The Test Prep. Blues
[So. I haven't been quite the intrepid reporter one might have wished, largely because during the time when I'm not working, I enjoy sleeping. But I have been directing a number of people interested in teaching to this site, so I figured it was probably time for an update. Another is on the way.]
“Miss, when are we going to write poems?”
-- “Maybe after the test.”
“Miss, are we going to read a whole book?”
-- “Maybe after the test.”
“Miss, when are you going to teach a lesson that doesn’t make all of us want to pull our hair out?”
I teach test prep. Not just the hour after school on Tuesdays specifically set aside for 8th grade Kaplan-scripted lessons, or the two and a half hours every Saturday set aside for 7th grade Kaplan-scripted lessons, but every week, every day, every lesson I teach. Test prep. The high stakes tests (coming soon, in January) that my kids have to pass to prove that they are learning something useful in school and that I am Leaving No Child Behind, basically ensure that my students learn very little that is legitimately useful to them from August through December.
My major struggle of late has been to find a way to teach something as soul-suckingly dry, “corny,” “whack,” and “boring,” as multiple choice skills while still being the kind of teacher I want to be – the kind of teacher who is invested in her material. How can I be the kind of teacher who opens young minds to new ideas when I’m only allowed to read short non-fiction passages that are similar to the ones my kids will encounter on the test? How can I teach good writing skills through the tiny funnel of awful, repetitive five paragraph essays? Why am I forced to waste time teaching kids bad note-taking skills, bad paragraph writing skills, and bad paper writing skills that they’ll just have to un-learn as soon as they get to college (or even high school?)
The problem is that this is the reality of my job: as long as my kids have to pass the test, I have no choice but to teach to it. Things are made all the more difficult by the fact that my school had exceptional test scores last year, and the law requires us to show a significant amount of improvement each year – so this year, we have to do even better. And the pressure is on in a big way.
A few weeks ago, almost all of my seventh graders failed their first practice test. I got a firm talking to, they got a firm talking to, and nobody was happy. Then I found out that they hadn’t actually failed, but rather, somebody had graded all of their tests wrong. They hadn’t done exceptionally well, but they had done alright. The pressure was off me for a while, but I was told not to tell the kids that they hadn’t failed. “Keep them a little scared.” Right. So they are still quite unhappy and frightened that they might end up in summer school (which they will, if they don’t pass the test.)
To say more would be to belabor the point or – heaven forbid – to bore the reader as much as I am forced to bore my gifted twelve-year olds when I teach the finer points of bubble filling. How I am going to carry these forty young souls across the Scantron finish line remains to be seen. But I suppose my major point is this: that when we vote for accountability in schools, we should be very careful what we are wishing for. Having high standards is not a bad thing, but it will take more than announcing that those children who don’t pass one test are failures to improve the public schools. We might be better served by finding a more holistic and fair way to assess children’s learning so that they can actually spend their time in class doing just that.
“Miss, when are we going to write poems?”
-- “Maybe after the test.”
“Miss, are we going to read a whole book?”
-- “Maybe after the test.”
“Miss, when are you going to teach a lesson that doesn’t make all of us want to pull our hair out?”
I teach test prep. Not just the hour after school on Tuesdays specifically set aside for 8th grade Kaplan-scripted lessons, or the two and a half hours every Saturday set aside for 7th grade Kaplan-scripted lessons, but every week, every day, every lesson I teach. Test prep. The high stakes tests (coming soon, in January) that my kids have to pass to prove that they are learning something useful in school and that I am Leaving No Child Behind, basically ensure that my students learn very little that is legitimately useful to them from August through December.
My major struggle of late has been to find a way to teach something as soul-suckingly dry, “corny,” “whack,” and “boring,” as multiple choice skills while still being the kind of teacher I want to be – the kind of teacher who is invested in her material. How can I be the kind of teacher who opens young minds to new ideas when I’m only allowed to read short non-fiction passages that are similar to the ones my kids will encounter on the test? How can I teach good writing skills through the tiny funnel of awful, repetitive five paragraph essays? Why am I forced to waste time teaching kids bad note-taking skills, bad paragraph writing skills, and bad paper writing skills that they’ll just have to un-learn as soon as they get to college (or even high school?)
The problem is that this is the reality of my job: as long as my kids have to pass the test, I have no choice but to teach to it. Things are made all the more difficult by the fact that my school had exceptional test scores last year, and the law requires us to show a significant amount of improvement each year – so this year, we have to do even better. And the pressure is on in a big way.
A few weeks ago, almost all of my seventh graders failed their first practice test. I got a firm talking to, they got a firm talking to, and nobody was happy. Then I found out that they hadn’t actually failed, but rather, somebody had graded all of their tests wrong. They hadn’t done exceptionally well, but they had done alright. The pressure was off me for a while, but I was told not to tell the kids that they hadn’t failed. “Keep them a little scared.” Right. So they are still quite unhappy and frightened that they might end up in summer school (which they will, if they don’t pass the test.)
To say more would be to belabor the point or – heaven forbid – to bore the reader as much as I am forced to bore my gifted twelve-year olds when I teach the finer points of bubble filling. How I am going to carry these forty young souls across the Scantron finish line remains to be seen. But I suppose my major point is this: that when we vote for accountability in schools, we should be very careful what we are wishing for. Having high standards is not a bad thing, but it will take more than announcing that those children who don’t pass one test are failures to improve the public schools. We might be better served by finding a more holistic and fair way to assess children’s learning so that they can actually spend their time in class doing just that.
posted by Ms. Star at
10:42 AM
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