Mr. To Has His Say

The next step after state testing in schools (in Massachusetts, the MCAS) involves audits from groups like the EQA, or Educational Quality Assurance team. The EQA is sent to ascertain whether every single endeavor undertaken in a school is “driven” by student test scores. The EQA does not look at art, music, athletics, business and technology, or any other non-tested (read “unnecessary”) offerings. The EQA did not care that my urban rim high school’s robotics team had won three national medals, or that the academic decathlon team had recently placed third in statewide competition.

During the last decade or so, less of my time has been spent teaching and more of it spent placating groups of self-important, sanctimonious blowhards like the members of the EQA team. Our system administrators like to have me on these focus groups because I’m well spoken and because I (reluctantly) administer the most successful MCAS program in the city. I’m sure they are fearful that I am liable to say the wrong thing, but thus far I’ve been able to amuse myself with cynical comments that remain out of the ken of the visitors.

This time, I didn’t have to say a word. Mr. To did it for me.

Mr. To is a diminutive Chinese man who works in the English Language Learner program. I grew to like and respect him when we worked in the same school years ago. He is past sixty, with an unfortunate comb-over and thick glasses, but there is something in his presence that projects great dignity.

Mr. To was recognized by the chair of the EQA.

“My name is Kin Te To,” he began. “I must come to America from Hong Kong before 1997, when Communists take over. I lose everything to Communists, but here I find work and a new home. I come to this school, and everyone--teachers, principal, custodians--everyone learn my name. Everyone say, ‘Good morning, Mr. To.’ It make me very proud.

But you hear my English. I still have problems. In Hong Kong, I am college professor, but after ten years, my English still not so good.

So I ask you: Do you think it fair to take student in this country for one year--FOR ONE YEAR--and make student take this test?”

The room was silent, until the chairman began to temporize about the reasons for the policy. Mr. To was having none of it. He reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a tattered bundle of loose-leaf paper.

“This is essay that a girl in my class wrote about MCAS. She is a senior, and has failed English part four times, FOUR! But she is very smart girl, and speaks Mandarin, Cantonese, and French. She get good grades in all subjects. This is what she write.”

Mr. To--Professor To--tilted his head back and adjusted his glasses. “Mr. To, I am sorry to fail MCAS again,” he read. “I want to pass to make you proud of me. I do all my work and go to tutor. But when I get MCAS book, I get so nervous that my mind is just empty. I know I must not graduate now. I am so sorry.

I come to America, and in America I learn shame and failure. It is my fault, Mr. To. I try my best.”

Kin Te To lowered the papers, dog-eared from frequent reading. His eyes glistened behind the glasses. He made a tiny fist and thumped his own fragile chest.

“This break my heart,” he said.