The Missing Test

It's business as usual for a Friday in class with my students. Friday is usually assessment day.

"Is there anyone still working on their math test?" I have the students turn in their papers as they finish, rather than collecting them all at once. The good thing is I get a jump on correcting their papers, which usually allows me to return them before they leave for home. The bad thing is I have to keep track of who's still working and who's getting a bit edgy and ready to do something else.

No one responded to my questioning. This only means I need to say it again, in a different way, "Do I have everyone's paper?" I asserted my slower, louder voice in order to be understood clearly by the average 4th grade child.

The room begins to so signs of intelligent life as they become human bobble-heads one by one. At first glance you would have thought that each and every student was completed, but it's the silent stare that you have to have a keen eye out for,... and there it was. From a boy across the room,... a blank stare of confusion. As I locked in on him, I also took note that his desk was swiped clean of all papers.

"Did you turn in your paper?" I tried to coax an answer from him. His head gave a slight bob. "Did you just say yes?" I questioned further. His head gave a slight twist, side to side. "No?" I continued the dance as if it were leading somewhere. His head remained motionless this go 'round. What does that mean? Now he's not even giving me the non-verbals. Just the stare.

I decided years ago that when given the chance to stare, one should take it. And so it was on! The room was dead silent as I looked at him, him at me,... neither one of us knowing what good any of this would do. Finally the silence was broken with a tiny snickering voice, "Stop the madness!" came the plea.

"If you were your test, where would you be right now," I quietly probed him for one more response that I knew couldn't be answered with a 'yes' or 'no' bob of the head. I did realize that he could always resort to one of my favorite gestures, the shoulder shrug.

"It's in my desk," he answered as he opened up his desk and removed it from between two text books. "It's not done though."

I know, I know. How could a student take a test and then just put it in his desk and not finish it? Good question. It's also a question that they never answered when I was going through all of my teacher classes. They never teach you the crucial things such as, what do you do when one student throws up in class and starts a chain reaction? I don't think they want the new teachers to know about such things happening. This is where my years of experience pays off.

"Well, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that you finish it and turn it in to me," I threw out a strong suggestion. "The rest of the class will move forward with Friday."