Friday afternoon, after indoor recess and a long week of heavy instruction on ordering fractions, writing autobiographies from the point of view of someone from history, and composing opinion pieces with substantial evidence, my 24 25 kids (I got another one this week) were plopped in front of a computer screen for an entire hour to take the SBAC English Language Arts test, (one out of 8 total testing sessions). The experience was like something out of a novel. And, although the Common Core State Standards don't like us to make connections based on personal experiences, I will dare to do so because the works of J.K. Rowling and Suzanne Collins were the only way my brain could process the scene that was occurring in front of me.
Dementors. They literally feed off the goodness, the happiness, the joy within a person. They suck every last bit of positive energy out of a soul, not only leaving it withering, and dry, but also full of darkness. I watched students who smile all day, lead group discussions, create, imagine, and dream, get the life absolutely sucked out of them. Colin (8) is one of those kids who takes school very seriously. He's like a 30 year old man trying to get tenure. "So Mrs. Banville, how long exactly should this homework be? I'm thinking about 5 sentences, one for my main idea, three really good pieces of evidence, and then one more for my concluding sentence. Is that right?" But he's got a great sense of humor and wonder about him- he's always eager to tell me about his independent reading book, and tells me with gusto his shock at something hilariously outrageous the main character has done that day. Needless to say, Colin took the SBAC VERY seriously. Midway through the assessment block, I went to check on him. His face was red and his hair was ruffled because he had been tugging at it. His eyes welled up as he said, "this is really hard Mrs. Banville." The dementors had sucked him dry. No amount of encouragement from me (the test doesn't matter, we don't get student scores, it's just a field test...) would be able to fill the emptiness left by that test.
I looked around the computer lab at my incredibly diverse group of kids and noted their bodies. Even in swivel chairs, I noticed the kids had managed to get their bodies in the strangest positions. One girl was slouching so far down, her body was like a stiff diagonal ramp, her head on the back of the chair was the only thing that was keeping her from sliding to the floor. A boy I have with very slow processing speeds, went from a squatting position on his own chair (like a sumo wrestler ready to attack the screen), to his legs extended onto the chair next to him (like he was lounging at the beach). Another boy had wrapped his headphone wire completely around his wrist and arm, fingering the wires like he would a baby blanket. Another boy gripped the desk in front of him tightly as he read, and swiveled his body back at forth in the chair, working his core muscles to stay focused. I gave all of my kids gum, because I am a firm believer that it helps children to focus, and so, the computer lab sounded like it was housing a bunch of cows chewing loudly on their cud. All of these things were clearly coping mechanisms to deal with the amount of mental stress they were under. As I stood back and watched the dementors suck the life out my class, I wondered, what on earth are we doing to our children?
Enter Suzanne Collin's novel Catching Fire. There is a scene in the book where Katniss is facing a moral dilemma. She's angry because she thinks her ally's plan to kill off the others in the arena has been foiled by Finnick, who she thinks has killed her ally, and she sees him coming towards her. She's so angry she just wants to kill him. She even raises her bow to do it.
The CCSS and the weight the SBAC places on teacher evaluation makes us all crazed killer trapped in an arena. We're all fighting to come out on top. We're all fighting to keep our jobs.
As Katniss raises her bow to kill Finnick, she remembers words from her trainer Haymitch before the games began. He told her to "remember who the enemy is." In that moment, she chooses not to kill Finnick, but to cast her arrow, which is armed with electricity, to the top of the arena, blowing it up, and leading to the eventual uprising, the downfall of the Capitol, a Revolution. If she chooses to shoot Finnick, nothing changes, the games go on, the Capitol wins.
We, the public education community, are, in this moment, aiming our arrows at Finnick. It's time we remember who the enemy is. It's time we blow up the arena.
Dementors. They literally feed off the goodness, the happiness, the joy within a person. They suck every last bit of positive energy out of a soul, not only leaving it withering, and dry, but also full of darkness. I watched students who smile all day, lead group discussions, create, imagine, and dream, get the life absolutely sucked out of them. Colin (8) is one of those kids who takes school very seriously. He's like a 30 year old man trying to get tenure. "So Mrs. Banville, how long exactly should this homework be? I'm thinking about 5 sentences, one for my main idea, three really good pieces of evidence, and then one more for my concluding sentence. Is that right?" But he's got a great sense of humor and wonder about him- he's always eager to tell me about his independent reading book, and tells me with gusto his shock at something hilariously outrageous the main character has done that day. Needless to say, Colin took the SBAC VERY seriously. Midway through the assessment block, I went to check on him. His face was red and his hair was ruffled because he had been tugging at it. His eyes welled up as he said, "this is really hard Mrs. Banville." The dementors had sucked him dry. No amount of encouragement from me (the test doesn't matter, we don't get student scores, it's just a field test...) would be able to fill the emptiness left by that test.
I looked around the computer lab at my incredibly diverse group of kids and noted their bodies. Even in swivel chairs, I noticed the kids had managed to get their bodies in the strangest positions. One girl was slouching so far down, her body was like a stiff diagonal ramp, her head on the back of the chair was the only thing that was keeping her from sliding to the floor. A boy I have with very slow processing speeds, went from a squatting position on his own chair (like a sumo wrestler ready to attack the screen), to his legs extended onto the chair next to him (like he was lounging at the beach). Another boy had wrapped his headphone wire completely around his wrist and arm, fingering the wires like he would a baby blanket. Another boy gripped the desk in front of him tightly as he read, and swiveled his body back at forth in the chair, working his core muscles to stay focused. I gave all of my kids gum, because I am a firm believer that it helps children to focus, and so, the computer lab sounded like it was housing a bunch of cows chewing loudly on their cud. All of these things were clearly coping mechanisms to deal with the amount of mental stress they were under. As I stood back and watched the dementors suck the life out my class, I wondered, what on earth are we doing to our children?
Enter Suzanne Collin's novel Catching Fire. There is a scene in the book where Katniss is facing a moral dilemma. She's angry because she thinks her ally's plan to kill off the others in the arena has been foiled by Finnick, who she thinks has killed her ally, and she sees him coming towards her. She's so angry she just wants to kill him. She even raises her bow to do it.
The CCSS and the weight the SBAC places on teacher evaluation makes us all crazed killer trapped in an arena. We're all fighting to come out on top. We're all fighting to keep our jobs.
As Katniss raises her bow to kill Finnick, she remembers words from her trainer Haymitch before the games began. He told her to "remember who the enemy is." In that moment, she chooses not to kill Finnick, but to cast her arrow, which is armed with electricity, to the top of the arena, blowing it up, and leading to the eventual uprising, the downfall of the Capitol, a Revolution. If she chooses to shoot Finnick, nothing changes, the games go on, the Capitol wins.
We, the public education community, are, in this moment, aiming our arrows at Finnick. It's time we remember who the enemy is. It's time we blow up the arena.
