The one who lost her kids at the fire drill. That would be me. Yesterday. Hoo-boy.
I am subbing in Middle School Math for three days. I have subbed in this class before, and I love it. The homeroom students are divided in half, and each grade-level section is taught twice. There’s some math for you right there. So, there are actually no more than fifteen kids in class at a time.
It was the end of the day. The second section of sixth grade was in my room. The fire drill buzzer sounded. The kids stood and exited. I shut one classroom door, grabbed the seating chart for roll check, exited the second door, and…no kids. I looked to my right, saw the back of a recognizable sixth grade head, and followed.
Oops. Wrong group. Now, where were the kids I was “in charge of?” To my left, half a block away, lined up with the very competent seventh grade teacher was my group. I was wearing a bright red sweater, and was very visible in searching for my kids. The principal directed me to the street, and chagrinned, I met up with my kids.
One of them said, “We should have waited for you, Mrs. Horton. Instead, we left you to burn in the fire. Sorry.” Yeah. Me, too.