Pardon the Interruption...This is a TEST

Last night I couldn't sleep. I kept going over the calendar I had been working on all evening. You know the one? - an overview of what I am going to teach in May. A plan for the prescribed curriculum, art projects, field trips, spring celebrations, and yes...testing. This is what has me lying awake at night. There just isn't time for everything and since the testing can't go...what to give up?

Let me explain our May test schedule. Oh, and before I do, did I mention I teach FIRST GRADE?

This coming week I must complete all our end of year benchmark assessments for DIBELS, TRC and BURST. These are all done one on one. So, let's see, DIBELS - a series of 3 one minute oral reading fluency tests, and a nonsense word assessment - total time with instructions, transitions and all, about 10 minutes per student. TRC - this one is tricky, because the better a student reads, the longer it can take. It starts with reading one book, and perhaps book after book, until you determine the student's instructional level (90 - 95% accuracy + comprehension). This test is untimed so the slower a student reads or the higher the reading level, the more time it takes. The last benchmark test I gave took anywhere from 5 minutes per student to 40 minutes PLUS transition time. Finally BURST - measures vocabulary, decoding and comprehension- about 10 minutes per student. My modest estimate is a minimum of 20 - 30 minutes per student.

This testing is done during class, so while I am spending 10 hours plus assessing my students one by one, guess what I am NOT doing. That's right, teaching! And the rest of the class has to be monitored and kept engaged in an activity while I test. This year my class is relatively small, but I keep thinking about the fall when we have been promised class sizes of 37 for first grade. How in the world can this be accomplished?

As soon as we finish these end of year assessments, we move right on to Quarter 4 assessments for reading and math. These assessments are fill in the bubble tests the entire class takes at the same time, so they are not as time consuming. While the math test is fairly appropriate and measures what we have been learning during the year, administering the reading test is one of the most painful things I have had to endure in my 22 years of teaching.

What is the purpose of all these tests you might wonder? I mean, why so many? In a perfect world, tests should be used to inform instruction. That is, let the teacher know what skills students have mastered and where more instruction is needed. Assessment should be for determining "next steps". I did say perfect world, didn't I? I'm not naive enough to think the world is perfect so let's move on to the next purpose, the one that is all the buzz in education news and politics. That purpose is accountability. That's right, make sure teachers are doing their jobs and that students are doing theirs. Let me set the record straight; I have no problem with accountability. In fact, I have often asked to be observed and critiqued so that I can improve. I welcome anyone to come sit in my class, observe me teach, or speak to my students. Are you listening Mr. Duncan? You are welcome in Room 3 ANY time, no notice necessary.

There are yet other purposes floating around lately. The first is to connect student performance on these assessments to teacher evaluations. And finally, a proposal by our new governor would link school funding to student performance. On the surface it's hard to argue with either of these. After all, if teachers are teaching, then students are learning, right? I wish it were this simple. That takes me back to the dreadfully painful quarterly reading assessment.

For the first ten weeks in the fall I work endlessly to encourage my students to read, to convince them they are readers even if they can't write their name and there are plenty of those. Kindergarten is not mandatory in Michigan and many first graders are entering school for the first time. Even those who were in kindergarten may be considerably behind grade level. Because I believe that attitude matters, that's where I start. By the end of the first marking period, everyone believes he is a reader. Yay! Then I pass out the test.

First grade does not take the Q1 assessment, we start at Q2. This is supposed to give us a baseline for each student so we can mark progress throughout the year. The problem is, this assessment is 4 stories, comprised of several unspaced paragraphs taking up to two full pages of space each. Then come the accompanying questions - some multiple choice, some constructed response questions with two and three step directions. Students must read stories, questions and answers all on their own. And write their own responses, no help given. The readability level is end of first grade/beginning of second. Again, on the surface this sounds reasonable.

Let's remember the stated purpose of this test is to measure student growth. In order to show growth, you must use an instrument that shows where the student begins. Remember those first graders who are just learning to write their name when they begin the year? What does this measure for them? All it tells me is that they can't read at end of year standards yet. Thanks, I already knew that. What it doesn't tell me is which letters or letter sounds they can already identify, phonemic awareness (rhyming, alliteration) concepts of print, sight word recognition, vocabulary...the list goes on.

Then comes Q3 and what do I learn? What? That child who couldn't write his name in September still can't read? But, how many letters does he know now, which sounds can he identify...you get the point. According to Q3, there has been NO growth. Same for Q4 - still can't read those four stories, questions and answer choices? Is it correct to say this child has shown no growth? Absolutely not. In fact, some students could show up to a year and a half's worth of growth and it would not be measured on this assessment. So I have failed as a teacher, he has failed as a student and the school should be penalized. Right?

Let me introduce you to Bob. Bob could read at grade level when we assessed with Q2. In fact, using the measures in our core reading program, he was slightly above average. Bob knew he could read. His teacher had convinced him he could read. His parents had told him how proud they were of his reading ability. Robert was an able, confident reader and had a positive attitude towards reading. He opened that test booklet and began to read. Alas, it was written to end of year standards. He tried and he tried, but in the end, he put his head down and cried inconsolably for the next hour. After lots of soft words, gentle hugs and assurances that the test wasn't important, not to worry, I wiped his tears and sent the class to lunch. Then I closed my door, put my head on my desk and cried along with him.

The Geranium on the Windowsill...

Lately I have been haunted by the words of a poem I barely remember from my early college days as an elementary education student. "The geranium on the windowsill just died and teacher you went right on..." At the time I don't really think I fully understood what those words meant. But today they keep coming back to me, a refrain that whispers to my soul without warning. I don't recall the rest of the poem and in fact, until this morning, wrongly attributed it to the Shel Silverstein book Where the Sidewalk Ends.

The words come from a collection of poems by the same title published in 1971 by teacher/author Albert Cullum. It was reprinted in 2000 and is currently out of print. While unsuccessfully searching for the words to that particular poem, I learned this about Mr. Cullum: He was an elementary teacher in the 40s, 50s and 60s who objected to teaching through the popular Dick and Jane series. Instead he used Shakespeare and other great literature to motivate his students. Mr. Cullum believed that play and learning could be combined in the classroom. His effectiveness at mastering this is evident in the documentary produced about him in 2004, A Touch of Greatness. While watching you can't help but wistfully wonder what the world would be like if we all had a Mr. Cullum in our educational past.

As an undergrad at Michigan State in the early 80s and a graduate student in Early Childhood education at Wayne State in the mid 90s, I studied developmental psychology like everyone else. I memorized Piaget and Vygotsky's stages of cognitive development, Erikson and psychosocial development, behavioral psychology by Pavlov and B.F. Skinner. I also studied systems for educating the young child ala Maria Montessori and Rudolf Steiner (Waldorff schools) versus traditional public school. As a teacher I chose what I felt was best from each and concentrated my instruction on what worked for the particlar group of children I faced.

Nothing taught me more about early childhood education than submitting to the National Board process in 2002. The National Board for Professional Teaching Standards (NBPTS) has established a set of teaching standards that one must exemplify in order to hold the status of National Board Certified Teacher. Through a series of portfolio submissions that included not only student samples and collected documents but also videotaped lessons, I had to describe, analyze and reflect on my teaching practice in comparison to those standards. I am proud to say that my entries achieved me the designation of "accomplished teacher" and I wear my National Board status with pride. It has also inspired me to encourage others in the teaching profession to go through the process and learn what they can about their own practice.

Here I sit, eight years later, faced with the task of renewing my certification. It should be a simple task, at least no more difficult than the original. And yet it is so much more difficult in so many ways. Eight years ago I was able to use the curriculum handed to me by my district, teach it the way any good teacher does - twisting here, padding there, and stretching it a little in this or that direction. Collect the evidence; reflect on what happened, why it happened and how I would make any changes in the future and viola! Don't get me wrong, this was a very agonizing accomplishment. I spent immeasurable hours looking at my lessons from every angle imaginable, researching best practices and scrutinizing every word I wrote. Then there were decisions to make - which pieces of evidence best reflected the learning outcomes of the lessons and demonstrated my knowledge of the standards, which videotape segment showed the true essence of what my class is about. Be sure to get as much in those 15 minutes as possible. But the elements were already there for me. All I had to do was the work.

Fast forward eight years. Our curriculum has changed. We are using scripted programs for nearly every subject. Pacing charts tell us when and what to teach on any given day so that classrooms across the district are doing the same thing at approximately the same time, at least in theory. We must find time to give K - 6 students individual reading screenings 3 times a year for benchmarks and at least once every one or two weeks in between for progress monitoring. Quarterly benchmarks in reading and math (yes, the dreaded fill-in-the-bubble) for grades
1 - 12 as well as MEAP for grades 3 - 11 round off the onslaught of district-wide testing.

But it doesn't stop there. Our district has also bought into different computer based assessment programs, 2 for reading and one for math at the elementary level. We are constantly being reminded that the "powers" downtown are monitoring our use of the computer programs to determine how often we are assigning tutorials and assessments and what pass rate our students are achieving. This is in the interest of promoting increased student achievement. While true, there is also the unstated realization that the results will be used to evaluate teacher effectiveness. Conspicuously absent from all the data collection are uncontrollable factors such as student attendance, homelessness, poverty and language deficits.

The geranium has not only wilted but the leaves are crisp and falling to the counter below. There is no time to stop, examine the plant, make shared decisions about how to save this plant or decide whether to plant new seedlings to nurture.

Here I sit reflecting on my teaching practice as it is today, comparing it to those noble standards accomplished teachers must live up to. I feel like a fraud. Strip the letters NBCT from behind my name. I know the standards like the back of my hand. I believe in those standards; I want nothing less for my students. And yet, I sit and ponder "creating" evidence as opposed to "collecting." I contemplate introducing lessons for the sake of videotapes and documentation rather than using what comes from the natural events of our classroom. I am frenzied by the attempt to be two teachers rolled into one: the one who knows her students and does what's best for them, and the one who fulfills all the district mandates. Unfortunately there aren't enough hours in our already extended school day. So I do a little bit here, a little bit there. Make sure the assessments are current. Skip a lesson or unit if needed. Keep extensive records of those uncontrollable factors so when it comes time to defend myself I have the exalted DATA.

Yes, Mr. Cullum, the geranium on my windowsill has died, but there is no time to stop. I am already three weeks behind my pacing schedule. And the walls have eyes.