"...But, I Always Passed the Stupid Tests."

Jake is a bright young man and I’ve taught hundreds like him.  He’s not the best writer I have in my class, but when he feels motivated he can do a decent job.  He reads above grade level according to most tests and he doesn’t dislike reading, though he prefers video games and doesn’t read a lot at home.  

Generally, Jake’s grades are fine.  He’s not gifted, but he’s no dummy.  Sometimes he forgets to turn in assignments, but he can get a C with no effort at all, and can get an A with a little bit of effort.  He usually makes the honor roll.   

Jake passes the state tests, and he’s in no danger of failing.  That is all that matters.  Jake and the school system have an understanding, and it’s working out great for him (or so he thinks).  They don’t have to worry about whether he passes the test, so he doesn’t have to be bothered with actually learning anything.  Jake has been coasting through school since kindergarten, and no one has ever tried very hard to teach him much of anything.  

High stakes testing has changed education. Twenty years ago, Jake mattered. As an above-average kid, he probably wouldn’t have gotten as much attention as the superstars at the top of his class, the kids with disabilities, or the troublemakers who were constantly commanding everyone’s attention, but he wouldn’t have been able to hide completely.  His teachers knew Jake would be an important part of the workforce someday, and he needed to be competent.  He had to practice grammar, he had to write essays, he had to do presentations and science projects.  Jake was pushed reasonably hard. 

Then came No Child Left Behind, and suddenly, Jake was  invisible. Schools were scrambling to improve their test scores, and needed to find ways to help students pass.  Classes were turned over to testing experts, and curriculum was aimed at improving scores.  Students were drilled on reading passages, test questions, and basic skills that Jake had mastered by third grade.   

Sure, there were a few vocabulary words and a concept or two he had to learn as he advanced through school, but as an above-average student he picked that up quickly. He was being taught mainly to pass a minimum competency test, after all. No one expected brilliance or creativity and no one expected him to do anything exceptional or difficult.   No one was coming up with ways to focus attention on above-average kids and bring out their best.  It didn’t matter. 

“He’s going to pass the test,” they would say.  “He's fine.” 

And so Jake faded into the background, and became a master of the bare minimum.  The school system would place a hurdle in front of him, and he would step casually over it and keep walking. Doing “just enough” wasn’t even difficult anymore. For all intents and purposes, he was getting his trophy just for showing up. 

After all, Jake passed the tests. 

I’m not sure people have fully come to terms with just how stupid and counter-productive high-stakes testing really is.  As a teacher, I sat in hundreds of meetings focused on identifying and discussing students who were in danger of failing the tests. We jettisoned the names at the top and bottom of the list, and focused on the ones on the “bubble,” seeking interventions and methods that would help them pass.   

Kids like Jake never came up. In fact, it was not unusual for colleagues and administrators to suggest that we not devote any time or resources to lessons aimed at the kids we knew would pass.  “They’ll be fine,” they would say. “They’re going to pass the test.”   

It brings up what should be an obvious question:  Why the hell does Jake need to be here at all?  Shouldn’t he just take the year off?  In any given year, after all, at least half of my students could easily pass the grade-level reading test if they took it on the first day of school.  

So why not give it to them, and then send them home?   

The answer should be obvious:  Every kid goes to school to learn, and every kid needs to be progressing.  The problem is this idiotic mindset that kids only need to be functioning “at grade level,” which means the only important goal is for them to pass the test. The reality is that kids develop at different rates, and need to be challenged at different levels. This isn’t a problem for most teachers; it’s something we understand and accept.  

Every student is different, and they all need to be learning. Every student needs to show progress.  School isn’t just for the ones who struggle to keep up.  

Jake isn’t even the biggest loser here.  It’s much worse for those kids who never pass the test, year after frustrating year. Devoting resources to these students is absolutely vital. Many of them come from disadvantaged backgrounds or have learning disabilities and struggle with good reason. They need the extra help.  

But they’re not likely to pass a grade-level test if they’ve never passed one before, and that’s a huge burden for them to bear.  How is it realistic to expect a student with a learning disability to make two or three years of progress in a single school year?  Our best students can’t do that.  The fact is, most of them begin to give up by 7th grade.  It stops being worth the effort.   

The bottom line is simple: Everyone needs to learn. Ignoring kids who struggle clearly isn’t an option, but letting Jake coast by with minimum effort isn’t fair either.  

Not that it really matters to Jake.  He’ll continue to skate by. He’ll pay for it in a few years, though, when he enters the work force.  

And so will his boss.