Bowles wishes more teachers left such lesson plans for substitutes, who, at least on paper, are a capable lot. Davis' typical sub has a college degree with about five years' classroom experience; 37 percent are credentialed teachers.

Still, teachers don't always get subs who can teach calculus or other advanced subjects, Salt Lake Teachers Association President Elaine Tzourtzouklis said. So they fill lesson plans with review.

"It seems like a lot of busy work, and it is. Let's face it," Tzourtzouklis said. "Teachers feel they've got to keep the kids busy so they don't cause problems for the substitute."

Sometimes, disruptions had nothing to do with lesson plan quality.

One of Speckman's students was disruptive all afternoon. Speckman ordered him to the office for a particularly egregious offense. Instead, the boy climbed under his desk.

But with five minutes left in class, other students coming unglued and Speckman tired of trying to coax the boy out, one thing became painfully obvious.

It was time to throw in the towel.

Rewards bring subs back

Substituting is not unlike a bout in the ring, emotionally and physically.

But the thrill of victory, even as small as a "thank you," keeps subs coming back despite bumps and bruises.

Even a full-time sub slapped by a Salt Lake City student, and another struck in the face with a 2-by-4 in Cache Valley — she apparently wasn't the intended target — returned to the classroom.

Often-requested substitute Lenge loves watching kids learn and doing something new every day. Substitutes get those perks, minus the politics teachers must deal with.

"I have no pretenses out there to change the world or change kids, it's just something that works for me," Lenge said. "I really get into it."

We can relate.

Warner recalls a student's compliment: "I love the way you look at things, Mrs. Warner. You have a really cool attitude. I wish I could be that way." Said another: "You treat me like I'm smart."

We each had shining moments.

Speckman ended his days with a fan club of children who wrote him letters and drew him pictures.

Cook will never forget her dance classes, where children with disabilities leaped and turned and were embraced by the other students as part of the team.

For Erickson, it was a tiny class learning English as a second language: Their needs, their potential and their intense desire to learn.

"It made me want to completely dedicate myself to those kids," said Erickson, who taught the students two days. "I wanted to stay with them and help them and make sure they succeeded and reached their goals. I still wonder how they are doing and hope that teacher feels the same way about them I did."