What does SSI stand for, anyway?

April, sweet, April.  

While most teachers are breathing a collective sigh of sweet relief that testing is finally over, I'm gearing up for another intense round of S.S.I., or Student Success Initiative to the uninitiated.  It really is my favorite time of year but also the toughest.  

In Texas, 8th graders must pass the STAAR Reading test to be eligible to move on to high school.  In most years, they must also pass the math, but thanks to some shifty-shifts in the state standards, math is off the hook this year.  My friends A & R are very happy about this stroke of luck.  So am I, come to think about it, since I don't have to try to remediate around math's intervention schedule. (IOW, we can do what's best, not just what's most convenient.)  It also means that student who failed both tests won't have to spend literally their entire test day in intervention.  You can imagine what that does for morale.  

Phase 1:

Of course the first step of SSI is notification. Our student notification process is admittedly a bit complicated, involving a holding room, grade level teachers, an inclusion teacher, two intervention specialists, and the counselor, not to mention the APs who were calling parents.  We explain their results, tell them what to expect for the immediate future, let them ask questions, & hand them a summer school application.  That's right: if they are unsuccessful a second time, then they are heading to summer school.  We're not worrying about that yet.  They are assigned a small intervention group and told they won't be in a few of their classes for the next two weeks.   

The Demographics:

A few of them thought they were in some sort of trouble receiving a discipline action. Several are no strangers to the principal's office for tardies, absenteeism, disrespectful behavior or classroom disruptions.  Ultimately, they were happy to be out of class and caused a ruckus in the holding room.  A few kids in this group come from unspeakable circumstances, so the results of this test rank right up there with the ozone layer in terms of the "I couldn't care less" radar.  Others have no parental support, no bedtime, no one telling them to go to school, no one making sure they take their meds.  No one to be disappointed. 

A few were crestfallen even emotional.  Too sad to even talk. They knew they struggled, but they'd hoped that just maybe they had eeked out a passing grade.  Now their hopes for the summer and beyond were put on hold.  Some kids in this group have parents who expect great things for them, who make plans for vacations that may now have to be postponed, who have best friends who are "gifted and talented" and receive academic awards.  They feel as though they have disappointed everyone.

The largest group of them knew why they were there.  They'd had been in an intervention class for years. We weren't telling them anything they didn't already know. They are Special Ed students who have never passed in the six years they've been taking standardized tests.  They are the immigrant students who came from tiny impoverished schools and whose time in the country could easily be calculated in months, not years, but still are expected to take and pass the exact same test.  They are the ESL-lifers who try, really try, but just can't shake the label.  They're not disappointed because this is who they've come to believe they are.  

What's next?

Bright and early Monday morning, small groups of frustrated eighth graders will trickle down to my little corner of the school and begin a regimen of intervention.  I've picked the absolutely best partner teacher whose expertise perfectly complements my own. We've been given top-notch support staff who bring both energy and experience.  I've got a principal who loves kids first and lets everything else come second. I've got administrators who trust me to do what's best for kids. They haven't saddled me with any unreasonable expectations or forced a workbook down their throats.  I've got a school full of teachers who are writing personalized letters to each student and not compounding the problem by forcing them to make up the work they're missing. I've got a team who have shared their own lessons with me on top of their regular responsibilities and who put up with a fair bit of inconvenience to accommodate this intervention, and still their response is just, "What else to you need?" Yes, I feel very lucky.  

This weekend, I'm gearing up, as I have been in my mind for weeks.  I'm bringing my A-Game: I'm busting out the smelly markers, the personalized folders, the PINK Starbursts, the music, the picture books, the literacy centers, the videos, the rolly chairs, the comfy couches, the technology, the stickers, the novel choices, the puppets and the brain breaks.  But mostly, I'm bringing the positive; I'm bringing the relationships; I'm bringing the engagement.  Maybe, we can bring back that swagger.