I was a pandemic Kansas substitute schoolteacher. Here’s what my students taught me

I taught high school English this past spring semester, yet I am not a teacher. It was like drinking from a fire hose, but was one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences that I have had in a long time. I learned more than I taught, about teenagers today and about the current state of U.S. education.

I got my Kansas emergency substitute teacher license because of the desperate need for substitute teachers. Anyone with a bachelors degree and no criminal record could get an E-sub license. There simply are not enough substitute teachers.

After a few weeks of substitute teaching, one or two days a week, I was asked to take over the classes of an English teacher who would be out on maternity leave. “Are they crazy?” I wondered. I told them, “Yes.”

I have a master’s degree in English and am a certified project manager. I have taught many corporate and military courses and subjects, in a variety of settings. I have created more lesson plans than I could ever count. When my sons were kids, I was active in the Boy Scouts and coached ten seasons of basketball. So, this was not my first rodeo. But, it was — and it wasn’t.

I had 126 students in five classes. Three classes were hybrid, partly in the classroom and partly on Zoom. Two were remote. I had difficulty learning my students’ names because of the masks they wore while we were in person, and because their cameras were off most of the time over Zoom.

I had the core skills necessary to do the job, but had much to do to get up to speed on the language and culture of teaching, and that of the school. My Zoom skills soared.

A recent Rand Corporation report projected that 1 in 4 teachers would quit at the end of the 2020-21 school year. I don’t know how that is playing out in Kansas and Missouri, but such a loss would be devastating for any school district.

Technology is an insidious distraction for the attentions of students. It is also, of course, necessary. Many of them played games or chatted on their devices during class. But many used their tech tools for our classroom discussions and exercises.

But those ubiquitous phones have concrete downsides. Most of my students believe that Helen Keller was a hoax — either that she did not exist, or that she faked her disabilities — and that Stevie Wonder is not actually blind. I was stunned at this reality, which is what they’ve learned coming of age consuming an internet rife with conspiracy theories.

Teachers have to be jacks of all trades — instructors, technologists, counselors, writers, editors, project managers, marketeers, salespeople, diplomats and punching bags. They don’t get paid enough.

One thing that struck me as hilarious is that when teachers come together in their own meetings, they sort out like kids in class. Many will sit at the back of the room. Some will sit in the middle, and a few will sit in the “action zone,” front and center of the room.

Teachers I worked with were exhausted from teaching remotely and in class, often at the same time, on a hybrid schedule. They adapted brilliantly during the school year, and do not get recognized for that.

In Kansas, public and private schools have lost around 16,000 students during the 2020-21 school year, more than 3% of the state’s 2019 enrollment. This is creating funding problems for many school districts.

I became melancholy in the final two weeks of classes. I came to recognize and appreciate all my 126 students. Kids from my Zoom classes came to the school in person, covertly, to see me. “I just wanted to meet you,” they said. Remote learning is not a viable solution.

All my students were remarkable — each one intelligent, creative and resilient in her or her own way. I felt a strong responsibility not to fail them, or the other teachers.

The educators I worked with were an impressive collection of people, creative and capable in ways that would astound you. How they adapt and overcome to teach our kids astounded me.

Jeff Forker is a father, grandfather, Army veteran and covert grammarian. He lives in Overland Park.

This story was originally published July 21, 2021 at 5:00 AM.