persona

Last week my job took me to a second-grade class where I had two charges, sweet little special ed children, a boy and a girl. After lunch I joined them and their class for art class, after which we lined up to wait for the teacher to come get us and walk us back upstairs to the classroom. We waited several minutes and when the children began to get restless, I went ahead and started them back to class, confident we would run into the teacher on the way, or at least find her in the classroom, having just lost track of time. When we arrived, there was a snack set out for each child and, with no teacher, I assumed authority and gave them permission to dig in (although some of the children were reluctant to eat on my permission alone…).

One of the girls, the biggest, and probably the oldest, volunteered to read a book to the class while they ate their snack; wonderful idea! I persuaded her to let me read until she finished eating her snack, which she wolfed down in one page, quite anxious to take over. She sat in the teacher’s reading chair and immediately assumed the teacher’s posture and demeanor, “I will begin reading as soon as I can see everyone is ready.” She peered over imaginary reading glasses, perched half-way down her nose, and glared at two chatty girls. They quieted. She began reading where I left off, pausing every few sentences to ask the class searching questions, sternly reminding those who shouted out, “I will call on those students who raise their hands.

As the students finished their snacks, I had them clean up their trash and gather on the carpet at her feet. Still no teacher. Gradually, as the “substitute” grew confident in her power to command and be obeyed, I noticed that she was reading less and commanding more. “You sit over there.” “Keep your hands to yourself.” “Sit up, please.” I frequently reminded her to get back to the story, but otherwise stood back, keeping track of my own two, leaving the rest of the class in her capable hands. I was very impressed, not only that she could keep such control of the other children, but that they let her!

A group of three ladies came to class looking for the teacher. All I could tell them was that she’d been missing since art class. They didn’t seem concerned that our class was in the hands of a second-grader, perhaps because I didn’t seem concerned, although I did worry that one of the children would catch on, “Hey, she’s not the teacher, she’s not even a grown-up; we don’t have to do what she says!” I could have a mutiny on my hands.

We’d been on our own 45 minutes when the teacher returned. She had scheduled her evaluation during art class and it had gone way long. She apologized profusely, puzzled that her pre-arranged substitute hadn’t come. She was impressed to find things so quiet and orderly and complimented me. “Oh, don’t thank me,” I said, smiling at the second-grader still sitting in her chair, “She’s a natural!”