No Teacher Left Behind

The new school year got a notch more real today as I spent the day reviewing data. We went over test scores and looked at them as a school, then as a grade level, then by class, and finally we inspected each child's progress. To my credit, I left none of mine behind. That isn't because some of them might have benefited from and extra shot at fourth grade, but for some it was purely a matter of moving on in order to survive - like that shark described by Woody Allen in "Annie Hall".
As I sat there, reminded of the previous ten years that I have sat in that same cafeteria, perusing statistics about the year that was, I made a conscious effort to connect the names and numbers to the faces of the kids who lived through the fourth grade with me. That first year, while I was still and intern and was preparing to be the computer teacher for the whole school, there was an extra nine third graders who hadn't been assigned to a class and were waiting for a real third grade teacher to be hired. But since I wasn't set to start the technology program until after the first two weeks of school, I was told to be a third grade teacher for these lucky kids. They got to have class in the computer lab, and we didn't do a lot of the state mandated curriculum since it was still on order, along with the experienced and properly credentialed teacher to guide them. I remember that in that class I had two girls named Amber, setting a precedent for future years that would require me to have two girls with the same first name in every class I taught: "Not you Jennifer, the other one." My first third grade class did a lot of creative writing, and a lot of practice on their multiplication facts. I read to them, and they drew pictures to illustrate the stories they heard. I was making it up as I went along. I never let on just how terrified I was, but by the middle of the second week, I had started to find my stride.
That's when they came and told me the bad news. The new lady would be there Monday morning, and they should look forward to having the opportunity to be in a combination class with a group of wayward second graders. Whether they really missed me or just missed the chance to play on the computers as a reward, I received a number of heartfelt best wishes and a hug from each of my Ambers.
As the years passed, I tried to keep track of their progress, but the incredibly transient nature of the students in my school made it almost impossible. I know that one of the Ambers became a very bright fifth grader before she vanished over the horizon, and a couple of the boys stayed in the neighborhood long enough for me to hear their voices change. They all moved on, and tomorrow I'm headed back for more. I want the students in my class this year to do just a notch better than those from last year because it's how I mark the time. Moving up and moving out.