Chapter II

"These tests are going to label us!" said Mrs. Butterberry.

"Worse! These tests are going to label all the children!" said Mrs. Quacknbush.

"We will all be grouped and averaged and categorized!" said Mrs. Worrywort.

"Then will come the comparative charts and graphs for higher! Better! More!

"This is the death of the 'teachable moment'!" declared Mrs. Butterberry.

"GASPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!" said all the teachers, grabbing for their hearts.

A moment of silence began as all teachers knew what the 'teachable moment' was and how dear to the heart of every teacher it is. No more 'following the wonder'. No more 'teachable moments'. It was a dark vision of the future, indeed.

"Oh dear! Oh dear! Whatever shall we do??" wailed all the teachers.

"What are 'tests'? " asked the children, for they had no idea what anyone was talking about.

"Oh you poor babies! Oh! We forgot that you don't even know how it used to be. Testing was before your time." The teachers shook their heads and sat down to explain.

Mrs. Butterberry began. "Long, long ago when we were very young teachers, in the last Kingdom, there was a ruling that every child going through a school each year in that Kingdom had to be tested to see how much they knew.

"And so, as good and obedient teachers, we did just that. (We were too young to know any better.) But, every year, the King of that Kingdom said that the scores were not high enough; he said that there were other kingdoms that had higher scores; he wanted us to have the highest of all scores!" Mrs. Butterberry took out her handkerchief to blow her nose.

"Was that good?" asked the children.

"No," said Mrs. Butterberry, "that was not good."

"Soon, we spent most of every day doing something that would make test scores higher or better or more," said Mrs. Quacknbush.

"But isn't it good to see how much you know?" asked Rosetta Maria who was 8 years old.

"Oh my child, what is really important to know cannot be measured by tests of pencil and paper," said another teacher sadly.

"Education is all about 'following the wonder' of an idea, said Mrs. Butterberry.

"Following the wonder is the most important thing we can teach you to do," said Mrs. Quacknbush.

"No one has a right to test what you wonder about," whispered Mrs. Worrywort.

"'Following the wonder' and the 'teachable moment' are like two sides of a coin, the same coin," said a young teacher. "And that coin is yours, forever."

"Besides, what you want to know isn't what Eduardo or Karen wants to know. Plus, what Eduardo or Karen wants to know is not what Juan or Chantelle wants to know," said a third teacher. The children all nodded their heads in understanding.

"All a teacher can do is peel away layers of untruth and find truth, and then, you students take it from there."

Mrs. Butterberry continued, "Education is not like making a cake, trying to make the biggest, the loveliest, the most magnificent cake in the world. Education is more like a package that you keep opening and opening and opening. Teachers open up ideas where children can wiggle in and look around and see if they like them and can work with them and make something of them. Maybe they write about them or read more about them or draw about them or sing about them…but to think of testing such wonder and discovery is…" said another teacher sadly as if her whole life had collapsed, "is...horrible!"

"When testing comes along, the wonder that is in the world around us is lost. Testing is always for specific ideas and facts and what is unchangeable and very sure. Only the ideas the King gives us to teach, will we be able to teach so that these ideas can be tested, and you cannot follow your own wonder anymore," said Mrs. Butterberry sadly.

"Horrible," said Mrs. Quacknbush.

"Barbaric, as well as horrible" said Mrs. Twiddledeedum who had been silent until now.

The teachers sat silently, thinking, remembering that for this very reason all of them had left that last Kingdom.

Finally a very small, red-headed little girl raised her hand and stood up.

"Can we just say 'no'?" she asked.

"Pardon me?" said Mrs. Butterberry.

"No, we should say, 'no thank you' it's more polite," said another first grader.

"Or we could say, 'pass', like we do about broccoli, at lunch if we don't want it," declared a 2nd grader.

Suddenly, a great idea was born. It was an idea that no one had ever had before.