Today my boy embarks on many, many years of standardized testing. Not a big deal to some, but to a very wiggly boy, probably not a fun journey. He has ten days of testing. You heard me right, ten days. It starts off with seven days of the ITBS and then three days of the COGAT.
One thing I do like about his current school, is that they haven't stressed the kids out about the test. At his last school, they ate, drank and breathed these tests. His school was the top ranked in the county according to test scores. So they rammed it down the kids throats. I have not see that here.
I woke up extra early this morning to make him a good breakfast. He had whole grain muffins, of which he had two bites, yogurt, maybe a bite, and cantaloupe, three pieces. I decided to give him a little coffee to see if that would help him focus. Our psychologist said to try and see how he reacts. Samuel did finish the coffee....
So, we show up to school. I walked him in to take in the class snack and touch base with his teacher about the day. The principal was standing outside greeting the kids. Samuel knows him well after being sent to him a handful of times. I said good morning to him and Samuel looked at him and said, "Just finished my coffee, ready for my test!"
Of course I wanted to sink into the floor. But I'm used to statements like this and I politely smiled at him and walked right by. I did mention to Samuel that maybe we need to keep the coffee thing between us.
Who knows how he'll do on these tests. I'm not that concerned. In my opinion they are not a true determination of intelligence. When I left him, he looked anxious. I noticed he had spilled some coffee down his pants. He didn't want me to leave him. Tears were near. I hugged him tight and told him to have a good day and walked down the hall. Halfway down, I turned around and his little head was peaking out his door straining to see me. I waved and he smiled and waved back.
My heart hurts for him. I feel like every morning I throw him into a pit of lions. He does his best to survive until I pick him up seven hours later. As soon as he sees me, relief washes over him. I see my sweet boy, looking like he's been to war, both shoes untied, shirt filthy, hair a mess. I don't even ask him how his day was. I know. I hug him and tell him how much I love him. And we go home. Only to go back and do it all tomorrow.