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My second period students poured into the classroom.  Some sat down quietly in their seats.  Others bounced like pinballs between the desks before they found their places.  As everyone got settled, I started passing out supplies.

First, I hand out the wintergreen mints.  No, you don’t have to take one if you don’t want one.  No you can’t have all the extras.  Next I hand out pencils sans erasers.  It seems that if you erase anything on the test, it creates an unreadable dark blur when scanned for the scorers to read.  If they scorer can’t read what you write, you can’t pass.  Finally I pass out the test booklets.  No, don’t open them yet.

I glance at the clock and take a deep breath and start reading the instructions.  After three days, we all have the instructions memorized.  I try to put in as much enthusiasm as I can.  Yes!  You get to write today, but they aren’t buying it.  Then the first hand goes up.

“Why do you have to read these directions again?  We all know them.”

“Why can’t we use erasers?”

“Who scores these tests? Do you have to be smart to score them?  How much money do they make?”

After three days, I recognize these questions.  They are delaying tactics.  The more questions they ask, the longer it will be before they have to face this session of the test.  I glance at the clock, knowing that we have scheduled just enough time to get through the directions and leave enough time for the test.  I cut the questions short. (I promise my students we can talk about them after the test if they wish. For some reason, no one has any interest in these questions then.)

I instruct my students to open their test booklets.  It’s time to begin.  They clench pencils in their hands and begin reading.  I prowl up and down the rows of desks, smiling encouragement at anyone who lifts their head to look my way.  Occasionally, a hand goes up.  “Can you tell me what this word means?”  I shake my head and reply, “I can’t tell you that.  Read it again.  You can figure this out.”

As time clicks by, I mark the remaining minutes on the board:  30 minutes remaining, 15 minutes remaining, 10, 5.  The hands go up more frequently now.  This time pencils have worn down and become dull.  I wander up and down the rows with a handful of freshly sharpened pencils, trading them for worn out lead.    At last every student closes their test book.

Now we wait to see what strangers think of our work this week.