Page 106 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“I can’t … ” I pant, clutching my torso. “Can’t get enough air.”
He rubs my palm with soothing circles. “Breathe.” A hand moves to my chest. “Let me be your air. Deep breaths.”
I close my eyes and inhale. Slowly. I push the air out of my lips. Kent whispers, “There’s my handsome boy.”
A loud knock startles us and Kent rises, but before he can say anything, the door opens.
“This is bad.” Shreya stands against the frame, staring at the laptop balanced on her arm.
“I know.” Kent pulls out a chair for her. “It was a mistake. We lost a few days. We’ll restart and go from there. I’ll explain things to Dr. Cutler and the board.”
“Not the database. The data … ” Shreya sits and taps at her screen. “Look.”
Kent and I lean over Shreya’s shoulder, attempting to make sense of the tables and figures in front of us.
“These scores are too high.” She points to a document with comparison figures. “This didn’t happen during testing. How did these get inflated?” Shreya and I both turn toward Kent. The data extract came from him.
Kent’s eyes go wide, and his shoulders make a beeline toward his ears. “I have no idea.”
Shreya begins clicking, screens fly by in a blur.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Here.” She clicks a few keys, and then points. “We’re supposed to feed individual student data for each assessment. Hopscotch gives each one a weight and averages it. But this data export from GradePlus pulled averages.” There’s more typing and pointing. “And then populated those averages across each student’s year to date. We’re averaging averages.” Shreya shakes her head, sending her top knot into a tizzy. “And it looks like we’re cooking the books.”
“I-I-I don’t know what happened. I extracted the data file like I always do,” Kent stammers. “I wouldn’t even know how to do what you’re saying.”
Shreya clicks a few more keys and brings up the antiquated back-end settings screen for GradePlus. “We had the setting correct in GradePlus, but when you changed the criteria to pull for the entire school, it reverted to pulling averages for the export.” Shreya clicks a tab near the top of her screen. “Here. Right here. Look.”
“Why would it do that?” Kent asks.
“I don’t know.” Shreya snaps her laptop closed. “This software predates Nintendo 64. It could be a glitch, but we can’t use this data. We need a new file. Stat.”
“Okay, hold on.” Kent’s at his desk, opening his laptop.
“Let’s do it together.” Shreya heads to Kent’s side and I take her seat.
“There. You have to click that box.” She points at Kent’s screen. “The system reset it after you changed the criteria.” Shreya turns and the color drains from her face. “Honestly, the database issue is small potatoes compared to this. We could have gone live with the slower load times, but this impacts the integrity of the entire system. We have to reload the data. Revalidate everything. Repeat user-acceptance testing. Get final sign off from teachers. This sets us back … weeks.”
“Weeks?” Kent says with a heavy sigh as Shreya pecks away at his keyboard. “We don’t have weeks. We only have a few months left in the school year.”
With the thumb drive containing the new export in hand, Shreya heads back to the conference room to explain the error and restart the process.
“I wasn’t sure the situation could get any worse, but somehow I found a way.” Kent slumps in his chair, his chin lowered to his chest.
“I messed up the database,” I say.
“And I provided inaccurate data. The process would have needed to be restarted regardless. I’ve derailed the project completely. By weeks.” Kent scrubs a hand through his beard, tugging. “I’m meeting with Francine this afternoon. I’ll explain it was my fault. I mismanaged things. Didn’t provide accurate data.”
“But, we have a new file now.” My hands rest on Kent’s shoulders, attempting to pacify him.
“Not now,” Kent spits. He jerks away and my fingers fall like rain. His voice trembles and my stomach ties in knots. “How did I mess this up so royally?”
I stand back, my hands stinging from his rebuff. Kent’s brow beads with sweat and I eye the box of tissues on his desk.
“I’m sorry. I-I … I’ll go.” My gaze falls on the door, but my feet don’t move.
“I just need to think.” Kent’s head falls into his hands. “Please. I’ll figure it out.”
