Skip to main content

The Scores Come In





After reading over this, I realized my writing tonight does not flow the way I would like it to. Therefore, sometime in the near future I will be doing some revision. Until then, I had to get it out to clear my mind a bit. I hope it makes sense.
 
Yesterday I started writing about this thing called End-of-Year testing here in North Carolina. Needless to say, I stopped writing after a paragraph and proceeded to fall asleep at 8:15pm. The blog unwritten. Shocked at the exhaustion that administering a test caused, I closed my eyes and gave in to it.

Today was the second day of testing. It went pretty much the same way as it did the day before. Watch the students fill in bubbles before laying their heads down on the table to sleep. The rest of the day we had shortened classes. It was make-up work and games in my classroom. The students were able to handle little else. The 8th graders left school wondering if their parents would get a phone call informing them that they did not pass one of their tests. (The 7th graders will go through the same anxiety tomorrow.)

As soon as the scores arrived with the testing coordinator, I was sent inside from my duty. My stomach was in knots as I walked inside the building.  Did my 8th graders pass? Would they show growth? If it was effecting me in such a strong way, what must it be doing to the students? Before I could see the results of the testing, I had to sit through a meeting on what to do if a student did not make level 3.
1.  Fill out paperwork stating the scores.
2.  Call parents to inform them of student not making the cut.
3.  Read exactly what is on the script when telling them.
4.  Remediate for 5 hours in each subject they did not meet the criteria in.
5.  Retest the students.
6.  If they still do not meet the criteria, prepare a waiver folder. (This will be done on a Saturday.)
7.  Take the students to waiver. (This will be done after school until God only knows how late.)

I asked several questions to clarify. The process is different for students depending on whether they have an 82 or above, are special education, or a couple other things I forget at the moment.

The meeting over, I sought out Patti’s homeroom teacher knowing I would hear that she passed all her tests. Only she didn’t. She failed the Math portion. I was good with it. Patti has been taking Algebra all year. Her test was on 8th grade math. She has always had difficulty retaining math concepts.  I know the test does not show how intelligent she is. Whatever. I will not let this stupid test get the best of her. Of us.

And then I got the scores for my class. 16 out of 21 did not meet the criteria. Without looking at the numbers, my stomach dropped. I failed my students. They had been showing such promise on the quarterly assessments. They were on track to pass this test. Why didn’t they? Was it because after three hours many of them were not done and moved testing sites only to learn their classmates had gone to lunch? Did they rush through to get to lunch or just be done? Should I have taught more specifically to the test? Most missed the cut-off by five points or lower. Should I be one of the teachers doing the remediation with such a high percentage of my students not making it?

And then I started making parent phone calls. “Your child did not meet the standard on the North Carolina End of Grade Test in the area of Reading/Math/Science (pick one). They will be provided with five hours of intense remediation. Your child will have the opportunity to retest on May 24th.  Please be sure to send them to school well rested.” I answered what questions I could before wishing them a nice evening and saying goodbye. Most of the parents have been getting calls like this since their child was in third grade. They know the drill and are good with it – as good as a parent can be when being told their child failed. Again. I handled about three phone calls before I was ready to move on to something else. (I will be making most of my phone calls tomorrow night.)

Since the testing hoopla has begun, I have found myself getting to school later and later each morning. I do not like the anxiety it places upon the students. I was uncomfortable with the pep rally I participated in for the sole purpose to get the students excited and pumped up for the tests. I watch them drown as they are testing and know there is nothing I can do to help them keep their head above water. I see time that could be spent learning being spent doing practice test after practice test. I hear of students taking medication due to test anxiety. I feel for the students who have yet to pass a reading test, but are put through the grueling process of testing, remediating, and retesting only to be taken to waiver.

Throughout the past week, I have tried to look at the positive side of all of it. Unfortunately, I haven’t yet found it. It is time for us as a country to take a good hard look at what No Child Left Behind is doing to our students. And maybe, just maybe, we can take a step back and see the need restructure education to fit our children in the 21st century.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Hardest One Yet

 From the time I began this blog, I made the conscious choice that I would be honest and open in the moment – whatever is going on. For the most part, I have done that.  After struggling about whether to write about this particular challenge (let alone share it), I chose to do the uncomfortable and do both – write and share. “Your certification has not even been processed yet. Probably won’t happen until at least the middle of January.”  I took a deep breath as I heard those words a couple weeks ago and I realized what that meant. Christmas would look very different than originally planned. The retroactive pay that Santa was counting on to make the holiday something special for our family would not be coming. I took a deep breath as I hung up the phone and walked out of my classroom, despair bombarding the hope and excitement of the upcoming holiday. A tornado of thoughts began whirling in my head as I walked to the guidance office. Playing with our budget in my head trying to

The Next Chapter Begins...

The first round of tears happened during the 8 th grade promotion. It has been such a wonderful year with all of them – 7 th and 8 th graders alike. The second round of tears came when I learned I do not have a contract for next year. I will not be returning to Benson Middle School unless the displaced teachers do not jump at the chance for my classroom.   Right after she told me, I did my best to remain professional and keep the tears at bay. Unfortunately, they came anyway. About the time the tears hit my eyes, an email a dear friend sent me when I first wrote about the contract situation came to mind: “There is always a reason for things. Maybe God wants you to move on and inspire other students.” I love what she says. I feel that with my whole being. However, it did not make hearing that I have no job any easier. So now what? I am floating off the edge again. My family began the year in two different states. We are reunited again in North Carolina. Both Tony and I with

Aging sucks.....or does it?

Upon first thought, watching a parent age sucks. Unnoticeable at first. A bit of a stoop, some creaking in the knees, whitening of the hair. The doctor’s visits begin, as do the pills One for high blood pressure, another to thin the blood, and a handful of vitamins to top it off. The signs are there, but it is easier to see him as he has always been. My father, a pillar of strength. Until my pillar was knocked off-kilter. A simple surgery and the mortality of my father looked me square in the eye when the drugs took hold of his brain. Amidst his fidgeting and confusion, I realized…AGING SUCKS! And then….enlightenment dawned upon me….AGING IS BEAUTIFUL Wrinkles tell of smiles while silver hair speaks a life of memories. Knees creaky after years of kneeling in prayer, offering up a lap, and climbing up the stairs for one more kiss goodnight. Almost forty-eight years of memories nestled in my heart. Memories of my father. Taking us to church each Sunday Building and fixing