The test tyranny

I’ve been hearing the term “high-stakes testing” for several
years, but my brain had just filed it away with a ton of other education
jargon. Made little sense. Had little relevance.

                  Then
I read about the Regents math test, and I got it. And just retched.

                  One
of our children — now grown and doing well in a management position, with a
University of Rochester bachelor’s and master’s degree under his belt — would
probably have flunked that test. He didn’t “test well.” Had he been a senior in
high school this year, he, like many other students, would have walked away
from that test in tears.

                  No
matter how well he had done in his class work during his years in high school,
his score on the math test could have kept him from graduating.

                  Students
who failed the test this year lived through days of torture, as their school
districts begged State Education Commissioner Richard Mills to throw out the
test. At first Mills insisted that there was nothing wrong with the test. So
many students failed it, though, that he had to back down. Students who met all
other graduation requirements were permitted to get their diploma.

                  For a
high-school student, graduation night is incredibly important. It would be bad
enough to be shut out if you had failed many of your classes. But at least
you’d see it coming.

                  This
year, though, thousands of students were told near the end of the year that
they wouldn’t graduate — because of their score on that one test.

                  Now
Mills and his staff will analyze the test to see what went wrong. That’s a
relief. But this is hardly a time to celebrate; “high-stakes testing” is
hideous. And fixing this particular test doesn’t fix a thing.

                  I’m
more conservative about testing than many critics of standardized tests. I
think there has to be a clear, understandable way to assess students’ progress,
and I think there are certain standards against which you can match students’
knowledge. I like letter grades on report cards.

                  I am
also the mother of three very different children, each with their own talents
and strengths, each with their own way of learning. The child with the highest
grades in school and the highest SAT scores took the longest to pass her
driver’s test. Two children are artistic, and they are putting that talent (and
their father’s genes) into good use in rewarding careers. The artistic talent
of the third, like that of his mother, maxes out at drawing stick figures. He
makes a living analyzing things like economic and marketing data.

                  All
three graduated from Rochester’s Monroe High School, with a high-quality
education. All three had teachers who recognized their strengths and
weaknesses. The teachers had high expectations — and great empathy. They
understood the stresses young people experience.

                  Both
qualities are crucial. It does students great harm to dumb down an education,
and to pretend that students have learned something when they have not. But it
also does students great harm when we adopt a one-size-fits-all philosophy
about education. And it is absurd to think that a single test can tell us what
a student has learned — and whether that student should graduate from high
school.

                  Richard
Mills’ attitude, of course, reflects a growing conviction in the US: that
there’s a simple way to solve the problems of our schools. Just crack the whip.

                  Whip-cracking
can’t fix American education. It can hurt
students, and discourage teachers.

                  My
hunch about the high-stakes-test enthusiasts: As children, they did really well at test-taking. And as adults,
they either haven’t had teenagers or have forgotten how wonderfully different,
and vulnerable, teenagers can be.

                  Want to comment? Write
or The Mail, City Newspaper, 250 North
Goodman Street, Rochester 14607. Please include your name, address, and daytime
phone number.

This article appears in Jul 2-8, 2003.