Taking Place

In the normal functioning of our society, many situations arise in which one person has to take the place of another. The details, of course, can vary widely. It may be temporary, as when somebody has to “call in sick” and their part of a job must be done by somebody else. Or it may be permanent, most commonly because someone has died, and there is need for another person to take over.

Probably like many of us, I first encountered such a circumstance at school, when a familiar teacher was, for some reason, not able to come to work (we were never told why) and, in their stead, we who were in that scheduled class must deal with a “substitute.” I’m sorry to confess that my fellow pupils, and even I, tended to take advantage of this situation. The substitute, who was often a young woman – perhaps a student-teacher, usually knew little about the school she had been sent to, or even what subject we were studying. Instead of trying to do any actual teaching, she was often at a loss just to keep some kind of order in the classroom. We, for our part, set about doing anything and everything we knew we were not supposed to do – passing notes, playing games, whispering to each other, even getting up from our desks and walking about. The substitute, who had perhaps tried to get us to occupy ourselves with “private study,” no doubt felt enormous relief when the bell rang, although she might then have to face some other class.

I myself received my own just punishment for these misdeeds when, having attained a California Teaching Credential, but not yet found regular employment, I had to put my name on the Los Angeles City Schools list of people available to serve as substitutes teachers. This meant that, any school day, I might or might not be called early in the morning, and told at which school to report for substitute duty that day.

Since I had what was called a General Secondary Credential, I was supposedly qualified to teach in any public school in that huge District, from (what were then called) Junior High, up through Junior College. And for some reason, it was most often the lower grades which needed a substitute teacher.

In general, it was not an easy job. But there were two occasions which stand out in my memory, for opposite reasons. The first was a nightmare – it was in a Junior High School – a scary time in many kids’ lives. In one class, I found it impossible to keep order, and wanted only to survive the hour. That school happened to be in an old, poorly maintained building, and, in this particular classroom, certain parts of the floor-covering had apparently come loose. Some of my students had unfortunately discovered that they could pull up bits of it, and use them as missiles. At first, they threw them only at each other. But then, their substitute teacher became the preferred target. It was not a pleasant experience, but even now, when exchanging horror stories with other former substitutes, I can cap them all with “the time they threw the floor at me.”

At the other extreme, my very best substituting job came when, for the first and only time, I was sent to a Junior College. Of course, it was wonderful to encounter no discipline problem, and to have students who really wanted to learn. But this was a class in Logic, a subject I had never had a course in, or even read much about – and I would have been quite justified in letting these students read the textbook to themselves. But they didn’t know that I had no educational background in the subject. So, seizing this very unusual opportunity, I went ahead and acted as if I were indeed the regular teacher whom I was temporarily replacing. I asked the class where they were in the book, and started there, to read the next paragraph aloud, thereby teaching it to myself, and then proceeded to explain it to the class. I continued like this until our time was up. Fortunately, I was not asked any difficult questions. And I had the happy impression, as they left, that nobody in that class had any doubts about my being qualified to play that role.