Testing Update (& A Bit More School Politics)

Sorry for the not-so-brief trip down education politics boulevard. Well, I’m not all that sorry, to be honest. I dislike seeing people try to force action by spreading fear and half-truths, and I’m glad I have the platform to tell the story of what really happened at the PTA meeting I attended. If the district is upset, they only have themselves to blame – I wouldn’t have been at that meeting if it wasn’t for the transportation issue.

And now it seems I’ve unintentionally positioned myself as part of a mini-revolution against the school district’s status quo policy of spending more to get the same results. People are saying I should run for school board. They clearly don’t know just how unorganized I am.

I never thought my post would be shared as much as it has been. Thank you, Columbus, for taking notice and agreeing that our kids deserve better. If/when the levy fails, I hope you’ll all stay just as mobilized to demand better from our school leaders.

Also, quick shout-out to a group of parent volunteers who set up the website It’s Okay to Vote No. I’ve helped them with this project (mostly helping them get the site up & organized), and will continue lending a little of my time when I can to write for them. Locals, go check them out. Right now it looks like they’re the WikiLeaks of the school district.

Moving on.

Because of this school drama, I completely forgot to let everyone know how Cordy did last week on her state testing! We don’t have the results yet, of course, and really the score results don’t matter as much as the results of how she did taking the test.

Despite the stress, despite her anxiety, she went to school that day ready to take the test. Her teachers told us that she seemed anxious when she got there, and they tried to relax her as best they could. She had her special needs teacher with her during the testing period, and her teacher gave her glittery pencils to use for the test. Cordy loves anything that glitters or is shiny, and apparently she calmed down quickly once they explained the schedule wasn’t going to be all that different from her usual class day.

All of our interventions ahead of time worked. Teachers and parents together, downplaying the stress involved, reminding her that there’s no score she has to beat on the test, asking her only to focus and do her best – it all worked. Her teacher reported that once the test began, she was focused and worked very hard.

Because of her IEP, she has the option of taking frequent breaks between sections of the test. I wasn’t sure if she’d take advantage of those breaks to not let the test get to her or if she’d forget. She was reminded that she had breaks available to use, but we were told that she chose to keep going as she finished each section.

The third grade OAA test is two and a half hours long. Cordy finished in just under 45 minutes. Seriously, less than 45 minutes for a two and a half hour test! That’s my girl, racing to the finish line just like I did as a kid, as if finishing before everyone else earns you additional points.

When I was told how quickly she finished, I confessed that I was worried that she didn’t read the questions fully. Her teacher, who sat right with her for the test, reassured me that Cordy was carefully checking her work and, she suspects, did very well on the test. We’ll know for sure when the results are released next month.

Of course, finishing the test early meant that Cordy got to have some free reading time, which is the best reward you could ever give her. And after that she got to watch part of a movie, too. When I got the full report at the end of the day, Cordy told me how AWESOME (all caps for her emphasis) the day was, and how she loves taking tests if she gets free reading time and movies after each test.

I’m incredibly proud of her for overcoming her anxiety so she could focus and do well on her OAA exam. It sounds like she aced the test, and no matter the score, she gained greater control over her anxiety that will hopefully carry forward to future schoolwork. That’s a win for me.



3rd Grade OAA Test Day – Here’s Your Pencil & Your Xanax

Today is a big day for third graders at our school, and all third graders in our district. It’s Test Day. I don’t mean a normal spelling test or math test, but the BIG test for them. The OAA third grade achievement test. The district already puts an enormous emphasis on this test already, since it influences each school’s state report card, but a new state policy called the Third Grade Reading Guarantee will this year automatically hold back any students who don’t pass the test.

That’s a lot of pressure for eight and nine year olds over a single test.

OAA Test Strategies

Last month, the papers starting coming home about this test. The kids have been working on practice tests and focusing on homework that develops their answers to match what is wanted for the test. I won’t even get started on how maddening the Common Core standards are, especially for a child who can’t show her work because there was no work to show – her brain just moves that fast to the answer.

Cordy did well on the practice test. They said she was finished with it before all of the kids had even received their tests, and despite zipping through it at breakneck speed, nearly all of the answers were correct. That gave me hope that she’ll do well on the real test.

This may solidify my status as strange, but I’ll admit I loved taking standardized tests as a kid. It was a game to me – a challenge to prove I could beat the test and show how smart I was. School was maddeningly boring for me. I spent most days reading ahead in all of my textbooks, starting assignments before the teacher was done explaining the lesson, and getting a pass to go to the library when I finished my work ahead of everyone else so I could browse what books I wanted to read next. From second to fifth grade, I spent one day a week entirely in a gifted ed classroom, and that was the only thing that kept me from giving up on school entirely.

But whenever we had a standardized test, with its little scan-tron bubbles to fill in with pencil, I got excited. After all, it was my first standardized test in first grade that led to me being placed in the gifted ed program, so I saw these tests as a chance to earn something by showing them I didn’t belong in my current class.

As soon as my teacher said “Go,” I flipped open the first page of the book with excitement, knowing the first few questions were always the easy ones and wanting to move past them as quickly as possible. I never went back to check my answers – I’d carefully check that the answer I chose matched up with the bubble on the scan-tron, make sure it was filled in completely, and then didn’t look back.

I did feel some pressure, but it was all internal. I was competing against myself, and no one else knew it, which made it all the more fun. But the scores didn’t really count for much. The teachers didn’t have any pressure, either – these were nothing but aptitude tests, and no district report cards were hanging in the balance. Back then, the districts knew there was more to each student than just a test score, and there was more for a student to learn than just the test materials and test strategy. I happened to be good at these tests. Other kids had different strengths, and those strengths were valued in the classroom, too. (If anything, my strengths were not all that valued.)

Sadly, there were no rewards beyond the first grade test. I never got to skip a grade, and no black car pulled up to the school to take me to a more interesting school. I still enjoyed seeing my accomplishments on the tests, though. I’d never be talented in sports, but I could pull 97th percentile and higher scores in all standardized tests, so that was my source of pride.

Cordy has had similar reactions to standardized tests so far. When she was given the IQ assessment earlier this year, the psychologist remarked that she seemed to be having fun with the test, even showing pride when she realized she was doing better than expected.

But the build-up to this test has been hard on her in the past two weeks. Test taking strategies are being taught, and the kids brought home a Test Pledge that we had to review with them and sign together. This pledge included such things as “I’ll get a good night’s sleep the night before the test,” (of course you will, with that much pressure on you!) and “I’ll carefully read the entire passage before answering questions.”

Papers came home for parents, too, urging us to make sure the kids went to bed early on Monday night and had a good breakfast this morning. If we couldn’t provide breakfast, they reminded us that free breakfast was available for all students before the start of school. And, of course, there’s this tip: “Remind your child that your love does not depend on how well he or she scores on the test.” Gah! Really? People really put that much pressure on kids?

Loki says: oh, yes

Damn, even I’m feeling anxious about this test now, and I’m not the one taking it.

It’s no surprise, then, that in the past few days Cordy has become increasingly anxious about this test. Last night, she started to panic at bedtime, saying she was worried about the test. “What if my teacher isn’t there? What if there are questions I don’t know? What if there are 400 questions and I get too tired to answer them all?” she asked.

Aaron and I tried to soothe her worries, reminding her that our definition of doing well on the test means staying focused and trying her best. If she did that, then she did well on the test for us and we’ll be so incredibly proud of her, regardless of her score.

I also tried to get her back into feeling confident: “But Cordy, you have no reason to worry, because I know a secret about this test.”

“What is it, mama?”

“This test? It’s only testing you on third grade material.”

“So?” she replied, curious as to why that mattered.

“So,” I explained, “you have nothing to worry about, because you know WAY more than third grade stuff!”

It made her smile, which was a victory in my mind. She then tried to compare the test to a Skylanders battle, and I went along with it. Whatever it takes to make her feel better.

It also disheartens me to see so much of what is taught directed towards The Test. And now, with the state basing all decisions on holding a child back in third grade on this assessment, it’s more important than ever. A child’s entire third grade experience is more than a score on a standardized test. The test puts too much pressure on the kids and the teachers to perform for this single day event, with future performance for both groups linked to these scores.

I truly appreciate the teachers in my daughters’ lives. They have talent and passion for what they do, and I wish they had greater freedom to teach their students without the test pressure. So much gets left behind when you’re stuck hammering home key points and strategies for The Test.

I’m hoping Cordy does her best today, and that she somehow finds a way to enjoy this test.



A Birthday Without A Party Is Still Fun

The day happened so quickly. I knew it was coming, but I think I kept pushing it from the front of my mind because I didn’t want to admit that my oldest daughter had reached another year older.

But on Saturday, it happened: Cordelia turned nine.

Nine. I’m still feeling disbelief. How could she be that old already? Where has the time gone?

Along with trying to forget that she’s now a year away from double-digit birthdays, we didn’t plan a birthday party. Cordy wavered whenever we asked her about it: sometimes she wanted a big party at a fun location, sometimes she wanted a small gathering at our house, and sometimes she wasn’t sure she wanted anyone around for her birthday.

It didn’t help that a lot of family were going to be busy on Saturday, meaning she’d be disappointed if they weren’t able to be at her party. And we didn’t have a lot of names of other kids to invite. She doesn’t have a lot of friends at school, and the couple of kids she occasionally mentions are kids we’ve never managed to meet.

So the decision was made that instead of spending a lot of money on a party that might possibly be poorly attended and make her feel bad, we’d instead declare it Cordy Day and let her plan out the activities for her immediate family for the day. (Within reason, of course.)

We already had a flaw in the plan when we woke up. It was raining, so Cordy’s scheduled soccer practice was cancelled. However, that gave her more time to play video games in the morning – crisis averted.

Cordy asked to go to Chuck E. Cheese for lunch, so we made our visit to the local mouse. We dined on pizza, played a bunch of games together, and Cordy rode a couple of the kid rides while there.

Riding at Chuck E CheeseShe was a blur of motion.

No official birthday party, so no attention on her, no awkward crown to wear, no one to sing to her, and no pressure to go do the Ticket Blaster (which she’s scared of) or dance with Chuck E. Cheese. She left happy, having traded in her game tickets for a trinket she liked.

After that, we drove back home to enjoy some birthday cake. Per Cordy’s request, no singing Happy Birthday, just candles, telling her happy birthday, and letting her blow the candles out.

 Getting ready to blow out the candles Blowing out the candles on her birthday cake

The cake was dye-free other than some of the blue decorations on only one half of the cake. Cordy doesn’t want white cake, so the blue flowers were only on the white half, leaving her a chocolate cake that was entirely dye-free.

Once we were all on a sugar high (Aaron’s sugar high coming from gluten-free cupcakes, since he couldn’t eat the cake), we went to the next stop on Cordy’s itinerary: the zoo. The Columbus Zoo has a temporary exhibit called Dinosaur Island and she wanted to ride it one more time before it’s gone, as well as get a stuffed blue dinosaur. We granted both of those requests.

 Look, a dinosaur!She pretended to look horrified when I pointed the camera at her.

Standing with the penguin againI’ll always agree to take her photo with Pepe if I can keep creating collages like this.

By this point, it was late afternoon. The final agenda item of the day was a trip to Movie Tavern, which if you’re not familiar with it is a movie theater that also serves full meals during the movie. We ate dinner while watching Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters. Cordy had just finished reading the second book early last week and was excited to see the movie. She got a brownie sundae at the end of the movie because it was her birthday.

After the movie, it was a short drive home with Cordy listening to her favorite songs from my iPhone. She was smiling, content with the flow of the day. She told us again what a great birthday it was as she crawled into bed, hugging her new blue dinosaur tight. It was a fairly low-key day, with no large celebrations or party favors – just a family driving around the city, enjoying a variety of activities.

It was the perfect ninth birthday for Cordy.



Open House Night at School

Two nights ago our elementary school held their annual Open House, where we found out about plans for the year, got pitched for PTA volunteer work, and had the chance to meet the teachers and see the classrooms. We go to this every year, even though we generally have met the teachers and know a lot about the classroom long before this date.

This year’s event wasn’t as well attended, probably due to the heat. The school has no air conditioning and is a brick building with small windows, which transforms it into a brick oven by the end of a 90+ degree day. Even after sunset it was still over 90 degrees inside the building.

Mira had gymnastics scheduled at the same time, so only Cordy and I were at the school. We walked in and strolled the halls before things got started. Well, I strolled. Cordy skipped and bounced down the halls, despite the heat. Her teachers, current and previous, were nearby. One asked, “So is she always this chipper?”

“Generally,” I responded, “Unless she’s had a long day and there’s no one around but close family.”

“Does she wake up this way?”

“Yep, she springs out of her room at 6am sharp every morning, fully awake and ready to go.” I could see the weary look to my response. I understood. I added, “She doesn’t get that from me at all. I move slowly in the morning.” They murmured similar sentiments to waking up.

Mira’s teacher then saw me and asked, “Is it just Cordy with you?” I nodded. “Mira must be at gymnastics then.”

“Oh, did she tell you she had gymnastics tonight?” I asked.

She smiled. “No, but she talks about it ALL the time, so I guessed that the only thing that would keep her away from school would be gymnastics!”

It seems she already has my younger daughter figured out.

We sat through the PTA meeting, then set off to see the classrooms. Cordy was giving me the guided tour as if I had never been there before:

“This is our school library, where we can check out books. It has fiction and nonfiction sections.”

“Thank you, Cordy, but I’ve been here several times, remember?”

“And this is my teacher, Mrs. C. Mrs. C, this is my mom, but you can call her Christina.”

“Yes, sweetie, we’ve met before. You were there as well.”

I gave up and played along for awhile, pretending it was all new to me.

Her reading teacher told me that Cordy continues to be an advanced reader, but she’d really like for Cordy to choose more challenging books in the classroom. When given the option, she’ll always go for the easier books because they’re familiar characters and storylines. It’s true, most of what she reads is far too easy for her. We all question if she’s even reading the content considering the speed with which she turns pages. But if you quiz her, she can usually tell you what happened. I agreed and promised to nudge her towards higher level books at the library and in her monthly Scholastic order.

I read through Cordy’s writing journal and noticed that she talked about what a “bother” her sister was more than once. Then we were invited to go see the biographies that were posted in the hallway. Kids had paired off and interviewed each other in class, then wrote a bio about the other person. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised by what the other kid learned from Cordy:

Cordy's bio from a classmateYou may notice that she really wants the class to know about her little sister.

We met briefly with the special needs teacher, who expressed her joy that things were going fairly well for Cordy so far this year. The bus is still arriving late each morning, which upsets her, but otherwise she’s only had minor problems that were easily redirected. The teacher told me that she gave Cordy a “Take 5” card to keep with her at school. If she’s ever feeling overwhelmed or just needs a break, she can flash her Take 5 card and visit the special needs classroom for five minutes. She knows she can’t use it to get out of doing an assignment, and so far she’s not used it much.

I can’t even begin to describe how happy I am that we’re not getting calls home about Cordy hiding under her desk or having outbursts at school. So, so happy. It’s such a relief.

Her special needs teacher did let me know that Cordy was getting frustrated in math, and the math teacher had spoken with her about ways to get through to Cordy. So I then went to visit the math teacher’s classroom. Cordy came with me for a few minutes, then she realized we were going to discuss areas where she wasn’t doing as well and asked to go hang out in the library for a bit.

Unlike Cordy’s reading teacher, who was her teacher for reading last year as well, Cordy’s math teacher never had the chance to work with her beyond a single assessment last year.

The math teacher started by telling me that Cordy has great logic and is easily capable of doing everything they’re learning in class. But, she then said that every time she introduces something new, where Cordy doesn’t immediately recognize how to solve the problem, Cordy shuts down and won’t even try it.

I knew what she was describing before she even finished telling me – it’s a common pattern of behavior for my oldest. I explained that Cordy is a perfectionist with severe anxiety over getting anything wrong. So if she sees something new that she’s unsure of, she’d rather not attempt it at all and protect herself from making a mistake. Cordy was also saying that the teacher hated her because she didn’t do perfect work. (Which distressed the teacher, since it wasn’t true!)

We chatted a little more about strategies to help her, and I promised I’d be in close contact to provide any suggestions or help I could to work past it. Her math teacher then told me a funny story about Cordy. (Everyone in the school seems to have one.)

The kids were sharing their answers to a homework word problem, and Cordy found a different way to do it than many of the other kids. The teacher asked her to come up to the front of the class and explain her method, since others might find it helpful as well.

Cordy did come up, and told everyone how she got her answer. Then she turned to her teacher, smirked and said, “How ya like me now?”

Self-five

Oh, that kid.

Then it was on to Mira’s classroom. Her teacher was Cordy’s first grade teacher, and someone I went to high school with, so we’re familiar with each other. She told me Mira loves to be at school, and loves to read. I was surprised by the second part of that, but she assured me that Mira asks to read when she’s done with her work. Maybe she’s finally getting over her own stubbornness about reading?

Of course, the real subject for discussion was Mira’s, uh, discussion. Her teacher tried to gently say that Mira has a lot to say and loves to share with everyone. I brushed past the politeness and acknowledged that little girl never stops talking. I’m not kidding, either – anyone who knows her knows how rare it is for her to be silent. School is the greatest possible place for her, because it forces her to learn to hold it in and carefully consider what’s important enough to say with the small amount of time she’s given to talk.

But despite her chatty nature, she’s doing well in class. She’s very social, loves to participate (a bit of a know-it-all, really), and really loves being at school. We need to work on reminding her to wait her turn to talk, to not be overly affectionate (she hugs everyone, multiple times a day), and to try to hold her emotions in when she encounters something difficult or has an unpleasant change of plans. There’s no crying in schoolwork.

Overall? The open house reinforced that my kids may be a little quirky, but there’s no doubt that they stand out and they’re doing well at school. Cordy may have trouble being social, but everyone remarks on how cheery she is. And Mira, well… Mira will be running that school by fifth grade, if not sooner.



Becoming a Behavior Detective and Advocating for My Daughter at School

The start of each school year brings anxiety for any parent and child, I think. But when your child has special needs, that anxiety is magnified.

Early on, it wasn’t so difficult. Cordy was in a special needs class for kindergarten because of her autism/ADHD, with limited inclusion time in a traditional kindergarten classroom. Her inclusion time was carefully supervised and we had daily reports on how it was going. We wanted to see her do well and get more inclusion time, but there wasn’t much pressure for her to do well since she’d never been in a typical class before.

After doing well with her inclusion time in kindergarten, first grade was entirely a success. It was her first year being fully mainstreamed. She briefly started her day in the special needs classroom, then spent the remainder of the day in her first grade classroom, with a quick check-in at the end of the day with the special needs teacher. There were a few small bumps along the way — most involving keeping Cordy focused — but none of them were dramatic and through good communication with her teachers, we got past each of them easily.

So when second grade came along, we again prepared for the transition and new experiences coming her way. The teacher knew Cordy from lunchroom duty, and Cordy seemed to like her already. Many of the same kids from her first grade class would be in this class, too, and we assumed second grade was going to be just as smooth as first grade.

Never assume.

The school year started well at first, but we soon were getting reports of problems from the special needs teacher. Cordy was distracted. There were occasional outbursts from her. She was hiding under her desk at times and refused to come out.

Cordy’s aide (who was a shared aide & wasn’t always available) was first called on to calm her down and get her focused with the class again. But soon the teacher couldn’t handle the distraction and would send her out of the class. We worried that her second grade teacher was frustrated with the behavior issues and had written her off as a trouble child.

Then, not even a month into the school year, Cordy laid down on the ground when it was time to line up for recess and refused to go back inside. When the principal asked her to stand up, she stuck out her tongue. This resulted in losing her second recess and spending that time in the behavioral management classroom. For my perfectionist child, this punishment was interpreted by her to mean that she was a failure at everything. She even signed her behavior management paper with the extra words “worst child.”

She Signed it Worst Child

For a month, I felt like we were losing all of the progress we had made. Cordy was beginning to dread going to school. We had to enforce consequences for bad behavior at school, while trying to determine what had changed and why she was acting out so much. Many evenings I’d cry after putting the kids to bed, feeling helpless, unsure of how to guide my child back from being so lost.

And then one day Cordy needed to get something out of her classroom before we left, so I went into the room with her. I stood next to her desk, taking in the entire environment around me, and suddenly it started to make sense. Her desk was the closest to the door, furthest from the teacher. The desk was also right next to the pencil sharpener and the coat racks.

Now imagine that situation as a child who struggles to tune-out all of the sensory input around her. The grinding of a pencil being sharpened. The rustling of coats being pushed aside and unzipping of backpacks to grab forgotten items. Doors shutting, people talking, and footsteps as people shuffle past the open door in the hallway. A fan providing a steady hum to circulate the hot air in the room. General classroom noise of kids whispering to each other, papers being shifted around, chairs creaking, etc. And a teacher attempting to be heard over the noise by raising her voice to make sure everyone hears her.

Becoming a Behavior Detective and Advocating for My Daughter at School

It’s no wonder she was distracted. Cordy has trouble focusing and is easily upset by too much sensory input. She interpreted her teacher’s loud voice as yelling directly at her. The background noises irritated her and triggered anxiety attacks, causing her to hide under her desk or shriek in class. Taking away her recess times only confirmed in her mind that she was a problem who is different from other kids, and deprived her of the physical activity she needed during recess (stimming) to release that anxiety and help her find focus to get through the remainder of her day. Her brain was short-circuiting before she reached midday, keeping her in a constant state of fight-or-flight.

I was convinced at this point that the only way to improve the situation was by changing the situation. I spoke with her special needs teacher and then with the principal about switching her to the other second grade class, explaining my hypothesis that she was acting out based on sensory overload and anxiety. I had gathered all of the evidence, matching up behaviors with probable causes, and was prepared to advocate for my sensitive child until some change was made.

Thankfully, they agreed. They’ve known Cordy since pre-K, so they knew she’s a kid who enjoys school and loves to learn. They could also see the behaviors were not because she was a difficult child, but instead were the symptom of her struggling with a difficult situation. We agreed to move her to the other second grade class immediately.

They also suggested sending her to third grade during reading, reasoning that because she was testing far beyond second grade in her reading ability, more challenging work could keep her engaged so she’s less affected by the sensory environment. The idea of her going to another class for reading made me nervous, but they assured me she would always have her aide for that part of the day to ease the transition. I also asked that she no longer lose recess for behavior issues, but instead lose other privileges, like computer time, so that she could reset herself with time on the playground.

The changes were implemented the next week and the transition was smooth, other than Cordy announcing to her old class, “You’re all too loud, so I’m leaving this class!” Oops.

We saw results on the first day, when my normally moody child came out of the school with a smile on her face and told me, “School was great today! I love my new teacher. He has a quiet, calm voice.” The remainder of the school year wasn’t perfect by any means, but there were no further calls home from school or major disruptions in the class. Changing the situation worked to change the behavior.

Having a daughter with autism/ADHD has changed how I think of education and how I view a child’s behaviors. I’ve learned that a classroom setting is not one-size-fits-all, and that behavior problems in school can be clues to a mismatch between child and classroom. The child who was happy in first grade and now a “behavior problem” in second grade probably isn’t trying to cause trouble. Instead, there’s something bothering her, and finding the source of the behavior can help correct it.

The greatest lesson I learned from last year is to stay involved in your child’s school and be an active part of setting up the right routine and environment for your child. We’ve always kept in touch with the special needs teacher and the principal, and it’s that relationship we’ve had with them that helped us get such quick action. If you see a behavior change in your child at school, consider what the underlying problem could be. In our case, we knew Cordy needed fewer distractions and a change of classroom. Other parents may find insecurity is the cause, either due to bullying or self-doubt over more difficult material.

Since learning to be a behavior detective last year, I’m feeling confident that third grade will be better. We met with the teachers ahead of time to discuss strategies for keeping Cordy’s focus and how to handle her anxiety. They’re aware of what to look for as well as what could be causing her behaviors. If there are problems, they’ll contact us to work on solutions together. We’re a strong team going into this year, and our early planning and communication will hopefully ensure a positive and productive third grade experience.

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