May I Take a Message, Please?

Our state has introduced a new twist into high-stakes testing this year. "Expedited retakes" for students in grades 3-8 are meant to relieve the stress of testing by letting kids and families know that any student who scores just a bit below the proficiency level can be quickly remediated and given a second crack at passing, with parent permission, of course.

Since this is the first year of the practice, the logistics of implementing it are necessarily trial and error. For example, today was the first test; students took a reading assessment from 9-12 this morning. In this day and age of online testing, the results were available right after lunch, and it fell to the counselor to inform the students who hadn't passed and get permission as soon as possible from their parents for remediation and a retake.

She used her phone to call and ask for kids to come to her office from their last period class so she could speak to each privately, but after the second student returned to class, everyone knew what the calls were for, and so each time the phone rang they held their collective breath, waiting to see who the teacher would send to the office next.

Test Prep

"Thursday!!" he exclaimed when I reminded the class today that their state reading test was coming up.

I nodded.

"Well!" he continued in dismay. "Middle school sure is a lot different than elementary school."

"How?" I asked.

"Where are all the pep talks?!?"

I looked at the zip lock baggie of bright red latex bracelets on my desk. They had appeared in my mailbox over the weekend with no directions. Dream it, Believe it, Reach it, they said in bold white letters, followed by a little tiny pencil that read, On the test.

"Oh, they're coming," I told him. "They're coming."

Spidey Sense

"Do you have any dirt?" a student asked me the other morning.

"As it happens, I do," I answered him. "Why do you ask?"

"That plant over there on the window has crazy roots," he told me. "Can we pleeeeease plant it?"

I knew what he was talking about. Last spring my friend Mary gave me a little vase full of spider plant babies. "Just put it on your window sill," she said, "and transplant it later." I followed her directions and in June, I took my little fledgling plant home and put out on the deck. What an awesome summer it had! The lush, flourishing spider plant I brought back in August was amazing, and it wasn't long before it was flowering and producing tiny offspring of its own. I rooted and planted the first brood (hence the potting soil in my cabinet), and it was the second round of descendants that were basking in the sunlight in a tall glass of water as we spoke.

"Sure," I said, "but I don't have a pot right now. How about if I get one over the weekend, and you help me plant it on Monday?"

He smiled and literally clapped his hands.

"Do you want take it home when we're through?" I asked.

"Can I?" he said.

"I don't see why not," I said. "Ask your parents if it's okay."

He walked away quite pleased, but a few minutes later he was back. "There's just one more thing," he said quite gravely. "You're going to have to teach me how to take care of it. I've never had a plant before."

"I will," I told him. "I will."

Pour Timing

Wouldn't ya know that the minute I was ready to start the grill for dinner this evening we were hit with a heavy rain. Not to worry, though, I just moved the barbecue to the breezeway and continued from there, ducking in and out of the storm to check the coals.

A little while later, veggies and steak sizzled, rain drops slapped the pavement, and a cool wet breeze tempered the warm moist air; the world smelled like dirt and everything growing was so green, green, green.

Hello, Summer. It's good to see you again.

Throwback Thursday

It's hard to believe that it's been eight years since the Nintendo Wii was all the rage. Back then, people were camping out overnight in parking lots based on the rumor that a shipment might arrive the next day, and consoles were selling on eBay for double the retail price. We felt lucky to get ours when we did, and our older nephews got quite a bit of playing time on it.

We invested in a bunch of games and accessories, too, including the balance board for "Wii Fit." That nifty little platform could sense your motion and give you a little fitness check as well. For a while we were skiing and hula hooping, bowling and playing tennis all the time. It wasn't quite the virtual gym it promised, but it was fun.

Our Wii hadn't been powered on for almost two years yesterday when I decided that maybe a little rhythm boxing would be better than slumping tiredly in the chair. The batteries on the balance board were corroded, though, and it became quite the little maintenance and repair project to get the system up and running. But I did it, and it was nice to see my old Mii after so long. She looked like she was having a good time, too, as we boxed and bowled 30 minutes away.

And it was indeed waaay better than sitting in the chair.

Clueless

Today, for Spirit Week, was Throwback Thursday. Students were invited to dress as any past persona of themselves or from some earlier decade. 7:30 a.m. found three sixth graders at my classroom door.

"Can you guess what I am?" one of them asked.

I looked at her Rapunzel t-shirt and denim skirt, and scratched my head. "Um, the 90s?" I guessed.

"No!" I'm my kindergarten self! I loved Rapunzel then!"

"Oh," I said. "Well, then, that's a great outfit!"

"How about me?" one of her friends asked. She was wearing a hair band tied in a bow, leggings, and a long cardigan.

"Easy!" I answered. "You're the 80s."

Her face fell. Her friend tried to help me out. "Look at her hair... she's the 60s," she shrugged, "or 50s."

Not so much, I thought to myself, but who am I to judge?

"What about me?" the third girl inquired, sweeping her arm dramatically down her buttoned wool jacket, pleated skirt, black stockings, and sensible shoes, then giving me a sharp little salute from the brim of her fedora.

"The... 30s or 40s?" I said.

"Perhaps this will help," she said briskly and pulled out a black umbrella and opened it over her head.

"Mmmm," I stalled.

"I'm Mary Poppins!" she cried officiously, and now that she said so, I could totally see it.

"So you're the..."

"60s!" she told me.

"But," I said, "Mary Poppins–"

"Came out in the 60s," she finished. "I should know. It's one of my favorite movies."

"But the story takes place in the early 1900s, I think," I said.

She waved her hand. It was clear to everyone that I was not good at this. Fortunately, the bell rang right then.

"You all look great!" I said, shooing them out the door. "Have a fun day!"

That's the Spirit

It's spirit week at school, and so each day has a theme that students are encouraged to dress for. Monday was Pajama Day, Tuesday Twin Day, and today was Character Day, when kids could come dressed as their favorite person from a book, movie, TV, etc. Participation, especially in sixth grade, is always a bit spotty– mostly because people forget, as I confess I do often. Like today, when one of the girls in my homeroom came in dressed in pink, wearing a small knapsack and carrying a chicken hand puppet.

"Put your backpack in your locker before the bell," I advised her.

"I need it," she told me. "I'm Dora the Explorer."

I took a closer look. I couldn't see it, but who am I to criticize someone's creative vision? "What's with the chicken?" I asked, for clarification.

"It's Perrito," she answered. "I don't have a dog puppet."

"If you say so," I replied, "but remember, Dora is very well-behaved and always respectful. Right?" I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Noooo," she said, with a hint of a sneer.

"I think she's Ghetto Dora!" another student explained.