A Teacher's Journal: Thoughts on Constant Testing

What's interesting is that my love for my students hasn't changed a bit. In fact, this week has been a constant reminder of how much I value the powerful relationships that define my work.

Monday started with a visit from Ham--one of my favorite students last year--who risked detention by sneaking out of the lunchroom to come and see me. Then, I bumped into Max--a ninth grader who buried himself under my arm at the Y after seeing me walking in to work out. On Friday, a line of students waited to speak to me before going home to start their first three-week track out session, just wanting to say goodbye.

I wouldn't trade those moments for much of anything.

But my work is less rewarding today than it was ten years ago, primarily because we live in an almost constant state of crisis in schools. As the accountability movement has wrapped its hands around our classrooms, the pressure placed on teachers has gotten to be almost unbearable and the messages that we send about performance are almost always negative.

Don't believe me?

Then pick up a newspaper! Rarely a week goes by before some reporter or another uses their pen as a cudgel to question the competence of classroom teachers. Heck, I Googled "schools fail" this morning and came up with 172,000 digital affirmations that there are plenty of critics ready to launch barbs at my chosen profession.

Teaching a tested subject only makes life more difficult for me. You see, test results have become the sole indicator used to determine success or failure in the eyes of most who seek to "improve our schools," which puts the work of language arts and math teachers directly under the microscope at the middle school level.

I'll never forget the first time that I realized exactly how much confidence people placed in test scores. I was teaching third grade early in my career and had developed a strong relationship with a student named Marco. He and I had hit it off from day one, and I had used that relationship to leverage growth. Marco worked harder for me than he had for most any teacher he'd ever known, and I understood his academic strengths and weaknesses better than most of the other students in my class.

His mom came in for a conference towards the end of the year, interested in knowing more about her son's abilities. After I spent 40 minutes sharing what I knew, Marco's mom blew me away by asking:

"That's great, Mr. Ferriter...but what does the test say?"

The perceived wisdom of the test has only grown since my time with Marco---despite warnings from test writers themselves about the dangers of using standardized exams as stand-alone tools for assessment. Programs like the federal No Child Left Behind legislation and our state's ABC Accountability model have cemented testing's place in the culture of American education.

What impact has this had on classrooms?

First, it has narrowed the curriculum delivered to students. Topics many consider essential like Science and Social Studies---which, until recently, received little testing attention below ninth grade---have been almost completely swept aside in most elementary and many middle school classrooms as teachers make additional time for tested topics like reading and math.

The consequences are sadly apparent---even in my school serving students with strong families that can supplement the curriculum. Each year, I have students who struggle to tell me why 1776 was an important year in our country's history and who argue that smoke and noise from trains would make the Underground Railroad an uncomfortable place to be. Most know Martin Luther King--remember, we have a day off named after him--but few know much else about our nation.

Is it any surprise that so many high school students fail our state's US History End of Course exam?

Testing has also created inherent divisions between the teaching faculties in many buildings. Those responsible for tested subjects feel great pressure to perform because they are held directly accountable for results while the work of others goes unquestioned. When "things go bad," (read: test scores weren't where they are expected to be), fingers are often unintentionally pointed at the language arts and math teachers by even the most accomplished school leaders.

For me, the burden that comes with teaching a tested subject surfaced first a few years back when our school was selected as one of North Carolina's top performing middle schools. "Wait until you see those sixth grade reading scores," our principal said to me as we were celebrating, "Then you'll see that there's still work to do."

His words hurt. They sent the message that what we had done---which was nothing short of Herculean, requiring long days for a full year---wasn't good enough. "I want to teach PE," I muttered as I walked away. "At least then, no one will come knocking on my door when test scores are low."

But teachers of untested subjects---who make up nearly 60% of most faculties---have seen their positions change in negative ways over the last decade as well. Shorter class periods and fewer resources have simply decimated programs that were once the pride of communities. Teachers working in the electives and social studies often feel pushed aside and undervalued in buildings focused on "results" (read: higher test scores).

In a profession where relationships matter, hard feelings on the part of teachers in tested and untested subjects can interfere with student achievement and destroy morale. Without constant attention, the divide that grows can simply swallow a building.

Most importantly, though, testing is chasing teachers out of classrooms. Drawn to a profession that feeds intellectual creativity and builds on human connections, teachers grow discouraged with instructional programs that require teaching to the test. Even serving high performing students likely to "pass" regardless of how closely my teaching mirrors the end of grade exam, I have found myself abandoning what I believe to be motivating lessons in favor of drill and kill preparation.

I spend more time each year teaching students tricks for answering different styles of questions. We practice challenging questions day after day, hoping to avoid the simple mistakes that cost points on every exam. "Just one or two mistakes," I say a thousand times a year, "Can make the difference between a level 3 and a level 4."

Why have I set aside my belief in higher level instruction?

Because my scores are regularly the lowest on the hallway, despite lessons that are widely celebrated as innovative and challenging---and in the end, the only thing that I ever have to defend are the results that my students produce on the exam.

The problem is that I'm growing bored with--and mentally exhausted by--the constant stress of teaching to the test. Like many of my accomplished colleagues, I could move into any number of positions beyond the classroom tomorrow that would offer more professional freedom and less accountability for results.

Don't get me wrong: The testing movement in America has driven productive change, forcing schools and districts to address the learning challenges of all children and providing one source of meaningful feedback to taxpayers who invest billions into education.

But I'd argue that it's time to rethink our definition of success and to develop measures beyond standardized testing to evaluate both our students and our schools. Our singular reliance on exams is simply too destructive to completely embrace.