Headline In The Making

Diminutive One came home from school today looking unusually glum.

"Duuuuuuuude. "What's up? You look like you lost your best friend."

He sighed heavily and assured me that he hadn't.

"Then what's wrong?"

"CRCT testing is tomorrow." he replied.

There was a fatalism in his voice that I didn't care for. No almost ten year old should be that heavily burdened.

"Yeah. So? You're going to pass with flying colors. Just look at what awesome grades you've been getting!"

He was not reassured.

"But Mom, I just get all...stupid...when I take a test. It's like my brain shuts off or something. I'm going to have to go to summer school! And then I won't be able to play Allstars or go to the pool or do anything!" he wailed.

I felt the blood rushing to my face as I angrily contemplated my stressed out mess of a kid. Goddamned standardized testing.

I sat him down at the table and made him look me in the eye.

"I'm going to tell you a secret. But...you have to promise me that even though you know this secret, you'll still try to do your best on the test. Promise?

He nodded his head solemnly. "Promise."

"I? Do not give a fiddler's fart if you pass that test or not."

His eyes widened in amazement. This piece of intelligence directly contradicted everything I have ever told him in his short life. We've taken care to let our boys know that failure and success are not always the true measure of ability, nor are they the true arbiter of worth when it comes to learning. In other words, if they've truly done their best, we're happy. And sometimes, it's less about the grade that's earned, and more about the lesson learned.

But we've also always told them that they are not "average" students. Which they're not. I don't accept an "F" from a child whose I.Q. is higher than mine.

Perhaps knowing that, you can understand his astonishment.

"You don't??"

He could not hid his incredulity at my pronouncement.

"Nope."

"WHY?"

"Well, because I believe that the only thing the CRCT measures...is how good you are at taking a test. It has nothing to do with how smart you are. I don't need a test to know that you're smart, and either does your teacher. You prove it every single day."

He brightened for a moment, but then a shadow once again descended upon his freckled face, and doubt clouded his eyes.

"But Mom...it's the law. I have to pass this test to go to fifth grade. Plus, I'll have to go to summer school."

"No you won't." I said firmly.

"I'll tell them you are not going to summer school under any circumstances, because you have earned your summer vacation through hard work, good grades, and class participation. And I will also tell them that if they don't pass a kid who is obviously more than capable of doing fifth grade work, I'll sue the pants off of them."

"You can do that??"

"Sure I can. And if that doesn't work, I'll alert the press. We'll tell them there is a travesty of justice taking place right under our noses. It'll be the scandal of the century...a media circus!!"

I made a sweeping gesture in front of my face, indicating a newpaper headline.

"STUDENT TO ADMINISTRATORS: CRCT IS A SHAM! LET ME PASS!"

"And you know what else? Dr. A will help me. She knows all about this stuff and she won't let you be held back. In fact, I already talked to her about it."

He wanted to believe me, but from day one in the public school system, he has been indoctrinated into the belief that school administrators are the ultimate authority.

"But I thought that the school gets to decide everything."

"Hell no. You're my kid. I get to decide everything. They do what I say."

He was beginning to look a little more relaxed, to my relief. He didn't need to know that part of what I had told him was sheer bravado on my part. Oh, I'm quite prepared to butt heads with the powers that be if I need to. But my confidence at emerging the victor was entirely feigned. I sure as hell would give it everything I've got in me, though.

He sat quietly, digesting what I had said.

"So anyway.." I continued, "I want you to do your best, but I don't want you to worry about what's going to happen if you don't pass. Nothing will happen. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks Mom. I feel better now."

He got up to leave, but hesitated for a moment.

"Could you put the stomache medicine (TUMS) in my backpack anyway...just in case?"

"Absolutely."

He left then, and went outside to do the things that kids do outside.

And I sat there at the kitchen table and thought about how much easier it was when all I had to do was spray for monsters under the bed.