It would take me many posts, over many months, to explain how I feel about testing and what the new requirements are doing to our schools, our classrooms, our teachers, and our students.
So instead, I will just tell you ONE story, from ONE child, from ONE day last week.
A little background: When I returned from maternity leave in October, I spent the first day trying to get to know my students. When I got to Mellie, she was very straightforward, very matter-of-fact. "Hi. I'm Mellie. I won't be here long. I never stay in one place for a long time."
She's still here. And I'm so glad about that. You'd just love this girl. I know I sure do. She's beautiful inside and out. She's confident. Charming. Funny. She listens and asks really good questions. She nods when she "gets it" and frowns when she doesn't, which makes my job easier. I've watched her very carefully as she's worked to assimilate among the other students here, and I really think she's starting to feel at home...for once.
Last week, we began our state assessments - the very assessments that you're probably reading about in the newspapers, In case you aren't aware, these assessments cover the entire NEW eighth-grade curriculum. And they're given in February. Because testing a child over a year's worth of curriculum in February makes perfect sense, right?
And they're hard. Really, really hard. In fact, the state predicts up to a 33% drop in student proficiency. As teachers, we've worked diligently to prepare the kids for these tests and the rigor that accompanies them, but the truth is evident: Many of them won't do well. And friends, there are few things that can make a kid feel worse about him or herself than a really hard test.
So last week in social studies, I helped guide the students through the online math practice test. A few minutes into the practice test, Mellie raised her hand. I walked over to her.
"I don't understand," she said. I looked down at the math problem. It was something about inputs and outputs, and I had no idea how to solve it either.
"Just try your best. Think it through..." I encouraged.
"No, you don't get it. I DON'T know how to do this. I am so stupid," she explained. And then the tears started to fall. This beautiful, confident girl, a girl who has moved eleven times, a girl who was finally in one place longer than a few months, simply broke down in the middle of my room.
And I froze. Because what do you say to that? I put my arm around her and looked her in the eye. I tried to explain that she was smart, and that the test is hard. So, so hard. I tried to explain that many students are feeling the same way she is, and that there's no way she would know it all right now. But my words were futile in stopping the tears. She listened, and then she said something that stopped me in my tracks:
"No. That's not true. If this is what's on the test, then THIS is what I'm supposed to know. And I don't know it, so I must be stupid. Otherwise, why would they ask us these questions?"
And my reply...my awful, horrible reply to that statement: "Try your best."
I wanted to tell her that it didn't matter. I wanted to tell her that the TEST is stupid. But I didn't. Instead, I uttered those three useless words.
That night, I went home and couldn't get Mellie off my mind. If a practice test can drive a confident girl like Mellie to tears, what is it doing to all the quiet, insecure kids out there? What is it doing to the ones who will never speak up, and instead, are wrestling with these feelings internally?
I wish I would have said something different in that moment, but like so many moments in my career, I said the wrong thing. The next day, I slipped her this card in the hallway, and walked away. I don't know if it made her feel any better, but at least I told her the truth.
61 days left.
Thank you for sharing this. It puts a spotlight on the very thing we parent warriors are fighting to protect, the innocent children.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing. Students and teachers have a phenomenal advocate in you!!
ReplyDeleteWhat I have come to realize during the past 7 years, is the agenda and horrific success of Progressivism in the school systems.
First: You can have 40 great teachers over a lifetime, but if only 2 of them are progressive, they can warp your brain in unimaginable ways. The good/conservative teachers are in the next room, but have no idea of what those progressive teachers are doing behind closed doors.
Second: The primary damage they do is to make the child question everything. Every. Single. Thing.
The child is never allowed to think that they are right about anything, nor their parents, nor their church leader, nor any elders, nor anyone who actually takes anything seriously.
They tie your need to question, to your intelligence, and your "coolness" factor. they do it in two ways:
1.) In an Obvious way, (like the teacher who was just suspended for reading his high-school class a vulgar/erotic poem,) and
2.) In a very subtle way, such as making a remark about a conservative politician, like this, "Many people admire Ronald Reagan, but we can't forget that he did..." Always mentioning some negative action, whether it be true or not. Or if talking about a topic, and a student may say, "My Dad says..." then the teacher gives that little sarcastic smile and shake of the head, which means, "and of course, your Dad is so stupid."
I've finally put all of the pieces of my confusing education together, and it's much worse than my parents would have ever imagined. They had gone to school in the 40s and 50s.
I would come away from school so depressed, because I was regularly being taught (by only those few Progressive teachers) that:
America is a horrible country
White people are horrible
America is destroying the "ecology" (that's what they called it in the early 70s.)
Racial minorities and women are too weak/stupid to accomplish anything without the government forcing business to comply
There was much more.
They taught us to question ourselves, which in turn meant to not respect ourselves, or others.
Example:
Student = I don't think illegal aliens should be allowed to stay.
Teacher = Well, let's debate that a little bit... what if they've had children here, who through no fault of their own, would have to leave? (They frame it in a way that not only forces you to rethink your position, they also put you 'in your place' in front of the other students, and ALWAYS make the progressive argument the more desirable.
Sorry for this long rant, but I am so enraged by what I've discovered while researching Common Core, I must share my experience, so others who attended public school since 1964 will know that they are not alone.
That was beautiful and powerful. Thank you for sharing it.
ReplyDeleteBless you!!! Thank you for sharing. Thank you for your dedication to the STUDENTS and for being honest with that little girl.
ReplyDeleteHeather - I tried to share this the link to this post to FB and I got a message stating that FB blocked it because they believed the link was "unsafe". I reported it but I wonder why some one would be sensoring posts about CC and testing?
ReplyDelete