Co-Teacher Drama

After my chaotic and dramatic first year of teaching, I moved to Maryland and began teaching 5th grade at a Spanish dual language immersion school.

For those of you who have never heard of such a thing (I hadn't either when I interviewed for the school), a dual language immersion school instructs students in two languages to help them learn those languages. This is different from a total immersion school, which only instructs in one non-native language, like the French immersion school down the street from my new apartment.

There are different structures for a dual language school; some, like the third school I worked at, had the students learn in one language for a week in all subjects, then switched to the other language for the next week. At my second school, however, students learned in both languages every day.

When I started at this school, I was teaching fifth grade. The immersion program had only begun a few years prior to my arrival, and the inaugural class was only in second grade; the program expanded to the next higher grade as the students got older. Grades 3 - 5 were only learning in English, with a weekly Spanish class.

I was still excited since I'd be teaching both reading and social studies - my two favorite subjects. I was assured by the acting principal that the parents were very active and supportive. Besides that, I'd learned from my first year that I needed to put my foot down on classroom management within the first three weeks before things got out of hand, so I felt prepared.

My first two fifth-grade classes will always hold a special place in my heart. They were such sweet kids. Even when there were little disputes or behavior issues, they were quickly resolved.

My partner teacher was an older lady, Ms. N. She was in charge of teaching math, science, and health to both of our classes. We were both new to the district, learning the ropes of our new school. She'd taught for years before, left education, then returned that year. Since I was the tech-savy one, she would often ask me to help work the projector or various learning platforms that the students used. I was happy to help, especially since she also taught Spanish to our classes.

As the year went on, I started noticing some...interesting...things about her. She always seemed confused, even when others sat in her classroom and helped her with the curriculum. She also struggled with classroom management; after my terrible first year, I came out swinging and had little to no issues with keeping my classroom in order. If you've taught and worked with a partner teacher, you know that having that management is crucial when you switch between classes. So you'll understand my frustration when students would come to my class when we switched, loud, unruly, and sometimes disrespectful.

I gained a new appreciation for my teaching team from my first year, dealing with the fallout from my inexperience when we switched classes.

While the students were thriving in Reading, their math scores steadily plummeted. Administration doesn't take things like that lightly, and they soon were visiting her classroom more frequently to determine what the problem could be.

Then, late into the fall, something happened that nothing in school could prepare me for.

"Ms. Ross! Did you know that if you sit in a car with it running in the garage, then you can kill yourself?"

I looked up from the door where I was ushering the rest of the students in, bewilderment open on my face. "I'm sorry, why are we talking about that?"

"Ms. N told us! She said that's how her cousin died."

I was flabbergasted. I had no idea to respond to this child, other than knowing that she shouldn't have been discussing anything of the sort with the students - especially fifth graders!

I managed to change the conversation and get through my lesson. When my students went to specials, I immediately went to my team leader and told her what the student had told me.

Her eyes went as wide as mine. "Oh. We need to tell Mrs. R."

Mrs. R was the interim principal - the actual principal had broken his back before I was hired and was out recovering. She'd been the one to hire me - she saw me wandering around the job fair reading the signs and deciding which table I'd go to when she called me over. "What are you looking for, honey? Come talk to me!"

Mrs. R was firm but fun. She always made sure to look out for me as a young black woman teacher, which helped to boost my confidence in my teaching ability.

I found her in the all-purpose room and repeated what the student had told me. She stared at me in disbelief, asking me to repeat what I'd said. "Oh, no." She said matter-of-factly. "I need her to tell me where that is in the curriculum." She started muttering to herself, walking away before she called over her shoulder, "Thank you, Ms. Ross. I'll handle it."

Around dismissal time, I was asked to hold both classes during dismissal so that Ms. M could have a meeting with the principal. The kids were curious, but I managed to hold them at bay.

Things got steadily stranger. She would call out for days on end, even when she'd used all of her sick and personal leave. The Instructional coach and one of our paraprofessionals all but took over her class, and were surprised when she would come to school.

She missed school events; when chaperones were needed, everyone looked to me to represent 5th grade without even thinking about her. It was rumored among my team that she was holding out to get fired so that she would get unemployment; unfortunately for her, Mrs. R was not the type to let someone off the hook like that. For better or worse, we were stuck with Ms. N.

So she tried another route.

She and I taught 5th grade in the portables - essentially trailers that were set up outside of the building. Our portables were connected by a ramp, and they also led down to the sidewalk which led to the building. This meant that going inside to lunch, the bathroom, specials classes, or even just to get water required walking through whatever the weather was that day. There was a beautiful little grassy area that separated the 5th-grade portables from the 6th-grade one, complete with a tree for shade. There were many days when I'd teach outside, allowing us to enjoy the beautiful weather when we could.

Late in the fall, the leaves from that tree were all over the ramps. We daily reminded the students to be careful, making sure to take our own advice. The leaves were swept away regularly, but rainy and windy days had made it less frequent.

I was at lunch in the staff lounge with my other teammates when I heard a call over the radio that lived in that room - an ambulance was being called, had anyone seen Mrs. R? Get the paraprofessional to cover her class.

We poked our heads out of the door in curiosity to see Ms. N being wheeled down the hallway in a wheelchair, holding her ankle and moaning. We later learned that she claimed she'd fallen on the leaves on the ramp, and she wanted to file a workman's comp claim.

Finally, after all of the shenanigans - falling, inappropriate conversations, absenteeism, and no classroom management - she quit. I never learned if she got that workman's comp.

The Instructional coach became the teacher of record, supported by the paraprofessional. The students' math scores went up, behavior incidents went down. We finished out the year strong.

Even though there were shenanigans, that was one of my favorite years of teaching. I found out during the summer of that year that my students' reading scores from their state testing were the 7th highest in the state of Maryland. So not only had I improved in classroom management, but I'd improved my teaching abilities. Which made me excited to teach 5th grade again.

Contrary to my hopes, however, that was not what happened the next year.