Archive for July, 2008
Our CPS Gifted/Classical Testing Experience (Pre-Kindergarten)
Before the Gifted/Classical testing, I’d scoured the message boards and interrogated other parents about what might be on the test. Apparently that is the best kept secret in the city. Something is done to keep these kids from talking. Something nice and subtle, yet supremely effective. All I could gather was that the gifted test measures logical thinking and the classical test measures reading and writing readiness. Word on the street is that the longer your kid is in the room, the better they performed. The testing center told me the maximum time could reach 55 minutes for both tests. In the meantime I’ve heard a rumor that the testers mess with the minds of nutty parents like me and keep the kids in there a long time just coloring and stuff after the test is over. (What kind of weird educational mental torture is that?! Give me the water treatment, but don’t mess with the gifted testing you sadists.)
The day of his test, my son had preschool in the morning. I picked up after lunch with a buffet of snacks and what I’m sure was a fake overly-pleasant attitude. My number one fear was that with him being an introverted child who is tentative in new situations, he would not walk into the testing room without me. Ultimately, I didn’t care all that much. I wasn’t that into getting a spot in a Gifted/Classical school, I just wanted some validation that my kid was halfway intelligent and that I hadn’t done something in his 4.5 short years to mess up his brain. But since we were weighing the option of staying in private school I couldn’t help but see 9 years of decent free education dangling out there like a carrot on a stick.
We arrived early (for once in my life) and were lucky enough to be taken right away. (woo hoo, that means other kids finished the test early… gives us a better chance!) All I can say is that whoever selects the testers has done an amazing job. A woman took my son away from me and he went so willingly it made me question whether his Stranger Safety video had made any kind of impact at all. Off he went, happy as could be with nary a look back at me. (Buddy, look out! If she tries to get you to leave the building, make a run for it!) I immediately consulted my watch so I could start my neurotic timing of the test.
Twenty minutes passed and they brought him out to the lobby.
“Ohhhhhhhh,” I said in my fake happy voice, “Done already?!” I’m sure the testing lady could see the palpable disappointment on my face and she pegged me as “one of those” parents.
“He needed to take a bathroom break” said the tester.
“YESSSSSS!” No, I didn’t actually say that – just thought it.
Clearly he had been coached not to speak to me. He passed by and waved as a man took him over to the bathroom.
Back to the test he went for another 15 minutes. So 25 in total. Eh. Oh well.
As we walked back out to the car I waited a good 5 minutes before starting my lighthearted questioning. What was on the test? Silence. Did they ask you to read? No. To write? No. To tell a story about a picture? No. Which things were bigger or smaller than others? No. What order pictures would go in to form a story? No. Well, what did you do in there all that time? I can’t remember. God, they’d gotten to him. He wasn’t talking.
On the drive on the way home he told me the following tidbit:
Him: “I had a dud pencil so I couldn’t write down any of the answers.”
Me: (Hyperventaliting internally, yet maintaining outward calm. Trying not to sound utterly horrified.) “You mean the pencil wouldn’t write? (Wait, 4 year olds can barely even write!? They had to write down their answers?!)
Him: No, it wouldn’t write at all.
Me: Did you tell the lady?
Him: Nah.
Me: Hmmmm. And she didn’t notice it wasn’t working?
Him. No.
Could this be real? Should I turn the car around and go back for another chance? Demand a good pencil? Could he have made this all up? I don’t think he even knows what a dud pencil is! There is no WAY that most of the test involved pencils! Is there?
That night I relayed the conversation to his Dad.
Me: ….so he said the lady didn’t notice the “dud” pencil at all.
Dad: That was the test.
Me: Wuh?
Dad: That was the test. (Dramatic pause…) To see what a kid would do if they’re given a dud pencil during a test.
Me:. Noooooooo. They wouldn’t!
Me: Would they?
Me: My God. That would be so weird and manipulative. No. No no no. I cannot believe that. They seemed so nice.
And so – we were left with no idea about what was on those tests or how it went. Or if a pencil was involved. Or if it was a dud.
Eventually I found out one single thing that had allegedly been part of the test. It involved writing a 2-letter word. The other 24 minutes remain a mystery.
5 comments July 24, 2008
What’s with all North Side gifted programs?
OK, I admit it – I am excited to have my kid in a gifted program. It is probably the closest I’ll come to being able to “brag” about my kid in any way. I’ll never utter the words “My son goes to Harvard” unless his Dad and I plan to sell our house and live in a box under Lower Wacker Drive to pay the tuition. I’m quite sure I’ll never be saying “My son, the doctor” since he currently freaks out like a wild banshee if he has to look at a scrape on his own knee. So his greatest educational achievement may have come about from a test he took at age 4. Go figure.
So although I am thrilled to have scammed into this opportunity, I can’t help but wonder what is up with this plethora of Gifted Programs on the north side. Edison, which used to be located way-too-far-to-consider (unless your child is really really smart and needs to be with like-minded smarties,) is moving to Albany Park this Fall. Coonley is located curiously close to Bell. Beaubien is up north, and of course Decatur skims off some of the pool. So in an fairly narrow locale there are 4 accelerated classes that a kid can test into. It begs the question, “Isn’t it a wee bit inefficient?” Does it make sense to have Bell and Coonley existing with similar programs like little RGC “twins?”
It’s a good idea on several counts:
1. In theory, the principals of Bell and Coonley can pop over to visit one another to share best practices (let’s face it, in this day and age I’m guessing they’ll just be emailing each other, if anything.)
2. It makes it easy for the French teacher who will work in both programs. (Maybe this was all HER idea! Merci Beaucoup! – I hear she is fantastic, BTW.)
3. Perhaps Coonley is being positioned to take the overflow of Bell, which is close to bursting at the seams.
4. CPS has something up its sleeve. (Conspiracy Woman emerging here.) My personal suspicion is that Coonley is being set up as the buffer for Bell. If the Bell neighborhood continues to grow, they’ll have to either redraw the school boundaries or move someone out of the school (choices are the Deaf program or the Gifted program… who would you feel worse about booting?) And the RGC could easily be phased out grade by grade, starting at the bottom. Or heck, they could just move it all out of Bell in one fell swoop like they did with Edison.
5. The Coonley neighborhood is ripe to transition into a Bell-esque neighborhood – with a strong school that attracts families and drives up property values.
The downside of having several gifted programs clustered together is:
1. Well, it just doesn’t seem fair. Most people choose schools that are generally close to home. So I have to figure that kids in certain neighborhoods, whose parents may lack reliable transportation are stuck without a gifted option, even if they test well.
2. Terrorists could pinpoint Chicago’s epicenter of youthful intelligence and wipe out a chunk of smart kids with one well-directed missile. (Just kidding, that is only in the Hollywood version of the CPS story, which will clearly never be made into a motion picture.)
Only time will tell whether it was a good “business” decision or if my paranoid conspiracy radar is working accurately.
4 comments July 13, 2008
Getting into a Chicago Public School
No, I’m not talking about winning the Magnet lottery or stalking the principal to show them how eager you are to send your kid there. I am talking about the physical process of actually ENTERING a CPS building and the difficulty of finding the main entrance.
I cannot even count the number of times I have arrived at a school building, eager for a tour yet running late as usual. I park and run towards the building. Hmmm… all the doors look about the same. Metal. Unadorned. No markings. This would be exciting if I were trying to get into one of the cool nightclubs I’ve heard about that have no signs and you need to know where it is to get in. But no, this is not cool.
Typically I approach the closest door first, looking wildly for a way to signal my entrance. Nothing is ever just open, allowing a random stranger to enter. No, our kids are clearly in vaults. The doors are too thick for a knock to ever be heard inside. No buttons or speakers are visible. I must be at the wrong door. Rats! The buildings are huge! It’ll take me another 5 minutes to go around the block to another entrance. Can’t some friendly janitor spot me and just let me sneak in?
I silently curse the administration for not anticipating my needs and VOW that I will personally make signs for any school I am involved with. I VOW that I will contact CPS and beg them to improve their signage efforts. I VOW that I will leave earlier next time I go for a school tour. Of course none of this ever happens.
So here are a few pointers for getting (your body) into a Chicago Public School.
- Read the address carefully. It seems like the Main Entrance typically faces the street of the address.
- Speaking of Main Entrance, each CPS school has a Main Entrance sign posted at one doorway. Once you learn this, you’re golden. Somebody, at some point in time had the smart idea to keep consistency with the Main Entrance signs. Trouble is, the sign is often a small, ratty piece of cardboard that is hard to spot from a distance. Look for the sign with red stars and blue stripes..(that is the City of Chicago flag.) Or sometimes an American flag.
City of Chicago flag - look for it on the Main Entrance sign
- The Main Entrance does not always LOOK like a main entrance. Some are oddly non-descript and plain.
- Don’t look for a bell/buzzer to tip you off. These are typically small/dingy and made with a chameleonesque quality so that they blend in with the wall behind them.
- If you are going to a school at non-school hours, well, good luck. You’ll have better luck getting into the Pentagon. If you’re lucky, someone will be walking out and you can slip in, free to do as you please. If the staff are all in a meeting upstairs, you can stand there banging endlessly, as your knocks disappear into a black hole. (OK, that is a bit dramatic, but it can be angst-producing if you are trying to drop off your lottery application and can’t get inside.)
- Keep your hand on the door as you wait to be buzzed in. You’ll approximately a half-second to pull the door open once you hear the “click” sound.
Add comment July 3, 2008
First LSC Meeting – Will I Be Able to Walk the Talk?
OK, I hate that expression about walking/talking, but it actually fits for once in my life. I’ve been talking (some may interpret as lecturing, yammering, complaining, informing, gossiping, instigating, or agitating) about CPS for a couple years now to anyone who will listen. Or even just pretend to listen. I got myself onto the local LSC with the mission of making a difference, pushing the school to do more, to stretch themselves, fix some things, listen to the voice of the people, etc. It all sounds great in my head. Problem is, I’m not sure if have what it takes to actually push for stuff. I’m a rebel in my mind, but my reality is to avoid confrontation and not rock the boat.
I can’t help but wonder if I will have the guts to keep pushing. And I’m not even quite sure what exactly I’m pushing for, specifically. I know I want better communication between all parties involved in the school and ideally I’d like to see the academic standard bumped up a bit both in terms of getting more kids at/above that magic level of test scores and making sure that the bright and/or motivated kids get challenged. And to work with another LSC member who has a great vision for more progressive, hands-on learning for the kids.
My impression is that my LSC has gone along for a while, acting in general agreement, and conducting their two main functions: approving the school budget and the SIPAA plan (school’s strategic plan.) The other job of an LSC is to determine whether to retain the principal when their contract is up. We’ll be doing that in two years. I think it’ll take some “chutzpah” (or “balls” if you don’t know Yiddish) to push the group out of their standard routine. It means that I need to figure out exactly what I want to happen, throw it out there, and not back off as easily as I normally do. Frankly, I would feel better if I had an alliance. Like on Survivor. I am terrible at being the lone dissenting voice beyond a first peep. I know that some other new LSC member are also eager to make a difference. But inertia is hard to fight. We want to lead a revolution (in reality, an evolution) without making waves and that probably isn’t possible.
I think I will take inspiration from the Gatorade commercials… “Is it in you?” I’m quite sure that when the ads were written the copywriter wasn’t thinking about some over-zealous-yet-a-bit-hesitant mom taking on the local school board. But hey, you gotta take inspiration where you can find it, right?
1 comment July 1, 2008
