44 pages • 1 hour read
Andrew ClementsThe Report Card
Fiction | Novel | Middle Grade | Published in 2004A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Symbols & Motifs
Grades and Test Scores
Grades and test scores serve as motifs that emphasize the importance of grades. Students learn from a young age that good grades are the ultimate objective, and much of their future education hinges on grades earned way back in elementary school: “Fifth-grade grades would be used to see which kids got into the higher math classes at the junior high. [… And] which kids got into the advanced English classes and the foreign language program and the accelerated science classes” (28). These grades only evaluate a small range of intelligence types, relying on worksheets and memorization to assess a student’s ability. If a student doesn’t exhibit these specific strengths as an 11-year-old, then the highest quality education becomes unattainable to them: They can’t take higher-level classes, where teachers might give them the creative liberties that help many students of all abilities thrive. The only way to guarantee success is by becoming a “grim little A-making machine” at an early age, like Nora’s sister Ann (28). Report cards, then, are the final authority determining whether a student has, by this system’s definition, achieved.
Similarly, Dr. Trindler’s certificates and diplomas are like adult report cards, and they don’t necessarily represent as much as students expect. He gets the same satisfaction from his numerous awards as high-scoring students get from their good grades. Upon first entering his office, Nora observes, “Plaques and diplomas and certificates covered two walls of the office, all of them mounted under glass like some flat, colorless butterfly collection” (76). Dr. Trindler is proud of those certificates—which showcase all the hard work and schooling he’s done—but Nora doesn’t care about accolades, nor does his collection interest her. To Nora, the wall is boring and lifeless, even devoid of color. Rather than finding comfort in Dr. Trindler’s expertise, she describes feeling “pressed thin as paper” between the glass sheets (76), suffocating Nora and inhibiting her vulnerability. Dr. Trindler’s academic pride demonstrates how mere book knowledge doesn’t guarantee that a person will be effective in their chosen career.
Facts
The way Nora lists facts about her life serves as a motif demonstrating how she uses her gifted intelligence. Nora analyzes herself and her surroundings by categorizing facts that she knows are true, and then she draws conclusions. She explains, “I’ve always loved facts. That’s because facts don’t change. And I think that’s why I sometimes hate facts too. […] It’s like I’ve been doing experiments for years so I can figure out what makes me me—the facts of me” (6). Facts are both useful and frustrating because of their immutability: They define the boundaries that help illuminate the contextual surroundings and the path forward, but those circumstances cannot change, and a person must navigate around them. Despite her incredible intelligence, Nora doesn’t begin the story with all the facts in the world. She continually learns and develops as a character, making mistakes and using those lessons to see more clearly and take better actions in the future. Nora’s good intentions inform her decisions along the way, but she needs to pursue more facts—wisdom that comes from both experience and others—to know how to handle all situations with good discernment.
“Lightbulb” Ideas
Nora describes her big ideas as lightbulbs that blast light toward her, serving as a motif to support themes of Nora’s responsibility for how she uses her intelligence. She first describes this feeling when she considers trusting Mrs. Byrne: “It’s not a coincidence that cartoons show an idea as a lightbulb. Because when an idea hits, it feels like someone has flipped a big switch. And an idea blasted me, right there in front of Mrs. Byrne—instant light” (68). Later, when Stephen formulates his idea to include the entire class in their plan, Nora compares the feeling to “a blast from a laser cannon” (107). Both times, Nora’s plan backfires—the former merely twisting unexpectedly, and the latter completely veering out of her control. In reality, the strong blasts represent a sudden emotional response, or a burst of excitement as everything momentarily makes sense, and Nora acts impulsively in these instances without pausing to consider unintentional consequences.
The nature of Nora’s ideas changes after Mrs. Byrne gives her difficult but necessary advice: “All you ever have to do is the next good thing” (132). A brilliant idea won’t actualize unless Nora knows how to walk through each step to attaining it with wisdom, listening and waiting for the next right action. When Nora imagines a truly good idea while in the big meeting with the superintendent, she no longer feels a lightbulb blasting her with light. Instead, she describes, “An idea was definitely coming, but softly. It was like I was looking at a broad, green lawn, and then there was a passing cloud or a shift in the wind, and every blade of grass snapped to attention, sharp and crisp” (159). Her imagined surroundings are much calmer and more detailed, opening a clear path for her. By formulating her ideas this way, she can approach the situation with a greater presence of mind, helping her good intentions beget truly good actions.
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By Andrew Clements
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