assessment

How do we know if a teacher is "good" or "effective?" 

Part of the national discussion is (has been) "teacher accountability."  According to both No Child Left Behind and Race to the Top, assessment of teachers should be associated with overall student growth.  Should teachers be held accountable for student learning?  If so, how does one measure student learning?

HERE* is an interesting animation that contrasts an "attainment model" of assessing learning --- i.e. how much a child grows over time, vs. a "value-added model" --- i.e. how measurements of child growth are adjusted for environmental variables.  Just think of your student as a tree - - - .

How do you want to be assessed as a teacher?

* (Thanks to CTQ's Ali Kliegman for sharing this resource.)

How do we know children are learning?  Do we have to use standardized tests, or are their other ways to make this determination?

In today's New York Times (Feb 2, 2010; Op-Ed. p A23) Susan Engel, director of the teaching program at Williams College, discusses several important components of assessing student learning: reading, writing, computation, pattern detection, conversation and collaboration.  Why not develop criteria that assess these skills (or broader, school-based values) as a measure of student learning? 

If we assess these broad skills, rather than merely test-taking skills, Engel believes that we will cultivate our students' long-term success.  Engel argues that if students are able to demonstrate these skills (by age 12), then "...they would be prepared to learn almost anything in high school or college."   While teachers can collaborate on the specifics of the curriculum, Engel has anchored the discussion of student assessment in values, i.e. what is it we value in public education. 

According to Engel, one value is raising children rather than raising test scores.  Rather than measuring factory-like outputs via a "...curriculum that is strangling students and teachers alike...," she wants educators and policy-makers to consider their process values, i.e. what experiences students and teachers could have.

At Science Leadership Academy (SLA) where I teach, we organize our curriculum around 5 core values that integrate of focus our learning (see Fig. 1 below).  Although these criteria are not the same as Ms. Engel's, perhaps we need to extend some flexibility to schools to determine their own values that meet their specific students' and teachers' needs and interests.  Once these values are in place, perhaps we can develop meaningful assessments that reflect students' and teachers' relation to the values.

Fig. 1: SLA's Core Values & Possible Assessment of Skills

CORE VALUE ASSESSMENT CRITERIA
Inquiry Student demonstrates a variety of strategies to frame questions about, and investigate, the fictional and non-fictional world.
Research Student demonstrates a variety of strategies to gather and organize information.
Collaboration Student demonstrates a variety of strategies to work with and learn from a variety of people.
Presentation Student demonstrates a variety of strategies to share learning with a wider audience beyond the teacher.
Reflection Student demonstrates a variety of strategies to modify and enrich the learning process and outcomes.

 On TLN, we have a tradition of posting our New Year's resolutions. Usually I am pouring with ideas and professional goals, but this year I found it difficult.  Then, as I was reading other people's goals, I remembered...I am in the midst of carrying out a big goal I set for myself in August before the school year started.  What I need to do now is check in on them and regroup for 2010.   

The most tangible goal I set for myself this school year was to improve my assessments.  I wanted to make sure I could clearly track the learning of my students.  Why? Partly, for my own piece of mind--in this age of "accountability," I wanted to be sure of what my students were learning and be able to say say clearly what each student knew how to do and what each student needed to work on.  I wanted to be able to answer to people who say, "How can you prove what your students are learning, if not using standardized tests?"  

Obviously, I've always had to grade students, and I've used a combination of rubrics, simply assigning grades, just giving comments, etc.  This year, I have put many more hours than ever before into grading everything stringently using rubrics I created and keeping track of the trends and where individual students need help.  At first it was interesting and somewhat motivating for me, but soon I felt myself b-u-r-n-i-n-g  o..u...t........ I kept going, though. 

My conclusion at the close of 2009 is that I have not learned anything ground-breaking from this extremely time-consuming (left-brain heavy) process of "accounting" of my students' learning.  I realize that I was always using student data (though not always in numerical form) to inform my instructional decisions.  I always had a pretty good grasp of what my students understood and didn't understand because I looked at their work.  

In fact, this assessment process has made my vision of my classroom somewhat more myopic than usual.   For example, if you ask me what a particular student knows or doesn't know about, say, point of view in literature, I have to consult the numbers in my grade book, whereas before I could probably tell you off the top of my head.  This is because I've forced myself to focus on the empirical side of assessment (the numbers) and less on the actual student! I am less tuned in to the "soft" aspects of teaching, such as how I am motivating my students, and how much joy and creativity there is or isn't in my classroom.  I *count* that as a loss for both my students and me.  

I did discover a few good things about this practice.  The rubrics were often helpful as a tool to communicate clearly to students what they needed to work on. When I've given students opportunities to revise or redo the work, many of them have done voluntarily, which is a big success. I notice this form of feedback is most helpful with students who are already at least somewhat achievement-oriented. Students who generally struggle with academic skills and engagement, however, seemed to disengage more than usual when they found everything was graded strictly based on the 8th grade standards.  This raises some questions for me that I will share below.

2010: As a result of my learning this fall, I will use rubrics when I want to communicate to students about their progress on a specific objective, especially when I will be giving them new opportunities to achieve greater mastery the concept or skill.  Ideally, though, I want to structure my class so that my students get to a point where they can assess their own work, where I do not always have the final word about what's best.  

In 2010, I will not continue to keep track of student learning using rubrics to create numerical data just for the sake of it, or to answer to some higher power.  If I am the single most important factor in the learning of my students, then need to do what enables me to be the best teacher I can be, which means NOT getting burnt out in the process. Moreover, I need to approach teaching in a way that feeds my spirit. I need to use my intuition to stay in tune with the pulse of the class as a whole and build relationships with all my students.  I resolve to welcome formal and informal occasions for joy, humor, and creativity in my classroom. I am fairly certain that these are no less important than mastery of standards.  

Questions: I'm still torn about whether actual grades and rankings are ultimately helpful.  In From Degrading to De-GradingAlfie Kohn explains the well-researched fact that grades take the child's attention away from the learning itself, which is detrimental to all learners, from struggling to gifted. Written or verbal feedback, he says, is very helpful, but grades--which rank the work, whether we use letters or points, or percentages--make students focus on the grades, not the work. What would happen if I stopped giving grades and only gave written feedback?  What if I gave and scored quizzes, but at the end of the term asked kids to look at their work and feedback and assign themselves a grade and explain their rationale for it.  How would they fare? 

In the use of rubrics, I question the practice of deciding beforehand what every student should learn from each assignment.  For certain objectives and certain assignments, yes.  But everything? For every student? Isn't that an attempt to standardize the learning that takes place in our classrooms?  What about play? Innovation?  What's the right balance between accountability for student mastery of pre-determined standards and the need for students to explore, discover, and learn in a way that is authentic and honors their individuality?

[image credits: www.readingpl.org/, eduspaces.net, www.flickr.com/photos/ bingramos/126661740/]

Over Thanksgiving break, I planned to launch a new novel study. Boys will read The Dream Bearer by Walter Dean Myers and girls will read Like Sisters On the Homefront by Rita Williams Garcia.  This is always a very successful study for the students, because they find the novels compelling and the gender split adds some developmental dimension to the experience (This is the only time in the year I split by gender. More on that another time.)

As excited as I was to start the novel study, I felt that over the last month or so, things had gotten too ragged in my classroom. Students seemed lax about their own behaviors--in conversations with them later, students knew exactly what they had done wrong, but just seemed to lack self-consciousness or motivation to act appropriately in class. I'm talking about the usual 8th grade stuff--socializing excessively during class, antics that interrupt lessons or set off other students, etc., etc., etc.  These behaviors were upsetting the momentum of the learning and the group dynamic.  

At the end of every period I have the class assess itself as a group in 5 categories on a scale of 1-4: 

  • Agenda (did we complete it?), 
  • Quality of Work (this is for the class as a whole, not individual students)
  • Jobs (official jobs in each class are Teacher's Assistant, Supply Manager, Director of Maintenance, and Librarian--did they do them?)
  • Golden Rule (Harm no one in word or deed--did we follow it?)
  • Neatness (how did we leave the classroom?)

The self-assessment chart serves as a good data source for me.  Students are very honest when completing the self-assessment, because it doesn't count as a grade, so there's no motivation to cheat.  I saw the scores decreasing and decreasing--and it was only November.

20% of my students' final grade is reserved for a category I call "Member of a Learning Community."  In my mind, it's very clear what this includes: coming prepared to class, participating in lessons, meetings and discussions, active listening, supporting peers, following the Golden Rule, good work habits, professionalism, etc., and I have communicated this to students.  However, I needed to find a way to make students' individual grades in this category more visible to them, more immediate and short-term, and empower them to improve in specific ways.  But logistically this can be challenging. 

I remembered something a student teacher I had last year from Bank Street College shared with me from another cooperating middle school teacher she'd worked with that year--Sharon Kramer, also a Bank Street-trained teacher who teaches in NYC public schools.  I had debated implementing it in September, but thought nah, I'll be alright without.  Now things are falling apart a little bit, so it's time for a change.  

So it's only been 2 days, but this new system has been really positive.  The atmosphere of the class is quite different.  Kids are more focused, more self-aware and we've picked up the pace a lot.  Maybe it's the new novels, or the new system, or a combination.  Any which way, I'm happy about the change. I'm happy I found the courage and time to take a risk and switch things up.  

The new system: Each table has a student leader who keeps track of participation points on a chart using a code for the members of the table. Every student begins every period with 60 points.  Positive behaviors and negative behaviors are assigned + or - point values and a code letter.  For example, coming to the meeting area within 60 seconds of the bell ringing (M) is worth 10 points.  Cursing (C) is worth -10 points, and so forth. Students gain points for great group work, helping another student, leaving their table area beautiful, etc.  Students lose points for eating in class, coming late, not having a writing utensil, breaking the Golden Rule, etc.  I made it so there are equal number of positive and negative behaviors.  (I've been training students to calculate grades based on those letter codes, which as some basic math value as well!) 

The table leader rotates weekly. At the end of the day I tally up the points and make any corrections if need be.  Every day students see their official grade from the day before. At the end of the week each student averages their scores from each day together and gets a grade out of 100, which I will enter into my online grade book.

It's not rocket science, but I think it helps kids be clear on what they are choosing to do and the consequences of those choices, good or bad.  Also, there are many ways within a single period to redeem a falling grade, and this makes that visible.  However, if a student has made poor choices throughout a period, it also becomes clear that he or she can't simply work for 5 minutes and redeem the grade.  It helps kids check each other, which is much much better than me playing the cop.  I hope and suspect students also see more clearly how their actions affect their learning and the rest of the class.  Maybe that's something we could have a class discussion about soon.  

I've never really been a fan of point systems for behavior.  Ideally, we will use this for a while and then outgrow it.  But for the moment, it's the structure and clarity my students need in order to do their best work and become members of a learning community, not just students in a class. 

[Image credit: a student deep in thought on a trip to study the neighborhood. This is how I want my students to feel in class every day!]

After reading Nancy Flanagan's post at Teacher In a Strange Land about Public Agenda's report on Teaching for a Living: How Teachers See the Profession Today, I am questioning whether I fit into the contented, idealist, or disheartened category of teacher.  Like some of the teachers she mentions, I think I may shift between the three perspectives over the course of a single day.  However, a few months into my sixth year, I am pretty sure I'm becoming less idealistic and possibly less contented than I used to be.  

What does that mean and why is it happening?  Well, when I first entered teaching, I was just excited to be there. Everything I did was experimental. I was aware that the conditions of my school were far from ideal, and that I was a beginner, and I was mentally prepared to succeed or flop any day. I was eager to capitalize on success when I met it and also content to cut my losses and learn from my mistakes when I failed.  The pace of my own learning was as exhilarating as that of my students.  Success happened in moments, and I cherished them. At the end of two years of teaching one group of students for 7th and 8th grade, I saw evidence of major long-lasting growth.  I also was able to pinpoint things I had not achieved with my students and plan for the next year.  When I was frustrated, it was usually with the fact that I lacked voice within my top-down structured school.

Over the years I figured out some things that seemed to work.  I began to reuse and refine those practices.  As satisfying as that was, I also began to expect success most of the time.  I also raised my standards for what success in the classroom should look like.  At the same time, I was indoctrinated into a culture that increasingly looks to test scores to measure learning and the success of teachers.  I went from teaching my students for two years to teaching them for one.  I expected success sooner, faster, and all the time.    

Additionally, I switched schools in order to work in a place where teachers had more voice in curriculum and decision making processes.  With a new school came adapting my teaching--which is a student-centered, responsive approach, where students themselves matter a lot--to a different and less familiar population of students. Eager to have more voice my school, I took on leadership roles, and began spending more energy on team and school-wide issues than I ever had before.  My involvement with the Teacher Leaders Network has also opened me up to the world of education policy and edu-blogging. Practically speaking, teacher leadership has meant cutting back on the amount of time and energy spent on my own teaching practice. At the same time, I couple that with higher and higher expectations of my own teaching and less tolerance for failure of any kind.

I was never a total idealist about teaching and I was never fully content with my own teaching, my school, or the teaching profession as a whole.  What worked for me was that I never took success with students for granted.  And I never beat myself up when something didn't go as well as I expected.  Now I do both of those things regularly, which is a recipe for becoming one disheartened teacher.  

I guess the first step is acknowledging there is a problem.  I'll be working on how to shift my outlook so I can keep on enjoying this work. Advice is welcome :)

[image credit: roddzblog.wordpress.com/ 2007/05/]

As I've written before, grading has always been a weak point for me. Partly because it's tedious, but more likely because my own methods have never fully made sense to me.  And if they don't make sense to me, they can't make much sense to my students. 

This summer I did some reading on the topic, including Rick Wormeli's Fair Isn't Always Equal: Assessment and Grading in the Differentiated Classroom. I'm now pretty convinced that grading needs to be based on mastery of academic standards and classroom objectives (even if some of these are not reflected in actual state standards), and not much else.  
However, as I get closer to designing a clear, standards-based assessment and grading structure for my classroom, some philosophical questions arise for me.
The major benefit of standards-based grading that includes multiple opportunities for students to demonstrate proficiency and growth is that students get a clear picture of what their strengths are and what they need to work on.  This can help them gain agency in their own development of these skills and understandings, which is a goal of any progressive educator.  
In progressive classrooms, teachers design experiences for students.  The idea is that through experience, students construct knowledge and build skills.  One question that sometimes concerns me is, are students always aware of what they are learning?  At what point is it necessary for them to become aware? 
Sometimes teachers design such compelling learning experiences that students are able to forget they are doing a "school" activity.  They derive genuine pleasure from the curiosity and intellectual engagement of the experience.  This is what we want and, in my experience both as a teacher and student, leads to the highest levels of understanding.  But it's not ALL we want.  It's a necessary step in the learning process called exploration.  
What happens after exploration?  In a well-run classroom, reflection and analysis and term introduction--and often multiple rounds of the whole process--lead students to develop conceptual understanding of the topic.  They have also built relevant skills along the way.  
At what point in the constructivist process does it make sense to assess students on what they've learned?  When is it fair and useful to grade the students on said learning?  
Since individual students may differ in what they take from a given activity, at some point it seems only fair to let students in on what the learning objectives are and what they'll be graded on.  That way students and teachers can be full partners on the road to proficiency and understanding, right? 
The place where I get philosophically tied up is around who is calling the shots on what needs to be learned and when.  Do students get a say in this?  Is the trajectory basically the same for all students with slight variation, or are there fundamental differences in what each child should learn and when?
In my last post, I describe a student who has been home-schooled and has had almost total agency over his own learning for years. Guess what? At age 14--the same age that some 50% of our country's youth begin to think of dropping out of high school--he chose to enroll in junior college, where he selected his courses.  He selected some classes based on interest (architecture) and other classes based on his own perception of what his weaknesses are (writing).  Seems like he came around to those objectives without anybody else setting the bar for him at any point.  And my guess is that he'll go as far as he needs to with his education.
In the end, as a public school teacher with 65 students for one year only, I will have to compromise in the name of efficiency.  I will not cut out the exploration stage of the the learning process, because without it, I don't believe real learning takes place.  But after students reflect upon and analyze the introductory experience, it is far more efficient for students to go into a second experience knowing what they should pay closer attention to and learn.  In many cases, individual students or the whole class together can identify what point or skill they will focus on in a subsequent activity.   
Thinking hard, as I create standards-based rubrics and tracking grids that anticipate all of the learning my students will do this year... I would love to hear your thoughts.

[image found at dvice.com]

  

In summertime, I usually go through some version of the following stages:

(1) Overdrive. I can't stop thinking and dreaming about the past year, the good, bad, and especially the way it ended.
(2) Escape. I let it all go and think about anything but teaching.
(3) Observation from Afar. Having taken a big step back from the daily realities of teaching, I reconsider my position as a teacher with a measure of detachment, before it's really time to gear up for the new year. I ask myself, "What's really going on here?  Where do I fit?"
(4) Judgement: Inevitably, I experience frustration over my relative lack of power in the face of a huge dysfunctional public education system. I judge the system for doing harm to students and also teachers in many ways. I am angry when I see the limitations of what I can accomplish under such conditions. (See my two recent posts, The New NYC School System and Old Attitude Problem About School for signs of this.) 
(5) Inspiration: I recognize that I limit myself even further by staying angry. Soon enough I refocus myself on the most important thing, my own students and my own teaching, and find something to get excited about. This year I am excited to reinvent the East Harlem study I conducted with students 3 years ago at my previous school as a Crown Heights study at my current school. I also have ideas about how to improve the aesthetics of my classroom, and how to make use of the class set of laptops that is supposed to be in my room this September! (Stay tuned for more on these developments.)
(6) Focus the Fight: Once I regain inspiration to teach and have focused my attention on what's good in my teaching life, I am better equipped to position my work within the bigger picture of public education.  Instead of wasting my time railing on standardized tests, this year I will take on the challenge of how to assess the skills and understandings I believe are most important for my students to acquire.  
In a recent post at Get in the Fracas, my virtual colleague Dan Brown has just faced a similar challenge. Through an interesting anecdote, he illustrated that many people, including policy-makers, admit that that there are limits to what standardized tests show about student learning and quality teaching--but they also admit they are lost as to what other measures could be used.  Dan offers an overview of what else is out there.  
This year I hope to address this macro issue of "How do we know when kids are learning?" at the ground level in my classroom.  This week, I met with my AP, who is on board with me designing and piloting assessments in a number of categories that we know are important but currently don't measure.  Some of these are critical thinking, ability to participate in a student-centered discussion (face to face and online), and literary understanding (distinct from basic literacy skills).  
My English department is also on board with trying to make a shift from grading according to a mishmash of task completion, class participation and performance, to a more productive, student-friendly assessment system based clearly on growing mastery of standards and learning objectives. 
I have my work cut out for myself and a good chunk of research yet to do, but the good news is I'm excited about it, I know it will improve my teaching, and I'm doing something to solve a problem.

[image credit cloopco.blogspot.com/ 2009/02]Remove frame 

At the school where I taught for my first three years, I had two classes: one class of seventh graders and one of eighth graders. My seventh graders would move on to become my eighth graders the next year, so I taught them for a wonderful two years in a row.  (This was only true for English classes for some reason.)  
By the time my students reached eighth grade, we already knew each other well.  We did not have to spend a few months testing each other and building trust.  By eighth grade, my students also had formed a strong group dynamic and knew how to work together.  I remember one September a new student came to my class as an eighth grader and groaned when she saw one of the school's most troublesome students, Maurice, in line for the class.  Her friend said to her in Spanish, "Don't worry, he doesn't act out in English class." I attribute this to the fact that we had already developed a positive group dynamic in the class; Maurice felt comfortable in the environment we had worked for a whole year to create. 
My second-year students were also accustomed to the type of assignments I designed. They knew I would ask them to reflect on their experiences, and they knew what that meant. They were also accustomed to drawing their own conclusions from their experiences, and listening to the ideas of their classmates, rather than constantly deferring to me for the "correct" response.  This gave them great confidence in their work.

They also had been through my "Whole Novels" program for an entire year.  Without going into great detail here, this method has students reading a number of whole class novels almost entirely on their own, and then coming together to discuss them in student-centered seminars.  Each novel builds on the previous one in complexity, but similar themes run through them all.  By 8th grade, my students know how this process works and how rewarding it is.  They trust my choice of novels, because they recognize that nothing in my curriculum is random and everything is connected and carefully planned with them in mind.  They take pride in formulating their own opinions and interpretations of the book, and look forward to expressing them in discussions.  
Recently, I've been wondering why my 8th grade students at my new school, whom I meet for the first time in September, seem to have less confidence in their own reading and their own thinking than my old 8th graders did.  Although my new students actually have higher literacy skills than my previous ones, they struggle more to trust their own thinking, to relate positively to one another, and to take on challenges.  There are many possible reasons for this, but I'm certain that part of it is because they have not--as my old students did--spent seventh grade building a foundation as a group, with me as their leader, for our work this year.  Much of the work I used to do with my seventh graders now has to be done in the first half of the school year with my current eighth graders.  It's still rewarding and I see a lot of progress, but the net effect seems to be less than when I looped.  
Enter the NY State ELA Test.  It is given every year in January, after just 4 months of eighth grade.  I have always resisted "teaching to the test," preferring to think that good teaching is good teaching, and if my students are learning, they will perform well on the test.  Well, many do, but there has been a lot of variation over the years.  In four years of testing every January (I haven't gotten the results for this year yet), there were two classes that made huge, startling gains.  By now you can probably guess which classes those were--the two 8th grade classes I had taught the year before as seventh graders.  
I remember puzzling over why my seventh graders never improved as much and as reliably as my eighth graders did, even though I believed they were learning a lot, and they seemed to feel that way too.  I had concluded that it was developmental; that seventh graders just didn't do as well as eighth graders.  But looking at my 8th graders' scores from last year, the level of improvement is very similar to that of my previous seventh graders: not bad, but not striking, with some serious question marks about a number of students.  
My conclusion at the moment is that the deep learning I design my teaching around takes time to achieve. Four months is not enough to see the long term benefits of the work, at least on the standardized test. It requires a substantial amount of work on the social-emotional level [that includes their understanding of what learning is and how they do it], both for students individually and for the group as a whole before the class really begins to take off.  
So what I believe is good teaching is not good teaching as far as the test is concerned, if I only have 4 months to prepare.  The good news, it would seem, is that with one year plus four months, good teaching begins to pay off quite a lot on the state test.  
After seeing last year's scores, I'll admit, this year I spent a good month and a half before the test preparing my students--hard core--for the type of formulaic responses and tricks they'd need to do to excel on the test. I felt good about it at the time.  But now, I'm watching them struggling to dig in to a challenging novel, and I'm thinking again.  We broke up the flow of the year for that test. More significantly, I broke the commitment I had to helping them as critical thinkers, readers, and writers, in favor of standardization of thinking. Sure, it was only a month and a half, but as my father once said, "Whatever doesn't help hurts."  I see now, we are paying for this decision.
Maybe looping is the way to go.  I'd imagine most teachers and students would benefit from this, especially in the middle school years, because you don't have to spend the first few moths of the year getting to know one another, building trust, and assessing academic needs.  You can say hello, and take off full speed.
[image found at www.coaster-net.com]


It was data review time again this week at my school--probably the country's most popular PD activity of today.  My AP handed me a print out that included each teacher in our grades 6-12 school and the percentage of students he or she passed for the first semester.  What I saw was, for me, shocking. Teachers had wildly disparate pass rates for their classes.  Some teachers passed 100% of their students or very close to it.  Other teachers passed 50-60% of their students for the semester.  These rates did not seem to correlate in any coherent way to other things I knew about these teachers, such as number of years of experience, level of commitment to student learning, or general skill level as a teacher.  But looking at the data it was also clear that the disparities indicated more about the perspectives of teachers than they did about students.  And once again my discomfort with grading reared its bumbling head.

I realize I have surprisingly little knowledge of most of my colleagues' grading practices.  I know we all have some sort of grading schema, with categories, each weighted a certain percentage, all adding up to 100%.  Some teachers weight homework heavily, others don't.  Some teachers weight tests heavily, others don't.  Some teachers enter a zero for a missed homework, others enter a 55%, and still others leave the assignment out of the student's average altogether as if it never existed.  I know for my class, reading is a non-negotiable, so I set up my grading schema such that it's impossible to pass the class without doing a substantial amount of reading.  So a failing grade often indicates a student didn't complete a certain minimum amount of reading.  But the same is likely not true in another class, even of the same subject.  
The more I think about, the less certain I am of what "pass" actually means.  I spoke to two of my close colleagues, both of whom attended NYC public schools themselves.  These are two teachers I respect very much and whose students work hard and clearly learn a lot in their classes.  
The first teacher has a near 100% pass rate for all of her classes.  She said she calculates her grades based on a grading schema on our online grading system.  But then, she compares the number grade to what she thinks about the student.  She looks for evidence of what the student learned and knows how to do.  Whenever possible, she passes the student, even if the numbers don't add up.  When I asked her why, she explained that middle school grades are used to determine what high school a student gets into in NYC.  She would hate to doom a student's future based on choices they make in seventh grade, a time where adolescents are growing in so many ways and are often not aware of the impact of their behavior.  Mistakes made in seventh grade--that often have nothing to do with academic ability and everything to do with social-emotional development, which most middle schools currently give little attention and support--should not keep a student out of a competitive high school, she reasons.  Having taught seventh grade before, (and having been one myself) I do understand her point.  
The second teacher has one of the lowest rates I saw, around 60%.  She says she sets a high standard for her students, and doesn't budge on her expectations.  She works hard to modify her instruction based on the needs of the students, but expects all students to work hard consistently--she herself worked hard to achieve at a high level in NYC public schools despite many obstacles.  If her students meet her standards, they will be prepared for any high school, whereas if she lowers her standards, she is certain many students won't be able to succeed in competitive high schools.  If students fail her class, they are learning a hard lesson sooner rather than later, she reasons.  This too, makes sense to me.
Earlier in the year the administration asked each grade team to make a goal for the school year for our student pass rates.  As an 8th grade teacher, the pass or fail line becomes especially significant, because it determines who participates in the graduation ceremony and activities, and who is sent to summer school or retained for a second year of eighth grade. My grade team came up with a goal of a 90% (on-time) pass rate this year.  The number was somewhat arbitrary, but we chose it because we thought we could beat our rate from last year, which was around 80%, through better communication with students, parents, and increased interventions.

But the real can of worms we need to open up--if pass rates is going to be a key data point for our school--is how we understand and assess passing and failing, and how this definition fits into the mission of our school.  I don't have the answer, but we should start by opening up dialogue on the topic.  
Do any of your schools have a strong consensus on this issue?  If so, I would love to hear how you arrived at it.  I am concerned that, once again, we come up against the limitations of ascribing one number to stand for a student's learning over a period of time.  Narrative evaluations, least in middle school, might do a better job of capturing the complexity of any one student.
[image credit: http://blogs.courierpostonline.com/eagles/files/2008/11/pass_fail1.jpg]


As you probably know, I'm not a big fan of multiple choice tests, especially the annual high stakes ELA test.  (Check out my last post, The New ELA Test, for some more discussion of this.)  That said, I spent the last week analyzing my students' choices of A B C or D on the sample tests and I think I've come up with a handy tool for helping students to choose more wisely. 

It started when I went through to take the tests myself.  Very few questions had clear-cut correct answers.  Instead, I found that most questions had two or even three answers that had some validity.  To make my final choice, I had to go back to the passage and weigh each answer against its competition.  Which one had the MOST evidence to support it?  That was the one I chose, even if I had not initially favored it.  Later, I came across the answer key online and found that my answers were all "correct." (Big sigh of relief!) 

I hypothesized that many of my students were choosing the first answer that seemed to line up with what they had read, instead of recognizing the multiple possibilities and carefully reasoning through their choices. In fact, a number of my students admitted they had not fully read the passages.  Instead they read the questions first and looked for the answers in the passages.  Indeed, they chose the first answer for which they had found evidence.  These students answered the questions with less than 50% accuracy.  
I created a template to give students a process for reasoning through their answers, as I had done.  For each question students had to explain their choice of answer using this format:
[Note: students should number the paragraphs of the reading selection to do this activity.]

7.  In this article, the author’s purpose is
most likely to

            A   analyze the secrets of business success

            B   explain the power of advertising

            C   tell about the life of an inventor

            D
  
describe the history of an invention

We chose this answer, because ______________________________________________________________________________

______________________________________________________________________________

Evidence that our answer is the best one is in paragraph # (s) _____________________

We also thought the answer might be
_____ , but we did NOT choose this answer, because    

______________________________________________________________ 

I first asked my students read the passage with a partner and work together to complete the multiple choice questions using the template.  The next day I gave students another passage and had them work individually using the template.  The next day, I gave them their second multiple choice practice test without the template.  On the first practice test--before using the template above--the class had answered questions with an average of 59% accuracy.  Three days later, after practicing with this template the class average had increased to 68% accuracy, with a number of individual students making startling increases of 20-30%.  I shared the activity with a few other teachers at my school, who reported it to be helpful for their students.  
In my scoring, incomplete questions were marked incorrect, as they are on the actual exam, so my students' rate of accuracy on questions attempted could actually be higher than these numbers show. The next step is to identify the students who regularly run out of time and give them some strategies to help them finish faster. I will continue to encourage everyone else to continue reading as carefully as possible--the risk of skimming for answers is higher than most of them realize. 

[image credits:http://www.i-italy.org/files/imagecache/600x/files/still_photos/Test_1205948884.jpg http://www.standards.dfes.gov.uk/progressionmaps/images/english/supplementary/traffic_lights.jpg]  

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