Out of sorts

Every May when we do end of year testing and the third graders have to do their RISE test, it is a nightmare.  The logging in, the passwords, the chaos.

Guess what's worse than that?  Doing it in September....

We decided to do the benchmark RISE tests throughout the year to give them practice with the platform.

How hard could it be?

Very, very hard.

Teacher!  It won't let me in.

You spelled your name wrong.

Teacher! It kicked me out.

You clicked the x and closed the window.  Don't do that.

Teacher! What do I do?!?

What does it tell you to do on the screen?

I felt like a rope that was slowly being unraveled.

I tried.  I had them all get to the same spot before I gave them the test ID.  I told them as much.  I said, "As soon as everyone is logged in, I will give you the test ID.  Raise your hand if you need help."

About ten of the kids whose hands were raised for help wondered what the test ID was.  They neither listen nor comprehend and I was doubting all of my life choices.

We finally got through it, but I felt on edge for the rest of the day.

We had a secure drill.  The official party line is that we do a secure drill in case there is a dog on the playground.  That's what we tell the students.  In reality, we've had actual situations where we've followed the secure protocol.  Once a parent without custody was there to take their child and once there was an armed standoff with police and a neighbor to the school.  We never talk about those scenarios.  We tell them we have these drills in case there is a stray dog.  They still freak out.  

No, this isn't the one where we have to hide.  

They have lots of different scenarios they want answers and reassurance about.  (What if there is a secure drill and a fire at the same time?  What if there is a coyote on the playground and a fire and the door won't open?) They want to talk about school shootings.  They want to know what the plan is and if they're safe.  The bottom line is that they are not safe.  We massage the heck out of that truth though.

I purely hate every minute of those conversations.  Their number one fear is what to do if there is a shooter and they are in the bathroom.  I wish everyone who is hellbent on protecting the right to bear arms would have to answer a roomful of wide-eyed eight year olds who are wondering what to do when there is a school shooting.  There has to be a better way.

I will die on that hill.  (And if there is a school shooting, I may die on that hill.)

We talked it all out in the morning, because I wanted them to be prepared.  In the afternoon, there was an announcement before the drill, explaining what it was.  (A secure drill is remain inside and business as usual.  It is the best one by far.) My little guy who doesn't speak much English understood the announcement enough to be scared and he ran for me and threw his arms around my waist and said, "Teacher! NO!"

I explained it was OK and we were safe.  

Despite the preparation, they startle and look at me for reassurance whenever there is a drill.  We got through it.  

I felt very ratty by the end of the day and I realized my problem.  I miss Adam.

He is the ballast that helps keep me going in the wild world of third grade.

After school I had a school community council meeting.  I was spacing off and not paying attention and then I realized that people were voting and they were voting to have me be the co-chair of the council.  

What?

Matt said he'd nominated me.  Everyone voted in favor. (It's the kind of thing that you hurry and vote for someone while they aren't paying attention and it worked!)  My main job of co-chair is writing the minutes of the meeting and I said that maybe that will help me pay attention.

Here's hoping.