A Few Moments Alone

I'm feeling very old right now, and it's not just about these wrinkles that have suddenly appeared. It's other things, too. Like, for instance, I don't feel challenged by new things lately. Just frustrated. But, for a while, I've managed to keep it together somewhat.  The lesson plan format changed at school, but I kept calm throughout and will be the first to say that the new format is better. The TST referral process changed, but then it changes every year because, well, the word "idiot" should be somewhere in this sentence but I really don't want to get into it. And there are several other things that have changed in the last couple of weeks that added to my stress level, but I worked my way through. So, really, I thought maybe it was beginning to seem that I will be mellow in old age. Until this morning. I have chewed the same Trident gum for the last 20 years. The original flavor Trident. I am never without it. The children went to P.E. today, and I went to my purse and pulled out the new package of Trident original flavor gum I bought at the gas station yesterday. I could open a package of Trident original flavor gum in my sleep, and I don't guess I ever look at the thing while I'm opening it. So, I turned from my purse with the gum in my hand and started walking to the trash can to throw the little end piece of the package (the one that comes off when you pull the red plastic strip) into the can. Something felt wrong. I looked at that package of Trident original flavor gum and saw they've messed with the packaging. They. Changed. It. That did it. I lost it. Lost it. Lost. It. I flung that package of Trident original flavor gum just as far away from me as I could get it. And stomped. And mumbled. And fumed. I don't even know where that package of Trident original flavor gum is now. I hope the cleaning crew swept it right into the trash. I am disgusted with the whole business.

And then the other thing that has really brought home to me just exactly how old (or maybe just tired) I am is the faculty meeting we had yesterday afternoon. But to tell this story most effectively, I need to set it up a little first. We met in the high school library. Even though we have a perfectly good (which means air-conditioned) cafeteria on our side of the street, which is where we always have our faculty meetings, and a perfectly good (which means air-conditioned) auditorium where we have meetings when there is a guest speaker. But no. The announcement sheet read "Faculty meeting in H.S. library from 3:00 until 4:00." Maybe the high school faculty will be there, too, we assumed, which is how they could justify having us walk over there in 98 degree heat after we'd spent twenty minutes on bus duty in that same heat. When we got there, we found that the announcement sheet had indeed been in error. The meeting was not in the library at all, but in the small library annex that is un-air-conditioned and is the size of the very bedroom I am sitting in at this very moment. I am not kidding. So we all squeezed in, with several people standing and, let me tell you, some grown women don't smell very pleasant at 3:00 in August in South Mississippi in an un-air-conditioned room. They just don't. But there we were. And then the principal, who was standing at the back of the room, did some sort of computerized presentation on MCT scores. He projected it all onto the wall and I'll just say it (and I don't think it's because I'm old). There is just something flat-out wrong about calling a meeting of educators and flashing images onto a wall and reading the captions to them. Wrong. Flat-out wrong. There's no way any good teacher would ever, ever, ever teach that way. I mean, I'm not saying some teachers don't. A lot of them do. But not good ones. This whole computerized presentation business is just crap and educators should not fall for it. When you are meeting with a group of people, educators or not, then for crying out loud talk to them. To their faces. And hey, why not go all out and invite input from them? So, anyway, there we were, looking at graphs and tables and charts of test scores from last spring's MCT. And, of course, even though we are a high level four and just a hair's breath away from level 5, we got the whole lecture about analyzing those test items closely and teaching harder and paying special attention to main idea, details, and expanded comprehension (what in the cat hair is that, anyway?) because those areas were the lowest--though not really low--school-wide. And the poor sixth grade teachers had a fairly large percentage of children who did not score in the advanced or proficient range. So they've got to really, really buckle down even though those students are not even at our school anymore, but at the junior high.

I'm changing paragraphs just because that one was getting too long, but we're still at the faculty meeting in the un-air-conditioned library annex that is the size of the very bedroom in which I am sitting at this actual moment. So, this is what I was leading up to all along. The principal starts flashing these graphics onto the wall that are explaining to us the importance of aligning the curriculum with the test and the correlation between design and implementation. And he said, he actually said, "You can be teaching your heart out all day long, but if you're not teaching what's on the test, it's not doing any good." So, I scooted forward to the edge of my seat and said, "Excuse me. Could I interject a word or two here? Because as an educator, as well as a parent and a citizen of the world, I'm finding it very difficult to understand why everyone is just sitting here nodding. Maybe it's the heat? Maybe the droning of your voice has put everyone to sleep and they haven't really heard what you're saying?" Now, I could go on and write all about the rest of what I said. But. If you'd been in that un-air-conditioned library annex that is the size of the very bedroom where I am sitting at this very moment, if you'd been one of the forty humans crammed into that room, you wouldn't have heard me say a thing. Why? Because I didn't say a thing. And that's how I know I'm getting old. Because this is the first time ever I've sat in a room and listened to NCLB crap spouted off and not said a thing. The first time. I always, always, always say something. Always. Even if it's just making a light-hearted joke about it. It's something. But not yesterday in that un-air-conditioned library annex that is the very size of the very bedroom where I'm sitting at this very moment. And this is another thing. The bed that is right behind me in this bedroom at this very moment? I slept in it. All night. Soundly. I don't even know who I am.