SATs

SATs.

It's one little word (OK it's an acronym - standardised assessment tasks). And yet it can strike fear into lots people.

The young. Especially UK children in Key Stage 1 (7 ish) & Key Stage 2 (11 ish).

And adults. Teachers. Head teachers. TA's. And parents.

<Sighs>

Team Parent (yay!)

Have the questionable good fortune or having both Boy10 and Miss7 sitting there SATs pretty much at the same.

Different schools and all that. Different Key stages blah blah.

But both around the same time.

(OK Vegeta you've made your point...

<Is charging power levels>

Elegant as it is, now hear my rebuttal...

Kame-HAME-HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

<Orders new black board>)

There's very little stress around Miss7's.

They're call them quizzes not exams/tests. No one says the S word around them. They were told they are VIPs so that if they need a wee an adults comes with them, like celebrities.

Sweet huh.

Then they have a big play afterwards and do something special with the children.

Good for them. Good for the school. Good for the teachers.

That makes me glad. It feels a shame to be testing seven year old's so young in their academic careers.

But if they must, they must...

Come on! Off the computer!

Boy10: 'Two minutes more?'

No, now!

Boy10: 'But I need to do this...'

Not need, you mean want. You want to do something in the game.

Whereas I am telling you not to, and asking you nicely to ... OH NO! GET THAT GUY! YEAH HIM!

SHOOT SHOOT! NO! UP-UP!!! MOVE OVER!

<We spend some lovely father son time together... killing stuff>

I'm not entirely sure Miss7 knows.

She is sitting SATs at all. She may. But it's not worth the conversation to find out if she is.

I don't remember my SATs. BigBrother#2 says that is because I never sat them. Which is probably right.

It was an awful long time ago. Paleolithic at least.

Yet I do remember some variety of government run tests that we all sat. In class. In silence. When I was about seven.

But who cares. It's in the past. It doesn't matter!

<Hits you over the head with a staff>

And at the time I do remember not caring whatsoever, as they said we would never see the results.

So why worry?

However for Boy10.

It's a totally different game. It's the difference between touch rugby at school, and over twenty one's local drunken rugby.

One is kind and caring and respectful about each player on the pitch, and just wants the best for all in involved.

The other... well we all expect injuries.

And Boy10 may well be one of those that gets mullered to the floor and has studded boots applied to his face in the name of national testing.

Quite a picture I'm painting I know...

Are you done yet? <Is sat as a still life (fully clothed) model, with cuppa>

Miss7: 'Nearly' <Is painting>

It's been ages... I've a numb bum... <Sips on tea>

Miss7: 'DON'T MOVE!'

<Sips and gives Miss7 a look>

Miss7: 'Just be cool... .I am nearly finished...' <Huge enthusiastic brush strokes going on>

Miss7: '... nearly...' <Paint spraying everywhere>

Miss7: 'And done!'

Really? <Goes to get up, falls of chair> Ow.

<Gets up> Let's have a look then?

Miss7: 'TADA!' <Reveals her masterpiece>

Oh... You've painted a rainbow... A brilliant rainbow! It's brilliant!

Miss7: <Is proud>

...

One question though...

How long after you asked me to pose for you, did you give up on that and just paint a rainbow?

Miss7: 'Almost instantly'

I see...

<Limps off grumbling>

It's complex.

Why I think this may muller Boy10. It's to do with him as a person, how he reacts to things. What his personal values are. And his particular skills.

There's three key parts to his SATs: reading; Grammar, Punctuation and Spelling; and Mathematics.

And one of those he is rocking at. There is no worries at all.

The other two... er... well there's a difference.

And in many ways that's fine.

Except.

For Boy10 that is not fine. He likes being good at stuff. It's important to him.

I blame myself. That's very much how I am wired. It has benefits and pitfalls. Like most things.

So for Boy10, all of a sudden, he's being tested and the results are not expected. By him. By Team Parent (yay!) and his teachers.

And whilst all us adults think about what to do. What he could practice, how to move him forward.

Boy10's confidence in his skills is taking a knocking.

Quite a wallop actually.

Which isn't good.

I find it pretty frustrating.

Because I think these tests and results count for naff all to do with Boy10.

Whatever results he gets will be fed back to the teachers, the heads, the guv. And they will record the values and check the school is working as expected. Which all sounds quite reasonable.

Except that at some point Boy10 will given the results.

Or we'll be given the results and can decide for him. Which isn't much solution either. Hiding them sends the same negative message.

Does he really need to know?

In September.

When Boy10 starts secondary school. He will sit more tests. This time set by the school to find where he is in his learning. So the new school can put him into the right skills groups. Fair enough.

Apparently they will ignore the SATs results for everything (except the maths results which they will use).

So why test them twice? Tests are not fun.

<Looks at you quizzically>

I know.

There's good reasons why. Well I hope there are. I'm sure there are... <Isn’t all that sure>

But right now, for Team Parent (yay!), it's not quite adding up.

I'm sure they know what they are doing. I know for sure the teachers have his best interests in mind.

And weirdly knocks like this can sometimes make you stronger, and chase off demons.

So it may be a blessing in disguise.

But right now we've a Boy10 with anxiety.

And that's not good.

(Back foul demon BACK!

<Throws holly water>

It’s not working… OH NO! He's smiling!!!

RUUUUUUUUN!!!!!)

Anyhoo...

Team Parent (yay!) have a plan.

We discussed. We decided. And made a plan of how best to support him.

We didn't totally agree on this. Which is fine. Mixed opinions can be best sometimes.

But we're going with loving support and huge encouragement. Which is hard to argue against as an approach.

Who doesn't want that?

I reckon we use the Convincing Hammer?

Mrs. Amazing: 'No. Love and support'

Coercion Pliers?

Mrs. Amazing: 'No! Love etc...'

Behaviour Altering Rake?

Mrs. Amazing: <Sighs> 'I'm going to bed, come up when you're done with the great jokes...'

Mind Manipulating Mallet? <Calls after Mrs. Amazing>

Screwdriver of Submission?

[Hours pass]

... er... Hole Punch of Practical Persuasion...

Knowing the plan is loving support.

I've done my best to talk to him about the SATs in a calm and supportive manner.

Never saying they matter for nothing, even if I think that, as that doesn't help. Boy10 still has to sit them.

I've done my best to remove failure as a result. Results are just results, you cannot fail.

We just want him to do his best.

(Baring in mind his best includes being prepared and ready for the tests, so he's had extra practice at home with Mrs. Amazing).

The other morning.

I asked him if his tests started today. He said yes.

Knowing it was my moment to lay the support, and love, on thick. I cooked him a warrior's breakfast: Bacon sarnie.

And generally pampered him. Laughed at his jokes, listened to endless computer game anecdotes. Basically flirted with him. Which is a weird thought.

And then just as he was about to leave for school I took my chance and went for the supportive pep talk.

I basically hugged / picked him up and told him I was proud of him. Talked him up a lot.

And did my utter best to be supportive of the SATs, for him.

A tough task for me in the morning.

Normally you just get grunts, or song.

Then Mrs. Amazing walked into the kitchen.

And pointed out the SATs didn't start for another week.

...

<Gives Boy10 a look>

Upon hearing this new information.

I rugby tackled Boy10 to the floor and squeezed a fair bit of air out of him.

There was much giggling from all.

Mrs. Amazing commented that the tackle would a better send off for his first day of SATs.

As it was tension breaking, fun, and close physical contact from his Dad.

Especially when you compared the positive benefits of a tackle, against my pep talk.

I concluded Mrs. Amazing had a point.

<Rubs hands ready to splat Boy10 properly next week>

In tribute for Boy10 who's just about to delve into the world of SATs.

I gave you a homeless man miming Queen and David Bowie's Under Pressure with not one, but two Kermit frogs. Yes I know, what a cliché tribute.

To me the lyrics seem apt and seem to speak to me directly, 'Mm ba ba de' and 'Um bum ba de'. <Pauses to let them sink in>

Wise words I think you'll agree.

And everyone needs to see this man with Kermit puppets being awesome.

You'll be fine Boy10.

<Whispers we believe in you>

Mrs. Amazing: 'Why're you whispering?'

For drama... <Does Jazz hands>

X

Take it away you puppeteering genius...

Secondary School Hunting and Genius Mrs. Amazing...

OMB!

Secondary school is looming.

Boy10 and Team Parent (yay!) have already started looking around secondary schools.

His days at primary school already dwindling.

My little boy is about to start getting bigger a lot quicker.

Boy10: 'Why am I in a box?'

<Sat on the box> You are in a box, to help you stop growing up anymore!

Boy10: 'OK. That's seems a responsible, albeit extreme, response and plan to stop me growing up'

Boy10: 'Kind of touching really...'

Glad you think so...

...

Hang on! STOP BEING MATURE IN THERE!

<Bangs on box>

Stop growing up!!!

(Right that’s your daily minute… Get those hands back in the box…)

Due to the unique way our local schools work.

They have all have decided that two weeks into the Boy10's final year of primary school (I believe it is for all children, not just Boy10). During the evenings. That! is when they should have all their Open Evenings.

Which feels a bit mean on us parents who have just adjusted to everyone being back at school again, after the summer holidays.

And are finding the ropes a bit slimy and rotten, and keep tripping over them.

And on the children who are in new years, new classes, getting used to everything and then being dragged out late (for them) at night to see secondary schools.

But hey ho.

Pawns that we are.

<Swims for it>

Off we went to the first school.

A probably-not-going-to-go-to school a bit too far away. That is an Academy (sponsored by a business) and strive for excellence.

Well they all do. It's just during the talk they said that about a million times.

And did you know the results they got last year? I do. Verbatim. Over and over they said it.

One of the best in the county!

So... not the best though.

We obv. were late getting there.

A mix of traffic and we left late. Skills.

We did hope to catch the 6:30 talk. We made the 7:30 talk. Which was lucky for us.

But I do feel sorry for school staff and kids that had to endure the same talk three times.

I barely made it through one. I did manage to find a canteen and get a round of teas in. And then giggled away with some friends all the way through the whole talk.

Really showing Boy10 how to behave.

The school was full of first years.

Which I think in new money you call year 7. Or for simples, the kids were eleven.

The year 7's were there to walk us around the place. Answer any questions. Be the hosts as far as I could tell.

Yet as they were year 7's that meant they had only been at the school two weeks...

So... <Thinking of something to ask> ... er...

In the two weeks you've been at this school, what has been your highlight so far?

Year7: 'We got yesterday off to make up for being here tonight!'

I see... <Gives Mrs. Amazing look>

... interesting...

Why don't they fill the school with fifth years?

Er... year 11's... (sixteen year olds) children that have been there a long time?

Are they worried what they might say?

And what's has been your highlight so far?

Year 11: 'The fire'

What fire?

Year 11: 'The fire when all the children rebelled against the odious teachers regime and rose up and took back our freedom!!!'

Year 11: <Breaks out into Vive Le Enfants>

<Entire room of children start singing along>

<Team Parent (yay!) quietly back off>

(Vive)

Still it was a nice evening.

We didn't get back until nine in the evening. Which meant Boy10 was pretty nuts and wired for bedtime. Funsies.

But it was good to show Boy10 what a secondary school looks like.

Obv. he loved the science labs as they were setting stuff on fire. Making stuff explode. Magnets. Lasers. Death rays etc...

All excellent stuff.

Open night for Science teaches must be a doddle. They merely have open their big books of 'Awesome showoff experiments' and choose.

I feel sympathy for the R.E. teachers. The geography teachers. The languages...

GeogTeacher: 'And this rock is blue'

<Silence from the crowd>

GeogTeacher: 'And forty billions years old! Oooo!'

<Silence from the crowd>

[BOOM from the science labs]

<All the adults check their watches and start shuffling out>

GeogTeacher: 'Er.. and this rock is green... No wait... that's the same rock...'

<Everyone runs>

Maths and computing knew what they were doing too.

Robots out in the computer labs. Roboting about. Cool.

Fun puzzles in the maths rooms. Really. Fun ones. With sweets as taking part prizes. Boy10 got well involved with those.

I'm pretty sure sweets from teacher wasn't something that happened too often whilst I was at Secondary school.

Maybe they did. It was three four millennia ago.

So every week. Ish.

There is now a school Open Evening to attend. Until the end of October, when we have to decide which school we want. And submit our forms.

Which is pretty hard core planning ahead for me. I was hoping we could do it a week before we start.

Mrs. Amazing: <Shakes head at me>

And each Open Evening means we need a babysitter.

But that can't be helped. It would be hard to get time off work to go during the day. And then the schools really should be teaching stuff. Not trying to woo us.

And woo us is really what they were doing. It was a bit strange.

Like they wanted us to buy into their vision.

Meh.

We already know neuftyneufy percent which school Boy10 will go to.

As he will be able to walk there. Which is a huge bonus for Team Parent (yay!).

We would only have two monkeys to deliver in the mornings.

And because...

...

...

well

...

...

we know which school we want... <Shuffles foot on the ground>

... and that the school is OK and checks out with us.

Because. Mrs. Amazing is an evil genius.

Last year.

When all secondary school thoughts were a clear year and a bit away. Mrs. Amazing made a genius suggestion. As the school we most want to see is last to have their Open Evening. Which would give us very little time to decide.

Why don't we just... er... sneak along to their Open Evening a year early. They are ‘Open Evenings’?

<Is gobsmacked and impressed>

(Me and Mrs. Amazing…

Hang on! Does that make me Pinky??? WHAT!!!

<Mulls it over>

Suppose it's better than bald, fat, old man...
<Gives Boy10 a look>)

Which is what we did.

Now we get to see all the other ‘maybe’ schools already knowing what our favourite is like! #Win

And we get to check up on the school two years in a row. In case it was a fluke first time. #WinWin

Genius (Mrs. Amazing is) (not me) (I’m pink).

X