Wednesday, November 30, 2016
It was the third time in two weeks that I'd covered Ms. J's class. (The math department has a ridiculous number of inservice days. There is a reason for this that I won't go into. It's good for me as it means there are plenty of working days.)
One kiddo walked in, saw the sub, and declared that Ms. J was dead. Again.
That's been his go-to. That's why she's been out, he says.
Since I had seen the teacher about five minutes before the boy entered the classroom, I could with certainty tell him that Ms. J was alive and well. And on campus.
Then, I explained to the class exactly how the school handles the announcement of the death of a teacher. Because, um, yeah, I've been on campus when they had to do that. It includes an announcement to the whole school, a letter each teacher reads to their classes, and counselors on hand, especially for the class of the recently deceased teacher.
(Luckily, I was not called in to cover the class of the recently passed teacher. I don't know how I would handle that. It was bad enough that some in the class I was covering had her as a teacher.)
Oh, the eyes of the students as I explained this. I don't think it had occurred to them (especially not the boy) that this sort of thing has ever happened. (It's been a few years, so it happened before their time in high school.)
And bonus, Ms. J popped into class a few times during the day. So, verification.
I prefer days when the kiddos postulate that their teacher went to Vegas. Or skiing. I prefer the fun lies (although, many times those aren't lies).