Substitute Band Teacher

A couple weeks ago, I accepted a substitute assignment at the local middle school. It was for a day, as a paraprofessional or “para.”

Most days subbing as a para is easy. I’m just on hand in case a student needs a Kleenex or asks what a word means. Basic stuff. But there’s a high level of stress just because I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing and sometimes I’m not sure if anyone knows what I’m supposed to be doing, so I’m just hanging out in the classroom—laughing at the teacher’s jokes. Like Ed McMahon on the old Johnny Carson Tonight Show.

It’s also like being at a party but not having anyone to talk to, so you hover near an exciting conversation and participate by over-expressing your reactions. Stressful.

So, this day, I had my para assignment but on the way there—just as I finished my ritual of praying “Dear God, please let today be an easy day”—this prayer always works by the way. So, on my way there, I got a call from the Middle School. “We really need a band teacher today.”

More than half the kids take band at this school—the band teacher is vital.

“I don’t have any musical skills,” I said as I checked in at the office. I was being modest—I took violin in 5th grade (which culminated in a performance where my teacher told me “just pretend to play, Jeremiah”).

“That’s fine,” the secretary said, “most of our subs aren’t musicians."

So, there I was. The band teacher. I love music. It’s something I appreciate and enjoy more and more as I get older. It makes me laugh, it gets me going, it fills my home dance. And I really regret not learning an instrument and feeling what it’s like to be part of a band.

“These kids are going to be out of control,” the principal told me after a big “HOW WE DOING, TODAY?” I got instructions to jettison trouble makers to the principal’s office. The first class was going to have just under 50 students.

Then the gym teacher came in and told me this day would be significantly more than being a “para” and that I should feel free to to send the kids to the gym for dodgeball if they got out of hand.

Then the vice principal came in and told the class that there would be penalties for any troublemaking while “Mr. Murphy” was subbing.

“You’re going to have conduct,” another teacher told me. I remember learning something about using my finger to hit four points in a cross. “As long you come down on one,” another para said. I had no idea what that meant, but I nodded.

After a couple warm-ups, the “troublemaker class” was ready to play some music. I had asked a couple volunteers to conduct the first few warm-ups. And all it looked like was a baby duck splashing in a puddle. This kind of flappy motion with the hands.

I asked them to teach me how to conduct “real quick.”

I was supposed to start with my hands up in the air, the bring them DOWN. Then IN. Then OUT. Then UP.

DOWN. OUT. IN. UP. REPEAT. Or something like that.

“I believe in you!” one student said. And I DID IT! I CONDUCTED MUSIC! It was a rush. All my dreams of ever performing music and it sounding amazing—all those dreams came alive.

And then the other para took over. They knew what they were doing and did it well. But it was just for that class.

The next class came in and didn’t need conducting, but they did need me to “count off.”

For some songs it was “ONE. TWO. READY. GO.” And some it was just “ONE. READY. GO.” And when I did it—a room full of music.

While it was clearly the students playing the instruments—to me, it felt like I had made the notes and the songs. The music was mine. Sheer joy.

Getting a group of kids to go from chaos to full attention—basic classroom management—is not a skill I have. Part of the soulful journey of the substitute is accepting that and moving on.

But this day all I had to do was “ONE. TWO. READY. GO.” And the room would go from babble-babble-babble to TWEET-HONK-BOOM-BOOM-BLURRRR in complete unison. The music did the work. The music was the substitute teacher!

And then I had to proctor a study hall. That was a disaster.