School Board Meeting Update

As I mentioned in our last post, Danielle had a chance to see the real-world applications of the skills she's learning in school last night. We attended her school's board meeting, where the main agenda item was a spirited discussion about whether or not to lay off "Mr. Administrator", the charter school's principal.

Mr. Administrator was there, as were a number of the school's teachers, but only a handful of students and parents were represented. We arrived about 20 minutes before the meeting and dutifully filled out cards indicating we wanted the chance to speak at the meeting. Four of the five board members were present, as was the superintendent.

After the routine business was out of the way, the agenda came to the main event. The school's superintendent presented a very polished case, complete with spreadsheets and graphs, explaining why the school's financial situation made such a move, in her view, necessary. She answered some skeptical questioning from one of the trustees, who felt that the needed budget cuts could be achieved in other ways, and that laying off the school's administrator this close to the start of the school year was ill-advised.

"And now, let's open it up for public comment," said the board president when the trustee was finished speaking. "Our first speaker will be..." He leafed through the stack of yellow cards before him and called out Danielle's name. "I'm nervous," she confided in me as she stood up and stepped to the front of the room.

"My name is Danielle," she announced, giving her full name and grade. "I want to read something I wrote, called 'Don't Fire Mr. Administrator'". She delivered her prepared essay/speech clearly and forcefully, while everyone looked on with rapt attention. She explained how much the charter school had helped her, how she thought Mr. Administrator was doing a great job, and how he should not be fired because "he is doing his best to make the school better for our community." I thought I saw a tear or two in the corner of Mr. Administrator's eye by the end.

I was the next to speak. "Before I address the substantive issues," I said, "I want to comment on just what a godsend this program has been for Danielle. Three years ago, she would not have been able to stand up here before you and deliver the speech she just prepared. Three years ago, Danielle couldn't read. Three years ago, Danielle couldn't write. The fact that she was able to address this board tonight is a testament to what a fantastic program this school provides, and it's a testament to Mr. Administrator's leadership." Another student and his mom spoke next, followed by several of the teachers.

After a short break, the board re-convened for final discussion and a vote. "Before we vote," said the board president, "I just want to thank you all for coming tonight and speaking -- parents, teachers, and students." He nodded to Danielle as he said the last. "It's clear to me that we're all on the same team here, and whatever happens with this vote, it's clear that we're all after what's best for the students of this school."

Then, one by one, the board members spoke. Their individual remarks were variations on a theme, but the verdicts were the same. One after another, the four members each said "I cannot support this proposal." Technically, no actual vote was taken on the proposal to fire Mr. Administrator, as no board member actually called for a vote on it. But had a vote been taken, the vote would have gone unanimously in Mr. Administrator's favor.

"Obviously," said the board president, "we're going to all have to work together to find other ways to balance the school's budget. And I call upon each of you to continue to participate, to continue the dialogue, to work with us to keep making this school what it is. But the motion to terminate Mr. Administrator is dead for lack of a motion to vote on it."

The room took a deep breath, a moment of silence descending upon everyone present.

And then, into the silence, Danielle let out a single, ear-splitting hiccup.

Twenty or so sets of eyes bored in on her. I could see several board members struggling not to laugh. Danielle clung to my arm, whispering "this is so embarrassing!" But the tension was broken, and the meeting quickly wrapped up.

Afterward, two of the board members came up to Danielle and thanked her for speaking out in support of Mr. Administrator. "And you have very cute hiccups, too," one of them said kindly, producing a new round of red-faced embarrassment on Danielle's part. But in all, it was a good meeting, and I hope Danielle learned that kid's voices count too, and that speaking out for what's right is important. We'll certainly be reinforcing the lesson.

Yellow legal pad and pen: $3.29. Gas to and from the meeting: $5.00. Hands-on civics lesson: Priceless.

The Real World Meets the Classroom

As FosterAbba and I sit in our home office writing this, Danielle is getting an important lesson about the real-world reasons why she has to do her reading, writing, and so forth.

Since we began home-schooling Danielle, we've encountered periods of struggle with Danielle not wanting to do her work. "Why do I have to do this?" she'd ask. "This is boring, and who cares, anyway?" she'd complain. Writing and reading were subjects especially prone to complaint, since Danielle came from a home environment where such skills were irrelevant. It was hard for her to see why she needed to learn them.

Today, she's finding out.

Last night, the charter school's site supervisor called us. It seemed that a combination of fiscal concerns and inter-personal internal politics had reared its ugly head within the school district in which Danielle's school is housed. Someone wanted to eliminate the charter school's administrator, and the higher-ups were trying to sneak the decision through quietly without provoking much hue and cry from the parents, teachers, and students. "We're trying to get parents and students to attend the board meeting," the site supervisor told us, "to make sure the administration hears the opposition loud and clear."

Apparently, "Mr. Administrator", the kindly principal whose job is on the line has hired an attorney, and questions has been raised about the legality of the higher-up's decision, especially as it interacts with the school's charter. But notwithstanding those issues, the supervisor told us, the staff and teachers feel it's important for the school board to hear, loud and clear, the ire of all those who support Mr. Administrator.

So, this morning, I sat down with Danielle. "What do you think of Mr. Administrator?" I asked her.

"He's a really nice man," she replied. "He does a great job running the school, and he's really helped me to get caught up."

"Remember when you wrote all those persuasive essays?" I asked her. She nodded. "How would you feel about writing a persuasive essay about why they shouldn't fire Mr. Administrator, and reading it at the school board meeting tonight?"

Danielle was enthusiastic about the idea. "It's really dumb that they want to fire Mr. Administrator," she said. "I need to tell them how dumb that is."

She's in the other room now, writing her essay. I'll help her edit it when she's done, and tonight, the two (or three, if FosterAbba can get off work early) of us will attend the school board meeting. I hope Danielle's comments will help convince the school board to reverse course.

But, whatever happens, Danielle's learning that the real world does have uses for the skills she's learning in school, and that speaking up about injustice is always a good idea.

Would You Guys TALK to Each Other Already?

So it turns out that, on account of the state-mandated physical education test, the charter school decided to reschedule the field trip. That's all fine and good, but of course nobody bothered to tell me that important piece of information.

It turns out they also didn't tell the resource teacher, who called to scold us for Danielle not being there for her appointment.

Of course this is the same resource teacher who often doesn't make it to meetings and never calls to cancel when she's not going to be there.

Ugh, I feel like yelling at the charter school administration: Would you guys TALK to each other, already?

I Like How the School Plans Ahead

As part of the package of state-mandated testing, Danielle is required to attend a fitness test.

Today, we received a very nice letter from the charter school, informing us of the date/time of said test.

There's only one teeny-tiny problem.

The school administration scheduled the fitness test at exactly the same date and time that Danielle and another group of students will be going on a field trip.

I'm sure you can guess whose kid is not going to be running laps at the local city park next Monday morning.

Our Adoption is Final...

...and our main blog is now unlocked.

Of Course, Maybe She's Just Psychic

When I (FosterEema) went to "Danielle's" school yesterday to pick her up after her assessment test, "Danielle's" teacher took me aside. "I noticed something very interesting while "Danielle" was taking her test," she told me.

The teacher went on to explain that we should expect "Danielle's" math scores on the assessment to be higher than they might otherwise be. Apparently, when "Danielle" encountered concepts on the test that she hasn't yet learned (percentages and ratios, for example), she managed to guess the right answer a surprisingly high percentage of the time. "I don't know if she's just estimating the size of the numbers and picking the closest answer, or what," the teacher said. "I can't explain it, but I definitely noticed it while she was doing her test."

I can't explain it, either, but the teacher's theory is as good as any. I've definitely noticed that "Danielle" has a knack for concealing the holes in her knowledge and education, so much so that we've had to gently remind social workers, Mme. Attorney, and others that "Danielle's" comprehension isn't as good as it might at first appear from talking to her. I suspect that "Danielle" probably developed other adaptive skills to mask those gaps in what she knows, and that it was those adaptive skills that were manifesting themselves during her assessment.

Or, maybe she's just psychic. Nah...

I Hate Standardized Testing

This morning, "Danielle" is away at her charter school taking a series of standardized tests, as mandated by the Federal government.

I hate these tests.

Although the law gives us the choice of opting out, if too many students elect to do so, the school will be punished for it. Likewise, if the school has problems with too many low scores, they are punished. Additionally, if "Danielle" doesn't test, it could affect her eligibility for tutoring and additional services. It's hard to argue a kid is behind if you can't prove it.

Now I'll agree in theory testing makes some kind of sense. It allows you to see how your student is doing relative to her peers, and how your school is doing relative to other schools.

The problem with these standardized tests is that they aren't a good measuring device for students with special needs. It also puts schools, who specialize in helping those students, at a disadvantage.

In "Danielle's" case, it seems patently unfair to compare her to other seventh grade students. She came to us, at nearly eleven years old, unable to read, write, or perform even the most basic math. She couldn't tell time, read a calendar, or even count to 100 correctly. Although we've since verified that she was enrolled for part of a year of kindergarten and part of a year of first grade, she was absent more than she was present. After her partial year of first grade, she didn't return to school for at least three years.

It's no wonder she was so far behind.

It's not fair to compare her to other students her age. Her skill levels are much like Swiss cheese. In some areas, she's doing well, but in others, she has very large holes. She's consistently able to read books between third and fifth grade levels, yet her writing lags far behind. She's able to conceptually understand pre-algebra, yet she still has trouble with consistently remembering her basic math facts such as addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. If you ask her a simple math question, she still needs to add numbers on her fingers.

We are just a few days away from finalizing her adoption, which is tremendously good news. The bad news, of course, is that the school has decided to perform their state-mandated testing this week. We are going to be preparing for a five-day visit from relatives while "Danielle" is trying to focus on tests.

Yesterday afternoon, "Danielle" came to me, quite anxious. "I'm worried I'm going to fail the tests I have to take this week," she said. "I'm going to do my best, but I don't want to get in trouble."

She went on to confess that she was worried she would be put on restriction if her test scores weren't high enough.

I did my best to reassure her. "Honestly, I don't really care about your scores," I told her. "Well, I do care in that I want you to do your best and I hope you'll do well, but I'm not going to be upset if you do poorly. This test is designed for students who have consistently been in school since kindergarten, so it's not fair to expect you to do as well as everyone else. You weren't in school for a long time, and that wasn't your fault."

I told her that if she did well, I'd be happy, but if she did poorly, I wouldn't be disappointed, and she wouldn't be punished.

It just makes angry to know that my kid is sitting there, stressing out over the tests as if this is the most important thing in her life right now. It's not important, and I don't think putting this much pressure on a kid who is still years behind in her academic achievement is at all fair or healthy.

I hate standardized testing.