Coffee mug and water bottle go on my desk, work bag underneath. Power on my laptop, desktop, and the computer dedicated for making student ID cards. Flick on three of the five light switches. New LED lightbulbs glare like the Arctic tundra, so one gets flicked off. Power on three computers kids use to search for books. They are lined up outside, ready for me to let them in.
They know by now to wait a bit until everything is up and running and make two lines to sign in.
I quickly scan email as kids get settled in their morning chats about books, browsing their favorite sections, and swapping books that won’t make it to the book return because BFF has to have The Summer I Turned Pretty before anyone else can get it.
Subject line: Ms. S’s classes will be in the library today through 4th period
Um, no. That was yesterday. Ms. S. didn’t show up. I check my schedule. I check my calendar. I check my inbox for an email several weeks ago asking for availability. Glitch on my part. I set the wrong date.
Major glitch: I scheduled a lesson with a teacher. In the library. For today.
I email Ms. S asking if she can keep her kids in her classroom for 1st period then come down later. I send the second teacher a chat explaining my issue. Call me asap if you see this.
The line for checkouts is getting longer. I scan ID badges and books. My phone rings and I explain my mess up. “I can go to your classroom instead.”
Issue averted. Ms. S walks in, oblivious to my email as I explain myself. I gather my materials and head to the classroom.
Rush hour is an understatement. This was all in a nice, neat 30 minutes before the bell rings package.
I walk into the main office to pick up a color copy I printed from my computer. Yippee, we have to share the color printer, but keep it on the down low because the color printer for everyone else is in the downstairs teacher’s lounge and the cartridge has been out of ink for months. Sucked dry by everyone printing everything in color rather than sending it to print shop…and there I go, down my rabbit hole.
“Excuse me,” I say, as I pass between the 8th grade counselor and 8th grade assistant principal. They’re chatting and obviously not about a student because they’re in the small hallway leading to the reception area. Counselor’s eyes brighten as she sees me. “Oooh…” I hear her say. I know what that means: you’re about to get hit up for something you don’t want to do.
“Are you good at planning parties?”
“If it’s my own party, sure. If it’s a party for someone else, not so much. What’s it for?”
“Eighth grade formal,” 8th grade AP answers, “PTA is supposed to do it, but they haven’t done it in several years.”
“Do you have a theme? Or maybe you can let some of the 8th grader plan it. It’s their gig anyway, give them something to do.”
8th grade AP, sighing, “I want it to be a surprise.”
By now, Counselor and IT, with whom I meant to chat with about tomorrow’s lesson, make their way to AP’s office. I walk to the printer to retrieve my copy, hearing them run down a list of possible suggestions. I pass by AP’s office on the way back to the library. They’re all huddled over AP’s computer.
IT laughs and says, “She’s not gonna like this, wait and see. Get in here!” she summons.
Before I walk in AP’s office I know what they’re doing.
“You all put that in ChatGPT to see what it’ll spit out!”
IT knows where I stand with AI-mixed feelings. I use it, but typically struggle through my own ideas which seem to mostly run on empty.
“I knew it! Whatcha got? Ooh, you can do a muted down color scheme. A play on school colors, instead of green, black, and white, do sage, gray, and cream,” I suggest. They did ask for ideas.
“Well, we were thinking ‘A Night in Hollywood,'” AP answers.
“Wasn’t that last year’s theme?”
“No, it was a few years ago. Everything we had is gone. It just disappeared.”
“Who took it?” We all look at each other. Things disappear frequently and no one ever finds the culprit.
Counselor wonders if all the prom dresses are still in a no longer on our campus teacher’s classroom. “What happened to all of that stuff? Did she take the prom dresses with her?” No Longer On Campus Teacher collected a pile of gently used prom dresses last year for the 8th Grade Formal Boutique. Girls who may not be able to purchase a dress were free to “shop” for their items.
“No, it’s all gone,” IT replies.
“Hmm…what if you do a 90’s Hollywood theme? You know, all that is trending. Carolyn Bessette Kennedy looks, slip dresses, baby tee and long skirt formals, updos with curls piled at the top of the head, MIB-Men in Black, they’ll love it.” I’m almost getting excited for them, but not enough to volunteer to coordinate the event. Not even close.
AP and Counselor start reminiscing about a full length sequined gown. A two piece formal with a halter top. Those updos with the curls piled on top of the head. Prom dates.
“We can have teachers submit their 90s prom pictures, it’ll be so fun!” AP is gaining momentum with the theme. Counselor agrees and they’re having a great time pinging ideas between one another.
IT and I exchange looks.
“Umm, yeah,” I offer, “fun for those who went to prom in the ’90s. But some of us didn’t. go. to. prom. in. the 90s.” My voice trails…
They’re not getting it.
IT and I holler out laughing. “WE went to prom in the ’80s. Good luck with that!”
We walk out of AP’s office and get back to our regularly scheduled program.
Ahh, the Lone STAAR State. With the end of spring break we get into full-on testing season. We fast from regular schedules in favor of more disciplined stamina building test prep, the school desert. Pre-pre tests. Check the data bible to make sure we’re following everything TEA says is all good and holy. The gospels tell us what should’ve been taught by now, what still needs to be taught, what may or may not be tested and then the prophets warn us to prepare for field test questions. Testing demons attack on the day of the test(s) and even tempt kids and adults to quit before they start.
The congregation met today after school. We received intensive study lessons focused on Testing Commandments. We learned about possible sins: students cheating, teachers scoring tests, helping with test items, marking on an answer document, switching answer documents, working on a different test, stepping out of the room, lack of monitoring students, starting and stopping times, keeping visual aids uncovered. Taking a nap.
We also learned about mortal and venial test administration errors. Scoring a test before returning it. Mortal TAE (test administration error). A student in the wrong testing room before the test starts. Venial TAE. However, both testing sins must be reported to the high priest of testing commonly known as the CTC, Campus Testing Coordinator.
Ex-communication from a church at least allows us to settle our differences with God. Texas flat out revokes teaching licenses. No absolution. No redemption.
We all wear blank looks because our lesson requires us all to stare at the camera Jan Brady style. TEA gospel. We already took some independent study courses and earned our certificates. Confirmation of our ability to test students requires one more class. Some of us have been chosen to earn an esteemed designation of OTA, Oral Test Administrator. I received my certificate yesterday, a fresh parchment looking document I filled in with my name and the date ready to download and send off the the CTC.
It’s a demanding time, but we all celebrate when it’s over. One more class to go. I get to confess my training and qualifications by signing the Oath and submitting it to the CTC. One step closer to TEA sainthood.
Nerds Beget Nerds 