Data Collection

 

“Hola, Beckett. I miss you. How are you?”

Those were the first words I heard when Beckett logged on to his school-issued Chromebook last week for his mid-year assessment. 

I immediately felt this relief from tension I had not noticed I was carrying. 

Poor kid with this high strung teacher mom. 

I had been so worried for him about this test. Beckett has had seven days of face-to-face school. He has a super loud baby brother that distracts him from his sight words. He’s a six-year-old learning in Spanish without classmates or unifix cubes or monkey bars.

So this test quickly brought up some old resentments I had from my time as a public school teacher. Why does the state think test results are reliable with limited face-to-face time, social isolation and heavily-compromised teaching practices from virtual learning? Why do they think test results are valid through Google Meet from their parent’s office or the least-loud corner of the kid’s house? 

That had been so heavy on my mind as we read The Big Test by Julie Danneberg this week. It chronicles the challenge of teacher, Mrs. Sarah Jane Hartwell, as she prepares her students for their end-of-grade standardized test. She was feeling “really, really good” about her student’s readiness. But during test preparation, her students, one by one, develop fears that ruin their recess and anxieties that make them want to escape to the nurse’s office. Realizing what was happening, she surprises them with a celebration to prepare their hearts, as well. She realizes the most important part of their test preparation is that they also feel “really, really good.”

So, when I heard those first eight words: “Hola, Beckett. I miss you. How are you?” I was  immediately reminded that even though she is collecting the data that she’s mandated to collect, she knows the data that matters. I seriously needed that reminder, too. 

This year, she has to test them through that computer screen with timers they can’t see and measures they don’t understand, because the state told her so. 

What’s most important though, is that she makes her students feel good, really, really good. She reminded me of the data that matters.

#juliedanneberg #standardizedtesting

Where's The Magic?

Where is the magic going to be?

I keep stewing over that question as I anticipate Beckett’s kindergarten year in front of the computer screen.

I’m grateful for the decisions that were made, but carpet read-alouds, science experiments, and math centers don’t happen over a screen or behind shields or six feet apart.

So where is the magic going to be?

I asked that same question four years ago as I took a trip to study some of the most magical children’s books from my childhood.

Prince Edward Island, where I discovered the island that inspired L.M. Montgomery‘s Anne of Green Gables, my childhood kindred spirit. New Hampshire, where I visited the H.A. and Margret Rey Curious George Museum; and the Morgan Hill Bookstore where I met the late Tomie dePaola. Boston, where I floated through the Public Garden like McCloskey’s Make Way for Ducklings and E.B. White’s Trumpet of the Swan. Concord, where I toured Louisa May Alcott’s Orchard House of Little Women. Amherst, where I celebrated the art of illustration at the Carle Museum. Springfield, where I played with Yertle the Turtle with Beckett and studied Theodor Geisel at the Seuss Museum and Sculpture Garden. New York City, where I dined at the Plaza for an “Eloise” tea, searched for Stuart Little in Central Park, gorged on a Harry Potter-themed pasta dinner in Williamsburg and retraced my steps for Knuffle Bunny in Park Slope. Only to land back in Greensboro, where I somehow did not collapse in disappointment from my experience.

This trip reminded me of something that serves me so well today as I prepare for this next phase of Covid-life. The magic is everywhere. These authors exemplified adventure, mischief, courage, heartache and joy, and they did it from their own imperfect lives. These authors lived through wars, pandemics, loss, abandonment, rejection and they still brought us the magic. They gave it to us through a curious monkey, a hungry caterpillar, a six-year-old girl at the Plaza, a cat with a striped hat, a good witch in Italy and an orphaned boy who learns he’s a wizard. When the trip was over I didn’t collapse in disappointment, but I was reminded that there’s always room to bring the magic.