"I don't suppose Z is here today," I said off-handedly as I passed a teacher in the hallway this morning. I had been scouring the school for a handful of elusive, test-avoidant students.
"Actually," she nodded, "he is! He's right over there." She pointed to a classroom down the hall.
I tapped on the door and walked in. "Is Z here?" I asked, and the co-teacher pointed at a young man seated to her right. "May I have him for testing?" I continued.
He was full of woe and sighs as we headed down to the testing office, but I refused to acknowledge his angst, choosing instead to engage in friendly chatter. His disposition did not improve as I set him up with a laptop and headphones and proceeded to read the directions for the test. "I can see your progress on my computer," I told him. "Let me know if you have any questions."
He worked steadily at first, but was quickly fatigued. Fortunately, it was lunch time, so I escorted him to the cafeteria. "You're going to have to have a working lunch," I said, and he nodded gloomily. "You're making good progress, though," I told him. "You're almost halfway."
What I didn't mention was that I was going to have to test him for reading tomorrow, and I was working hard to make this as painless as possible. After his second walk to the water fountain, I suggested we scour the cupboards for a cup so he could bring it back with him. There were no cups among the testing supplies, but there was some candy.
Do your best on the test, you Smartie, read the package. "You're a smartie," I told him, "I think this must be for you!"
That got a smile! And as he munched happily on what my brother, sister, and I used to call power pills, I broke the news to him that he would have to come back tomorrow. "Can I have more Smarties then?" he asked.
You betcha.
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