There is a distinct advantage to students seeing you as a “sub.” When they don’t see you as a teacher – sometimes not even as an adult – you are not deemed worthy of the “good behavior” façade that other teachers get. At first this sounds like a serious drawback. How can not being seen as a teacher possibly be a good thing? The answer (and maybe this is just me trying desperately to find something good in the lack of respect I am shown) is that, when a student does not see you as a teacher, you have the privilege of seeing who they truly are.
Again, you’re wondering what could possibly be good about this. Hear me out. When a student doesn’t put up the façade for you that everybody else gets, you get a truer, rawer honesty than most other people in their lives. Students will tell you exactly how they feel about their world: each other, teachers, school, sometimes they may even sneak some global issues in there. Sure, they are not going to confide in you the same way they would a counselor, but being a substitute provides a beautiful opportunity to see what’s really going on in there. And that matters. What students think and feel about their world matters a lot, and they rarely get any kind of outlet for their voices to be heard.
Of course the downside to getting to see the “Real Students” is that this means you get much less respect than their normal teachers. When a person (I say person, because it’s not just students who do this, and we know it’s true) is in a situation unlike their usual circumstances, the mask comes off and their true self comes out. This happens almost unconsciously (and while we’re at it, I don’t recommend sharing this information with your students. They won’t understand it, they won’t find it as interesting as you do, and they will feel insulted – even if that was not your intention). In my time as a long-term substitute, I had students texting, throwing paper balls, throwing books, one even took out a knife to show his friends – all things that these kids would never have done with their regular teacher. These events created a somewhat endless cycle of negativity between the students and me. First, the thought (or maybe even the mentioning from an outside source) of they don’t act like this for their normal teacher. What am I doing wrong? Followed by the anger/humiliation that something like any of the above could have actually happened. Followed by the punishment. Followed by the new personal vendetta of the student against me. Followed by more bad behavior. Followed by me, one step away from rocking in a fetal position and wondering into the chaos around me “Why don’t they respect me?”
I’m beginning to think that the issue is even greater than just a lack of respect for me. These types of students regard me not just with a lack of respect, but with apathy. It’s not that they don’t respect me, it’s that they care so little what I think and what I want from them, that it literally does not matter. It makes no difference what I do. I could ask them nicely, I could ask them meanly. I could threaten to distribute some kind of discipline strike, I could actually distribute some kind of discipline strike. I could write them up, send them out. It does not matter. Because this is who the student really is at their core. To that super helpful student who says, “They’ll only listen to you if you punish them”: No. No they don’t. I do that, and it still doesn’t work. The issue is not that I am not scary enough for them to listen, it’s that they don’t know how to behave.
This prompts the question, what is wrong with these kids? I find myself asking that more often than I should, sometimes even out loud. Sometimes loudly out loud. How can a student be so rude, so apathetic, and treat another human being (not to mention an adult with a job who does her best to stay afloat in today’s craptacular market) in such a terribly undignified, degrading way?
There is actually an answer to this. I read today in a National Geographic magazine (Yes, the day has finally come where I read these things for genuine entertainment/educational value on my own will!) that the brain of an adolescent more closely resembles its original primal state than that of an adult. It’s not that the brain is still growing in the teenage years; it’s actually just about finished growing. It is however, still developing and organizing itself. In much the same way that they are learning how to walk and move with this newer, longer, larger body, teens use their brains in a similarly awkward manner during this time of organization. This could be to blame for all their mood swings and inconsistencies -- they're not really sure what to do with themselves. During the adolescent years, the brain somewhat reverts back to its ancestral state, and we become more focused on things like survival and instant gratification. Being that humans are social creatures, it would follow that those who are the best at getting along and working together would have been the ones naturally selected to carry on. This could be the answer to why our social life matters so much in adolescence. Teenage girls treat their blue jeans, cell phone covers, and whether or not the popular kids let them sit at their lunch table as a matter of life and death, because as far as evolution is concerned, it is.
If fitting in with the pack matters for survival, then things that appear trivial to us matter a great deal to them. It’s no secret that adolescents are always seeking approval (no, not yours. They don’t care much about that). I remember a class of mostly boys in which every boy would crack a joke, then immediately turn to look at the Leader. Every one of them (Leader included) denied that this happened, but from an outside perspective, it was undeniable. I felt a bit like Jane Goodall watching Gorillas. “And see how this one checks yet again with the Alpha, to make sure his move has been deemed worthy. Ah, it has been. He has been granted permission to stay with the pack.” Watching adolescents is exactly like that!
Except that this one reads willingly.
Kohlberg (And Esquith, if you’d rather a more simplified, kid-friendly version of the levels) would say that most adolescents operate on level three of moral development/motivation. They do things to please others. The problem is that they don’t seem to be interested in pleasing the person who (we think, and find it increasingly irritating that they don’t agree) matters the most.
But it’s not that they don’t care what you think. It’s not that they’re rude, nasty, or terrible little demons. It’s that deep down, at their core survival instincts, they are vying for the approval of the pack leaders. And, unfortunately that matters a whole lot more to them than anything you have to say about grammar, algebra, or history. Sorry. But hey, some of them do care. Those are the ones who have stopped equating survival with acceptance from peers and started seeing it as attainable through personal success. The hope is that the rest will get there one day, but we don't want to lose our ability to socialize, either.
...are these even words?
You're exactly right. Some of the best days I have had with any group of kids have been when I just sit back and watch and sometimes ask them questions. It's fascinating. Classroom teachers miss that to some extent.
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