How My Instructional Minutes Have Been Sacrificed for Testing

At the beginning of our school year, we were informed that, due to the roll-out of Common Core Standards, there would no longer be the state-mandated standardized tests. Teachers, parents, and students all rejoiced, even if for different reasons. Teachers looked forward to extra time to do what we are paid to do: teach. 

This was, of course, too good to be true.

When we were informed that our site was "selected" to pilot the Smarter Balanced (SBAC) tests, teachers were certainly discontented. Testing meant a shift in schedule, instructional minutes, and thinking. The pilot test, as we were told, was not to be offered to all schools. I believe we were told this in an attempt to promote a feeling of being elite or exclusive. Teachers, however, were not fooled.

Since the notification of the piloting of SBAC, we have had to sacrifice important instructional opportunities for the sake of the pilot test. We have had multiple meetings and professional inservices dedicated to the facilitation of the test. Administrators and classified staff alike have been asked to leave their posts in favor of trainings. To make matters worse, we were asked to "practice" the pilot tests - practice the practice, in other words.

Because the testing is being facilitated through technology, we needed to test our sites bandwidth and capabilities to withstand the assessments demands. Prior to this, our site's IT guru spent three days in my classroom sure my netbooks had the appropriate, secure browser installed (I have a one-to-one netbook to student ratio, for which I am very lucky). Of course, that wasn't perfect, and impacted my ability to use the netbooks with my other classes. Moreover, our site has some rooms equipped with netbooks and others with iPads, so the uniformity issues were already problematic.

Upon the practice days, we, ALL teachers, were asked to give up TWO days of instruction to test the test. My biggest complaint, beyond those already implied, was that we had no support. A vice principal, a secretary, and our tech person, were the only ones trained. After the many, many, MANY issues we had in class on the practice-practice day, I was already consumed with my dislike for the new testing.

Our testing schedule for the practice includes FOUR days of testing time. Testing is scheduled as a three-hour block of time. Our other class periods? Just over twenty minutes. For a week. That's all I get with my students. I take that back - today we have to teach a lesson to help them take the test the next two days, so we are on a normal schedule, but I don't get to teach my content. Ridiculous.

But wait - there's more! Next week, we are going to take two days of block schedule in which I only see three classes a day to accommodate the previous California standardized science test. This is yet another schedule that will take time away from TEACHING.

Perhaps what is the most distasteful aspect of this testing experience is the hierarchy of commands:
1. SBAC trains district
2. District disseminates demands and minimally trains site's designee.
3. Site is trained by the aforementioned staff.
4. Teachers give test.

Who discovers the issues with the test? STUDENTS.
Who copes and struggles through issues? TEACHERS.

What's even worse (I know, it can't possibly get worse, right?) is that SBAC has the nerve to ask sites to submit detailed accounts of errors and issues during the test. Who is expected, no, commanded, to do this?TEACHERS. So, let me get this straight: SBAC sends NO support directly to the pilot sites and expected student guinea pigs to discover issues and teachers to relay this information for the betterment of THEIR (SBAC's) tests? You heard correctly. I am responsible for conducting market research and facilitating feedback for a multi-billion dollar industry that would see my value, evaluation, and compensation tied to THEIR test. 

All of this work and we, as teacher, receive nothing. My students are not actually evaluated. We receive NO feedback or test results. Not to mention, the tests assume that students have had previous years of Common Core instruction. I teach eighth grade, so, presumably, the test requires knowledge of previous years of Standards that students have not received. 

Something is rotten in the state of California - and beyond.

Students ask, "Will this count?" or "Will we be graded on this?" 

I reply, "No."

They then ask the multi-billion dollar question to which I have no answer: "Then, what's the point?"

The Power of Clarity

http://goo.gl/FPXVH7

To begin, I love Meredith's analogy for lesson clarity: it is, essentially, a recipe for student success. The steps need to be explicit and clear. Directions need to be offered in a variety of ways and desired outcomes need to be presented, not to be copied for the sake of appearance, but rather as something to which we can aspire.

Often times, it is easy to rush into a lesson for the sake of allowing students more time to work, at least in the English setting, with texts or grapple with difficult and cognitively challenging writing tasks. The sacrifice is usually the clarification of what it is we want students to do. I cannot tell you how many times I used to begin to give directions and find myself on step ten, wondering how in the world my students would accomplish the task assigned. By slowing down, I realized that students were listening only to the first two or three things that I said, and then were eager to begin, some out of desire to achieve, others because they were likely afraid that they would forget what was required.

One of the most sobering contributors to my epiphany of the necessity of clarity came when I began to take on the bulk of my school's special education population. Many students have visual or auditory processing issues as the primary "diagnosis" and area of need. Because of this, I have become critical of the way I deliver and offer instructions in class. I always provide a visual on my Promethean board, a written copy for each set of partners, I verbally provide directions, portion by portion depending on the pacing of the task, and I ask students, strong and weak alike, to repeat directions.

I know that simply asking, "Any questions?" when I finish with directions is not helpful. Of course there are no questions. Students are processing at a slower rate than I am delivering my requests. I typically circulate the room and ask students to explicitly describe what they are doing, which I hope matches the instructions that I have given.

As Meredith says, "The majority of your class will take these instructions and soar. Then step back and let them work. There will be a few who need your support to stay on task, but with everyone else doing what they need to do, you will have the time to help." With the time crunch and massive amounts of content needed to be covered as required by the burgeoning list of standards, it is easy to attempt sprinting thought coursework. However, teaching is a marathon. It is far better to do things correctly the first time than to ask yourself, "Why aren't they getting it?" 

Clarity is key, and students need it just like we do. The results, like our recipes, will turn out just as directed.