Emergency Teacher by Christina Asquith

Here are your test scores,” I announced. I should have looked at them first. Instead, I read the numbers to myself as I handed them out. They were lower than even I had expected. Many students, including Rodolfo, scored a 1, meaning the bottom 1 percent of all test takers in the state. No one scored higher than 15 percent. A bad feeling sunk in as I went round the room.
    Rodolfo snatched his and shouted, “Yeah! One!” thinking it meant first. The other students were shouting, “What this mean?” Caught off guard, I didn’t know what to say. Later, at night in bed, I would play this moment over in my mind. Should I have hidden the painful truth from him? Or should I have capitalized on it to encourage him to do better? Or should I break the news to him gently, and then discuss how he could improve? I didn’t want to dump failing scores on their impressionable minds. Burned into my own brain were the Ss for “satisfactory” I’d received in elementary school, instead of Es for “excellent.” At that moment, I panicked. So, I ducked the issue. I explained the scoring in a cryptic way that they wouldn’t understand. Being eleven, they were accustomed to feeling confused by adults and let it go easily. Then, I steered us onto something else. This did not exactly feel like the right thing to do. Later, I noticed Rodolfo staring at the score. He had a confused, unhappy look on his face.
    Then I tried to teach.
    A few days earlier, Mrs. G. delivered our English books. I thought we were waiting for new books. In fact, these texts were from the early 1980s, making me think that they had been in a nearby closet the whole month. The first chapter was titled “The Four Types of Sentences.”
    This was completely impractical. I tried to teach it, but my students didn’t even know how to make a sentence. Shouldn’t we at least start with subject and predicate? They didn’t even really know English. The night before, I had tried to sketch out a lesson plan tailored to their specific needs, but in reality it looked more like a list of my thoughts, hopes, and possible activities strung together. When I reviewed it in the morning, I barely understood it myself:
    MS. ASQUITH’S LESSON PLAN
    I. Writing complete sentences.
    What makes up a complete sentence? How do we know when to stop it?
    A sentence has a subject and predicate. Everything else is decoration.
    Combine lesson 2 and 3 in book. Subject is person or persons, the thing or things doing the action. Predicate is the action or actions.
    Follow activity by everybody looking at Pedro. Describe Pedro or write down what he is doing and circle the subject and predicate.
    Turn to page xx in book and we’ll go over it together. (Read aloud everyone for practice.)
    Do exercise in the book. Change with partner, go over together, give a grade and note it down like you’re the teacher.
    Point out that the subject can be more than one thing.
    Student notes should read: Complete sentences. What is a complete sentence and when stop it?
    A sentence has a subject and a predicate.
    Remember, every sentence must have a subject and verb (predicate).
    Later, combine what we learned.
    What?
    I hadn’t gotten far. Several students didn’t know English, so how was I to teach them about predicates? And the others either didn’t get it, or didn’t care. Some couldn’t form sentences, so trying to explain what a predicate was useless. Often, I would corner myself.
    â€œSomeone give me an example of a popular sentence?” I said, chalk in hand, poised at the board.
    â€œWhat’s up?” said Vanessa.
    â€œOkay. That’s true. That’s a sentence,” I said, trailing off. Where was the subject and predicate in that? I struggled to explain the verb “to be” and confused myself. I’d have to look that one up. Student attention began to wane and I thought, “Who am I kidding? I