Outer Limits

I totally get why we give students all the time they need on many high-stakes tests. It only seems fair and right to let people have the time they need to demonstrate proficiency, if not excellence, especially in a learning environment. 

But in my decades of teaching, I have also witnessed the abuse of such flexibility, especially kids using their unlimited time to miss classes or other non-preferred activities. Recently I have also seen how having all the time you need can actually feed the anxiety we are trying to allay. "What if this is the one question that means I'm either above or below grade level?" a student asked me when I checked win with him after literally hours of testing.

And today? We had six kids who had to stay an hour after the final bell had rung to complete their state assessment. Mind you, they had started at 8 am, worked through lunch (they ate as they tested), and did not tap submit on their 55 questions until 7+ hours later. At one point, a student waved me over. He was in tears, fretting about finishing the test, which, although untimed, must be completed in a single school day unless you have specific accommodations that allow otherwise.

"I know I get one and a half times on tests," he said, and although he was right? One and a half times of unlimited is still unlimited (but completed in a day). 

And yet, once he came to terms with an actual wall, he locked in and worked a little faster. He also passed advanced.

Years ago, a colleague told me about a study in which they placed one group of toddlers in the middle of a huge field and another group in the same field, but with a fence they could see. Those in the open stayed close to their starting spot, and did not explore, but those with the enclosure went right up to the edge. Presumably, the enormous expanse was overwhelming and threatening, but the boundary was reassuring.

I don't know if it's a real study or not, but it is certainly a parable that I have never forgotten.

The Same Page

"You should print that portrait," my testing colleague suggested.

"Why?" I asked. 

"It will take up fewer pages and look better," she shrugged.

"But it won't fit," I said, tilting my head at the spreadsheet on the screen.

"It will," she insisted.

"If I hide these columns," I agreed.

"Oh, yeah," she nodded, "do that."

"Now it really does look better in portrait!" I told her.

"Y'all are crazy about the details," said another teacher who was in the office listening to our conversation. 

We laughed in acknowledgment.

"But since it's working?" she added. "Keep doing that!"

Packing Wisely

"How's it going, packing up your room?" I asked my sister-in-law this morning. After 15+ years of teaching art, she is retiring at the end of the year.

"Pretty good," she said. "I've thrown away a lot of stuff. I bought 5 Banker boxes, and I've already filled one and taken it home."

"That's good," I agreed, "but 5 boxes isn't very much."

"I don't want very much," she laughed. 

Requirements of the Job

I was tired after traveling this weekend, but Heidi had a fitful night and neither of us slept very well. No worries, though. I got up at the usual time, but made the decision to go into school a little later than I planned. I had some time to relax and recharge before heading off, and what do you know? All the work was still there when I arrived.

After three decades of classroom teaching, the luxury of a flexible schedule is unfamiliar to me, but I like it! There are still people to see, places to be, tasks to complete, and objectives to meet, but the hours are so much more forgiving.

Who knows? If I'd had one, I probably could have lasted a while longer in the workforce. But then, I wouldn't have been a teacher, would I?

Ballsy

There was a 20-minute wait when we entered the TSA security line at the Atlanta airport this afternoon. At first, we moved quickly, speedwalking with our fellow travelers back and forth past the stanchions marking the parallel lanes, but soon we caught up with the real line. As we moved forward one or two steps at a time, our attention was drawn to a young man behind us, but moving quickly forward. 

"Excuse me," he said firmly, but courteously, to passenger after passenger, without explanation. Everyone stepped aside to let him pass, and some people even apologized for being in his way. When he got to us, we did the same, and he was long gone by the time anyone thought to question him. 

Because of the chute formation of the line, we watched incredulously as he excused himself all the way to the front of the line, without ever being challenged. 

"So, all you have to do is be polite to cut?" Heidi asked with irritation.

"Maybe he has permission? Like, he lost something, and the agents told him he could just come straight back?" I theorized. "He seems so confident."  But the longer we looked on, the less likely that seemed.

With one person ahead of him, he finally stopped and waited for his turn. Then he headed off through security, less than ten minutes before he got in line.

Refreshing By Any Name

 “Do you want some water ice?” a roll poly little fellow sang out this afternoon on the Beltline. He was following a young woman, perhaps his mother, who was pulling a heavy duty wagon loaded with some coolers and cups. 

“Are you talking to us?” I asked as he passed, gesturing with raised eyebrows at me and Heidi. “Are you asking if we want some ice water?”

“You could call it ice water,” he sighed patiently, “but it’s really water ice. Want some?”

I laughed and his partner did, too. “Let’s go,” she told him, shaking her head. And away they rolled. 

Buh-Bye

“Bye, Beautiful,” the flight attendant said to Heidi as we disembarked in Atlanta. “Bye, Precious,” she said to me. “Bye, Gorgeous,” she continued as we passed.

“Did she just call you Gorgeous?” Heidi asked.

“No,” I answered. “I’m Precious. Gorgeous is behind us.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “And you’re Beautiful.”

“Aww,” said Heidi. “Well you’re gorgeous to me.”

“What about precious?” I asked.

“That, too,” she allowed. “That, too.”