A Day of Testing

It is night. Darkness has long since enveloped the teeming household. At irregular intervals, sleeping bodies stir restlessly at the sound of odd thumps and bangings. Hush! O Tossing Ones. It is only the annoying vents in the roof, catching the whimsical wind of the Iowa plains.

From out of a fitful slumber, an incessant beeping is heard. A smoke alarm gone awry after months of inactivity? A hapless mouse, caught in a less than hapless trap? A nuclear device, set to detonate in less than two minutes, awaiting a superMa's intervention?

Alas, it is only the alarm clock. Time to arise and stumble to the shower.

It is the long awaited DAY OF TESTING. *ominous music*

Through darkened halls, a mother treads on noiseless size nine-and-a-half (wide) feet, quietly tapping on doors, and murmuring those dreaded words, "It is time!"

Time to quietly creep out of bed. Time to search for the clothes, neatly laid out the night before. Time for the unfortunate, "Please don’t do that again!" movement of a squeaky door, which unintentionally awakens two very young lads. Young lads whose sleep-deprived-dark-natures have been lying dormant, waiting. Waiting for such a time as this.

Dark is the sky. Dark is the kitchen. Dark, indeed, is the mood of the Ma who says, "Great! Now the little boys will be wiped out for the rest of the day...." Being the ever attentive maman, she leaves them to their own devices, snuggled amidst mounds of blankets on the couch.

Breakfast is eaten. Writing utensils are assembled. Jackets are donned. As the party of five walks out the door, the mother solemnly offers one last bit of sage advice, "Remember, O Progenous Ones, fill in the circles neatly, but quickly. Focus, concentrate, and relax. The fact that this will be a huge reflection on me should not even enter your minds."

Shaking off the fog of lost sleep, Ma drives with amazing skill and determination. She must arrive early, but not too early. She must display confidence, despite the conflicting directions from Internet and human sources. With grace, nay aplomb, she pulls into the parking lot, swerving suddenly across one lane of traffic. (But it was OK, 'cause no one was coming, and, by the way, the Internet was wrong) Her children are mute with admiration. Well, she's pretty sure it's admiration. They are mute, anyway.

Inside: tables, chairs, and helpful adults offering directions. Other testers wait, in silence. Little tremulous looks are shared back and forth between parent and child, between child and child, between chair and child.

Room assignments. Walking and standing in line. A nervous 4th grader clings to Ma's hand. The mother signs the fateful sheet of paper. Name, address, school district. Will the relentless mental gymnastics never cease?

Time to say goodbye. A quick kiss, a squeeze of the hand. It will be three hours before loved ones meet again.

Best to make a clean break. No looking back.

Be firm.

Be strong.

Besides,

it's---time----to-----go---------SHOPPING!

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