Yesterday, I subbed in a second grade classroom. It was an insane experience from which I am still recovering. My wonderful sister is an elementary school teacher and, after yesterday, she is my new hero.
Things were going just fine in the morning. We had our morning meeting on the rug in the back of the room, the kids went to art, then lunch and we had a somewhat successful math lesson (I won't count the ridiculousness with the blocks used during subtraction if you won't).
But then came recess. Everything fell apart after recess.
The class lined up after their 25 minutes of freedom and I noticed there were a couple of girls missing. When the stragglers finally showed up, so did the tears. Of course, I was concerned. Had they been hurt? Had someone bullied them? But as I surveyed the scene, I noticed they were covered in mud. Zoe, the bolder and apparently more dramatic of the two, looked up at me and said, This is the WORST day of my WHOLE life!
She was the first of three second graders to tell me this yesterday.
The girls had slipped (apparently simultaneously?) while playing tag. But this mud catastrophe was only part of the recess drama and just the beginning of this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Somewhat of a feud had developed between the remaining girls. Lots of I'm not your friend any more action. Probably a walk-in-the-park for my sister to deal with but, you see, I'm used to teenagers. Teenagers are passive aggressive, God love 'em. A sixteen year-old will never actually tell another sixteen year-old that she doesn't want to be friends. No, she'll post it to another friend's wall on Facebook so that future ex-friend can see and then start texting about it using lots of emoticons and abbreviations. But second graders don't bullshit. They get right to the point and break up with you to your face. Of course, the next day you might get back together, but that's just another story.
Maya, the girl doing the breaking up, told me it was her worst day ever and then proceeded to cry for the next half hour. Sammy, the dumped, put on a braver face and just said it had been a terrible day rather than the most awful of her long 8 years. I appreciated her perspective.
Oh, and we haven't even gotten to Madison yet (those of you who know my cat will see the irony in a minute). She had a rough day (and yes, of course she vocalized just how awful it had been to me at least once). I'll summarize by saying that she initially served a time-out on the rug in the back of the classroom and then subsequently served one outside in the hall (self-inflicted). Even though I saw very little of her, I felt her wrath like she was ever-present.
At some point between sharpening pencils and providing tissues to the wounded, I took a step back to try to find my calm. Things were seriously chaotic around me -- tears and time-outs and math! Oh My! -- and I thought to myself, this is your yoga practice. Can you be calm inside when all hell breaks loose outside?
I won't lie to you and tell you that I was in a "Zen place" from that moment on but it was an educational moment, for certain. For much of the day, I felt so incompetent and out of control and coming back into my breath helped me regain my calm so that, rather than run out of the room screaming, I could deal with what was in front of me. Or, at least survive what was in front of me.
I'm fairly certain I won't be going back to second grade. I think I'll leave those heroics to people like my sister. But, I'm grateful for the memories. Hopefully Zoe will remember me fondly when she thinks back to the worst day of her life.
