Picket Fence Post

My twin fourth graders are taking the MCAS tests today. For those of you who do not know what the MCAS tests are, they’re state-mandated assessment exams – officially called the Massachusetts Comprehensive Assessment System – which are used to evaluate whether the students have learned what state education officials think they should have already learned, as well as a tool to measure how well any given school system has done its job based on student test results. (The vast majority of students pass these tests, FYI, though there are variations on how those who passed the test fared.)

However, for the past few weeks, my fourth graders have been swallowed up in what’s best described as “MCAS mania.” School staff, apparently, have been hugely focused on making sure the students are comfortable with the MCAS test format so the children have been doing practice tests and talking all about MCAS. The message has been drummed into their heads: THIS IS A BIG, IMPORTANT TEST, ONE TO BE TAKEN, VERY, VERY SERIOUSLY. My 10-year-old son reported that the other day his class created inspirational posters to hang in the classroom on the MCAS test days to encourage students to keep going, even if they might want to stop during the exam.

At least one of my fourth graders’ room parents (can’t remember which one) sent e-mails (likely under the direction of school staff) reminding parents to send their children to school with two healthy snacks and two bottles of water on each of the four days when the MCAS tests are being administered. (Four days dedicated to these tests? Absurd.)

The Spouse – while joking about the unlikely risk of rampant, sudden-onset dehydration among fourth graders that would necessitate two bottles of water and two snacks, in addition to their lunch – couldn’t believe how the test was being portrayed as something which required extra food and water supplies, as he sarcastically suggested that we send our kids in with orange slices to help them make it through. Orange slices, of course, are the pick-me-up snack du jour on the sidelines of children’s sporting contests, where completing a game without food is considered too much for the kids to endure.

My two kids — normally good students — were all anxious and worried over the weekend about the MCAS test today, and that feeling only intensified last night. This morning they looked downright scared as they got ready for school. And this is only the first day of four days of testing. This just is not right. Ten-year-olds shouldn’t be scared about going to school to demonstrate what they’ve learned thus far.

I understand that this is a high stakes test, not just for the kids, but for the teachers and the schools, and even for property values for a community. But something that looked good on paper — discerning whether schools are succeeding in fulfilling their purpose, educating the children of the Commonwealth — has spiraled out of control. When fear of taking this test becomes palatable, seeps into the minds of the students and makes them nervous wrecks, things have gone too far. Isn’t there a better, less stressful way to do this, figuring out if the schools are educating kids in a way that doesn’t suck all the oxygen out of the classrooms? This can’t be the only way.

Image credit: Massachusetts Department of Education.

My two 10-year-olds are supposed to be working on their “inventions” for the big fourth grade Invention Convention at the end of the month.

And, aside from presenting The Spouse with a list of necessary materials for their projects, every time I ask them about it and whether they’ve got anything they need to do with it, they say, “No, I’m good.”

They’re good . . . right up until they’re not good, and then they panic and then Mom and Dad will have to try to keep them calm and focused and get them to finish. When they had their big science project last year the whole family was all anxious and on edge until they were done and then we found out they just got credit for doing it, not a grade.

I’m hoping we don’t go down the crazy road again. Then March will go out like a lion, at least in our house.

My kids’ three teachers have made contact with their new pupils via snail mail. Along with their pleasant letters — which attempt to psych the children up for the new school year – came the obligatory school supply lists. I know that I say this every year, but something about these very practical, but ever-growing lists bugs me.

See for yourselves:

One of our fourth grader’s supply list:

• One pair of Fiskars pointed-tip kid scissors
• Two rolls of 3/4″ Scotch tape
• One ruler, plastic
• 10 (.74 oz.) white glue sticks
• Three packages of #2 pencils with erasers
• One box of 12 count Crayola washable markers (conical tip) (fat)
• One box of 12 count Crayola washable markers (fine tip) (skinny)
• One box of 24 count Crayola crayons
• One box of 24 count Crayola colored pencils
• Three (Sanford) Sharpie markers, ultra fine point, permanent, black
• Nine twin pocket folders, one of each color, no clasps inside: tan, yellow, light blue, dark blue, orange, green, red, purple, white. (NOTE: Has anyone seen a tan pocket folder? I’m afraid this is going to be difficult to locate.)
• Two gummy erasers
• One pencil bag with zipper that has three holes to fit in your trapper
• One trapper (NOTE: I’m assuming this is like a Trapper Keeper from when I was a kid and not a trap of another sort, like a bear trapper, or cranky mother trapper.)
• Two packages 4 X 6 ruled white index cards
• Three Mead composition books, black and white firm marbled covers
• 100 sheets, wide-ruled
• “During the school year, I will be asking for additional glue sticks and pencils.”

The aforementioned list is not to be confused with the second list for my other fourth grader:

• One pair of Fiskars pointed-tip kid scissors
• Two large glue sticks
• Two packages of 12 #2 pencils with erasers
• Two boxes of 8 count Crayola washable markers (conical tip, fat)
• Two boxes of 12 count Crayola colored pencils
• Two plastic, two-pocket portfolio folders
• Six twin-pocket folders, one of each color: red, green, blue, purple, orange, yellow
• Three 100-page, wide-ruled Mead composition books, black and white firm marbled covers
• Two 70-page, wide-ruled, single subject, spiral-bound notebooks, one red, one blue
• One 4 X 6 spiral-bound memo book (at least 50 pages), solid color
• One plastic accordion style folder (string, snap or elastic closure)
• One plastic pencil box
• Three postage stamps
• Two boxes of tissues

And last, but not least, the supply list for the second grader:

• 24 count crayons
• 12 count colored pencils
• One pair Fiskars pointed scissors
• One binder, 1-inch, 3-ring View Binder (clear front to insert a cover page)
• Six glue sticks
• One bottle of Elmer’s glue
• 24 count #2 pencils (Dixon Ticonderoga are the best)
• Three block erasers
• Four pocket folders (1 red, 1 yellow, 1 blue, 1 green)
• One pencil case or box
• One letter-sized clipboard

One of the letters explicitly tells us not to label the supplies because “the items on the list will be used by the whole class . . . We will do any required labeling together in class.”

There’s one lingering question that has been bugging The Spouse and I for years that we keep forgetting to ask: What happens to all the scissors we buy, year after year for the classrooms? Do they disappear? Are they melted down and recycled someplace? Is there a black market for scissors? Why couldn’t we just have each kid buy one pair of scissors, be responsible for them the entire year, then take them home in June and bring them to the next classroom he or she is in the following year? Why a new pair every year? That isn’t very green, now is it?

Image credit: Fiskars.