The kids who get left behind Some students' achievements mean nothing to educators (sic) obsessed with testing
Ohanian Comment: The low scores on standardized tests of a child with autism will not only deem her a failure, but under the new teacher evaluation system these tests scores will also be considered evidence that her teachers are ineffective. This is so ludicrous it could almost be a satire. But it's too awful to be treated with humor.
by Eileen Riley-Hall
My daughter Caroline is a bright, sweet, inquisitive 13-year-old. She also has autism.
During the past seven years of school, Caroline has made amazing progress because she always been included in the general education classroom with the help of a 1:1 aide.
In fifth grade, she won the spelling bee. In seventh grade, she won a science award. Now, in eighth grade, she is learning algebra. For the past three years, she has participated in the school band, playing her very own purple trumpet. Caroline has also made friends, discovered her talents, and found a way to belong. Her work ethic is stellar, and her attitude toward school is unfailingly positive.
However, according to the New York State Education Department, Caroline has learned nothing and shown no growth over the course of her entire school career. Her scores on standardized tests are always "ones," the lowest possible category in the department's four-point rubric.
This year, Caroline's low scores on standardized tests will not only deem her a failure, but under the new teacher evaluation system these tests scores will also be considered evidence that her teachers are ineffective. To say this is ludicrous would be a vast understatement. Caroline's teachers are some of the most dedicated and creative teachers I have ever known. They choose to work with kids who struggle and do so with love, optimism and energy.
I know how hard that is both as a parent and teacher. I have taught high school English in public schools for more than 15 years, working with a wide range of children from gifted honors students to reluctant summer school draftees.
Like Caroline's teachers, I work my hardest and best when teaching the struggling learners: kids who have special challenges like autism, those who come from chaotic families, and the kids for whom academics are just plain hard. And like Caroline's teachers, I know what my students learn and that the ways in which they grow cannot be adequately or accurately measured by a standardized test.
I can "train" my students for the test through laborious and time-consuming drill, and some of them will show "improvement" based on the narrow focus of a state assessment. However, that score means little in the scheme of their educations, even less in the scheme of their lives. I want my students to learn to read the newspaper, write their thoughts in a journal, ask questions.
I try to teach to them about the value of hard work, the pride of real accomplishment, the responsibility they have to care about their country, their world, and each other. We don't read "To Kill a Mockingbird" simply to write test essays; we read it to remind us of what it is to be a truly fine person, a quality not measured by multiple-choice questions.
I understand the need for accountability in teaching. Like many parents, I have been disappointed by a few of my daughters' teachers, but I truly believe those teachers are the exception, not the rule.
Evaluating teachers by standardized tests will not eliminate the bad teachers, but ironically punish the ones who often work the hardest. The only way to truly evaluate teachers is for qualified administrators to watch them teach. I have no doubt anyone observing Caroline's classes would be both humbled and heartened by the devotion her teachers show to their students.
For several years, I tried to have Caroline exempted from the state assessments, for her sake and now her teachers' sake, but the State Education Department will not allow such a reprieve.
I shake my head at so much faith placed in No. 2 pencils and the ability to navigate a series of tricky multiple-choice questions, a skill by the way never actually used in "real life." I worry that this new regiment of teacher assessment will ultimately lead the way for Caroline to return to sequestered self-contained classes, apart from her peers and the opportunities offered in the general classes.
How long can inclusion last if scores like Caroline's count against a good teacher?
And if a valiant teacher does choose to help kids like my daughter, how long will that teacher be around before she is deemed "ineffective" and thus removed?
There is no one size fits all way to teach or assess student learning. Children are individuals, after all, not assembly-line products.
So for now, Caroline is forced to continue taking those tests make her feel in her own words, "not good at school." If the New York State Education Department deems her a failure, what does that say about what the government values in education?
Only time will tell. In the meantime, we will all suffer. Right now, Caroline is about to be abandoned on the road to school, watching the taillights of the school bus fading in the distance as it rushes the good test takers off to fill in another bubble sheet.
The educational gurus can call it whatever they want, but to Caroline and a lot of other kids, it feels a whole lot like being left behind.
Eileen Riley-Hall is the mother of two daughters and an English teacher at Shenendehowa High School. She also is the author of the recently released book, "Parenting Girls on the Autism Spectrum: Overcoming the Challenges and Celebrating the Gifts."
Albany Times Union