The amount of help paraprofessionals provide classroom teachers often goes unrecognized. I learned first hand just how valuable a good "para" can be in helping to manage a difficult second grade class. Included: Examples of how paraprofessionals help with behavior management, routine.

Paraprofessionals now have a special place in my heart.

Not that I viewed them negatively before. I just was able to witness and experience how much support and hands-on help they provide to a classroom teacher. This assignment would have been a lot harder for me without Mrs. G.

I reported to be the substitute teacher in a second grade class in the same school in which a handful of third grade boys ran me ragged in February. (See A Day Steeped in Boy Behavior.) I was a little apprehensive and my confidence was shaken.

After signing in, a school employee led me to Mrs. R's classroom and unlocked the door.

"There are a couple in here who are hard-headed," the man warned me, and reeled off three or four boys' names. "You need to be firm with them."

I thanked him for the warning, and sighed when he left, dreading another day battling "boy behavior." I drained my coffee cup.

The lesson plans were right in the center of the desk, and after a quick read, I decided everything looked doable. I noticed there were daily behavior charts for several boys.

"I'M GLAD YOU'RE NOT A DINOSAUR"

Just before 9:10 a.m., I headed to the playground entrance to pick up the class. The school's other second grade teacher pointed out Mrs. R's class to me. I announced that I was her sub and told them to follow me.

Almost immediately a slight boy wrapped his arms around my waist in an embrace. "I'm so glad you're not a dinosaur," he said.

"Thanks," I said. "Me, too."

I mentally filed that exchange away under "most unique greetings." Another boy, big for his age, whose name was Isaac, in what may have been an attempt to make a good impression, said he liked my braces. "They look good on you."

I thanked him, too, and we headed to the room. During the brief walk, it became clear to me that the boy who hugged me, Jason, was a bit "off." He wandered out of line, and could not stop touching things, bumping or hugging other kids. He seemed to have little or no impulse control. Isaac told me, "He falls down a lot. Sometimes you have to call the principal." At one point, Jason grabbed my hand. "I need to stay by the teacher," he said.

A SEASONED VOICE

One girl told me that I was supposed to greet them by name as they entered the room. I said since I didn't know everyone's name, I would greet them all with "good morning" as they came in.

When I told them to put their things away, there was a brief, giddy rush to the closets, and then the paraprofessional, Mrs. G, came in.

She introduced herself and reminded the students they were called up by groups to put their belongings away, and they should know better than to all go at once. Mrs. G added that they knew the rules and routines, which so far they were not following, and there would be consequences for those who didn't behave.

As if that wasn't enough to earn my gratitude, Mrs. G told me she would be with Jason all morning, because he could not be left unattended. As we were speaking, he was playing with the overhead projector.

"Is he autistic?" I asked.

"No," she replied. "Major issues."

MORNING WORK

Mrs. G coached me through the morning routine, and interpreted some aspects of the lesson plans for me. Several girls efficiently put the day and date on the board, while Isaac tried to shout over everyone, telling the class and me what to do. It occurred to me he and Jason were two of the boys I'd been warned about.

Mrs. G and Jason worked on the same assignments as the rest of the class at a table in the back of the room. She raised her voice when the volume started to increase, or when she saw mischief brewing.

The class had the feel of a teakettle under pressure; although a few bursts of steam leaked out, most of the pressure was contained. I could tell many of the students were straining to push the boundaries with a new adult in the room, but the presence of a familiar authority figure left them uncertain about how much to push.

I was amazed at the amount of knowledge about the class Mrs. G. kept in her head. Bathroom breaks, for example, were complicated. Mrs. G explained that certain boys could not go together. Certain other students could not go alone. Jason only could use the bathroom in the nurse's office.

WHERE'S JASON?

Just before lunch, Mrs. G warned me that she was supposed to be in another class that afternoon, and I could not let Jason out of my sight. This was not good news, but I said I would manage. Then a schedule change put her back in my room, and I hoped for a smooth afternoon.

After helping me coax the class into a squirming, squiggly line to go to recess and lunch, Ms. G was off for a quick bite. As the line disintegrated further, I realized Jason was missing. I extricated him from a closet, and brought him to the front of the line near me. "I need to go to the bathroom," he announced. "Not now," I said absently, since the class already was late for recess and lunch, and I did not want them all to wait while he went to the nurse's office.

A nanosecond later, Jason was gone. Panicking, with the line nearing revolt, I headed down the hall, scanning corridors and peering around corners lloking for Jason. I finally got the kids to the cafeteria, a little late, and raced back to the office, slowing down to look into empty classrooms and corridor corners.

When I came into the office and confessed to losing a student, the nurse said Jason had come to her office to use the bathroom. Then he had vanished from there, headed toward the cafeteria, she thought. I thanked her and she promised to remind him not to disappear.

She also asked if my purse was locked up. I said I kept it with me. "Is he the one?" the secretary asked, giving me an idea of another one of Jason's "issues."

ANOTHER REMINDER

I took my lunch to the teachers' room, which was strewn with food and decorations from a baby shower that had been held that morning for a teacher. Mrs. G was there, gobbling down her lunch, before running out.

After lunch, I went to the cafeteria to pick up the class, and Jason was one of the first to get in line. I asked what he did on the playground, and he said, "Played," adding that he jumped rope with "a really long rope."

The nurse came by and reminded him that he had come to her office with his coat and lunch bag, but should not have left the classroom without me. Jason seemed confused initially, and offered her his lunch bag. When she asked him again if he understood that he was not to run off alone, he said softly, "yes."

I shepherded a loud and restless line back to the classroom, holding my little Houdini firmly by the hand.

THE KETTLE BOILS OVER

In the classroom, the children were restless; kids kept insisting they went to computer lab on Tuesdays, but nothing in the lesson plans indicated there were any specials.

I began reading a book about Florence Nightingale to the students, during which time Mrs. G quietly exited with Jason.

The pressure that had been building up all morning finally had a chance to escape.

And yes, I saw my share of boy behavior in the afternoon. Thomas and Isaac pulled off their shirts, and a girl reminded them that they weren't supposed to wear white t-shirts in class. They grudgingly put their shirts back on at my request. I assigned boys who had been restless and/or tearing up paper while I read the story, including Isaac, to pick up all the paper on the floor, hoping that would help them burn off some energy. But that turned into a free-for-all of crawling under desks and shouting.

At one point, Isaac grabbed the bell off the teacher's desk, which was rung to silence the class, and began ringing it.

Many of the boys were restless, unable to concentrate or sit still, and could not keep themselves from shouting out. When I pointed out to Isaac that he was making no headway on a reading assignment, he moaned, "But I can't read."

When I was reading spelling words for the students to copy, and got to the word gun, about half the boys laughed, held their pencils like rifles, and "fired" across the room.

AFTERNOON MELTDOWN

It was as if most of the kids decided they had nothing to lose, despite the fact that I was following the discipline procedures, including having disobedient students write their initials on the board. More offenses led to checks next to their names and punishments including a time-out in the other second grade classroom

The afternoon was filled with shifting students, as I sent them from time-out in the other room to sitting by themselves, and eventually sent three, including Isaac, to the office. I wondered how anyone could manage this class with Jason in it.

Thomas, who Mrs. G had complimented for his behavior in the morning, rapidly came undone after the shirt episode. Before this, I would not have thought that second graders knew how to sneer, but I could sense his resentment. As I read spelling words, he called out at one point, "How do you spell silver teeth?" Thomas was part of the "out-of-room, in-class time-out, off-to-the-office" rotation.

Another boy, Aaron, also went downhill in the afternoon, moving his desk, pushing reading material onto the floor, and insisting he did not want to do things.

Again, I felt guilty about those students (mostly girls) who were struggling to pay attention and follow instructions. Karen asked to move her seat because the kids next to her were noisy and looking at her paper. She later came up to me and said quietly, "I have a headache."

THE FINAL PUSH

Ms. G arrived back with Jason as I was wrapping up a math lesson that most seemed to grasp pretty well, even if they weren't doing the assignment. She sorted out who got which math homework while I tried to keep the volume down.

She had a few words with Isaac -- who it seemed would be losing a week of recess -- and some of the other major offenders.

Then, I had to send them scrambling for coats and backpacks as the buses started to roll in.

Mrs. G, if you're reading this, thanks again. I salute you and the other paraprofessionals who are a teacher's second set of eyes, ears, and hands.

ADDITIONAL RESOURCES

• Sub Station
• National Substitute Teachers Alliance
• Substitute Teaching Institute, Utah State University