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standardized testing

Entertaining Your Brain During Testing

Thursday 12 May 2022

or

“How Not to Fall Asleep While Doing Nothing for Three Hours”

The title is misleading: to suggest that I do nothing at all during the three hours of state-mandated standardized testing would be to suggest a testing violation. That cannot be: a testing violation means paperwork, emails, meetings, reprimands, and the like. It means notes detailing the testing violation in one’s employment file, and in an absolutely worst-case scenario, it can mean termination of employment.

So what does this proctoring look like? I have three chairs I use in my room for such an occasion: proctoring means walking around the room and looking at everyone then sitting down in one of the chairs. After a few minutes, I get up and do it again, returning to a different chair. And then again.

“Why don’t you use the time to do lesson planning?” Testing violation.

“Why don’t you read?” Testing violation.

“Why don’t you grade papers?” Testing violation.

“Why don’t you write letters?” Testing violation.

There are only two things I can do other than walk around and watch kids take the test: create a seating chart and alphabetize the test tickets (why call them tickets — it’s not like they’re admission slips for something they really want to do). So I take a long time doing both. I work on the seating chart throughout the whole test: it’s like nibbling at a bit of candy you’ve been craving for so long. I alphabetize the test slips slowly and in stages.

And I daydream while staring at the backs students’ heads.

More Testing

Wednesday 6 April 2022

“Isn’t that test in a couple of weeks the state test?” Mrs. G asked this morning.

“No, no,” clarified Mrs. H. “In a couple of weeks it’s the state pilot TDA test. The actual state test won’t be until May.”

“Remember Mrs. J was telling us about the test the state is making our school take and how Mr. F[, the school principal,] was trying to convince the district to count the state test in lieu of the second [district-mandated] test?”

“Oh, yes, I remember that.” The discussion continued along the lines of how frustrating it is to be testing so much but how we can get our kids more prepared for these district- and state-mandated tests.

That three English teachers were having trouble figuring out just how many major, schedule-impacting writing tests there were to be this year says a lot about the testing load the district and state put on teachers and students.

Our district mandates quarterly benchmark tests in English and math through the third quarter, and each of these impact the schedule and learning environment in a major way. Plus, the district requires us to give two major writing tests in preparation for the state writing test. Each of these take half the school day.  So that’s eight days of testing right there — testing days that affect all classes and shorten all periods by approximately half. Naturally, it’s hard to get kids to engage in meaningful learning when they’ve just spent two hours analyzing some awful short story that’s at least 70 years old because the testing companies want to save money (i.e., boost revenue) by using texts that are in the public domain and hence don’t require licensing fees. (We English teachers hear all the time about how important it is to choose texts about things young readers can relate to, and the the  state farms out its test development to a company that completely disregards that.) So the day is in essence a wash. Eight days down the drain — almost two full school weeks.

And that’s just what the district mandates.

It’s bad enough that the district puts middle and high school students through this; it’s also rammed through the elementary schools. The Boy had his district-mandated third-quarter math benchmark test today. It was almost sixty questions. For a fourth grader.

I’ve been saying that eventually, the US has to realize this obsession with testing is doing nothing but harm to our students, and the powers that be eventually have to change this, but I’ve been saying it for nearly twenty years now, and instead of getting better, it’s getting worse.

What’s worse is, I don’t know of a single teacher that takes these benchmarks all that seriously. “They’re designed to show for which topics students need remediation,” the six-figure-salaried district big-shots explain to us. If as a teacher who’s now spent nearly 150 days working with these kids I can’t tell you off the top of my head who needs remediation with what topic, I probably am not putting enough thought into my teaching.

What’s frustrating is, I don’t know of a single classroom teacher that had any input into the discussion about whether these obsessive, intrusive tests would have any value to the teacher at all.  These decisions were made by individuals making two to three times what teachers make while spending absolutely no time in the classroom. They haven’t been in a classroom for over a decade at best, I’d venture.

I sometimes wonder what would happen if a whole school — everyone from administrators on down — simply refused to spend the time administering these tests. Everyone. Simple refusal. “We’ve decided as a school that this is not the best way to spend our students’ time.” What if some schools did it? What if all schools did it? What if teachers were vocal about their opposition to all this testing (well, they are, to be honest)?

I imagine what I’d do if I were a student. All the students of course hate these tests. They’re completely meaningless to them. I think I’d be tempted just to choose random answers and apologize to my teacher if it ended up making him look bad in the eyes of the powers that be.

Random Pictures from the Walk I Took during the Boy’s Soccer Practice

Testing 2021, Day 2

Tuesday 4 May 2021

I read the instructions to the kids — the same instructions I’ve read for years. It’s the same test program they’ve used for years. (Doesn’t the company to which our state pays millions of dollars ever develop new software? Isn’t this just antiquated after so many years?) Then comes the statement: “Do your best when answering the questions.” It might not be a word-for-word quote there, but it’s the gist.

I literally remind the kids to do their best.

To be fair, though, it’s hard for the kids to see any sense in this test. By the time the results come back in September, they’re a month into their high school adventure — what do they care about middle school scores anymore? As far as they can tell, the test does nothing for them, affects them in no way.

That’s a two-edged sword, to be honest. On the one hand, it saves them worry and stress. On the other hand, it makes it more difficult for them to take the thing seriously. And why should they?

I usually level with them: “It has no real effect on you.”

“Why do we do it?” they ask.

“It’s a measure of my effectiveness.” If all my students fail the test, that reflects badly on me. If the expected number fail the test, I’m an adequate teacher. If fewer than expected fail the test, I’m an excellent teacher.

It’s all about the numbers, as it always is. Wheezer says it best:

There’s always a number that’ll make you feel bad ’bout yourself
You try to measure up, try to measure up to somebody else
Numbers are out to get you, numbers are out to get you
Numbers, ooh
They say that you’re too short to join the team
And your IQ’s too low for poetry
Numbers are out to get you, numbers are out to get you

Education has three agents:

  • students,
  • parents, and
  • teachers.

It’s only that third element that can be legislated, and those numbers are a useful metric in that endeavor.

So I smiled and read again today, “Do your best when answering questions.”

Testing 2021, Day 1

Monday 3 May 2021

After hours of testing, confined essentially to little boxes, my students decided to have lunch standing.

Testing, Again

Monday 30 November 2020

I guess it could be worse. Shoot, it was worse just a few years ago. We had MAP testing and Iowa Basic Skills testing and some other test that I can’t remember, all piled up in the first half of the year, with the MAP test repeated in the spring along with state-mandated testing. Now we’ve lost the MAP testing (the only really useful test for me) and the Iowa Basic Skills (Is that what it was called? I could look it up, but I don’t care enough about it to check), but in their place, we have district-mandated benchmark testing every quarter and two practice TDA tests.

What is a TDA test, you might ask? Text Dependent Analysis. An essay question based on a text, in other words. That’s how we spent today, working on this essay question:

“Inventor Martha Coston” focuses on Martha Coston’s night signal invention. The author claims that it was Coston’s “desire to provide for her family and her determination to succeed [that] made the Coston night signals a great success.” Write an essay analyzing how the author develops and supports the claim. Use evidence from the text to support your response.

If you read that carefully, you’ll see that it’s really just asking students to summarize the argument in the piece. Today, I helped students see that; I’ll do the same tomorrow, as I have to do this in person, and we’re only meeting a given student every other day. Is that teaching to the test? Or rather teaching the test? I don’t know. I don’t care. But I wasn’t about to just toss the test at them and say, “Here, do this.” And I was also not about to let the know, through implication, that I really didn’t want to spend time with this test. “Now, as you look at this district-mandated test…” “If you look at the prompt for the district-mandated test…” “Do you have any questions about the district-mandated test?”

Teaching to the Test

Wednesday 28 January 2015

I’ve heard about it from three different sources now: our principal, our department chair, and a colleague. We’ve all in the English department heard about it, and we’re all more than a bit nervous about the new test students will be taking in late April. It’s meant to replace a state-created test that measures progress for No Child Left Behind (still haunting us), but it even has the kids running scared. Even the most apathetic students responded the same as the teachers: “Are you kidding?”

The test — the ACT-Aspire, created by the same company that makes the ACT — porports to measure students’ ability to create an essay, and all the various elements of that process: generating ideas, developing ideas, organizing ideas, and proofreading said ideas. My students, eighth graders, will be be required to write a persuasive/argumentative essay, and they will be judged on four things: the argument, the development, the organization, and the language use. For a perfect score in the argument strand of the rubric, they are to accomplish the following:

The response critically engages with the task, and presents a skillful argument driven by insightful reasons. The response critically addresses implications, complications, and/or counterarguments. There is skillful movement between specific and generalized ideas.

This is all fine and well: I have plenty of students who could write a paper that addresses the implications, complications, and counterarguments in an insightful way. Not a big big deal.

For development, a perfect paper would look like this:

Ideas are effectively explained and supported, with skillful use of reasoning and/or detailed examples. The writer’s claims and specific support are well integrated.

Again, not that big of a deal. Certainly a challenge for some less-accomplished students, but again, this is for the absolute top score.

Organization looks like this:

The response exhibits a skillful organizational strategy. A logical progression of ideas increases the effectiveness of the writer’s argument. Transitions between and within paragraphs strengthen the relationships among ideas.

Good organization is difficult for fourteen-year-olds, and in some ways I’m most worried about this one. Organization takes time, takes thought, and fourteen-year-olds tend to be a bit impulsive. But its a solvable problem.

Finally, there’s language use:

The response demonstrates the ability to effectively convey meaning with clarity. Word choice is precise. Sentence structures are varied and clear. Voice and tone are appropriate for the persuasive purpose and are maintained throughout the response. While a few errors in grammar, usage, and mechanics may be present, they do not impede understanding.

For some of my students, I’m not even tackling the voice and tone issue. Not many fourteen-year-olds have a firm understanding of voice even with a lot of direct instruction. A lot of adults don’t.

All in all, a decent but challenging rubric. Until you consider one thing I’ve left out: its a timed test. And the time limit for this? What do the test creators consider a reasonable amount of time for students (and the time is universal for all grades) to create an essay on which so much depends? Two hours? Three? Ninety minutes? How about thirty minutes.

That’s right: one half hour to conceive, plan, organize, write, and proof an essay.

“Are they crazy?” we teachers all said almost on cue.

“Are they crazy?” all the students replied.

I have plenty of students for whom this would be a tremendous challenge if give two hours to accomplish, but thirty minutes seems laughable. It sounds as if all the decision-makers in the fine organization that creates the test got high on every possible drug and then decided on the time limit.

“I got it! I’ve got it” laughs a young executive who’s just sniffed three lines of coke, shot up some heroin, taken a few Vicodin, smoked an enormous joint, and done an Irish Car Bomb. “I’ve got it! Just for the fun of it, just for kicks and giggles,” and breaks into fifteen minutes of giggles before continuing, “Let’s give them half an hour!”

Howls in the boardroom.

Howls in the classroom.

Not the same howls. Not even close.

I’m not even sure what such a ridiculously short time limit is supposed to accomplish. Raise the stress level of students? Ensure as many short essays that are so bad that they’re easily gradable as possible?

I’ve a feeling when the state results are published, the howls won’t just be in the boardroom and the classroom anymore.

Violations

Tuesday 6 May 2014

In some ways, it’s an unbelievable irony. I spend the entire school year answering students’ questions, encouraging students to ask questions so I can answer them, begging students to ask questions. I sometimes have to teach students how to ask questions or even when.

“If you just blurt things out, you’re creating a problem instead of a solution,” I say. I know the kid has heard this a thousand times; I know, because I’ve told him at least 974 of those times. Still, I say it again: after all, it was a legitimate question. Wasn’t it?

Sometimes the questions stump me. Sometimes humorously: “Mr. S, why do they call a grapefruit a grapefruit? Why don’t they call grapes “grapefruit” and grapefruit “big citrus ball”? Sometimes seriously: “But why doesn’t that appositive have commas?” To the first type, I just laugh; to the second, I reply honestly: “I don’t really know. I’ll do some research and let you know tomorrow.”

But no matter the topic or the nature I (mostly) live for questions. They’re little signs of motivation, indications that the students are thinking, are trying.

And then today, after testing — the state-required SCPASS that measures my success as a teacher and my students’ success as students, or so they say — I get a question.

“Mr. S, what does X mean?”

It’s at the end of the day; I’m tired. Test violations and test rules are not even close to considerations; heck, I’m not even thinking about why the girl asked the question.

I answer her.

She asks another.

I catch on.

“These are from the test today, aren’t they?” I ask sweetly.

“Um…” she smiles.

“You know I can’t discuss this. I’ve told you guys a hundred times. We can’t talk about it. Period.”

“But why?” she insists.

Indeed.

The nature of standardized testing makes them completely useless as pedagogical devices. Assessment is meant to drive curriculum: you take the results of the test and decide where to go from there. Do I need to reteach? Did they catch it all? What topics give students the most trouble?

But these standardized tests are exceptions to that rule. I won’t know the results until next fall, when there’s nothing I can do with it except to use it to set my goal for improvement next year  I can’t discuss it with students after they take it so that we can fill in the gaps the test exposed. It’s just an enormous time suck that seems to have no other purpose than bureaucratic harassment.

But I give the straight answer: “It’s just the rules.”

“That’s stupid.”

True. I guess in a way it was a test protocol violation. The real violation, though, came much earlier, in the design and implementation of these protocols.

Random Memory

Saturday 5 November 2005

Seven years ago almost to the day, I took the GRE. Living in rural Poland, I had to get up at five in the morning to take a bus to Krakow in order to take the blasted test. Arriving, I had to wait about two hours to take the test.

Not the best start.

I scored decently — over 1800 — but found my analytical score to be about 100 points below what I’d been making in practice tests at home.

One of those silly dress rehearsals I had a perfect score in the analytical section. With a catch: I ignored the time limit and simply worked the problem.

I’ve never understood the point of putting a time limit on a test like the GRE. It means that the exam measures how well you do on silly riddles, geometry problems, and the like under severe time pressure.

And given all the courses and books designed to “help performance,” the whole test is a ridiculous joke.

The Matura

Wednesday 7 May 2003

PrzemekFew things seem to cause as much angst in a Polish teenager’s life like the matura: a series of compulsory written and oral exit exams. Required of all students are two exams from Polish: a written and a spoken test. Students must pass the written before they are allowed to take the oral exam.The written matura consists of four essay questions read aloud at precisely 9:00 a.m. on the same day in high schools throughout Poland.Matura 2003This year the questions included the interpretation of a Wis?awa Szymborska poem, and a question, “Od Adam i Ewy…” (From Adam and Eve), about the loss of one’s home and one’s place in society as illustrated through literature. Another question began, “If you want to know a person, look at his shadow…”

The second day brings the chosen exams, with most people picking history, with math coming a close second. (Ironically enough, most of the students who chose math were girls — probably something like 80%.) This year there were about six people taking the matura in geography and one girl chose biology. No one chose English, and for good reason: it’s adifficult exam, concentrating mainly on the irregularities and exceptions of English grammar.

Once the students’ pain is over, it’s time for the teachers to get their dose: grading all those exams according to strict criteria.

Then comes the spoken exams — when my pain begins.

The spoken English matura consists of three parts.

  1. There’s a text students must read and be prepared to discuss. Topics include smoking, living in the city, my dream holiday — nothing too taxing, in other words. Usually the exam begins here, with the examiners asking one or two questions about the details of the text and then inviting the victim to “share his/her thoughts” about the topic. Free talking, in other words. This is where the truly good students show they’re truly good, and the less-than-great students struggle.
  2. There are eight grammar questions. They cover everything from tenses to specific grammatical constructions.
  3. There five situations. The situations themselves are described in Polish, but of course students are required to respond in English.

Students are given the situations and text beforehand; the grammar they see for the first time when they sit down for the exam, though they know possible topics.

 

Grammar
‘Samuel didn’t come here last night’. She said __________. Reported speech — gossiping, in other words. The key is in changing tenses and selected words. The correct answer: She said that Samuel hadn’t come/gone there the night before.
If I were the President of the country, I __________ . Conditional, namely the second conditional. Impossible condition (If + past simple), imaginary result (would + verb). If I were president of the country, I would give all teachers a substantial raise.
They enjoy (go) __________ on exotic holiday, but they wouldn’t like (live) __________ outside the USA. Verb patters — or when to use “to” and when to use “-ing.” It’s basically a question of memorization. They enjoy going on holiday, but wouldn’t like to live outside the USA.
Robert (read) __________ a book about English grammar when David (leave) __________ last night. Verb tenses. Since Polish has three verb tenses and English, twelve, it makes senses that students have a bit of trouble keeping all of them straight. Robert was reading a book about English grammar when David left last night.

Situations
Buy a one-way train ticket from Warsaw to Pairs. How would you ask about a return ticket? The situations are fairly straightforward, and even a little boring. Usually one of them is fairly involved, requiring interaction with one of the examiners, but the rest are often a matter of one or two sentences.
You returned very late from a friend’s house. Apologize to your parents and explain that the bus driver had to repair the bus.