A Moment When State Tests Are Visited By Violence.

I wrote the poem below in 2005. I was administering state assessments to kids who were at their last chance...pass and graduate...don't pass and, well, you know. Needless to say, tensions were high. There were only a dozen or so students in the room, and when the incident went down everyone froze, including the other four teachers.

Years before the event below, I was a counselor, locked in the back of a summer camp van with a violent schizophrenic who had attacked an art teacher. She had informed him that art had ended, and he disagreed with his fists. While I had absolutely no experience to prepare me for this, the camp director felt that I had the right demeanor for the job. I took a measured approach. We had a wonderful conversation about his love of art, and he calmed down. I have used the schizophrenic van experience as a starting point for any moments of conflict since.

Anyway, for this reason I walked directly toward the angry student and tried to speak in a gentle tone, like the Dalai Lama. It worked out alright, and nobody got slapped. Incidentally, I have never slapped anyone, nor do I advocate the use of violence, or her choice of language.

When Standardized Test Anxiety Reaches the Boiling Point

"I'm gonna slap that bitch,"

she yelled as I was collecting tests.

She whirled in her seat,

pointed at her target, and

said again, "I'm gonna slap

that bitch." Then,

"ain't nobody gonna

tell me to shut up."

I set down the tests and

walked toward her, "Relax,

there's really no need..."

"I'm gonna slap..." "I know,

I heard you, but

not here, not now."

"Gather your things,"

I said before escorting her

into the hallway.

We'll go for a walk, I thought,

that always helps me

when I'm angry...