WHY I TEACH-Part 8: A Simple Question

I repeated my rules presentation for second period and headed to my first subbing assignment. I found the sub packet on the teacher’s desk. It contained a handout with four questions and a note, “Thanks so much for subbing! My flight was delayed. Please have the students fill out the handout.”

I found this odd as the note had Friday’s date on it and there was no way she could have known her flight was delayed then. I looked at the handout: List your favorite color, favorite sport, favorite food, and describe a time in your life when you had to overcome a challenge.

My mind flashed back to when I had a job as a sub in the local school district. One of my first sub assignments was in Mrs. Kunz’s 3rd-grade class. A gaggle of twenty-three happy smiling faces and one kid sitting in the back corner, his desk away from everyone else. His name was Freddie. The sub instructions didn’t say anything about Freddie.

At book time, when all the other kids came to the colorful squares in the front of the room, Freddie did not move. Instead, he simply put his head down on his desk.

“Freddie,” I called out. He didn’t move. “Freddie,” I repeated. Still nothing. Maybe he was hard of hearing. I stood and walked over to his desk. I touched him on the shoulder and he jerked straight up, fear in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Would you like to come sit with the group while I read?”

Freddie cocked his head and gave me the strangest look. I repeated my offer, a little louder, fearing he hadn’t heard me.

“Up there?” he asked timidly.

“Yes, by the others.”

I turned to the other children. One hand shot up.

“Yes?”

“Um, Mrs. Teacher,” a curly-haired girl said as she stood up. “Freddie doesn’t come up here with us.”

“Why?”

She straightened herself and said, “Freddie doesn’t know how to handle himself around others.” She said it like it was something she’d heard many times.

“Is that true?” I asked Freddie. He nodded. “Well, today, you will come and sit with the group and handle yourself just fine. Do you think you can do that?”

Freddie shrugged. I held out my hand and he shied away.

“When you’re ready, why don’t you come and sit on the blue square.” I pointed out the blue square at the edge of the group.

I took my seat at the front of the classroom and Freddie cautiously approached the blue square and sat down. The children around him moved away.

At lunch, I watched Freddie stand in line with his classmates, take his tray, and veer left instead of right. He went to an empty table by the far wall and sat down. No one joined him. No one acknowledged him.

I took my lunch and sat across from him. “Do you mind if I eat with you?”

Freddie just shrugged.

“How was your weekend?”

Freddie looked down at his lunch and stirred his mashed potatoes with his fork.

“It sucked,” he said.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

He shrugged.

“No, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you. It’s kind of noisy in here and I didn’t hear you.” I tapped the table with my finger. When Freddie looked up, I smiled.

“It sucked,” he repeated.

“Did something happen?”

“My dad is mean,” Freddie replied. Words poured out of him. He went on to tell me that his mom had left with his brother and sister. His dad drank and yelled a lot. Sometimes he hit Freddie. Freddie didn’t understand what he did wrong.

I reached out and took Freddie’s hand. “I’m so sorry your dad is mean. I hope your mom comes back soon.”

Freddie looked up. “Me too.”

The end of the day, as I tidied up the classroom, Mrs. Kunz popped in to see how the day went.

To be honest, I wanted to punch the woman. “Freddie,” I began.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, “I should have warned you about him. He doesn’t know how to handle himself around the other kids.”

“So I’ve heard,” I seethed. “Did you know that Freddie’s mom abandoned him? That his dad drinks and beats him?”

Mrs. Kunz looked dumbfounded. “No, no I didn’t.”

“Did you even take the time to ask him? I was here one day and all I did was sit by him and ask him how his weekend was. One day and he trusted me because I asked. You’ve been his teacher for what, five months and all you did was reject him, just like his mom did. Shame on you.”

“I didn’t know,” she sputtered.

“Or you simply didn’t care,” I spat. “I’ve reported what he told me to the school guidance counselor.”

“OK, what do I need to do?”

“You need to be a better human being,” I wanted to say, but didn’t. “Give Freddie a chance,” is what I actually said.

The next day I applied to a master’s level teaching program. I’d been on the fence, which is why I took the job as a sub. Freddie confirmed what I needed to do with the rest of my life: Not be Mrs. Kunz.

I looked out at the class in front of me and carefully scanned for any signs of Freddie.