Certifiable?

Crushed it.

It’s 11:44 am on Monday, June 4, 2007, and I am done, baby. Flying high. I feel so good after speed-typing through six half hour essays that I’m sitting at my keyboard in the man zone to write a seventh, just to capture the moment. After a year plus of what has at times felt like biblical agony, I planted my flag in the summit this morning. And now I can truly say, I have been to the mountain.

Here’s the blow by blow. Last night I cleansed myself mentally and spiritually by not drinking alcohol (okay, I had a slight hangover from a friend’s 40th the day before), and watching the second to last episode of the Sopranos. Tony and I both fell asleep clutching shotguns to our chests, ready for the final showdown. Oh yeah, before bed a thought struck me, based on good advice from JC on the comment board, so I went down to the computer to look up BICS and CALPs, the stages of English Language Learners’ language acquisition.

Woke up this morning feeling strangely at ease. Instead of reading the morning paper as I normally do when I walk my dog, I studied a single note card on which I’d written the ELL stuff and the six types of questions. For each, I ran down a few talking points: for a comparison to a non-print text, I figured I’d use a Duke Ellington tune or some other piece of music, as I often do in class; for analyzing a kid’s reading, I reminded myself that meaning is constructed by a series of experiences, etc.

The main thing I told myself, as per feedback on the two (I admit, crappy) practice essays I’ve published here: they’re kids, not questions. In other words, I vowed that instead of mechanically paraphrasing the question (for example if asked to “identify and discuss weaknesses, and provide strategies for correction”), I would respond in a genuine fashion, as if I were really addressing a kid in my class. Sounds simple, but I was distracted by the trees.

Guess what? It worked. I found the good in the student responses before pulling out the ugly, just like I would when commenting on a real paper; the million repetitions of “I really like how you.... but this would be stronger if...” finally paid off. This approach felt natural, and let me address the questions from where I really live, as a teacher. To heck with handcuffs, my flying fingers were telling me. Show what you know-- talk about what you do every day in your class, what you’ve been working on for the past fifteen years (did I just say fifteen?). In the immortal words of Bootsy Collins, P-Funk bassist, I freed my ass and my mind followed.

Back to the blow by blow. As I was leaving the house, a remarkable thing happened. A bird’s nest in the hanging flower basket on our front porch had three chicks in it. We’ve been watching with the boys every day, seeing the eggs first, then the eyes-shut chicks, noting comings and goings of the wren mom and dad. Well, this morning as I was leaving, I swear to god, they fledged. We saw two of the three chicks actually fly out from amidst the purple blossoms into the great big world right before our eyes.

That got me to the testing center, where I had a few moments of bureaucratic angst (what would an NBPTS outing be without it?). First was hand copying a paragraph (NOT printing it, the directions insisted) that said I really, really, really won’t cheat on this test or tell anybody what was on it. The low point, though, was once I had settled in front of the screen and began clicking through the tutorial. I reached window six, demonstrating the use of the back arrow, and couldn’t figure out how to get past it. For a few desperate looking glass moments I was stuck clicking back to go forward and forward to go back. (The test attendant came over and moved me along well before I would have begun cackling maniacally.)

From there, I got it on. There were three minutes of anxiety at the end of the first question when I realized there was a second prompt and I had only responded to the first. After that, I understood that I had to click through each prompt and hit the back button (oh, that’s what it was for) to do the whole question. Mechanics under my belt, I could focus on the questions, and that’s what I did.

Foxes were everywhere. One popped up on a writing sample, and another became my non-print text. Actually, I wrote about a fox hat from my travels in rural Alaska. Somehow, it seemed the perfect prop when discussing how I’d get kids interested in a passage written by a Native American author who contemplated her reality versus Hollywood's versions of Indians. (I don’t want to say more for fear of breaking the “I swear I won’t tell what was on this test” clause.)

BICS and CALPs came in handy, and writer’s workshop, and a generous dash of “HOW does it make you FEEL?” During my break I stretched and splashed water on my face, and before I knew it... I was walking out into the sun. A free man. A teacher man.

And so here I am, at the end of a trek I began on February 16, 2006, with these two questions: Am I nuts? Can I do it? I ended that first post by saying I was climbing this NBPTS mountain because it’s there.

It’s still standing, but now I can answer both questions with a resounding yes, whether I get the initials or not. That mountain? Call me crazy, but after all this work, the view from the top isn't what matters most. Turns out, it was all about the journey.

Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 3:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

The big day is Monday. Casting about for ways to prepare the weekend before, I decided to do another one of Patrick Ledesma’s tri-pane practice prompts. My two-year old son, who was supposed to be napping upstairs, woke up when I was six minutes into it. I made it back to the keyboard an hour or two later and forced myself to finish, but had lost my mojo. In reviewing, I realized that the only thing my practice essay presented clear and convincing evidence of was that I could type 370 words in approximately thirty minutes.

Anyway, here as a helpful reminder are the “Criteria for Scoring” from Patrick’s simulation, which I assume are pretty close to the real thing.

To satisfy the highest level of the scoring rubric, your response must provide clear, consistent, and convincing evidence of the following:
- an in-depth description of patterns of writing and writing conventions; and
- a thorough understanding of the recursive nature of the writing process.

And below are the prompt and my lame response, for all the world to see. The question is on something I am literally in the middle of doing with students right now, Romeo and Juliet. Specifically, a kid has written a comparison of the play and the cool movie version by Baz Luhrman, the one with guns and drugs and Leo DiCaprio.

My response to my response, other than self-flagellation, is that it doesn’t really reflect my teaching. Part of that is the timed format. I structured my answer, under the conditions, by paraphrasing the questions and then filling in the blanks below each to make a paragraph. It’s not organic, in the way that I normally write. (Ironic, isn’t it, that my response is supposed to reflect my knowledge of “the recursive nature of the writing process.”) But I don’t feel safe in doing that on this sort of essay. What else could they possibly take points off for more easily than not addressing the questions?

This also doesn’t feel right because the kids I have now would never write this sort of response, nor would I ever assign it. In other words, unlike the portfolio, which was based on my actual teaching, this is hypothetical to me and bears no resemblance to the circumstances under which I currently teach.

To whit, my own ninth graders have just finished reading the play, and are working on a final assessment we call “group troupe.” Basically, they are creating fifteen-minute long group dramatic essays by stringing together scenes from the play interwoven with their own narrative. It’s a fantastically complex activity, and beats the pants off, “Which did you like better, the movie or the book?”

As a matter of fact, while I skip school on Monday to take the test, my kids will be diligently rehearsing for performances on Thursday. Whether or not their teacher can muster clear and convincing responses on command in the assessment center, I’m confident the skits themselves will show that my students have engaged in a truly meaningful way with some of life’s biggest ideas via a classic piece of literature. May we all break a leg.

Continue reading "Clear and Convincing" »

Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 6:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Monday, June 4. Hopefully it won’t live in infamy. It is, however, the day I will take the big test. To continue preparing, I reviewed the comments colleagues have left on this blog or by email. I figured you might want to check them out, too, so they’re copied below. More words of wisdom welcome.

By the way, excuse me for cannibalizing my own board to piece this entry together, but maybe others don't go back and read comments on every post as obsessively as I do. Also, I want to take this close-to-graduation moment to recognize that this blog only exists because there are a lot of us trying to summit what I thought would be a lonely mountain top. Somehow, I'm the one who gets to blab about it every week for Teacher, but what I'm really grateful for are the connections that the opportunity has fostered. We're all in this thing together, after all.

This post is a symbolic and completely inadequate attempt to say thanks for joining me on this journey. Hard to believe it’s almost over. Of course, as Brenda reminds, it’s not over until it’s over. Without further ado, let’s review.

One thing I was not completely prepared for was the timing. On the 3-panel screen, the directions appear and the time begins counting down immediately. BUT, the prompts don't show up until you scroll through all of the directions. I started happily reading the directions (which are a little bit complicated for the Spanish listening exam, and not published anywhere I could find), and then I realized that the time was clicking away.
My advice: scroll down immediately so the prompt appears. (The "how to scroll" tutorial will have trained you to do this--ha, ha.) Assuming it's a normal test (no listening, etc.), you should be familiar with the directions and scoring part already. In the reading comprehension section (again, for Spanish) that top left panel was also where the reading passage was located.
I studied by reading the latest methodology book for foreign language teaching, doing some pleasure reading in Spanish, and watching Spanish TV.
Posted by: Sara | May 20, 2007 8:02 PM

Long time reader, first time poster. I also took my assessment yesterday in EA-ELA. I did probably 10 hours worth of preparation over the last two or three weeks, and used maybe 10% of the new information I used. It was hard to go in and get it done, but a big relief when it was over.
I also made my appointment a long time ago, as the spots on Saturdays and locally fill up quickly. It was a very quick 3 hours - just flew by, and I think 30 min for each question was just enough time. Any more, and I'd be tempted to add BS. My best advice - read through all the prompts first, then try to keep your answers as plain and simple as possible (hard for us English teachers). Also, make sure you put quotes from the samples into your response - they mention in each prompt to be specific and use evidence. Good luck!
Posted by: Meghann Donohue | May 20, 2007 10:29 PM

Hi and good luck. My best advice--> use bullets, be short and sweet, and answer each part of the question. It is exactly what it says it will be.
Lots of luck!
I know that when I responded to the prompts I made a short list of the most important points I wanted to make in my response. I think sketched out approximate times I would need to meet to finish. I know it took away actual writing time....but I think it made me much more efficient in getting the asnwers onscreen and I, at least, knew that I covered the most important points.
Marsha NBCT, EA Science 2000
Posted by: Marsha Ratzel | May 11, 2007 3:25 PM

Good luck with the assessment center. I took my AYA/ELA April 29. All I can offer for advice is to wear a wrist brace for carpal tunnel. I'm a fast typer and managed to get through it, but my right hand, wrist, arm, and shoulder were completely numb by the end. I researched websites of common lesson plans from ESL teachers addressing linguistic acquisition in oral and written forms. Happy testing.
Posted by: W. Warren | May 14, 2007 7:18 PM

I am so pleased that I found this information, particularly the test simulations. I have been studying the sample AYA/ELA prompts on paper, but actually having an opportunity to type up a timed response is enormously helpful. Thank you for posting the link. My test is this Saturday, so hopefully it will go well! I wish you the best - I know it's been a very arduous journey!!!
Posted by: Kelly | May 16, 2007 5:20 PM

I've been worrying about exercise 2, specifically relating the universal theme to something from a "non-print text". I've been trying to imagine every universal theme known to mankind and a song or movie that has the same theme. It's much harder than I imagined, and I'm worried about my mind blanking out during the pressure of a timed test. I've been trying to think of movies with multiple themes, such as "My Big Fat Greek Wedding." I'm stuck on Man vs. Nature, as I'm not a disaster movie fan, nor do any songs I can think of deal with the theme. Any suggestions from anyone else how to approach this question? Am I on the wrong track here? Could a "non-print text" be something from current events? That would make it much easier for me.
Posted by: Hillary | May 17, 2007 11:29 AM

Yeah, I'm worrying about blanking on nonprint text, too--except remember: EVERY SINGLE SHAKESPEARE PLAY IS A NONPRINT TEXT. (Well, and every August Wilson/ Tennessee Williams/ Arthur Miller etc etc etc play...but you get the picture.) Also speeches ("I Have a Dream," anyone?) and NPR bits. So I'd say that a clip from a news program or NPR show about current events should work just fine. NPR did a whole series about people recovering from Katrina, which would fit with the Man vs. Nature thing. "This I Believe" is another interesting series, and of course "This American Life" actually treats themes.
I figure I can tie almost anything to a Shakespeare scene, one of the fine art works I'm familiar with, The Lord of the Rings, or the Andy Griffith show.
Posted by: Allyson | May 17, 2007 5:04 PM

Emmet, I have read your blog for about a year and responded several times. I am seriously hoping you are joking. (Maybe I can't determine the author's purpose!) But I will tell you that you can overestimate how easy you think the test will be. Like you, I had never taught ELLs and studied intensely for that part. I wasn't worried about one or two of the others. Guess what? I scored significantly higher on the ELL question and lower on teaching reading, which is what I do everyday. If it is as easy as you think, please share your scores this Nov. (or Dec. if it is like last year). Brenda NBCT 2006
Posted by: Brenda | April 30, 2007 8:17 PM

Feels great to be finished, I really just tried to refresh my memory re: the 6 types of questions to be asked. Advice:
1) Review questions they're going to ask (and released items from FCPS-NBPTS site as well as NBPTS site)
2) First thing I did in there when computer started was write list of standards from memory on scrap paper. That way if there was free time I could review list and make sure that I addressed additional standards.
3) Use the "review" key at the bottom of the screen (to make sure you addressed each of the parts of the question.) Some questions are on three different screens.
4) Wear pants with deep pockets and/or zippered pockets -- because your ID goes with you on your break and if you lose it or misplace it on break you aren't allowed back into the room to finish (all wallets, sunglasses, etc must be kept in locker.) I wore comfortable running pants with the little key pocket and on break, my ID fell out. I had only a mild PANIC attack, but found my ID before my alotted time expired -- ID fell inside my pants leg and was near my knee..... whew! -- what a stupid/horrible feeling....
Best of luck!
Kathleen Nadherny

The challenging part of the assessment center is the focus on ESOL of a couple prompts in which you analyze student responses. The responses you get to work w/ will bear no resemblance to the work quality of your actual students, so direct your efforts toward ESOL. The lit and poetry analysis prompts will be a breeze for you.
Your grace under pressure serves you well …
Stephanie Floros

Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 3:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

On this beauteous spring day, I’m sitting here in the man zone (my basement office), looking up through a casement window at a bird’s nest in the eaves of my neighbor’s roof. I’m thinking about... well, you know. The testing window is open until June 15. I have to figure out when to shimmy through before it slams shut. I’m having a hard time getting psyched to go do it-- I wonder if anyone else out there is feeling the same sense of ennui?

The assessment center seems anticlimactic, in a way, after the portfolio. Much as I cursed the process going through, I can’t deny that it was all about what was going on in and around my classroom. Somehow, the test center seems removed from that. It feels like a speed typing test.

This is a dangerous attitude, I know (I’m not cavalier, just toasted). Lord knows, I want to do as well as I can on the written test, at least well enough to get over the hump. A colleague of mine who certified last year has already blotted the math from his mind, but swears that it was the assessment section that was his saving grace.

I went back into the bible for motivation, and found this section on scoring:
For the Early Adolescence/ English Language Arts certificate, the weights are set at 16 percent for each of the three classroom-based portfolio entries, 12 percent for the Documented Accomplishments entry, and 6.67 percent for each of the six assessment center exercises. (EA/ELA 2006 pg 35)

In other words, 60 percent of the grade was in the portfolio. And 40 percent is still to be determined. My colleague was right; that’s a hefty chunk. It seems disproportionate. My year of blood, sweat and videotape versus one day of fast typing is hardly commensurate with a 3:2 ratio.

The rationale for this might be similar to the reasons the International Baccalaureate program, in which I used to teach English, weights the end of course essay tests far more heavily than the two papers written during the course. I remember never wanting to tell kids, during the months that they slaved over the lengthy literary analysis, that these papers were ultimately only worth 15 percent of the grade or so. We teachers saw the value in having the kids write the papers, even if the value wasn’t officially recognized. The bottom line for IB: the papers weren’t as “secure” as the test. There was no way of knowing how much a kid’s teacher had helped him, or how, on a 1500-word typed paper. But given the relative security of a testing environment, the evaluators could be pretty sure those hand-scrawled documents were kids’ own work.

So, does NBPTS not trust us? It’s the only conclusion I can draw based on the disparate weights of the portfolio and the assessment center. I’m not taking it personally, mind you. Standardized testing is what it is: certain measures are pragmatic, and must be taken when attempting to measure the achievement of tens of thousands of anonymous individuals.

The only other option I can conceive is worse: NBPTS doesn’t trust itself. The seemingly skewed weight of the two elements could be a tacit admission that portfolio scoring is more subjective than essay scoring. That’s a scary thought.

Maybe, as usual, I’m being too cynical. The 60/40 split might be a charitable way of giving differently-gifted candidates a chance to succeed. Some of us shine on tape; some perform best under the pressure of a timed writing.

Where does this leave me, little old Candidate # 011something-or-other? Pretty much back where I started this post. Staring out my window as wrens flit about, wondering when to go and get this thing over with.

Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 4:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Let me set test prep aside to share some exciting news. The dugout canoe that my 10th graders have been working on all year is about to hit the water: we launch from the banks of Mount Vernon at 10 am on May 30. As well as being the centerpiece of our Humanities curriculum, loyal readers will recall that the canoe was a big part of Entry 4 in my portfolio. Most recently, I mentioned a spring break overnight where we cooked cobbler in dutch ovens on The Flaming Canoe as students scraped away with sharpened oyster shells (April 8,2007).

I only wish I could have somehow included in my final portfolio the very cool Fairfax County-produced news segment currently running on Red Apple TV, or the now nearly finished website that our students designed to document the process.

This summer, we look forward to displaying the canoe and the students’ work on the National Mall at the 41st Smithsonian Folk Life Festival, June 27-July 8, 2007. The cherry on top? A student-designed t-shirt is in the works, to be worn proudly on casual Fridays for years to come.

Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 8:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I tried a practice prompt. On the advice of my loyal entry reader, Stephanie, I chose one related to English Language Learners. Those are the trickiest, she warns.

The trial run, below, was based on a transcription and writing sample from a (probably Hispanic) student who had read Tom Sawyer. Instead of composing in word, I used an online simulation set up by Patrick Ledesma, an FCPS National Board coach, who’s set up a tri-pane display with a timer on the bottom to give you a feel for the real thing.

I found that jumping from box to box and scrolling took more time than I thought. In fact, I didn’t finish. Below is what I managed in exactly thirty minutes. And boy was it fun. For your best marble and a horny toad, I’ll even let you take a turn. Candidates like me should go to Pat’s site for practice. Already NBCT’s are invited to comment with words of wisdom for us wannabes before we take the test for real.

Continue reading "Painting a Fence" »

Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 4:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

The final test consists of six essay questions, a half hour for each. That’s three hours of intense concentration at the keyboard. I’m going to have to get in shape to tackle this.

Fortunately, the NBPTS website provides “exercises” to help candidates prepare for the assessment center. Copied below is the text from an NBPTS guide (in italics), followed by my comments. Next week, I will turn to the “retired prompts.” For now, let me get tired the first time.

Exercise 1: Literary Analysis
Teachers will analyze the connection between literary devices and meaning. They will be
asked to read a poem, discuss theme and effect, and use details from the poem to show
how identified literary devices affect the text.

Literary interpretation? I do this to kids all the time. But seriously, “How does it make you feel?” are two questions that I consider the one truly original contribution I’ve made to the teaching profession (“But that’s only one question, Mr R!” someone yells at this point.)

To which I reply, “No… it’s two.” First: How does it make you FEEL? Second: HOW does it make you feel? In other words, literary interpretation is based first on a reader’s genuine response to the text; from that, one can attempt to describe how the author manipulated text to inspire the emotional response.

Exercise 2: Universal Themes
Teachers will demonstrate the ability to analyze and understand text. They will be asked
to read a prose selection, determine the theme, and relate it to the human condition. They
will also select a nonprint text and connect it to both the passage and the theme.

I can do this in my students' sleep. Just today I spent two long periods with tenth graders discussing themes in Frankenstein. In a passage from Chapter 7 that resonates eerily after the Tech massacre, Victor Frankenstein expresses abhorrence over “the being [he] had cast among mankind and endowed with the will and power to effect purposes of horror…”. What void must the shooter’s family feel now, I wonder? I don't think this is the sort of nonprint text I should use on the test.

Exercise 3: Teaching Reading
Teachers will show their knowledge of the reading process and ability to analyze student
reading. They will be asked to read a passage, a student prompt, and a student response,
and to determine the reasons for misconceptions in the reading. Teachers will also
provide strategies to correct the misconceptions.

Smells like grading a paper. I wonder if I can bring one from the stack on my desk, and kill two birds with one stone.

Exercise 4: Language Study
Teachers will demonstrate an understanding of language study and ability to determine
patterns in a student's language development. They will be asked to read a second
language learner's oral and written response to a prompt, analyze patterns, and provide
strategies to further develop that student's language.

This one is obviously geared to teaching ELLs (English Language Learners), a population I haven’t worked with formally since they were called ESL (English as a Second Language). The acronyms change, but I still remember fondly how a unit on writing business letters with ninth graders turned into a year-long project during which we obtained over fifty flags to hang in the school library.

Exercise 5: Analysis of Writing
Teachers will demonstrate an understanding of audience and purpose in writing and an
ability to analyze techniques authors employ to make a passage effective. They will be
asked to read a non-fiction passage, discuss audience and purpose, and analyze
techniques that make the piece effective for the audience and purpose.

Funny, I was just talking to a group of teachers last night at FCPS’s 16th Annual Teacher Researcher Conference about this very topic. I was trying to drum up business for the writing-project sponsored course I hope to teach this summer for George Mason. The class will help teacher-researchers and others write for publication to an audience and in a form of their choice. A young teacher-researcher might want to present her findings to colleagues on her grade level team in the form of a workshop; a more accomplished teacher may decide to craft an article for the English Journal to promote best practices across the profession.

Exercise 6: Teaching Writing
Teachers will show an understanding of the writing process. They will be asked to read a
student response, identify and discuss weaknesses, and provide strategies for correction.

And I thought this was going to make me break a sweat.

Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 4:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I promised to write about the released test questions this week, but like for everyone around here, banal concerns have been washed away in the swirling wake of the Virginia Tech tragedy.

We all made it through our week somehow, alternating between voyeuristic horror and self-preserving denial according to our natures and how psychically linked we were to Blacksburg. TJ, the high tech high where I teach, was awash in maroon and orange and the awareness that so many of our own were close to the epicenter.

The same sense of family that humanized New Yorkers after 9-11 has drawn strangers together in the aftermath of this calendar-marking day. While sharing the experience communally, each individual is struck by different aspects of it. I can’t stop thinking about the man who survived the Holocaust to die at the hands of a deranged college student.

For us educators, every school shooting is another cautionary tale. Remember that kid who used to write weird journals, one thinks. Or, what about the kid in fourth period now... I felt a chill the morning I picked up the newspaper to see the face of the shooter, followed by a jolt of self-recrimination as the dozens upon dozens of faces of anonymous Asian boys I pass in hallways every day sprang unbidden to my mind.

Another unsettling thought: “Because Cho did well in school, his mother did not seem very determined to get treatment for him,” a great-aunt of the long isolated boy recalls, quoted in Washington Post report this Saturday. The front page piece catalogs “warning signs” next to a middle school yearbook photo of a kid who looks like a million other gangly eighth graders.

Was it only his mother’s responsibility to get that treatment? “Because he did well in school.” Well enough on every test he took to move through his years of elementary and secondary education without calling much attention to himself. Well enough to get into a top engineering school. Well enough to advance, all along the way, because his problems were emotional and not academic.

In what may be the ultimate wake up call for a society obsessed with testing kids for mastery of basic skills, at some undetermined point a deviant, desperate child was left behind. And no one cared until it came to this. Somehow, it feels like we failed the most high-stakes test of all.

Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 6:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

I have nearly scaled the mountain. Last spring, from a distance, it looked imposing and majestic. After a more arduous approach to the base than anticipated, and then a harrowing series of ascents, only the exposed final pitch remains. (Note to the casual visitor: This will read a lot better if you check out my very first post, and if you’ve read Into Thin Air by John Krakauer). After two weeks in the tent, subsisting on power bars and boiled snow, I venture from my cocoon. Empty oxygen containers and the occasional frozen corpse litter the landscape…

Okay, enough Walter Mitty (although it has gotten me this far). To complete the National Board process, now that my four-entry portfolio has been submitted, I must take a six question day-long test at a computer testing center sometime before June. What will the test cover?

The NBPTS website offers a 36-slide online tutorial, complete with a number line along the bottom to tell you where you are in the lesson. Let me save you a trip.

• Slide 3 shows a screen that tells me how to move a mouse and scroll.

• Slide 4 makes me swear on a stack of bibles that I won’t tell what was on the test.

• Slide 6 shows the 3-pane screen: directions, prompt, typing box.

• Slide 11 tells me what keys I can use when I type (I think they just forgot qwerty…).

• Slide 13 tells me that little messages will pop up as I type.

• Slide 16 says the u-turn button at lower left is to review my work.

• Slide 18 talks about the timer that counts down from 30 minutes with every question.

• Slides 19-21 talk about a calculator only math folks will use.

Now that I’ve learned to use the testing tools, the tutorial gets into the nitty-gritty. I hope.

• Slide 24 tells me I can have a 15 minute break after 3 questions. Note to self: pee first.

• Slides 25-27 are directions about directions.

• Slide 29 reveals, if I click a little box to magnify… a prompt! “Describe a contextualized learning activity…”. A lesson?

• Slide 32 depicts the screen with a little red stop sign that I’ll see at the end of the test.

• Slide 34 asks me to complete a “Candidate Exit Evaluation.” Nothing in his test became him like the leaving it.

• Slide 36 thanks me for completing the tutorial. And I thank you for completing this post.

As a reward, I will wait until next week to review the assessment exercises and “retired prompts” down-loaded from the web site. Until then, stay warm. I’m off to count my carabineers.

Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 2:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Or, Spring Break's Sprung.

Nearly a month ago, I wrote about putting one foot in front of the other as I trudged through Entry One ("Day by Day", March 10). Here is another week-in-the-life now that I’m done with the portfolio, to show how much lighter my step has become. While there’s not much about National Board per se, Tuesday’s overnight trip was a memorable stage in the canoe project I wrote about for Entry Four.

Sunday
Ran 10 miles along Rock Creek Parkway with 18,000 like-minded souls during the 35th annual Cherry Blossom Classic (and walked another six to and from various metro stops).

Monday
Took two-year old Will to historical Oxon Hill Farm on a glorious morning and fed an entire bag of carrots to a couple tired old horses whose knees looked as sore as mine.

Tuesday
Cooked cobbler in Dutch ovens on a flaming canoe at George Washington’s Mount Vernon with a full moon overhead as a gaggle of tenth graders pack Potomac clay on the downwind wall to control the rate of the burn.

Wednesday
Sneaked into a ghost school to knock off end of quarter grading I’d put off while finishing Entry One. Rewarded myself with a trip to the fishing store in Arlington to buy a sinking line for my fly rod.

Thursday
Went shad fishing on the Potomac River at Fletcher’s Cove, a storied hot spot for the spring run of this migratory fish, only to find myself in a circle of hell Dante forgot to write about: a guy twenty feet down the bank from me caught a fish every fourth cast while I got skunked.

Friday
Start in on punchlist items including hanging a shed door and cleaning up the long-neglected yard. Cap off the industrious morning on the sun-washed back deck with an after-lunch nap over the New Yorker.

Saturday
Woke up the morning before Easter to a surreal snow-scape, crocuses covered with a delicate dusting of surprise April powder. Painting trim in the house carries the theme inside and completes the “Honey-Do” list.

Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 7:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)