I
hate empty hallways. The feel, the sounds, and the way your footsteps echo down
the hall. Staying after school was another thing I hated doing. I felt like I
was a failure, that I wasn’t good enough. I told lies, and hid the fact of where
I was going from my friends. I was ashamed and felt like I wasn’t good enough.
It was November 2000. I was in the eighth grade. In October, we had to take a
reading assessment test. It was a test designed to discover what reading level
you currently read at.
“Today
we will take the reading test, please sit down and take your seat and take out
your number 2 pencil.” Mrs. Edmonson was my favorite teacher. I hated what she
taught, but she was my favorite teacher because she didn’t just teach English,
she made it fun. We played games, and acted out stories to help us better
understand what we were reading.
I
sat down in my desk and thought to myself how stupid this test was going to be.
I was a great reader. I read every night before bed, the library was my second
home. I knew most of the librarians and where any section was. I was like a
14-year-old librarian.
“How
do you think you did?” I turned my head and looked at my friend Kimberly. She
was just a little bit shorter than I was, and her hair was approximately 10
different shades of brown. She had just moved here from Tomah , Wisconsin
“I
know I did really well! I can’t wait to see my reading level is, if I had to
guess, I’d say I have the reading level of a tenth grader.” I told her in my
snottiest tone. Kimberly laughed.
“I’m
thinking freshman in college.”
“Oh,
high ambitions. I’m so proud.” We continued down the hall toward our math class.
Two
weeks, that’s what it took. I was talking with my friends in English while we
waited impatiently for Mrs. Edmonson to arrive. She walked into the room with a
stack of papers
“I
have here your results for the reading test, when I call out your name please
come up and get your test.” She started calling out names in alphabetic order.
Kim got hers first since her last name started with a B, and I had to wait till
halfway through for my last name to come up. She read over her paper and
started laughing. She had guessed right.
“Told
you, freshmen in college, that’s my reading level, I’m so smart” I laughed at
her; she could be so mean but nice at the same time. She turned back to her
paper and continued looking over her scores. Kim was an English freak so of
course she had a high reading level. Finally Mrs. Edmonson called my name. I
took it from her and looked down the paper till I found what I was looking for.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It couldn’t be right. Fourth grade; I had
the reading level of a fourth grader. Kim nudged me and asked me what I got. I
didn’t hear her at first; I was too busy thinking of all the possible reasons
why I had such a low score. It had to be wrong. There was no way I could have
gotten this score.
“Come
on Eva, I told you what I got.” I turned to her and plastered a fake smile on
my face.
“I
did better. Senior in high school, that’s pretty good right.” She laughed and
turned her attention back to the teacher. I felt horrible for lying to her, but
it wasn’t like I was about to admit that I had the same reading level as my
eight-year old brother. All I could do was stare at my paper. Finally the bell
signaling the end of class rang. I stood up and grabbed my books and started to
head out the door.
“Eva
can I see you a moment.” I looked up at Mrs. Edmonson. She knew about my score,
and she wanted to talk about it, I could see it on her face.
“Uh,
Kim I’ll meet you in Math, don’t be late.” She nodded and headed out of the
room. I really didn’t want Mrs. Edmonson to yell at me for being stupid, but I
waited till the last person left the room. She sat in her chair and told me
what was going to happen.
“Eva
I’m sorry to say that your reading level isn’t where it should be. After
talking to your parents this afternoon, we decided it would be best to enroll
you in an after school reading program. This program is designed for students
who, like you, don’t have reading level that is consist with where they should
be.” After-school reading program, they had to be kidding. That was for dumb
people, I wasn’t dumb. All I could do was stare at her. “The program meets
three times a week for two hours after school. You are required to attend every
meeting unless Mr. Trolander is notified ahead of time that you will not be attending.
Do you understand?” I couldn’t even nod my head in agreement. She gave me a
permission slip for my parents to sign, and information about where and when.
She then handed me a hallway pass so I wouldn’t be counted tardy for math.
Three
days a week for two hours. That was like torture. Nobody should be subjected to
that kind of cruel and unusual punishment. The group was to first meet in the
cafeteria. Our cafeteria was located in the basement of the school. The
basement was mostly just lockers, the industrial technology rooms, and the
swimming pool. I hated this place; a couple of the lights were always out, and
it was just creepy. The walls were all white, and the floor was this ugly tan
tile that had so many skid marks it didn’t look tan anymore. When I rounded the
corner I saw about 15 students sitting at random table in the cafeteria. I also
saw Mr. Trolander. He was about 5’10”, he had an entire head of gray hair and
probably hasn’t gained any weight since he was in high school. He was in his late
50s. I walked up to him. He asked my name and when I told him, he marked it
down on his spreadsheet. I handed him my permission slip and then proceeded to
find a seat.
For
the next three weeks I attended this after-school reading program. It was beyond
boring. Finally, at the last meeting we had to retake the reading test. I
didn’t feel any smarter, or that I had changed as a reader at all. We had to
make appointments with Mr. Trolander, so that when the results came back we
could go over the test with him, and he could show us where we improved and
where we didn’t.
The
day of my meeting I walked into his classroom. He was at a desk waiting for me.
I sat down across from him. He handed me a piece of paper with a number
circled.
“You
improved your reading level by four grades. You’re at the normal level.” He
smiled at me. All I could do was stare at the paper I couldn’t believe it. I
didn’t feel like I improved at all. I looked up from my paper. “You didn’t that
you changed at all did you?”
“No,
I didn’t think I learned at all so why does the test say I did?” He handed me a
hallway pass and smiled.
“It’s
one of those mysteries of life.” I shook my head and walked out the door, and I
mumbled to myself.
“I
hate mysteries.”
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