The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly – An Assessment Autobiography

THE BAD

Thinking back to my experiences with assessments as a child and adolescent triggers mostly negative emotions for me. Anxiety. Frustration. Degradation. Why? For one, I may not have been diagnosed with a learning difference, but in high school I came to the realization that I did not learn like “everyone else.” While it took most of my peers two to three hours to complete their nightly homework, it took me twice as long. I vividly remember staying up until 10 or 11 o’clock at night meticulously completing my homework while my friends and classmates were already in bed. The formative and summative assessments that made up my elementary, middle, and high school years consisted of mostly the same–memorizing spelling words in Language Arts, regurgitating facts and spewing dates in History, “Mad Minute” drills in Math, and identifying elements on the periodic table in Chemistry. There was always something missing for me. It was meaning.

It’s no wonder then that I struggled as a learner in school. In many ways, I taught myself. I created my own strategies to get through. If you asked any of my teachers or classmates though, they’d tell you I was an excellent student. That is because what they saw was my conscientious effort, my motivation, and my sheer willpower. I performed well on classroom-based assessments, papers (writing was and still is my thing), and projects. If there was an assignment that called on my artistic ability or creativity, that was even better. Multimodal assessments were in my wheelhouse. As a perfectionist, it was important that I exceeded not only my teachers’ expectations, but my own.

Tests, in the traditional sense, were my weakness. There was no meaning-making. Hence, I struggled to make connections between content material and the “real world.” Then came along a super teacher that changed everything for me. Learning as I knew it took a wild turn after my 9th grade History class with Mr. G. Prior to that point, History had been one of my weakest subjects. Mr. G would come in every day and place his textbook on the podium only to open it once or twice. Instead, he inspired us. He told stories and painted pictures in our minds while weaving in the names of war heroes and famous landmarks around the world. To accompany our papers, we designed visual displays to demonstrate our knowledge of topics. He taught in a way that made sense to me. That’s all I needed. I took off. Pretty soon, I was earning As in History, and by the end of the year, Mr. G had recommended that I move up to AP History. That was such an incredible boost to my self-confidence as a freshman in high school. Mr. G saw something in me and believed I could do it. No longer did I believe I wasn’t good enough. No longer did I doubt my capabilities. I just needed to learn in the ways I learn.  

THE UGLY

Then came the standardized tests–the PSAT, SAT, and ACT. We were told repeatedly how important they were. “These tests are predictors of your future success,” they said. No pressure, right? My anxiety was at an all-time high. Standardized tests were not my strong suit. My scores were okay–nothing special; nothing that would get me into my dream colleges and universities anyway. My parents dished out the money to hire a tutor that would help boost up my scores. After some test prep, my scores improved, but it still wasn’t enough. One by one I got rejection letters in the mail from my dream schools. I was devastated and broken. Why weren’t my honor roll grades and extracurricular achievements enough? Didn’t they care about my classroom performance? How about those wonderful recommendation letters that were written by my teachers? What about my work ethic? I thought those were the things that truly mattered.

THE GOOD

Though my standardized test performances did not match my overall performance in school, I’m happy to report that these tests were not indicators of my future success. You see, they forgot to account for grit and perseverance. Yes, those tests changed the trajectory of my life, but in the end, I’m happy with the path I took. I did not let them limit me or my dreams. I went on to succeed in college–graduating from the University of Maryland, Baltimore County with a bachelor’s in Secondary Education and English. Before I could teach, I had to take and pass the PRAXIS exam, yet another standardized test. Luckily, I passed. My college days were followed by an amazing decade of teaching grades one through eight. They were some of the greatest years of my life. I can’t think of a more important job than educating our children and shaping our future. I feel lucky to have experienced teaching in both a public and private school setting. Each has given me a unique perspective on teaching and learning.  

I spent my first year teaching eighth grade English Language Arts in a public school. There I saw and experienced the pressures of high-stakes assessments. I witnessed the negative impacts of “teaching to the test.” The students were “memorizing for the test,” the MSAs. There was an overwhelming pressure to get from point a to point b in a short amount of time. It was like an hourglass with time running out. Breadth was given priority over depth. Knowledge was not actually acquired nor owned. In fact, content material was soon forgotten just weeks after the standardized test, which demonstrated that it was never really learned.

Nine of my ten years teaching was spent at a small private school serving bright students with dyslexia and other learning differences. It was and still is a special place near and dear to my heart. The school program was carefully crafted to meet the diverse needs of all learners. We used the Peabody Picture Vocabulary Test to measure receptive vocabulary ability and the Woodcock-Johnson Test of Cognitive Ability, Achievement, & Oral Language to inform placement and groupings for instructional purposes. In-house assessments were conducted three times yearly across the grade levels by classroom teachers. Curriculum and instruction were driven by the results of each assessment. Formative and summative assessments were diagnostic, and programming was data-driven. For instance, one measurement of progress was the EmPOWER writing assessment given in English classes three times a year. Specifically, the students were given a prompt and instructed to compose a response using whatever strategies they knew to complete the task. Note, that unless they were new to the school, every child had received explicit instruction in use of the strategies. Students were permitted to use resources to guide their writing, and any physical resource that was used was collected in the end for diagnostic purposes. Post-assessment, teachers would evaluate their students’ work using a comprehensive rubric to identify strengths as well as areas for improvement. Using this data, teachers developed target goals to address with their students. Moreover, writing assignments and projects throughout the year would focus on the process of writing more than the product. Similarly, a fluency assessment was administered at the beginning, middle, and end of the school year. This assessment served as a guide to measure skills in terms of reading fluency. The school and its approach opened my eyes to a whole new world of assessment–meaningful assessments that made a real difference in each child’s journey to achievement. Depth was valued over breadth, and as a result, real learning was taking place. Of course, it wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows. These types of in-house assessments were extensive and time consuming. Not to mention, they also required immense manpower to administer, score, and evaluate. Regardless, knowledge of content material was solidified through a plethora of assessments, which allowed students to demonstrate their understanding of topics through engaging hands-on projects and everyday experiences.

Even as a private school, we couldn’t escape standardized testing! We served publicly funded students, too, who you guessed it, were required to take the state assessments. For years, our funded students took the MSAs. Now, they take the PARCC. I have served as a proctor for the standardized tests and supported students with accommodations. I’ve witnessed their confusion and frustration with these types of assessments firsthand. Many students struggle with navigating through them. It doesn’t end there. As an eighth grade teacher, I was responsible for preparing all of my students for the HSPT, or High School Placement Test. Any student planning on applying to a private high school in the area is required to take the HSPT. Every fall, the eighth grade teaching team would dedicate significant lesson time to practicing test-taking strategies and teaching skills that were sure to be on the test.

As I reflect on my assessment journey, I must admit whether I like it or not, they’ve played a major role. Assessments come in all forms and styles. There’s the good, the bad, and the ugly. At this point in my life, I’ve taken countless assessments and probably given just as many. I can honestly say I know far more now than I ever did before. I’ve learned to think critically about the questions I ask my students and the products I expect of them. Developing good assessments is a craft, an art form. It’s a process. For now, there’s no way around assessments. They are pervasive, and unfortunately, our society places a great amount of value on them. For those that take them–children and adults alike–they can sometimes make or break you in terms of opportunities and pathways. For me though, I refuse to let assessments define me. My success as a teacher is measured by the success of the students I teach. There is no greater reward than to witness the growth and success of your students as they achieve what they once thought was impossible. For they, the children, are the true “indicators” and “predictors” of our future success.