Back on Friday, we ended the week in the Amp. Today, we started the week in the Amp.
“We interrupt Room 208 for a special bulletin!” Mr. Acevedo said. He stood with a leg on the front bench and his iPad on his knee. “I need to make a couple changes to the project. I have to shake things up a little bit.”
“I don’t understand,” Piper said.
“That’s because I haven’t explained it yet, Piper. This week, you and your partner will be writing a persuasive essay. It’s an additional writing assignment, a short one. You’ll need to follow a particular format.” He paused. “Hopefully, this will please some of your parents.” He nodded to Avery, whose hand was up.
“Can I say something?” she said.
“Is it about this writing assignment?”
“Yes and no.”
Mr. Acevedo looked at her sideways. “Then I’ll say maybe.”
“I’m not the only one who thinks this,” she said. “Can I use the T-word?”
“If you must.” Mr. Acevedo placed the iPad on the bench.
I checked Red. He sat at the end of the second row next to Mr. Goldberg, who’d joined us again, even though we weren’t having T3. Red was already hunched forward and pinky-thumbing his legs.
“What’s on your mind, Ms. Goodman?” Mr. Acevedo said, stepping to the front of the Amp.
“We do test prep every day in math.”
“You do.”
“The third and fourth graders do test prep every day in ELA.”
“They do.”
She rolled her eyes. “The fifth graders at all the other schools do test prep. How are we going to do well on the tests if we don’t know how to take them?”
“We’re learning.” Mr. Acevedo toed the sand with his sneaker.
“We’re not learning the questions on the test.”
“We’re learning,” he said. “We’re learning more than just the answers to some questions on a test. We’re learning…” He stopped midsentence and pulled back his hair. “Show of hands—how many of you feel the same way as Ms. Goodman? Be honest.”
A few hands went up.
Then a few more.
And a few more.
Then mine.
“We’re learning,” Mr. Acevedo said. He drew a circle in the air with his finger. “But we’re learning in a way that doesn’t stifle creativity, and if you don’t know what stifle means, look it up.”
I didn’t know what stifle meant, but from the sound of it, I didn’t want it happening to me.
Down the row, Red swayed from side to side.
“I understand I need to make adjustments,” Mr. Acevedo said, kicking at the sand. “Your parents have made that perfectly clear. But I’m not turning Room 208 into a test-prep mill, no matter how much noise anyone makes. I guarantee that.”
It was the first time I’d ever heard Mr. Acevedo speak with an edge.
I checked Red again—hunched over, swaying, and wearing his old-man face.
“We learn best when we’re having fun,” Mr. Acevedo said, keeping the tone. “We learn best when we’re doing. That’s how we learn how to think. Learning how to answer specific questions for a test—that’s not learning. That’s … I don’t know what that is.”
Mr. Acevedo pulled back his hair again and looked around. He made eye contact with a few of us.
“When you teach to a test,” he said, softening his words, “you program the test taker to respond to a question in a narrow way. When you teach a real skill—when you learn a real skill—the person learning the skill is able to apply that skill in all different contexts.” He stepped to Avery. “Did that answer your question, Ms. Goodman?”
“Whatever,” she said.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, tapping her armrest, “that was a healthy interruption. I’m glad you brought that up. Now let’s get back to where we were—the new persuasive essay. That’s the first change to the project. The second change takes place in two weeks. Each group will now be presenting to the class. We’re going to have oral presen—”
“No!” Red shouted. He stood up and shook his head violently. “No, I can’t. I can’t. It’s too much. It’s too much.” He covered his head with his arms. “No!”
He took off.