Accept No Substitutes

After an odd week where I was out of the classroom on more days than I was in it (due to an ill child and two days of curriculum meetings) I have had more experiences with substitute teachers in the span of five days than I would typically have in an entire marking period.  My three subs ran the gamut from "amazing at dealing with snafus" to "incapable of clicking through a PowerPoint presentation."  My students, on the other hand, were consistent.  No names were left on the rabble-rouser list, and at no point did the students try to undermine the intended goals of the class hour.  This put me in the awkward position of lauding my students for what should be the norm.  If the adult in the room isn't me, high-schoolers are still old enough to stick to a plan and follow directions.  Whether it is attributable to the classroom environment I establish or not, I haven't had an instance in my seven years where all hell broke loose while I was gone. 

So, when I did return yesterday, I thanked the students, told them that I appreciate the way they behaved, and told them that the results were exactly what I had expected.  But it still feels like this all boils down to me praising something that shouldn't be praiseworthy, akin to a member of my carpool telling me that he appreciates my use of the turn signal and the fact that I didn't hit any other cars while driving us to work.  That would get really old (and rather creepy) really fast.

I then think about my son, and how so much of what I say to him is praise for doing basic things.  "Good using words," "Good listening," "Good petting the puppy gently," "Good eating."  At his age, he needs a tremendous amount of direction and guidance.  I see him as this blank slate, on which everything I say or do makes a mark.  So, I make a concerted effort to praise him when what he is doing is what I want or expect him to do.  I wonder when that will stop-- when I won't feel like I must congratulate him on the awesome job he does with climbing up stairs or brushing his teeth.  I also wonder if what I am doing now will help him be the sort of kid who, regardless of whether the adult in a room is the regular classroom teacher, a flaky substitute, or a robot (it's ten years until he's in high school-- it could happen), will do not just what the teacher expects of him, but what I expect of him.  That's the type of student I was in high school, but what if the marks I make on his blank slate don't produce the same results?  I guess I'll wait until my son's name appears on the rabble-rouser list before I worry too much about that-- in the meantime, I'll stick to complimenting him on how well he cleans up his toys.