My students – with their IEPS, modifications, accommodations, academic struggles, and all – just completed a three-day ELA test.
On day one, they did their best. On day two, they tried their hardest. And on day three, they slogged up the stairs, uninterested in and unmotivated by the prospect of facing this even one more time.
An hour and 45 minutes on day one. An hour and 45 minutes on day two. An hour and 45 minutes on day three. In all: five hours and 15 minutes across three days. Five hours and 15 minutes of silence, confusion, doubt, and frustration. Yes, they were willing to give it “The Ol’ College (and Career-Ready) Try,” but by day three, they had seen and had enough.
What will these tests show that we don’t already know? That they read significantly below grade level (by any standards, Common Core or otherwise)? That their writing ability doesn’t reflect their speaking ability or intelligence? What’s the point?
They were finished with day three by the end of day two. All they cared about this morning was that after today, this test would be done.
Do you think my students are the only ones who felt that way? Why do we subject them to so many hours? Shouldn’t, say, 20 multiple choice questions and two or three essays suffice? The kids are not interested or invested, so they’re not at their best.
Do these tests show the full scope of my students’ capabilities? Or the capabilities of others?
I think we all know the answer to those questions.
They’re silent. At least they got that much out of this. You can’t talk during a test, plain and simple. Even the slightest sniffle or throat clearing will be treated with suspicion.
Some of them are looking back to the passages – maybe they’ll pull it out. Sure, I know no one expects good grades on this year’s tests. But maybe, just maybe, these kids will pull off a shocker.
Or…maybe they know “What Good Test Taking Looks Like,” so they’re turning back, putting pencil to chin in a thinking pose, and underlining.
But I see in their faces that nothing here makes sense. The words are too long and too many. The questions are too boring and too many.
But they try. They’re too young to realize that, while the test is hard for many their age, it’s even harder for them.
What are they learning from this experience? You gotta fake it ’til you make it.
But with tests like these determining who’s smart and who’s stupid, how could they ever make it?
Today, tomorrow, and Thursday, I will try to treat the day like I would any other. Only thing is, despite my attempts at geniality and mirth, you’ll probably notice the heavy and dark curtain of The Test draped on the walls of every classroom and evident in the halls of every floor.
So, it is likely that you will enter into a state of nervousness, even self-doubt, both of which will be exacerbated – depending on who you are – by the horror that stirs when you’re confronted, on your own, with a booklet of passages that masquerades as meaningful, enjoyable reading. (In your mind, you’ll try to reconcile why such a fun activity has to be hijacked and turned into such an arduous one.)
I know I’ll probably see your faces turn various shades of green. Your lips might utter statements such as, “This is too hard,” or “I’m not going to do this.” You might say you’re hungry, you’re tired, you’re bored, you’re hot – anything to get yourself out of the unenviable position of having your status as English Language Learners with disabilities be used against you in a poorly-conceived plan to make you “proficient.”
You don’t need a test to tell you if you’re “proficient.” Are you doing your work every day? Hey, you’re proficient! Are you prepared and ready to try every day? Guess what? You’re proficient! Do you give your best effort all, or even just mostof the time? Well then, you’re proficient!
Some of you asked me if this test is important. That all depends on what your priorities and values are. If you, like me, value a positive, can-do attitude and realize that you’ve improved in all subjects, then you already know what’s important. It’s like I’ve told you and your parents many times before: it matters that you are improving. No test score will give us the full picture of your growth or abilities.
This morning, you’ll find some items on your desk that I hope help you through day one of The Test. Of course, there will be a pencil (duh, how else can you bubble?). I’ll leave a highlighter, as well, since I know that helps a little when reading those big bad passage article stories. And I’ll leave a Rice Krispies Treat with a little note attached, because I promised you a snack and everyone is probably going to need a pick-me-up this morning.
Listen when I talk. You’ll probably find that I won’t say, “Good luck” nearly as much as I’ll say, “Do your best!”
Yesterday, with the realization that the desks would stay in rows overnight and you would enter this morning into what was once your classroom (now a test room), you stared straight into the terrifying eyes of The Test, trembling in fear as it scowled at you from a hundred feet high. Many of you wondered if it would swallow you whole and destroy you.
Do not be distressed, dear students. You can slay that scary monster just by doing what I’ve been stressing all year: your very best.
I’ve heard people suggest that, since I’m a special education teacher, I am also a saint. People have told me, “Those kids need someone like you,” and, “They need a good male role model.”
Of course, none of these people are political types or billionaires. The way these influencers see it, I’m exactly the kind of teacher my kids don’t need because I don’t add enough value. Full disclosure: I typed that sentence with a smirk on my face.
Instead of honoring my commitment to teaching a high-needs cohort (or the commitment of others who teach special ed, ESL, or in high poverty areas), the know-it-alls use the choice I’ve made to label me a poor teacher. It is both upsetting and laughably idiotic that they have perversely twisted the notion of good teaching so that the teachers who take on the hardest assignments are made to look like the worst teachers.
Which shows you just how little these know-it-alls know.
My colleague Donna and I exchanged a volley of texts this weekend trying to figure out the next steps that could follow her post I dare you to measure the “value” I add, which, I guess you could say, has gone certifiably viral. That is to say, if you haven’t read it, read it now. Close to 10,000 people did this weekend.
As Donna considers the best ways to seize on the popularity of this inspiring and timely post by spreading it further, I ask that you do your part to spread it. The more people who read it, the better.
Donna has articulated a stand that teaching and results can’t be crunched into numbers. If you agree, please retweet, post to Facebook, e-mail to colleagues and administrators, and share on Google Plus. This message needs to be shared if we want to take back our profession!
This is part of a series of letters I am exchanging with a colleague of mine on a variety of education-related issues. It originally appeared on her blog, No Sleep ’til Summer. I will post my response on Tuesday, March 20.
Dear Matt,
cc: all passionate and concerned teachers
Recently I wrote a post, a poem of sorts, about the value-added teacher data reports. I was expressing my frustration with the fact that the positives and challenges of my job as a teacher of ELLs, (most of whom are newcomers or SIFE students) are not simply ignored by this data but blatantly devalued. By the overwhelming response I received from colleagues and strangers alike, including current and retired teachers and principals, I know I’m not alone in how I feel.
As we discussed this and our experiences with teaching test prep units, you said that the issue, as you see it, is that data is bastardized. I would like to dig into this a little more, not just because teachers rarely get the time and opportunity to really discuss and analyze the issues within our profession in depth, but also because this is an area that is heavily covered in the media with, unfortunately, a wealth of misinformation and leading to a misinformed public who has even less time and less tools for critically analyzing the questions to any meaningful extent.
The public needs to understand that teachers aren’t simply lamenting changes to their job, or an increase in responsibilities and work load without a corresponding pay increase. We aren’t simply complaining about “doing more paper work”, or opposing what some see as the “professionalization” of the teaching “trade”.
So, let’s take time to provide a means for analyzing and discussing these issues that publicly encourages the “higher order” thinking it so desperately requires.
I’m going to address some of the most common public questions and concerns in upcoming posts, and I’d like to invite you to do the same. And, you know what? I’d like to open it up and invite other teachers to also contribute a post or suggestion on common misconceptions they feel need addressing.
Something that often vexes me is the fact that my students sometimes are so intimidated by the threat of inappropriate word use that they’d rather stay silent or give up than speak to me (a proficient speaker of English and the authority in the room). The free use of language utopia that I hope to have is never going to happen until my English language learners become less inhibited in their use of the language. For this to happen, they have to believe that they will be allowed to speak free of judgement.
Yet, as we rode the bus through the streets of Queens yesterday heading to the Museum of Natural History, I had the rare opportunity to sit and eavesdrop on a conversation between two of my girls. I was pleasantly surprised to hear them engaged in a spirited discussion about the landmarks we were passing. One girl, who likes to talk and is not shy, seemed to be commanding the English language better than I can recall in the two years I’ve known her. Is there an untapped reserve of language in her that she uses with her friends but holds back using in academic situations because she is wary of being judged?
Teaching ELLs can be frustrating because the conventions of English – written and oral – are so multitudinous and laborious. It is hard sometimes to monitor growth and development. In informal settings, though, it is nice to see that growth is occurring. How, though, does that translate to what happens in the classroom?
By now, pretty much anyone aware of the goings-on in education reform has heard of Sal Khan, the intrepid gentleman who has recorded nearly 3,000 educational videos for students to view on YouTube.
There is a list of videos organized by subject and topic over at the Khan Academy web site.
It would be disingenuous to ignore the range of Khan’s knowledge or his capacity to produce so many videos. However, to claim that he and his style are the answer to the ills of education, I think, is a bit much. In my eyes, like pretty much every other reform idea, Khan’s videos may work for some, but they won’t work for many.
It is clear Sal Khan never taught special ed.
(Or ELLs, for that matter).
Recently, I was looking for some video options to reinforce multiplication concepts, and I watched Khan’s “Basic Multiplication” video. I wanted to incorporate some visuals and videos to help engage some of my more reluctant learners.
Whenever I watch videos or consider content, I have to do so from my students’ perspectives. So, while something may make perfect sense to me as is, I know that, usually, my students will not accept it in the same way.
I thought I’d give Khan a try. Watching the video from my students’ perspective, though, it was obvious that there was no way it was going to work in my classroom (a self-contained special education class of 100% ELLs at intermediate or beginner levels).
For starters, the amount of text in the video would be overwhelming. I am guilty of sometimes having too much going on at once in my class, but at least I’m there to help filter out the extraneous information (or erase it!) and help students refocus. In this multiplication video, Khan writes the word “Multiply” and puts “2 x 3″ on the left, but then reviews addition (2 + 3) for about a minute on the right.
I'm concerned with the amount of text on this screen, as well as the lack of visual delineation between mathematical concepts.
There is no clear designation about what concept is what. The potential for confusion is too great, in my opinion, for this to be effective for many students.
It’s not only the text in the video that concerns me. It’s Khan’s delivery. Clearly, he is a well-spoken man with great depth of knowledge. However, delivery of that knowledge in a way that is too dense for students to understand means he might as well be speaking a different language. And for many ELLs, I imagine when they hear sentences such as the following, English all of a sudden does sound like a different language:
And this is probably the first time in mathematics that you’ll encounter something very neat: that sometimes, regardless of the path you take, as long as you take a correct path, you get the same answer.
Say I’m eight years old. I’m a beginner or intermediate ELL, or I’m fairly new to the country. I just heard all these crazy words: encounter, neat, regardless, path, and as long as. I’m totally lost. I need someone to help me understand the context and meaning of those words. I need someone with a little more sensitivity to my needs than Sal Khan.
Khan, shortly after that long-winded statement, says that, in considering other representations of multiplication, he will continue by drawing rows of lemons so he can continue, “our fruit analogy,” (he referred to raspberries and blueberries previously). Then:
An analogy is just when you kind of use something, as, as an – well, I won’t go too much into it.
After a while, it becomes uncomfortable – and inefficient – to listen to Khan’s colloquial manner of speech and his many verbal pauses. His video is neither concise nor succinct, and therefore it enables the mind to wander, rather than be inspired.
More verbal garbage from Khan can be found. He draws an array of lemons to talk about why multiplication is useful as an expedited form of counting. In my class (as in any class of ELLs), the critical point of arrays when they are introduced is learning what a row is and what a column is.
Khan begins to introduce what a row is:
A row is kind of a, the side-to-side lemons. I think you know what a row is. I don’t want to talk down to you.
Yet, unfortunately, with a statement like that, Khan is talking down. Because he assumes that everyone knows what a row is, he cuts off populations with his pomposity and makes it difficult to access the information.
I think if I made a list of all the words and phrases Khan uses in the video that would be stumbling blocks for ELLs and/or students with disabilities, I would come off as a whiner. However, in my estimation, it’s a fairly long list.
Look, there is some value to what Khan is doing. Just watching the video gave me some ideas of ways I could approach multiplication with my students. However, the mission statement of the Khan academy is not to help teachers teach. On the web site’s about page, it says:
We’re a not-for-profit with the goal of changing education for the better by providing a free world-class education to anyone anywhere.
Hmm. Well, if “anyone anywhere” means kids who are fluent in English and have the ability to follow dense text peppered by colloquial speech, then these types of videos will be fine. However, if “anyone anywhere” means, truly, anyone anywhere, then Khan has quite a long way to go.
–
I am sharing the video I analyzed so that you may do the same, if you choose. Would this video work for ELLs? Do you know students with disabilities who would be overwhelmed by it? Does it serve the needs of all students? See for yourself and determine your own answer!
With high expectations and standards, one size does not fit all (and it never will).
Most schools in this country are failing. That’s the way No Child Left Behind is designed. Most schools will still be failing come 2014, by which time all students are supposed to be proficient in math and reading.
One hundred percent proficiency will never be achieved. That’s pretty much an accepted destiny. As long as students live in poverty, have disabilities, or immigrate without a chance to learn English or without formal schooling in their own country, students will forever be behind the eight ball and playing catch-up with their peers. None of these variables will ever change (although poverty is one that, perhaps, the powers that be will someday address), and so therefore the only thing that is 100 % certain about a rate of 100 % proficiency is that it ain’t happening.
Now the majority of the country is transitioning to the Common Core standards. In NYC, we have begun the implementation process by administering a series of math and ELA tasks that are aligned to the expectations of the Common Core.
While no doubt most educators agree on the need for high expectations, I think many of us part ways with the Common Core based on the fact that the “high expectations” promoted by the Common Core are – like NCLB – unrealistic for many students.
See, when a class of students enters a new grade, the expectation, based on the Common Core, is that each student has successfully met all the standards of the previous grade. How often does that happen? I haven’t seen that since I started teaching special ed, and I didn’t see it when I taught general ed, either.
Now, maybe that’s the case in some schools. These are the schools that have families with two involved and literate parents. The ones where homes are full of books, educational toys, and trips to museums. The ones where education is the top priority for the children.
Is that most schools in America? Many? Some? A handful?
It certainly isn’t all.
So Common Core continues to make the same assumptions that NCLB did – that home experiences are never an impediment to learning or demonstrating knowledge. This is a simplification of wildly complex social issues. That’s one concern I have.
The other concern is something I’ve written about before. Common Core assumes that every student should – and in turn, will – go to college. Who are we to say? I’m not sure whether the authors and defenders of the standards truly believe what they say when they say that the standards will make all students college and career-ready. Well, I imagine they do believe that. But do they truly believe that all students should – or must – attend college or have a career? I won’t rehash the points of a previous post (see below) here, but I will reignite my argument that not everyone is destined for college or a life as a scientist, engineer, or mathematician.
Taking these arguments into account, I ask, then, how do these standards account for the wildly diverse student population in this country? How do they establish high – AND realistic – expectations for students with disabilities, English language learners, and kids living in poverty?
Placing unrealistic expectations on people does nothing for them except engender frustration. Is that where we’re headed?
