Please Read the Following Directions

Administrating the New York State tests are as interesting as you can imagine.  For each of the six days, I read the long list of unacceptable electronic devices to a group of enthralled children and then, to our delight, New York State instructs me to read the bulleted list again.  6th graders have a delightful sense of humor.  Combine that with their extraordinary listening comprehension skills and that spells "t-r-o-u-b-l-e."  Actually, it spells "h-e-l-l-o" upside down on a calculator.  "Does this count as a communication device," one of my cherubs inquired in the specific space of time New York State allots us for questions.  Sigh.  I envy a lion tamer during state testing season.  A three-legged stool and a bull whip are effective tools in directing the king of the jungle to act against every natural instinct and leap through hoops.  The state does not equip me so well.  I can assure you that the natural instinct of an eleven-year-old is NOT to sit quietly for ninety-minute stretches, carefully reading and responding to ambiguously-written questions using complete, reflective sentences.  The required preliminary instructions are repeated each morning to the children who slump lower and lower in their seats with each progressive day. Anticipating that my kids would resemble bath mats if I didn't act fast, I realized that it was time to pull out the stool and bull whip.  As they braced themselves for the re-run of the previously-viewed version of the syndicated New York State testing directions show, I dug deep and without warning, launched into my "Cheerleader-style" rendition of the instructions:  "Read-y?  OK!  Be sure to...read your questions...care-ful-ly (arms extend to dramatically spell out the "L" and the "Y")!"  Clap clap.  The next day, a pirate arrived to warn test-takers that they'd be forced to walk the plank if they didn't neatly write their full name by the line marked NAME.  Requests soon came pouring in.  "I say," my British accent exclaimed, "it would be jolly good of you to check your work at the end."  My attempt to read directions "underwater" was a disaster but I recovered by magically morphing into Mr. T.  We would pity the fool who went on when they encountered the word "Stop" on their test.  I certainly wouldn't win any points for professionalism and Rich Little would revoke my celebrity impersonator card but student shoulders stopped sagging and I was rewarded with some smiles rather than the constant "let's-get-through-this" grim attitude.  I'm sure that soon enough, New York State will revise their instructions to accommodate this discovery.  Instead of writing, Say..., they'll write, Say (in a serious tone...please refer to the monotonous voice used by the boring teacher in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off")...  Until then though, I will continue to crack that whip while leaping through the great New York State testing hoopla.