The recent scandal in Atlanta schools horrified all of us who care about education. Teachers “corrected” students’ answers on tests, apparently with the knowledge of administrators, and apparently on a system-wide basis. For years we’ve worried about cheating, and have tried to help boys and girls build the character to resist. And now this?
The incident shows how great the stresses of testing are, when even educators can yield to temptation. How can we expect children and youth to do better? But it doesn’t just show us that we need to redouble efforts to guard against infractions, it also implies that testing is so important that it justifies great stress and anguish.
But is it? Why do we test? What do we use the results for?
I’m referring to standardized tests, professionally constructed, like those in CSAP (Colorado Student Assessment Program). They’re seen in all states, and are made a part of many federal programs, such as Race to the Top.
Although it’s crucial to gauge the effectiveness of education and to learn what needs correction, the intense stress of such programs demands that we make maximum use of the results to help students learn.
Right now, they’re used to tell the public how successful the schools are, and to give politicians and administrators evidence for decision-making. We’re saying, “This is how well you’re doing (in a class, school, district, state, or even, country).” And if scores are poor, we add, “Do something to improve.”
After we’ve said this, though, we often leave it to the very people who have produced unsatisfactory results to figure out how to do better. Or we change personnel, and expect the new people to do better. Or we solicit proposals for doing better. I wonder if this is good enough.
The tests themselves offer little help about how to correct matters. Details may emerge regarding areas in a subject field which require attention, but nothing shows the needs of any particular student. The scores are used mainly by legislatures and school boards, and are of limited classroom help.
Teachers are not allowed to go over a test with the students who’ve just taken it, since it’s to be used again and again, and its details are not to be made public. If they were, it would have to be re-made constantly at great expense. I find it ironic that these instruments, at one time touted as tools for helping teachers, are now limited to being tools for politicians and administrators.
Shouldn’t we expect more? Shouldn’t such an elaborate assessment yield detailed information on what needs doing — which elements need special attention? Shouldn’t a test reveal each learner’s problems — the facts which were poorly remembered, the skills which were not acquired, the principles which were not understood?
Possibly, a stockpile of items, of the same quality and focus as those in the tests, should be developed, and used to create instruments for diagnostic use. I know that back-editions of tests are sometimes employed this way, but they’re back-editions for a reason. Besides, a reservoir of questions would be more flexible. Short samples could be used for only a part of a course. Or teachers could assemble items dealing with a specific focus.
When I was a Math. instructor, I used to create a “practice” exam a week before the real one — as much like it as possible, except for different questions. I told the class it was to help me see what they, and I, most needed to work on to prepare for the final, and they could take it anonymously. The opportunity was greeted with enthusiasm, and all the students tried to show me what they didn’t know. They saw that I was only trying to help, and most did put their names on their papers.
This story shows that boys and girls will attack learning enthusiastically if they truly believe the teacher cares. Our present assessment systems don’t do this. We must find a way to change the perceptions of students and parents, and convert evaluation into a genuine tool for learning.
Let’s convince our children we do care, and do want to help, not just label.
Clifford Bebell (clifford.bebell@gmail.com) of Arvada is a retired professor of education and author of a book on living to be 100.
EDITOR’S NOTE: This is an online-only column and has not been edited.
