with Stephen. And I kept helping him. Carefully. Not show-offy. Not smarty-pantsy. Just some friendly help once in a while. With little things. I was like an extra teacher. Half the time Stephen didnât even know he needed help or that I was giving it.
It was during fourth grade. Thatâs when Stephen started to change. It was after the big tests we all had to take at the beginning of fourth grade, the Connecticut Mastery Testing.Because Stephen didnât get good scores. And I knew why. I had watched him making faces and chewing his pencil and looking up at the clock every other minute during the tests. It was the pressure that got him, even after all the hours and hours and hours we had spent in class getting ready for the tests. I mean, he probably wouldnât have done that great even without the pressureâbecause, like I said, as far as school work went, he was an average student. But all the time pressure didnât help, thatâs for sure. So Stephenâs scores on the CMT were sort of low. Not terrible, just low.
My scores werenât great either. Thatâs because I found all this information about the tests on the Internet. I figured out how many questions I had to miss on each section so it would look like I was an average student. My parents werenât happy with my scores, but what could they do? In first, second, and third grades I had always been an average student, and thatâs all there was to itâand now the big tests proved it.
So I didnât care about my CMT scores at all.
But for some reason, Stephen did. He caredabout his scores a lot. And from what he said, I guess his parents made a big deal about his test scores too.
I noticed a change in Stephen right away. He got mad at himself if he messed up on assignments or tests. He worried about tests and quizzesâspelling tests, too, and he was good at spelling. He even started pretending he was sick sometimes so he could stay home from school. And Stephen had never used to do that. The worst part was that he didnât seem as happy.
Our fourth-grade teacher was Mrs. Rosen and she was great. She said the test scores didnât mean anything. She called them a snapshot, just a chance to look and see where we needed to improve. She said not to worry if the scores seemed low because there was plenty of time to improve. I understood her. And all of that was true. But I could tell Stephen didnât believe Mrs. Rosen. He felt like he wasnât good at school anymore. He felt like school was a struggle.
And Stephen wasnât the only one. All the kids started keeping track of test scores and homework grades. School was suddenly allabout the competition, and grades were how you could tell the winners from the losers. Every assignment and quiz became a contest. I even saw a couple of kids cheating on a spelling test.
Then in the middle of fourth grade, three kids from our class were chosen to be in the Gifted and Talented Program. The gifted kids went to special classes. They read special books. They had a special teacher, and if they worked hard, they were moved ahead. They could even skip grades. It felt like school had turned into a big race, and it looked like the gifted kids had already won.
Which was one more reason that everyone in our class started sorting themselves out into the smart kids and the average kids and the dumb kids. And that was terrible because Stephen started thinking he was one of the dumb kids. It wasnât true, not at all, not for any of the kids. But thatâs how Stephen felt.
Fourth grade was a miserable year for Stephen. And for me, tooâbecause a person canât be happy if her best friend isnât.
Stephen was glad when fourth grade ended.It felt like his troubles were over, and summer was going to be great, just like always.
But I was looking ahead to fifth grade. Stephen didnât know what was coming in fifth grade. He only had one little brother, so
It was during fourth grade. Thatâs when Stephen started to change. It was after the big tests we all had to take at the beginning of fourth grade, the Connecticut Mastery Testing.Because Stephen didnât get good scores. And I knew why. I had watched him making faces and chewing his pencil and looking up at the clock every other minute during the tests. It was the pressure that got him, even after all the hours and hours and hours we had spent in class getting ready for the tests. I mean, he probably wouldnât have done that great even without the pressureâbecause, like I said, as far as school work went, he was an average student. But all the time pressure didnât help, thatâs for sure. So Stephenâs scores on the CMT were sort of low. Not terrible, just low.
My scores werenât great either. Thatâs because I found all this information about the tests on the Internet. I figured out how many questions I had to miss on each section so it would look like I was an average student. My parents werenât happy with my scores, but what could they do? In first, second, and third grades I had always been an average student, and thatâs all there was to itâand now the big tests proved it.
So I didnât care about my CMT scores at all.
But for some reason, Stephen did. He caredabout his scores a lot. And from what he said, I guess his parents made a big deal about his test scores too.
I noticed a change in Stephen right away. He got mad at himself if he messed up on assignments or tests. He worried about tests and quizzesâspelling tests, too, and he was good at spelling. He even started pretending he was sick sometimes so he could stay home from school. And Stephen had never used to do that. The worst part was that he didnât seem as happy.
Our fourth-grade teacher was Mrs. Rosen and she was great. She said the test scores didnât mean anything. She called them a snapshot, just a chance to look and see where we needed to improve. She said not to worry if the scores seemed low because there was plenty of time to improve. I understood her. And all of that was true. But I could tell Stephen didnât believe Mrs. Rosen. He felt like he wasnât good at school anymore. He felt like school was a struggle.
And Stephen wasnât the only one. All the kids started keeping track of test scores and homework grades. School was suddenly allabout the competition, and grades were how you could tell the winners from the losers. Every assignment and quiz became a contest. I even saw a couple of kids cheating on a spelling test.
Then in the middle of fourth grade, three kids from our class were chosen to be in the Gifted and Talented Program. The gifted kids went to special classes. They read special books. They had a special teacher, and if they worked hard, they were moved ahead. They could even skip grades. It felt like school had turned into a big race, and it looked like the gifted kids had already won.
Which was one more reason that everyone in our class started sorting themselves out into the smart kids and the average kids and the dumb kids. And that was terrible because Stephen started thinking he was one of the dumb kids. It wasnât true, not at all, not for any of the kids. But thatâs how Stephen felt.
Fourth grade was a miserable year for Stephen. And for me, tooâbecause a person canât be happy if her best friend isnât.
Stephen was glad when fourth grade ended.It felt like his troubles were over, and summer was going to be great, just like always.
But I was looking ahead to fifth grade. Stephen didnât know what was coming in fifth grade. He only had one little brother, so
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