A slice of testing mania: picture an overstuffed, overly warm second grade room where I am passing out the first in a series of test booklets to wiggly and squirming kids. I approach one desk where a little girl in pony tails and pink ribbons raises her hand. I do not know any of these children.
‘What do you need?’ I ask in exasperation. It’s hot. I’m generally irritated, and I’m grasping more number 2 pencils than anyone has the right to hold at one time.
‘Why are you so beautiful?’ she asks, smiling innocently. Before I can answer, her twin sitting directly behind her chimes in, ‘Why are you so flawless?’ Treacle and subterfuge.
It’s a no sale. They still have to take the test. I was not born yesterday…
690 Saint Paul 