“Live! From the Eliza Jane household, we’re here on the scene as LM takes his first practice SAT test. Ms. Jane told us earlier that this practice session has been planned now for several days.”

“When we found out about the SAT requirement last Tuesday, we immediately put together a plan for evaluation, study and practice. We just want to make sure that LM is as prepared as possible to do his best on the test.”

“Ms. Jane, are you at all nervous about the outcome of his scores?”

“I’m only nervous that he won’t really try his best. If LM does the best he can do then his scores are the best he can get. If he doesn’t meet the requirements for the Gifted Program, we’ll know that it’s because he’s not academically at that level, not because he just wasn’t prepared.”

“For this practice session, what are you most concerned about?”

“I really wanted to get this one under our belt so that LM knows exactly what the test is like. As we go forward and work on specific examples, he’ll have a better idea of how these problems directly relate to those on the exam. My main concern this evening is that LM will buckle under the strain of four hours of testing.”

“Did you ever consider dividing it up into shorter segments? This is, after all, only a practice test.”

“Since one of my main concerns about the actual testing is LM’s ability to focus and concentrate for the duration, I want to give him several opportunities over the next few weeks to test under similar conditions. His endurance is as much part of what’s being tested as his mathematical and verbal acumen. We need to practice that as well.”

“How are things going so far?”

“Not as well as I had hoped, to be honest. We’ve completed the first section, there are ten altogether, and he was finished with several minutes left to go. It was the essay section and he didn’t spend the time going back over his work, proofreading, adding details or reworking the organization at all. I don’t see any indentations demarking paragraphs and I don’t see any signs of revision, meaning he just wrote in a stream of consciousness. We have our work cut out for us in this area.”

“Ms. Jane, we appreciate your candor. We’ll check back in as the evening progresses to see how LM is holding up under the strain.”

As the fourth section winds to a close…

“Ms. Jane, how is LM progressing? Do you see any initial signs of strain?”

“No, LM appears to be holding up well. He has to be reminded, however, that he can’t talk, can’t whisper, can’t hum, can’t stand, can’t tap his pencil, can’t throw his pencil in disgust, can’t yell at the cat…”

“How do you think he’ll hold up under the extreme real-life testing conditions when he sits for the duration flanked by high school students?”

“I’m not sure. I worry that he’ll come out beat to a pulp for being a distraction during their testing. We’re going to have to work on it.”

“Other than that, how does LM seem to be doing?”

“As we approach the dinner break, I’d say he’s doing fairly well. I’ll have a quick discussion with him over dinner and I’ll have a better impression for you after that.”

“Excellent. Again, we thank you, Ms. Jane for this inside-look at the pre-testing affects on an eleven year old as he prepares to take the SAT in two months. We’ll check back in after dinner. Back to you, Roarke.”

Following the Dinner Break:

“Ms. Jane! Ms. Jane! How was he? Does he show signs of fatigue? Is he visibly changed from the pressure? How is he holding up?”

“We just finished the dinner break. I asked LM how he thought it was going. He said there was some terminology in the Reading and the Mathematical sections that he was unfamiliar with.”

“That’s it? He didn’t cry? Did he eat or did the stress affect his appetite?”

“LM ate as usual. A crab cake, small piece of chicken, a few devilled eggs and some fruit. He wasn’t visibly upset, although, he did seem rather concerned when he found out the testing would take place on a Saturday morning. That news he didn’t like hearing at all.”

“Ms. Jane, tell us, do you think your Mother-of-the-Year status is in jeopardy?”

“I’m certain that without a significant rally on my part during the latter part of the year, my reign as MOTY will be short-lived. However, LM’s birthday is in May, following the testing dates, and there might be opportunities over the summer for me to try to make up for lost points. The best tactic I could take would be to make his summer so memorable that he forgets about this testing altogether.”

“What happens if he gets the scores needed but then absolutely loathes the program and curriculum in the fall?”

“Well, then you’d certainly see my MOTY award go up in smoke! We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now, I need to get back to the test and make sure we’re plugging along with the last five sections of the test.”

“There you have it, straight from the mother herself. We’ll check in at the end, one last time, to see how LM is holding up. We’re going to try for an interview with the student, but his mom has told us the interview is dependent upon his physical and mental condition at the completion of the practice test. Oh, and also on how far it is past his bedtime. We’ll keep you updated and we’ll cut in with any breaking news. Roarke, back to you in the studio.”

Breaking News…

“We have just learned that LM has completed the practice test. We’re trying to get a statement from Ms. Jane….LeRoy, see if you can get the camera over by that door – Ms Jane! Ms. Jane! Channel 10 News! Ms. Jane!”

“Yes?”

“How is LM? Did he survive the practice test?”

“LM is fine. His breathing is normal, his heartrate seems to be normal. There is no indication that he has suffered any major physical ailments from the stress. He seems, well, normal.”

“Are you saying he came through his first SAT practice session completely unscathed?”

“Well, I do think he’s tired. And he was asking for a snack, but otherwise, yes, I think he’s really just fine.”

“Did he say anything about the test itself? Any comments at all on the content, the difficulty level, the length, anything?”

“He said that it felt long, especially right towards the end of the four hours. He said sections 7, 8 and 9 seemed especially difficult but that overall, he thought the test was actually easier than he had anticpated.”

“Easier?! Are you sure you heard him correctly, Ms. Jane?”

“Well, I assure you, we won’t be assuming that the test really was easy for LM until we have scored the test and see how well he performed.”

“Do you know what scored you are aiming for, Ms. Jane?”

“Yes, the Gifted Program did share with us the general guidelines for admission. We’re aware of what numbers we need to hit for acceptance. We’ll just have to see if he’s reasonably close to any of them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get LM a snack and then get him off to bed. He’s had a long night.”

“Ms. Jane, one last question. What’s the next step in the process?”

“We’ll score the test and see if there are any specific areas that stand out as trouble areas. We’ll spend time each evening going over information and example problems. It will just take some time to get LM comfortable with the logical process to answering many of these questions. We have 5 weeks to prepare. I think we have plenty of time.”

“Ms. Jane we thank you again for your candor. We wish you and LM the best during this SAT prep time. We’ll check back in and see how he scores on the practice exam as well as the actual SAT on March 1st. For everyone here at Channel 10, this has been Brian O’Donnell with a special SAT report. Goodnight.”

The boy? The one that’s so mad at me he’s in the kitchen and hasn’t spoken to me for the last two hours?

Just said, “How do you spell ‘animal’?”

This, only three days after he spent Christmas money buying himself a new dictionary and thesaurus at the bookstore.

I.Kid.You.Not.

It feels like it’s been a long week somehow. Certainly feels like forever ago that I had a day full of so many celebrations. I arrived home tonight exhausted, with a bag full of groceries to make a quick but yummy dinner.

Unfortunately, it was one of those days around here. Days when chores were only half done. Days when items were left on the kitchen table again despite multiple conversations about picking them up. A day like many others when my child would rather play with the laptop (old but refurbished) that his dad gave him for Christmas than do a thorough job of anything else around the house.

And so I got mad. And I revoked. And I talked sternly. And I consequenced. And I took away his privilege to be on said computer. And his right to breathe, and I said I would next take away his very right to blood in his veins. Or something like that. All that parenting jargon kinda gets thrown right into the heat of the battle.

And so we ate the delicious turkey dinner in silence.

And we’ve been in separate rooms ever since.

And while he knows I’ve said my peace and I’m not going to talk sternly any longer, he’s still keeping his distance. And so am I.

This hereby officially marks the first time since the move that I wish it were a “Daddy Weekend”.

I didn’t move to Michigan ever thinking for a moment that I would teach again. Never crossed my mind. I only started subbing because temping was so slow and there were bills to be paid. But one foot back in the classroom and I knew this is where I was meant to be. I had known it all those years ago, too, but somewhere in the being a mom and being out east, it got lost and I forgot.

But then I fell in love with teaching again, but I worried. I worried that Michigan would take one look at my expired Illinois license and proclaim me remarkably delinquent and would require years or at least semesters of coursework to be re-certified. But then I had a glimmer that maybe, just maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe, just maybe it was going to work out okay.

And then I had to mail in 3 days worth of subbing money by check to the state along with official transcripts and a letter from the YMCA stating I had in fact taken First Aid and CPR. (If I ever wonder why on earth I was employed by the Y for two months, I understand it now. I needed those two classes.) And then the state told me to wait.

And so I’ve waited. I promised Jacob I’d take him out to dinner if and when the state ever acknowledged my Illinois certificate and said I could teach in Michigan.

And I waited some more. For eight weeks.

And every day I’ve waited for the mail, just hoping, just hoping.

Tonight we came home and I carried in the mail without having a chance to look at it. And I started dinner and while it was cooking I stopped and flipped through the envelopes. And there it was, the big one from the Department of Education. I stood for a moment thinking it was awfully big and awfully heavy. It will probably say I need the following four classes and here’s where I can them and here’s the thousands it will cost me in tuition dollars.

But it didn’t.

It said I can teach.

Right now today, I can teach.

And within the year I need to take two teaching tests, similar to ones I took all those years ago in Illinois. And if I want to, I could take one more test and that would certify me to teach Middle School Language Arts if ever I so dreamed.

But I could teach. Right now today.

And if that wasn’t awesome enough, we snarfed dinner, jumped in the car, grabbed an ice cream cake and showed up on my sister’s doorstep to celebrate. Good news is certainly multiplied when shared!

Let the job hunt officially begin!

In addition to the Worst Mother of the Year Award already being handed out, today I am officially giving out the 2008 Brother-in-Law of the Year Award. I know, again, it’s only January, but still.

Over the last couple months, I have been fighting with my windshield washer fluid. I thought I was just out, but no, even when I refilled, it had trouble spraying. I worked on it one day in my sister’s driveway and it would work and then a few days later it wouldn’t. When we drove to Illinois a couple weeks ago, I had to keep stopping to clean off the windshield. At the hotel, Bear took it all apart and blew through the tubes and tested it and did his best to fix it. He actually made it worse, at that point, but I gave him huge points for just attempting to solve the issue.

Today, I was on my way to pick up LM when Bear called. Puzzled as to why he was calling me, I answered quizzically. “Two things. One: I ordered new parts for your windshield washer fluid. They cost $6 apiece and should be in by the end of the week. I’ll install them for you. Two: I’m having a poker night at my house in a couple weeks, you’re welcome to come play cards with us if you’d like.”

I was speechless. I’m certain I said something like, “Um, uh, whu? Ussa, what’sit?”

I was just stunned. I haven’t had any one else take care of something on my car in years!! I was dreading the call to the mechanic and then sitting there while they fix it, and then it costing $234 because it was $50 to diagnose the problem, $50 for parts and $134 for installation.

Sometimes it’s just the little things that can make such a huge difference. I cannot explain how grateful I was to Bear for thinking about this problem and finding an easy solution for me. It really means the world.

Oh and the invite to the poker game? Just icing on the cake.

Thanks, Bear.

I attended LM’s “Academically Talented” conferences today. He is pulled out one day a week from school to participate in accelerated curriculum. Today I met with his AT teachers for the first time. I signed in, listing my child’s name, my name, the school LM attends and the time of my arrival. Suffice it to say, old habits die hard as when they came out and asked for Mrs. Man (LM’s last name, my married name) I immediately jumped up and responded, never once correcting them and saying that I actually go by my maiden name of Miss Jane. D’oh.

The conference was interesting. (LM is doing just fine, don’t worry. They aren’t kicking him out – yet.) Despite the fact that we were in a building that used to be the high school, we seemed limited on the number of rooms available for conferences. Therefore three teachers were holding conferences in the same room. And LM’s teacher? Spoke soooo loudly I was glad she had positive things to say about my child. “He’s a moron!” would have reverberated for hours with her voice.

The most interesting part was when I asked about next year’s program. We had only found out about this program (Avant Garde) when we spoke with someone in the Administrative building before moving. We only knew the basics. If LM was gifted, this is where he needed to be. And so he is. But I didn’t know what happened for next year and the Avant Garde program only goes up to 6th grade. That’s when she said, “Well, LM is taking the SAT’s this month, right?”

The SAT’s? You mean the PSAT’s? The tests that are the pre-pre-pre SAT’s?

Nope, the SAT’s. The real ones. The ones you take in high school.

Um, no, actually, we hadn’t scheduled that on our list of things to do in sixth grade.

Yeah, well, we should have gotten a letter and he’ll need to register and take the SAT’s before the end of the year, preferably in March, so they can place him in next year’s Academically Talented Youth Program that actually meets one afternoon every week at the local university.

Um, yeah, so he needs to take the SAT’s now?

Yep.

Uh huh. But he’ll be with other 11 and 12 year olds when he takes the test?

Oh, no. He’ll be with high schoolers mainly.

Oh my.

So, we stopped by Barnes and Noble on the way home and bought ourselves the Barrow’s 23rd edition of the SAT prep book (with sample tests!) and we’re adding that to the list of things I’m homeschooling LM in after school each day. Goodness me.

I’m glad I never took the SAT (I took the ACT). I’d be really embarrassed if LM scored higher than me 5 years younger.

…but you can already breathe easier, moms.

The Worst Mother of the Year Award is already been handed out. (Not to me, you sillies!!)

Yesterday, while taking attendance in a third grade classroom, I remarked that Kate appeared to be absent. A couple classmates chimed in that Kate is always a few minutes late on Mondays. I replied with a casual, “yeah, Mondays are rough ones, aren’t they?” only to be met with the unbelievable explanation. The classmates seemed to be under the impression that Kate was actually at…..PIANO LESSONS.

When Kate did arrive (and she wasn’t but more than two minutes late at the most) I inquired. “Kate? Did you just come from piano lessons?” She nodded. “Before school?” She nodded. “On a MONDAY?” She just chuckled and nodded again. “I’ve been doing that for nearly two years now,” she remarked.

Now that is one mean mother.

I’ve explained before my neurosis about books. I don’t want to read the back cover or the inside flap – it gives too much of the plot away. I might was well skip to page 223 once I’ve read the back cover; no need for laying any ground work, it’s all been covered by the synopsis on the back.

Sometimes this gets me into trouble.

I recently went to Heaven on Earth (aka Barnes and Noble) with a gift card I received for Christmas. I found one book I had been wanting to read (Memory Keeper’s Daughter – up next) but actually had trouble finding a second. It’s unheard of, believe me. Clerks, managers and patrons alike all stopped breathlessly waiting for the world to start turning again. No one could believe that Amy could walk into a book store with money in hand and NOT find 10 times that amount in books to purchase. I nearly left the store with money still on the gift card (an absolutely absurd thought in my book – no pun intended) but saw this book on a table in the middle of all the aisles and picked it up. I’ve heard the title numerous times. I’m certain someone I know has read it and talked about it but now, when I’d like to remember what they said and punch them in the gut if it was good things, I can’t recall who said anything at all about it.

“Me Talk Pretty One Day” by David Sedaris, is not, as I had imagined, about someone who had a learning disability as a child who has since overcome it and gone on to do remarkable, noteworthy, novel-worthy things with their life. Oh no. What it is about I couldn’t concisely say. Except to say it’s crap.

Now looking at the back cover with quotes like “Wildly entertaining”, “If wit were measured in people, David Sedaris would be China: his talent is that huge”, “one of the wittiest writers around”, “most sidesplitting work to date”. I could go on, these imbicile critics certainly do.

I’m quick to realize that we all have different tastes. I certainly don’t expect everyone to agree with me about the books I like. But I cannot for the life of me find ONE SINGLE THING funny about this book. In all 272 pages I did not laugh once. Not once. I cringed no less than 20 times. I nearly choked on my lunch several times while reading this but not because something so funny shot milk up my nose, no, more for a gag -reflex effect.

This book is crude. It’s offensive. It’s disrespectful. It’s crap. I find no better way to express it than that.

I absolutely hated this book.

More significantly, I am horrified at the nation that I live in to realize that we, the people, made this book a #1 National Bestseller. And I, in my ignorance contributed to his wealth and success.

Beyond all the questions swirling in my mind over who read this book and enjoyed it (and please Lord, don’t make me be related to or eventually marry them) I have but one compelling question left on my mind – what do I do now with this copy I have? I can’t return it. I wouldn’t pass this along to anyone willingly. I wouldn’t want to donate it to a library and in any way spread this text as some sort of comical view on life. I have never in my life thrown away a book but I just might start with this one. The only better idea I have is to burn it.