I have so many amazingly talented students, and I am blessed to get to sit and talk with them. They enlighten me, they make me laugh (a lot), they cause me to stop and think, and they challenge me to be better. Often, these conversations hang on; I cannot shake them, for reasons both good and bad. They usually lead me to write, sometimes so I won't forget them, often so I can think through what they really mean and where I might go with them.
The conversation I am thinking about right now is a frustrating one. And so, I write.
Recently, some of my students who took the ACT received their scores, and they were discussing them as class started. As I walked into the room, one student told me she did poorly (in her eyes) on the reading section. "See, I told you I was a terrible reader."
Earlier this year, I told this young person to stop saying that. She told me that the first day of class, and we talked about why she felt that way. She told me that some of her teachers in grade school told her that because she did poorly on some of the tests they gave. She believed them. It was how she viewed herself, and it was a part of her as a student and as a learner. As we progressed through the year, she showed me what kid of reader she actually is.
Thoughtful.
Imaginative.
Speculative.
Creative.
Driven.
Does she read as quickly as some of her classmates? No, she does not. Does she remember minute details after a quick reading, or a somewhat focused reading? Most of the time, no. Does she dive deeply into a text when she is engaged, thinking about the characters and who they are, feeling the emotion spilled on the page by the author, contemplating why things happened, what might happen next, and how it relates to her? Definitely.
This student has taken part in every classroom discussion. She asks questions. She listens to other students when they ask questions or present ideas. She composed original music to fit a character's development throughout a novel. She wrote poetry to represent different themes and plot elements in another novel and recorded them as songs. Even added a humorous take on one element as a bonus track. She has produced a wealth of evidence that she can not only understand what she reads, she can consume it and use it to produce other creative pieces.
Then, with one test result, the confidence that had grown so much during the year was replaced with resignation. Resignation to something that is patently false. Untrue. Wrong.
I struggle so much with this. I celebrate with my kids who come to me and proudly tell me how they did on the ACT or some other test. They are excited and proud of themselves. Usually, these students have already proven themselves "worthy" on a variety of other occasions over the semester, year, or school career, but the affirmation granted by that single measure seems to outweigh all the other learning, growth, and creation. I am proud of them for doing well, yet I wish they were as excited and affirmed by their repeated and visible learning that occurs on days other than one scheduled Saturday and in places other than one random classroom.
A while back, a past student told me she scored significantly lower on her second ACT than first. She was doubting herself and she was incredibly frustrated. She hadn't suddenly become a few points "stupider" and was not any less talented. She didn't suddenly become a student who didn't work extremely hard and find ways to improve. What had changed? She took her second test in room that had been the site of past trauma. She couldn't focus. And according to the test, she was not longer the bright, talented person she had been before. Or at least that's how some might see it. She had earned a good score on her first attempt and was hoping to improve by taking it again. But what if she had been randomly placed in that room during her first attempt? Would she have been able to bounce back? How might that have changed her future education, one in which she has since proven successful? That question doesn't just frustrate me; it frightens and angers me.
So back to the conversation in my class stuck with me. "I am a terrible reader" stayed pinned in my mind.
I told that student something that I honestly believe to be true.
"You are not a terrible reader; that test does a bad job of measuring how you think."
These tests are one measure, on one day, and yes, we can learn from the results. But they are ONE measure, on one day. I wish we - teachers, colleges, scholarships programs, newspapers, parents, and students - could be allowed to feel that way about them.
Until them, I want to continue to help kids build confidence, provide a space to grow and learn in different ways, and celebrate their hard-won successes, no matter where those successes presented themselves.
And, like trying to get off of Voxer, I don't really know how to gracefully end this post.
Kohls, out.
