The new school year is about to begin. Children fill the aisles of office supply stores, picking up binders, pencils, erasers, and the likes. Teachers shop for the sales to outfit a class of 32+ with markers, crayons, pencil sharpeners, pencil boxes, etc. The state standardized test scores for the last academic year are being published this week. Schools, teachers, and principals will be judged on this data. Some principals and districts will be chastised by the state if the student test scores didn't grow the required amount. Some teachers will grin for the students that performed at the "level of proficiency" and will shake their heads for the kids that they KNOW are wonderfully intelligent human beings, even though the test labels them as "Far Below Basic". My mind suddenly drifts back to a student in my class as we took this big test in May. Smart kid, great kid, funny kid, sensitive and sometimes sad kid.
It was testing time and the classroom was quiet. All the little 11-year-olds were reading and bubbling answers. At one point I was circulating the room and noticed that most of the students were about 1/2 way through the Reading test (ELA in teacher lingo). As I walked past one student's desk I noticed that he had put the test aside and appeared to be done. I stood by his desk for a minute, thinking about the facts as I understood them: 1) No one in the class was more than 1/2 way done; 2) He was not the best or fastest reader in the class; 3) He was "unofficially diagnosed" with a severe case of
ADHD.
Now, this is the type of situation where I feel the most challenged. How can I investigate this and get the best possible result? "Hey, John, are you finished?" I whispered as I crouched down next to his desk.
"Yes."
"Hmmm." I replied, with a puzzled look on my face that I purposely exaggerated to make a point. "Did you read every story
and question?"
"Uh huh." He nodded, as he averted his eyes from mine. (The TELL!)
"Okay. Let's see." I flipped through his booklet and found a stand alone question that did not require reading a passage. "What did you choose for this one?" I asked as I grabbed his answer document for verification.
He looked at the question and then said, "Um, well, I think I skipped that one."
I felt my pulse quicken, so I knew I needed to say this softly: "Did you skip any others? Because no one else in the class is done."
His eyes turned sad and he nodded. I called him to the back of the classroom and asked him to honestly tell me if he had done his best work. He admitted that perhaps "skipping" half the test and just randomly bubbling answers might not be the best strategy. He agreed to go back and give it a second look.
This is the only student I discovered that did this, but I know he's not the only one.
My students were prepared. I taught them about personification, dividing fractions, good sentence structure, verb tenses, and the Order of Operations. But one day, while I was teaching (prior to the testing), I noticed a few things about the "learning environment" of my classroom. One boy was very focused on drawing a giant block letter "T" on his paper (the first letter of his name). One girl, who had recently been absent for 5 days in a row and then another 3, was absent again. (Attempts to call home for her resulted in NO working telephone numbers.) My future "random bubbling boy" was under his desk frantically tapping a pencil on the floor. The girl next to him looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. She wasn't sure what he was doing either. I'd like to think that all of these students were still absorbing the fascinating lesson. But I
don't think that. Instead I think about the No Child Left Behind Act (NCLB) that has everyone scrambling to meet an unrealistic goal - ALL students must be proficient in Reading and Math by 2014. If they don't gain ground in their test scores, the school could lose money, more testing mandates will come down on the school, and teachers and principals can lose their jobs.
There has been lots of talk about whether or not NCLB works. I, for one, say it doesn't. One test can't be the way to measure whether or not a student is growing. For any of us that have ever bombed a test because we were nervous, tired, depressed or just plain "off" that day, we know that putting all our eggs in one basket regarding intelligence and ability is ludicrous. Most recently, Education Secretary Arne Duncan has been looking into the idea of schools getting wavers to the rigid guidelines of NCLB. The question now becomes, "how do we still hold schools, teachers and districts accountable?" Duncan said that one of the provisions to the waiver is a requirement that all schools demonstrate "adequate yearly progress," or AYP, on reading and math tests by 2014 or face possible closure. He wants to focus more on recognizing programs that measure and boost achievement of individual students over time and less on the law's current priority of comparing test scores from one grade to another, year to year.
Sounds reasonable, but there is SO much red tape wrapped around the politics of our school system that I foresee just another type of test. I see the value of testing certain skills, but what we still seem to be lacking is a way to "measure" the important progress in human development. Students are being socialized in the schools too. I spend an enormous amount of time modeling and teaching these kids to be productive members of our society - how to solve problems non-violently, how to use their natural talents and strengths to take on life's challenges, how to express themselves, and how to find the support they need in order to thrive (or simply survive). These goals are not written in any State Standards, nor are they measured on any tests.
In the weeks approaching the standardized test, I "fixed" a pair of eyeglasses (if scotch tape counts as a fix), bandaged knees, fingers, and elbows. I tasted a homemade cupcake from the fingertips of a child. I saw tears flow because someone missed mom, and I heard stories of sick and dying family members. I also had many discussions with angry children about respect for one another.
These interactions are preparing them for a test too - the test of their lives, and the test of their character. Because if they don't learn about respect, love, and compassion, it won't matter that they scored "proficient" on a standardized test.
I'm making the conservative estimate that I spend an additional 15 days of my "time off" doing schoolwork. (I'm leaving teacher trainings out because if it's on your time..."they can try to MAKE you go to trainings and you say NO, NO, NO!" - A.W., RIP)
