Grace vs. Three Tries

“Oh, good news! The District is pre-registering you all for the WASL!”

Such declarations, no matter with how much enthusiasm I introduce them, invariably bring groans of angst and rage from my Academic Reading students. Perhaps they have forgotten that “Academic Reading,” even though it looks excellent as an elective on their transcripts and even though their teacher explains that “reading is an essential part to living a full and successful life,” is primarily a preparation for the Washington Assessment of Student Learning, or WASL. Most of them are eleventh graders and have taken the test already. They do not relish the thought of returning again to a room full of sophomores and revisiting the test that threatens to keep them in high school indefinitely.

“Wait, we have to take it again?” one student jokes.

There it begins, an onslaught of questions about the test, which will take many minutes to untangle. I hope that this is a testimony of the focus of their learning, that they are becoming lifelong readers and writers and that the test will merely be a blip in a year full of such pursuits.

“Hold on,” one girl interrupts, as I explain the testing schedule for the seventh time. “What if we don’t pass it this time?”

None of them have verbalized this fear yet, though it certainly keeps me awake at nights. I look at all of them, waiting expectantly for some loophole that will whisk them and their diplomas magically off to college in eighteen months. I understand why we must have standards, understand the dangers of inflated diplomas and backsliding schools, though perhaps they do not. Still, I wish I had a better answer.

“You can take it during the summer. At the WASL college. You know, summer school.”

They don’t like this, but they seem to grasp the gravity of the situation.

“But what if we don’t pass it again?” another student sighs. She quickly realizes the answer, and gasps, “Senior year? We have to take it again senior year!”

“Three more tries!” I cry optimistically. “You can get there. Just don’t panic! And the good news is…”

“…the District is pre-registering us!” someone finishes, imitating my excitement.

“Exactly. Now, let’s take the practice test. Always practice.”

They get to work, and I try to imagine that their pencils move more fluidly than they did a few months ago. Certainly some of them have gained confidence, which will be a valuable ally as they approach the fearsome exam. Perhaps, like little Davids, the sundry pebbles of reading and writing skills they have learned this year will be enough to conquer the Goliath test.

This test invariably takes me back to thoughts of grace. These students have three tries to complete this requirement before their graduations are delayed. What if I had only three more tries to become proficient in love, to master forgiveness, to achieve grade-level patience? How marvelous does this endless supply of grace, this new-every-morning-faithfulness, appear as I continue to work in a place where chances for success are few, and too many failures can alter forever the course of their lives. How thankful I am that I can learn the same lesson again and again, in the circuitous paths of my life, each time seeing more, rubbing away at the fog of insecurity, fear, and pride to reveal the clear windows of truth. How precious does this grace appear...