A perfectionist in the making

On Friday, just as I was about to leave, I got a call from the office.

It was 'Julie's' dad, and he wanted to talk about how she was doing since he missed Parent-Teacher Conferences.

Did I mention it was a Friday afternoon?
Did I mention he hadn't called ahead to schedule this?
Did I mention I send home my contact information EVERY week?

I went and talked to him anyway. Julie is my best and brightest. And I don't just mean in comparison to her peers with hearing loss, I mean in comparison to her general education peers. Her language level is very high. She outperformed all of her general education class on the math assessment.

I appreciate so much that her parents are so involved and proactive in working with her. But I sense that there's a lot of pressure on her to succeed. Dad barely heard me when I told her she was ABOVE grade level in language arts. He wanted a laundry list of things to drill her on at home.

When I told dad that when Julie grows up, she is going to SHINE, his only response was:

"She'd better."

Sigh.

brought to you by charlie sheen

Here are a few glimpses of Monday's pep rally. This was hanging in the auditorium.

"To exemplary and beyond" is our school motto this year. "Failure is not an option" is also written on the back of our special TAKS t-shirts and is oddly reminiscent of Charlie Sheen's Torpedo of Truth/Defeat is Not an Option tour. Hmmmm.

Also? Failure is always an option!! That's real life folks. We have to wear our special TAKS shirts for three days this week and it pains me to be walking around with a lie written across my back. So I've taken to wearing a sweater.

We enjoyed several performances as well: such (rewritten) classics as "I Will Survive" (performed by teachers in 70's disco attire), and "Baby got back" with motivational lyrics.

The kids loved it all! Now all we need to do is get through the actual testing, then we can all breathe a little easier...

because no one needs to see me dance

As I write this, a local principal is addressing the local media to give last minute TAKS test-taking strategies to any kids watching, and reassuring parents that the teachers have done their best to prepare the students for the test.

Yes. The madness is upon us.

For those of you who are blissfully unaware of how Texas does state testing, TAKS is for grades 3-5 (at the elementary level - they take it again in middle school and high school) and comes around every April.

Texas is different from the two other states I've taught in because they've decided that they're going to label schools based on TAKS performance. That way, the whole community will know if a certain elementary school is unacceptable, acceptable, recognized, or commended.

As you can imagine, this causes a very unhealthy level of pressure from any Texas principal. The atmosphere in our school these last two months has been steadily approaching outright hysteria:

Countdown to the TAKS test on every white board.
Two hours of after school tutoring every Tuesday and Thursday. (Since October!)
Semi-mandatory Saturday school for under performing students. (Since January!)

Since the TAKS test starts tomorrow, the school has organized a pep rally today. The lower grades will perform cheers for the upper grades. The teachers are going to do motivational raps.

Somehow, I got out of doing any performing today. If anyone from the administration questions my loyalty to this school or to our 3rd-5th graders, I'm going to whip out my heavy duty camera and proclaim myself the official photographer of all this hoopla.

Testing my patience

"Attention: The last seven weeks of school are officially canceled due to lack of interest."

This is what I would like to say if I could get my hands on the P.A system. It's true for the kids (I've noticed an exponential increase in wiggly-ness lately) and for the teachers.

Don't get me wrong, I still like teaching. But for the next seven weeks all we'll be doing is testing.

First, there's TPRI reading inventory. This takes 10 to 15 minutes per child. Then there's M-Class math, which takes 20 minutes per child. Then there's DRA (another reading test) which takes about 30 minutes per child.

All of these tests must be administered individually. So I go through the test (times 24) until I can recite it in my sleep, until I feel and sound like a robot.

Once that round of testing is over, we've got the ITBS (Iowa Test of Basic Skills), which is a real doozy.

If someone could just give me the remote control, I'll do us all a favor and fast forward to June 3rd.

are you smarter than a first grader?

As soon as I saw the very first question of our district's reading benchmark test, I was ready to grab my purse, drive over to the central office, find the assessment center, and THROTTLE some people.

Now it's no secret how I feel about testing. There's lots not to like.

But the first question of this reading test (meant for FIRST graders) even stumped my husband - who's working on his Ph.D!

Here's the question (asked orally - the kids only have the answer choices in front of them):

Which word begins with the same sound as "safe"?

A.  swing

B.  map

C.  set

D.  slip

Are you scratching your head in confusion yet?

The correct answer is "C" because the other answers are S-blends. But it took me more than 60 full seconds to realize that. So I'm pretty sure my first graders didn't start their test with any sort of self-confidence!

In related news, it turns out that the people at the assessment center are idiots.

not quite ready for the S.A.T.s

I've been testing every morning for the last three days. It's a district assessment for reading and it involves a lot of phonemic awareness activities, like: "Say 'nice'. Now say it again without the /n/". I have to record all the answers on this fancy Palm Pilot which then uploads all the student data into the computer.

It's a worthwhile test, actually, and it gives a pretty accurate picture of the students' reading abilities (I can't say that for all tests, unfortunately).

Usually the general ed. teachers are supposed to administer this test to their own students. But I don't know what the district is thinking! They give us a deadline, and then they're all: "Yeah, just pull one student at a time to the back of the room while the other students are doing something else."

Umm.... First of all this test takes 30 to 40 minutes to administer PER CHILD. Secondly, have the geniuses up at the district level never spent time with children? Especially young children? They are not independent and quiet enough to "do something else" while the teacher tests.

So the first grade teacher that I work with is pretty sure that I'm some sort of saint because I volunteered to do all the testing for this one. I really don't mind -- it's kind of a nice break from routine.

I feel bad for the kids that I know are really low, though. I have to give them a list of words to read, and even if they can't, they still have to try. I say "do your best", and if I sense that they are getting discouraged, I say something like "we just want to know which words to practice this year."

I was testing one such student yesterday. I gave him the word list to read (it starts out: get, cut, bump...). And he said:

"I don't know. I don't know. I don't know."

So I gave him my spiel about doing your best and just finding out what words he needs to practice. Then he turns to me and says:

"Yeah, I need to practice these before I go to college!"

While I was busy laughing on the inside, he added: "'Cuz I'm going to college next year!"

a rude awakening

Today I went to Day 2 of a three day training for reading workshop. It's a statewide event, so there were TONS of teachers there.

I managed to find two other teachers from my school and we met up for lunch. On our way back to our afternoon sessions, I asked "Paula" how she liked being a teacher. Paula came to our school in January of last year to take over a Kindergarten class. She had been a banker for a number of years before her career change.

Here's what she had to say:

You know, it's funny. It seems like every time I turn around, another assessment is due. I feel like I'm always testing. I always thought that as a teacher, I would be doing more..... teaching.

So in honor of Paula, and all of the new teachers out there who may or may not have heard this from their training programs, I offer the following chart:

Does this ring true with you?

Boasting and bawling

On Friday, I had to break the test results to my fifth graders. You know, the state standardized reading and math tests? The tests that are so important that every single staff meeting has been about them? The tests that are so important we forced struggling students to stay after school for two hours of tutoring on Tuesdays, Thursdays... and SATURDAYS?

Yes, those test results.

As it's kind of a big deal, I made sure to let the whole class know that:

1. I was proud of them for the amount of effort they put into to taking those tests (and how hard you try is ultimately more important in life than if you pass any one test)

2. They were not under any circumstances allowed to discuss with their classmates whether they passed or failed. [The last thing I want to deal with is boasting and bawling]

So then I broke it to them in a different room, one by one. The kids who passed were gleeful! Most passed at least one of the tests. I had one student who failed both the reading and the math. When I told him, he cried big crocodile tears.

I let the two students who failed the reading test know that I was going to be working with them for the next two weeks (until the state standardized retests) to give them a better chance of passing. We'll be working just the three of us for two hours after lunch (throwing off the rest of my schedule, but whatever, I'm just following orders).

The counselor pulled aside one of my boys to chat about the test results a little later in the day. She was kind enough to relay this conversation to me:

Counselor: "How do you feel about passing the math test?"

Student: "I feel so great. It's like I'm in a new magical place!!"

Counselor: "How do you feel about failing the reading test? I know you tried so hard and even stayed late after school to finish it"

Student: "[sigh] I'm really sad about it. But I'm happy to be working with Mrs. B. I know I will learn a lot from her."

When the counselor relayed this conversation to me (especially that last part), I wondered briefly how appropriate it would be to frame that quote and hang it behind my desk. Or get it embroidered on a pillow. Or printed on a t-shirt.

The most heartwarming type of praise is usually spoken from our students, isn't it?

Pee happens

I was talking with a friend of mine over the weekend who admitted to drinking at least one can of soda each day at work (she's an accountant). "The only problem," she said, "is that I have to get up and pee a lot"

To which I replied: "Hey at least you have the luxury of peeing whenever you want to!"

You know, because I'm a teacher. And we have to wait until recess or our planning period or lunch to go pee.

I have this vision of what it's like to not be a teacher: you get expense accounts, an hour or two for lunch, and you can leave your office whenever you feel like peeing. No holding it!!

Then yesterday happened.

Yesterday was the state standardized test for our fourth graders. The rules for administering the test are taken very seriously. Like you have to go to special meetings, sign papers, vow not to do ANYTHING except stand there and monitor the students. Anyways, there were many special education students (including mine) testing out in the portable (there are five or six classrooms in ours). There are extra staff available in the hall to escort children who need to use the bathroom to and from the main building. They are also available to stand in for us should any of us teachers need to use the bathroom.

I've gone through this testing stuff before with my fifth graders at the beginning of the month. But this time was different. One of the staff, upon returning from the staff bathroom (which is located in the nurse's office) reported in hushed whispers that the nurse was MAKING TALLY MARKS for each time you left your room to use the bathroom.

TALLY MARKS. I'm assuming that this sheet of paper will get handed to the principal (who undoubtedly asked for it in the first place). And what will the principal do with it? Will she write us up for insufficient bladder control? Do we have a pee-pee quota I'm not aware of? Will she confiscate the pop in the vending machines? Will she make teachers start using a hall pass?

I think I'm going to be sick. But wait, that would mean running to the bathroom, which apparently is no longer allowed...

Read with a tone of dripping sarcasm

Tomorrow is The Big Day for my fifth graders: it's the first day of the three days they'll spend taking the state standardized test.

To "motivate" them, we held a pep rally for an hour this afternoon (argh, gag me!).

If months of after-school tutoring didn't do the trick, then SURELY this video will help them pass!

Or maybe just a seatbelt

Throughout testing (a week of district testing last week and now a whole week of state testing--the TAKS -M- field test), my token economy continues to work its magic.

HOWEVER. I have found that it cannot overcome certain issues. I have one fourth grader who is severely ADHD (never seen anything like it in 4+ years of special ed!!). And though he loves those tokens and he loves buying stuff at my store, no amount of bribery can overcome a chemical imbalance like the one he had last Wednesday when grandma forgot to give him his meds.

In fact, every morning it's like a bit of a gamble. I think to myself: Is he on his meds today? Will he be, or won't he? And then at 7:55 when I go pick up my motley crew from the playground, I can tell immediately from a long way off what kind of day he's going to have. If he hasn't had his meds, he walks with a pronounced swagger and bobs his head up and down and calls out props to imaginary peeps. Meanwhile, the real "peeps" are usually avoiding him and telling him to STOP being SO annoying! But if he has had his meds, he walks like any regular little boy and is generally quieter and in control of himself.

Then some days he has had his medication, but just very recently and it hasn't started to take effect yet. On those days, this is my life:

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

And then I think to myself: does the Tie Chair come in a Size Fourth-Grade?

My Thoughts Exactly

It's all about MEAP these days. MEAP is Michigan's standardized test that all third through eighth graders must take. Most of my special education students have accommodations such as taking it in a small/quiet setting, or having the questions read aloud. Let me tell you, it is VERY painful watching them take this test. I so very much want to help them, but I can't! One boy asked: "Why does Michigan want us to do this test? I don't like it at all!" What I wanted to say was "Yeah, I know, right? It sucks!!!", but all I could do was nod sympathetically...

Stress Test

Last Friday, our staff had a whole day of in-service. For part of the meeting, all the teachers were asked to log into the computers in the computer lab and take the district math test that the kids are asked to take at the beginning of the year. We take our district tests through NWEA. They're all computerized and they're all a little like the GRE: the more questions you get right, the harder the questions become; the more questions you get wrong, the easier they become.

The reason we were asked to do this is because all of us teachers are getting trained this year in mathematics content knowledge, in order to become better math teachers. So we were asked/told to take the test, then after all of our training, we'll take it again at the end of the year to see how much progress we've made.

Now. We were given the "sixth grade and up" version of the test. This doesn't mean they'll only give you middle school math questions. Remember, the more you get right, the harder they become. I was a little nervous about the test, only because it's been eight years since I've had a real math class. But I generally like taking tests (I know, I'm a nerd) and hoped that by my supreme math skills I would be able to show it who was boss.

In reality, it took me one hour and twenty minutes to answer fifty-two questions (and I had to take a shot in the dark on some of them) and I felt very humbled as I noticed the test items getting easier at one point. I was worried that I was going to start seeing questions like "1 + 1".

As it turns out, a lot of teachers were nervous about taking this test. I hope it will make us all more empathetic to our own students' test anxiety!

Tragically Entertaining

A tribute to the last day of district-wide standardized testing (thanks Mr. Pullen):

Bits of This and That

State testing has officially begun. And since I teach two grade levels below where my kids are tested at, we might as well call our testing period: "Time to make pretty patterns with the answer bubbles". I gave them the ol' "life's not fair" speech, then I handed each of them a special glitter pencil for the test, and away they went!

In other news, it was ninety degrees today and I was absolutely melting! It seems like summer is just right around the corner... SEVEN MORE WEEKS!

Also, I have twenty caterpillars in my classroom... actually, they're all in a chrysalis now, to be more accurate. I thought I would let everyone know I'm in the middle of my butterfly unit so you don't feel shocked later on when I post pictures of the adult butterflies! The kids are having a blast watching the larva, eat, poop, and change. I hope the critters don't emerge over the weekend!

I'm appreciated

This week is Teacher Appreciation Week put on by our parent's group (PFO). This doesn't mean a whole lot to me since I don't have any parents that live anywhere close to the school where they could help out... But it does mean that there are signs all over campus claiming we are the best (and rightly so). The other thing it means is that they will be throwing a free lunch for us today. WOO HOO!!!
In other news, today is the last day of our two week testing period (YES!), which is great because I'm sick and tired of seeing my students struggling over material they haven't learned, and language they don't understand. I'm also looking forward to removing the "shrouds of death" (butcher paper) that have covered my walls of all things educational. It will be nice to have my room back.
Today promises to be a good day...

Testing, testing, 1,2,3

So on Friday I had to give my kids a pep talk about the upcoming onslaught of California standardized tests starting on Monday and continuing for two weeks. It's horribly unfair that school funding depends on these tests, and even more unfair that special education students (such as mine!) aren't exempt from it. (I'll rant more about that later). In any case, I was telling my dear students that we don't have a choice and we have to take these tests; that they are for the state, not for parents or report cards; that it will be hard and there will be items on it that we haven't learned yet; that we will need to try our best anyway. Furthermore, I told them that I was not allowed to help them at all, and that there could be nothing posted in the classroom that could help them. One student raised his hand and asked if we could "put test in fire". I thought it was a brilliant idea (even better would be to have the bonfire on the steps of a government building in D.C), but I had to tell him No. Unfortunately.
Today I came back to school to cover anything remotely educational in my classroom with butcher paper (the alphabet, calendar, etc). I felt like I was mounting shrouds of death all over my walls, preparing for some sort of sick funeral. In a way, maybe it is. The only concrete outcome of standardized testing in special ed. settings is to remind the students that they are in special ed.
Oh, and let me remind everyone that "No child left behind" legislation was Clinton's big idea, not Bush's. For the record.

Synonyms

No Child Left Behind =

No child left untested =

No teacher left standing =