I'm sitting in the back of a classroom, not mine, and I have less than ten students with me, all working dutifully on some really great test called the SBAC (Smarter-Balanced Assessment for Children or something like that). This is our fourth week working on this test. Normally our testing blocks are an hour, but today we're in here for two glorious hours of mostly peace and quiet. Right now I'm typing without looking and I'm looking at all their scrunched and focused faces.
One student across the room has light from her computer reflecting off her glasses. She looks like she's wearing silver-mirrored lenses straight outta The Matrix. Another student hasn't moved in the last thirty-eight minutes. He must be meditating with his eyes glued to his computer screen, body completely at rest. His heart rate can't be more than 25 BPM right now. Wait he just moved! Good, now I can keep writing instead of checking on him.
Another student just opened a plastic bottle holding some kind of dark-colored soda. She tried to do it secretly. Her method of secrecy was to drop her head so that her hair shielded the bottle. When she twisted off the cap, however, the unmistakable swoosh of releasing carbonation or whatever made it completely obvious that she had just opened a thing of soda. I stared at her, not angry that she was opening soda (although that's probably against somebody's regulations), but because she had tried to hide it. I probably wouldn't have told her to re-cap it and give it to me if she'd just had the chutzpah to open it unashamedly.
The door to this classroom is shutting abnormally loudly. This one student is covering her ears each time someone comes through the door, in anticipation of its obtrusive slam. I think it's because we have some windows open or something to do with physics. But anyway, whereas that student is covering her ears, this other one is mouthing, "What the fuck," each time the door slams. I watch him do it every time. He's done it at least four times now. I could be wrong but he seems to be angry, and it almost appears that he's angry at the people passing through the door, as if it's their fault that the door's so damn loud. I smile at this thought and entertain myself by thinking about how some of these students, if you catch them at the right time, get irrationally, even comically angry over the slightest things, like if they get a redo (the lowest, most painless consequence), or if the wrong food is being served at lunch, or if a cold wind blows on them wrong.
I think it pertinent to note that something has changed in the peacefulness of my testing room, namely a horde of finished testers that I somehow got assigned to take. Before, I had less than ten silently testing students. Now I have at least thirty raucous bodies that are bulging this room with their unfathomable post-testing, post-lunch, pre-dismissal energy. It's like a smorgasbord of pain in here: ear pain, eye pain, nose pain, soul pain. We have ten minutes until school's out but that time will pass by like a fat fucking turtle.
Additionally, I'm supposed to make sure all these damn laptops get properly stowed and are charging. How does one redirect a stampede so that all animals are running in different directions? Comparatively, how does one get these practically pulsating students to properly shelve and plug in all these crappy laptops?
I just walked over to a student who had music blaring from his phone. I asked him to use headphones if he wanted to play music. He nodded, seemingly about to comply, but instead he just continued playing his alien game. So, instead of trying to make my will heard over the din, I simply plugged in some nearby headphones to his phone and placed them gently atop his head. He smiled, albeit without pealing his eyes from his phone. I gave him a thumbs-up. I'm a firm believer that a thumbs-up or equivalent gesture could solve half of the problems these students get into with each other. Imagine two girls about to brawl. If one gave the other a thumbs-up just before the first blow was dealt, I'm sure it would quell both of their bloods. (There's no way in hell that would work, but it's fun to imagine.)
You may be wondering how I got all the computers put away and charging. I'd tell you, but then that would go against educational philosophy in this state, or at least this district; one must, I've learned, figure out everything for oneself. That qualifies it as experience, common sense be damned.
The last bell rang a little bit ago. All the students bullied their way through the door and were gone. Out an open window, I see masses of students walking out of the building and down the soggy street. It's been raining all day and I have to bike home in it.
Overall, today was pretty mellow.
One student across the room has light from her computer reflecting off her glasses. She looks like she's wearing silver-mirrored lenses straight outta The Matrix. Another student hasn't moved in the last thirty-eight minutes. He must be meditating with his eyes glued to his computer screen, body completely at rest. His heart rate can't be more than 25 BPM right now. Wait he just moved! Good, now I can keep writing instead of checking on him.
Another student just opened a plastic bottle holding some kind of dark-colored soda. She tried to do it secretly. Her method of secrecy was to drop her head so that her hair shielded the bottle. When she twisted off the cap, however, the unmistakable swoosh of releasing carbonation or whatever made it completely obvious that she had just opened a thing of soda. I stared at her, not angry that she was opening soda (although that's probably against somebody's regulations), but because she had tried to hide it. I probably wouldn't have told her to re-cap it and give it to me if she'd just had the chutzpah to open it unashamedly.
The door to this classroom is shutting abnormally loudly. This one student is covering her ears each time someone comes through the door, in anticipation of its obtrusive slam. I think it's because we have some windows open or something to do with physics. But anyway, whereas that student is covering her ears, this other one is mouthing, "What the fuck," each time the door slams. I watch him do it every time. He's done it at least four times now. I could be wrong but he seems to be angry, and it almost appears that he's angry at the people passing through the door, as if it's their fault that the door's so damn loud. I smile at this thought and entertain myself by thinking about how some of these students, if you catch them at the right time, get irrationally, even comically angry over the slightest things, like if they get a redo (the lowest, most painless consequence), or if the wrong food is being served at lunch, or if a cold wind blows on them wrong.
I think it pertinent to note that something has changed in the peacefulness of my testing room, namely a horde of finished testers that I somehow got assigned to take. Before, I had less than ten silently testing students. Now I have at least thirty raucous bodies that are bulging this room with their unfathomable post-testing, post-lunch, pre-dismissal energy. It's like a smorgasbord of pain in here: ear pain, eye pain, nose pain, soul pain. We have ten minutes until school's out but that time will pass by like a fat fucking turtle.
Additionally, I'm supposed to make sure all these damn laptops get properly stowed and are charging. How does one redirect a stampede so that all animals are running in different directions? Comparatively, how does one get these practically pulsating students to properly shelve and plug in all these crappy laptops?
I just walked over to a student who had music blaring from his phone. I asked him to use headphones if he wanted to play music. He nodded, seemingly about to comply, but instead he just continued playing his alien game. So, instead of trying to make my will heard over the din, I simply plugged in some nearby headphones to his phone and placed them gently atop his head. He smiled, albeit without pealing his eyes from his phone. I gave him a thumbs-up. I'm a firm believer that a thumbs-up or equivalent gesture could solve half of the problems these students get into with each other. Imagine two girls about to brawl. If one gave the other a thumbs-up just before the first blow was dealt, I'm sure it would quell both of their bloods. (There's no way in hell that would work, but it's fun to imagine.)
You may be wondering how I got all the computers put away and charging. I'd tell you, but then that would go against educational philosophy in this state, or at least this district; one must, I've learned, figure out everything for oneself. That qualifies it as experience, common sense be damned.
The last bell rang a little bit ago. All the students bullied their way through the door and were gone. Out an open window, I see masses of students walking out of the building and down the soggy street. It's been raining all day and I have to bike home in it.
Overall, today was pretty mellow.