Testing Week

                              
Tomorrow is Monday and this week is.....Testing Week! Yay! It's that time of year when you make sure your kids get to bed EXTRA early and you make sure they have a SUPER nutritious breakfast and pack a snack so they can excel at all of those mandated standardized tests.

I hate testing week. My kids come home with all the life drained out of them.

My kids during standardized testing week:
               

It's so stressful. There is so much pressure. The other week, we were sitting at the dinner table and the topic came up. My oldest very matter-of-factly told me, "You know, if you don't do good on the tests then they won't let you go to the next grade." I wasn't aware that was the case in my state. "Ummmm.....I don't think so. Just do your best."

I'm not anti-testing or anti-achievement by any means but they do too many of them, they don't improve student achievement, every state has their own test and standards so comparing results nationally isn't comparative.....I could really get on my soap box about it and go on and on.

I took standardized test growing up and I remember teachers going over "tips" to hack the test. Literally, they would spend whole class periods talking about how the test would try to "trick" you. So, the whole time you were taking the test you would be constantly second guessing yourself. This is the answer, but it is the obvious answer. It can't be the obvious answer....that's too easy. This is a trick question..... Then you would have to write essays about the most boring s**t ever. It is the most soul sucking, mind-numbing experience. For hours, day after day.

Also, no one knows what's on these tests. They are sealed. Test monitors have to have monitors. If a teacher looks at the test questions while the student is taking it, they can be burned at the stake. Who even writes these tests? It's a little bizarre. Surely, I'm not the only one that thinks it's weird.

Every year at testing time, I am reminded of the time I revolted against the standardized tests. It still makes me feel satisfied.

It was my senior year of high school in May, testing week. I was already checked out. I was moving away and getting married in a month. I was working, like 50 hours a week and going to school. I was EXHAUSTED and hated everything. I suffered horribly from a bad case of the small town blues. I felt like I was serving a sentence, and that my time was almost done. Freedom was so close that I almost taste it. I was just putting my nose to the grindstone and doing what I had to do to get through. I went through the motions of life and tried to mentally prepare for the test - it was the last one of my public school career. I could do this. Monday through Thursday - then, I would be done. As much as I despised it, I was going to do my best.

That Monday morning we swapped classrooms with the one next door. I guess your teacher couldn't proctor the test, maybe there was a rule about it....I don't quite remember.

The German teacher proctored the test. She had a red face and broad shoulders and while I didn't know her, I didn't like her. She had a cold and serious demeanor that rubbed me the wrong way. I sharpened my number 2 pencils and set them down at the top of my desk as the teacher passed out the sealed white booklets. Then she stood at the front of the classroom and recited the same instructions that I'd heard over, and over again through the years. Fill in the circle completely, read the answer carefully, you cannot hear the instructions again, blah,blah,blah,blah,blah.....

I did the test and I filled in the bubbles. It was boring and irrelevant but I did what I had to do. Day after day until it was over. That Thursday afternoon, when I closed the test booklet for the last time, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. They were all done - ACT, SAT, AP, State Testing. DONE. My brain hurt but I had finished it.

On Friday, I showed up at school and we were assigned back to the German teacher again. Which was weird, because testing was over. The German teacher stood in front of the room with a pile of white booklets. "The State is looking at switching to a different test for next year and we have been selected to trial the test. You will be influential in determining what test is used next year."

I almost lost my damn mind. It was the final straw for me.
                        
I don't owe the State of New Jersey anything! I hate New Jersey, I'm getting out of here. I can't do this. I'm going to take a stand. 

I was seething. She went around to pass out the booklets. "I'm not taking it." my 18 year old self said firmly. She looked at me with surprise. "That is not an option. It is mandatory."
"I'm not taking it," I said again.
She was not happy with me. "If you don't, you will get written up and we can and WILL withhold your diploma." She smirked at me, knowing she had the upper hand.

I was a good student, I was already accepted to college. I had served my time and this B was threatening to withhold my diploma. NO. It was on. "Okay," I said, accepting the test booklet. She finished distributing the booklets and stood in front of the classroom giving instructions.

I filled in the bubbles for my name and gender. Then she let us start. The first section had 50 or so questions. I filled in A from 1-50. It took me 30 seconds. Then I shut my test booklet. I laid my head on the desk. "You need to read the questions carefully and try to do your best," the German teacher said. I smiled at her, "I did." Then I took a nap. It was glorious. I had worked 3-11 the night before, I was tired.

The next section, I filled in all Bs. Then all Cs. I napped all day. I filled out bubbles for only 2 minutes in total. The German teacher glared at me with the most evil look the whole time but there was nothing she could do about it.
                                
 I'm pretty sure she wanted to murder me, throw me out the window. I was just some punk-ass kid rebelling against authority.

I walked out of the room that afternoon with a spring in my step. I had choices. I had some control in what I wanted to do. It was one of the most liberating things I had ever done in my young life.

As an adult, I feel bad for the German teacher. She was just there, trying to do her job. Counting down the years until she could run away and collect her pension. I can't blame her at all. She wasn't the enemy in all this, she was only the messenger.

I will think about her this week as my kids pack their number 2 pencils into their book bags and head off to school to fill in their own bubbles. I'll make sure they have granola bars and a bottle of water and we'll survive this too.