quiz.
“But we can have fun at school!” the whiner in the back opines as I make my way through the room.
“Boy, that’s news to me. I was told otherwise when I took teacher training,” I deadpan. “So since I believe what I’m told, get to work. If I see you talking or communicating with other people during the quiz, I’m going to take it, and you’ll get a zero.” I look at the clock. “You have fifteen minutes, starting now.” Most of the students bend their heads and start reading the page.
Another hand goes up, this time from the side of the room. “I don’t understand this first question.”
I look at her. “Okay,” I say slowly. I walk over and read the question. “What don’t you understand about it?”
“This part,” she says, pointing to basically, the entire question.
I sigh inwardly. “I really don’t know if I can help you with that because I don’t know what she covered in class. Just do the best you can, and maybe you can ask her about it tomorrow.” The student looked disappointed and shrugs.
Fifteen minutes passes, and I ask the students to turn in their quizzes. I hear a few groans and “But I’m not done!” from the back of the room.
“Sorry, you have to turn it in anyway.” I walk around to start collecting the papers. One student is still writing frantically.
I grab the edge. “Kyle, you’re done. Hand it over.” He lets go and huffs loudly.
“Mrs. Levinson always lets us finish,” he complains, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Uh-huh,” I say as I take the other papers.
“Seriously, Ms. Marlowe, why don’t you just let him finish?” asks Trina, who’s on the other side of the room.
“This really doesn’t concern you, Trina, does it?” I ask her pointedly.
“But Mrs. Levinson always –“
Now I’m highly irritated. “I’m not Mrs. Levinson, and I’m simply following the directions she left. If you have a problem with it, take it up with her. Now open your books to page 763, so we can look at the spread of the Byzantine empire.”
More groans and grumblings as everyone pulls out their books.
Yeah, I hate subbing as much as they hate having me.