the luck of the irish...

each day this week, ms. gwynn has served up
bacon, eggs, pop tarts, french toast, sausage, fruit, yogurt and bagels.

it is the last day of state testing
for the shorties.
the shorties have cried and cheered,
huffed and puffed.
they have sat through
two-hour sessions each day.
they have written,
and calculated.
chewing on their pencils,
they have pulled on their
knowledge of all
that they have learned.

it is the last day of state testing
for me.
i have cried and cheered.
i have sharpened pencils
and rubbed shoulders.
i have misted their tired
faces with cold water.
i have given out bagfuls of
butterscotch and lemon candy,
bubble gum and smarties.
i have explored with them and have
taught them all i could
in seven months.

we are all being graded.
they are being graded to pass.
i am being graded to ensure my future employment.

the state looks at these paper pictures
scribbled with knowledge and fear and fatigue
and get their numbers.
and these numbers are what they see.
unfortunaltely, for them,
they don't see the smiles or recieve the hugs.
they don't get to see the writing journals packed with outrageously creative stories and poems.
the models built to explain ten year-olds' theories are lost to their paper-only assessment.
lead levels don't matter.
lack of sleep due to noisy neighbors are not factored in.
getting hollered at before you walk to school has to be forgotten.

so here they sit. fueled up.
taking the last few hours of this morning
to give it all that they've got.

next week is going to be one long party.