What a time to eliminate Spanish in the elementary school. And, my job.
I was afraid I would fall asleep as I gazed at the kids. One child rolled aimlessly on an exercise ball, sometimes rolling all the way under the table on his back, then up-righting himself to bubble in another question. Another child laid stomach down on a music bench, arms, legs and head dangling. An Aspie whipped his pencil back and forth like a conductor, his chin lifted high. Certain kids read their test through colored viewers. One student would only walk on specific carpet squares whenever she exited or entered the room. My darling Aggie stared out of the window, eyelids heavy and wrapped my sweater tightly around her body. She had been on the same question for ten minutes. It was silent in the room. It had been for hours, while another teacher and I proctored the CRCT to eight kids that had accommodations for small group testing and extended time on standardized tests. The kids looked completely unfazed by the odd behavior their peers exhibited.
It was only the first day of testing.
I came in bleary eyed, with little sleep and settled myself in the same chair from the day before. Each day my affection for the kids taking that test grew. I don't know how they can take it. It is just such an awful thing to do to a kid - hours of silence, days on end, staring at this test, surrounded by upright file folders to block their view of anything distracting. On the first day, they had started wiggling seven minutes into the test. By the third day, I watched a child slowly pull pieces of her hair out.
A lot of the kids have accommodations that call for a scribe - basically they mark the answer in the test book and we transfer their answers to a scan tron. As I sat at a table near the front door of the school scribing a test, I saw a delivery man walk by. He was staring at me and at the roomful of teachers that were doing the same thing I was doing. I smiled. In a district known nationally for cheating on this test, I could only imagine what he was thinking: "BLATANT! I mean, BLATANT! The teachers were just sitting there, loads of them, in plain view, doing the test for those kids!".
"Oh my God..." a teacher muttered. "Balls! Motherfucker!".
"What happened?"
"Freddy free-styled the test. He didn't even just mark more than one answer or skip questions, he created an 'E' option and wrote next to it what he thought should be an option".
Damn. That's thinking outside the box.
"Hey babe" my main roofer, Merle, greeted me.
"Leave her alone, she's having a bad day" he instructed the other roofers.
"You look just like your mama!" one of them commented.
"She pretty, ain't she?" Merle finished. I knew right then that my mom had told them I lost my job.
I was stunned by how country their accents were. And how friendly. I stood around talking to them while they ate lunch, unable to extricate myself and really wanting to be alone.
I noticed a broken marigold. No big deal. And then I saw my babies. My succulents. I had carefully weighed transferring them to the yard. I did it, determined to watch them and make sure they were okay. They were pulverized and stepped on. Ground down. I don't think they even knew that they were flowers. My babies.
"My great grand baby got born" Merle stated wryly.
"I told her not to drink the water" another commented, "My wife's pregnant too. She's a teacher like you. Man, those kids are assholes. Sometimes I have to go down there, just to make my presence known."
"I kept my wife away from the water" Merle commented, referring to what I assume is a woman completely beyond child-bearing age. "I been fixed but God can do anything".
"It's that water at Party City. Genie over there's pregnant too".
"Mary got pregnant without even having sex. God does what he wants" another roofer added.
They were making their God sound like some kind of honey badger.
"Jimbo there is single and he likes yer coffee shop" Merle continued, referring to a guy up high on the roof, huge mustache almost covering the cigarette dangling from his mouth while both hands carried shingles.
"Lot a purty women up there" he called, "Got me a scone".
As much as I hated to think it, I believe the majority of women in this neighborhood would scream and run if they knew that guy was eyeballing them.
"I get gift certificates all the time from the school for that place," I called, "I'll give them to you".
I rubbed my eyes that were still swollen and red from crying all night and watched a the roofer spread mayonnaise and mustard over white bread, top it with a layer of Fritos and add the second piece of bread, then eat it.
"Why don't you get you a Mountain Dew out of our cooler?" Merle asked.
"Thanks, but I have to get back to work".
"Babe" Merle said insistently, "get you a Mountain Dew".
I did. And walked slowly back up the hill to finish the day.
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