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Any teachers who could get away with it were working discreetly on other things. Occasionally, they looked up with exaggerated intensity, as if absorbed by the suspense of the starfish story.
who strained toward administrative praise like a flower toward the sun.
our new superintendent, our district is going to help teachers really take ownership of student achievement!”
“This is another way of saying our jobs will depend on students’ TCUP scores, right?”
We’re developing the rest of the formula right now with our new superintendent.”
“Just so I’m clear: This means our jobs will depend on test scores and some formula that hasn’t even been developed yet?”
The fearsome Office for Oversight of Binders and Evidence of Implementation was sending their people for a midyear audit.
Must every story be a life-affirming testament to the strength of the human spirit? Was it even responsible to insist that every ugly duckling would become a swan, that every little engine could make it over the hill, that all the puzzle pieces needed for a happy ending were already in the box and one only needed the grit to fit them together?
The truth was, she wasn’t even sure there was such a thing as an “author’s purpose.” There was more than one reason for writing anything, and some of the best authors never revealed their purpose at all. But she would never have tried to explain this. Not with level 1 readers. Not during crunch time.
