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dragonlady7Had dinner at Dave's mom's house tonight.
Tomorrow begins three days of state testing. She teaches fourth grade.
Fourth grade. These are nine and ten year olds, for those whose educational systems use different numbering systems.
The state mandates these standardized tests, as required by Bush's No Child Left Behind Act.
Nine-year-olds are required to sit through three days of intensive testing.
Their teachers are not allowed to help them.
That includes, when the child breaks down into tears because the questions are not appropriate for their age level, the teacher cannot comfort the child, cannot pat the child on the shoulder and say "It's OK, Timmy, we learned this and you can do it. Calm down."
No.
The teacher cannot touch the child, cannot gesture at the child. Cannot tap on the desk of a visibly distracted child to remind the child to focus on the task at hand. Cannot encourage a struggling one. Cannot answer the child's reasonable question (e.g. "are we supposed to fill all the lines with our answer?") with anything but, "Use your best judgement."
One of Mrs. K's students is a self-mutilator. Despite the fact that this problem is almost exclusively one suffered by pubescent girls, this boy has been clawing and cutting himself since he was in second grade. Mrs. K. knows it is his reaction to stress that he can't handle. (He comes from a very, very bad family situation.) She also anticipates he will most likely begin to claw himself during the test by the second day. She will not be allowed to stop him. Because that would be helping him.
Last year one of her brightest kids burst into tears because he couldn't understand the bizarrely misleading reading-comprehension essay. (It was about ham radios, which none of her kids had ever heard of before. The essay, in an attempt at humor, was titled, "Who put the ham in the radio?" Fifty percent of her kids thought that actual ham was somehow involved, and so were totally confused by the essay, which never addressed the fact that 'ham' means 'amateur'. Which is not something that nine-year-olds know. The essay also contained several words that were at a reading level higher than fourth grade.)
These tests are made in Albany by test-makers. Not teachers. Most of these test-makers have never taught. For several years, tests have had to subsequently be re-scored because the test-makers had set them to the wrong grade levels. (Fifth-graders were asked algebra questions. That's an entire state of irrevocably scarred fifth graders. For those unfamiliar with the US education system, algebra is taught in seventh grade. TWO YEARS later. And, might I add, at the END of seventh grade. Fifth graders have never even SEEN math problems with letters in them. They haven't got the slightest clue what they're meant to do with them. Imagine being given The Most Important Test Ever and having it contain questions in a language you don't understand. Yyyeah.)
To rectify this, the state has begun conducting "field tests". They will take random classes and make them take mock exams with questions they're considering putting into next year's real tests.
That's Mrs. K's class. Next week. Yes. Seven days after the beginning of a three-day intensive English & Language Arts test, they will be subjected to another three days of experimental math testing. They'll never even see their scores. These tests will be of no benefit to the children. They may well prove actually irrelevant to anything they have learned or will be learning. "I haven't told them yet," Mrs. K. said. "I don't know how to tell them. I'm going to let them take these tests first, the tests that count. And then I guess I'll just tell them not to worry and that the test is... what, for fun? Come on. This is nuts."
These are nine-year-olds.
I am twenty-five and have never taken a three-day exam. I've taken some heavy exams. Not only did I take the SATs like five times, and I took 4 SAT II exams, and I took 5 A.P. exams, AND THEN I went to Britain and I sat two A-Levels after only one year of preparation during which I had mono.... (Two As, thank you very much.)
But I've never taken a three-day exam.
Kids this age don't know how to handle that kind of stress. And it's ridiculous not to let their teachers help them learn to cope with the stress. "By day three," Mrs. K. said grimly, "they're burned out. They write essays with conclusions that say, literally, 'And this is my last sentence,' because their poor little brains are fried." And she's not allowed to encourage them, reassure them, comfort them, remind them that they've done harder things in class... (because they have: these are smart kids, for the most part.) No.
And (this is new), she's not allowed to talk about the tests afterward. (Heh. Four thousand angry letters-to-the-editor later, they've decided that the solution is to gag the teachers, not fix the system...)
By the way, every fourth-grader has to take this test, without assistance. That includes the kids in special education programs. (special ed, in NY state at least, is for kids who, for emotional, physical, or mental reasons, are in some way handicapped and need extra help to learn. Some are so handicapped that they never even attend regular classes-- paraplegics, developmentally disabled children: the very handicapped. Others are just given remedial help-- dyslexics, ADD patients who don't know how to concentrate and need help coping, children with learning disabilities.) And includes the physically handicapped kids who can't hold a pencil. (Used to be, aides were allowed to scribe for physically handicapped kids who couldn't write; the child would dictate, the aide would write. Now? They tie the pencil to their wrists and tell them to do their best, and try to puzzle through the chicken scratch afterward. (No. They aren't given extra time.) But now, they're not allowed to say, "Do your best." Because that's helping them, and it's illegal.) A special ed teacher, in tears, recounted to Mrs. K. how she watched her students completely crumble during these tests. "I tried to pump them up," she said, "but they just... they're in Special Ed for a reason. They can't do this stuff yet. They're not ready. That's why they need me. It's inhumane to throw them into this. But it's required."
And one last thing: The exams are graded on a 0-4 scale. No finer granularity. Ridiculous. How is that meaningful? Three days and you get so little information out of it about how the kids are actually doing? They pass, or they fail, pretty much.
So, fuck you, Mr. Bush and your bullshit education reforms. All they do is waste tax dollars and convince a new generation of kids that School Is Hard. Go ahead, label the poor test-takers early as "dumb", before they've had a chance to catch up. It's still six more years till they can legally drop out, so make sure they're primed to waste those six years. Expose them to levels of stress we used to reserve for highschoolers. See what happens. It's only our children: they can't vote for another eight or nine years. And gosh, it sounds good when you talk about what you've accomplished.
And, and this is the best part, mandate that these tests be given, and then don't allocate the funding. So we've had to cut all extracurriculars from most school schedules in order to fund these God-damned, bullshit fucking tests that still don't mean anything.
Oh. Next year?
They're starting this testing in THIRD GRADE.
EIGHT YEAR OLDS.
What did YOU do in school when you were EIGHT? Did you take long exams with reading comprehension and essay questions in short time-frames that required you to have time-management skills?
Dude, in third grade, I think I learned cursive and read my first chapter-book. School was fun then.
Well, so much for that.
Sorry, didn't mean to get political. I'm not one of those Oh Children Are So Great, Let's Make It All About The Children people but the image of a nine-year-old clawing himself because he's being subjected to more stress than he knows how to cope with, while his teacher looks on and can do nothing, really bugs the shit out of me.
In other news, I made a bunch of money today instead of, well, getting all my errands done. (Shit, I have no clean pants to wear to work tomorrow.) It was nice, for once, to work one of the shifts that has actual customers. I think I made more today than I'll make in my 15 hours of work tomorrow. ... Ugh.
I also found out that the girl that they just hired, who's junior to me? Isn't. She's been working for my company's parent company for nine years. So, she won't be working in the Club at all. ... Joy. I get to keep my 15 hours a week of earning just under minimum wage hourly. Yay!!
But maybe I'll be picking up another 8-hour shift per week now that everybody else is back in school, so I'll have just over 40 hours a week of work, and maybe that'll add up and mean that I can get subsidized health benefits and maybe, just maybe, be eligible for holiday pay!! And maybe I'll earn enough to, I don't know, stop worrying. I'm not asking for riches, here.
Oh yes. The novel. I was going to post Ch. 5. I guess I will. Crap, it doesn't have a title. Help! What do I call it? Augh.
My brain is so fried. I did make some helpful notes on revisions I need to make to the novel, and reviewed all my research notes. If the library's back in commission (Erie Co. was going to shut down its library system as of Jan. 1st but I think they got a stay of execution. Question: If the libraries shut down while I have books checked out, do I get to keep them? ... Please?) perhaps I should do a little more research; methinks details in early chapters here are too vague because I didn't know enough about Viking-era daily life in Wales.
Anyhow. Yes. Ch. 5. I'll get over my righteous indignation and sudden headache and get on with the Vikings already.
Tomorrow begins three days of state testing. She teaches fourth grade.
Fourth grade. These are nine and ten year olds, for those whose educational systems use different numbering systems.
The state mandates these standardized tests, as required by Bush's No Child Left Behind Act.
Nine-year-olds are required to sit through three days of intensive testing.
Their teachers are not allowed to help them.
That includes, when the child breaks down into tears because the questions are not appropriate for their age level, the teacher cannot comfort the child, cannot pat the child on the shoulder and say "It's OK, Timmy, we learned this and you can do it. Calm down."
No.
The teacher cannot touch the child, cannot gesture at the child. Cannot tap on the desk of a visibly distracted child to remind the child to focus on the task at hand. Cannot encourage a struggling one. Cannot answer the child's reasonable question (e.g. "are we supposed to fill all the lines with our answer?") with anything but, "Use your best judgement."
One of Mrs. K's students is a self-mutilator. Despite the fact that this problem is almost exclusively one suffered by pubescent girls, this boy has been clawing and cutting himself since he was in second grade. Mrs. K. knows it is his reaction to stress that he can't handle. (He comes from a very, very bad family situation.) She also anticipates he will most likely begin to claw himself during the test by the second day. She will not be allowed to stop him. Because that would be helping him.
Last year one of her brightest kids burst into tears because he couldn't understand the bizarrely misleading reading-comprehension essay. (It was about ham radios, which none of her kids had ever heard of before. The essay, in an attempt at humor, was titled, "Who put the ham in the radio?" Fifty percent of her kids thought that actual ham was somehow involved, and so were totally confused by the essay, which never addressed the fact that 'ham' means 'amateur'. Which is not something that nine-year-olds know. The essay also contained several words that were at a reading level higher than fourth grade.)
These tests are made in Albany by test-makers. Not teachers. Most of these test-makers have never taught. For several years, tests have had to subsequently be re-scored because the test-makers had set them to the wrong grade levels. (Fifth-graders were asked algebra questions. That's an entire state of irrevocably scarred fifth graders. For those unfamiliar with the US education system, algebra is taught in seventh grade. TWO YEARS later. And, might I add, at the END of seventh grade. Fifth graders have never even SEEN math problems with letters in them. They haven't got the slightest clue what they're meant to do with them. Imagine being given The Most Important Test Ever and having it contain questions in a language you don't understand. Yyyeah.)
To rectify this, the state has begun conducting "field tests". They will take random classes and make them take mock exams with questions they're considering putting into next year's real tests.
That's Mrs. K's class. Next week. Yes. Seven days after the beginning of a three-day intensive English & Language Arts test, they will be subjected to another three days of experimental math testing. They'll never even see their scores. These tests will be of no benefit to the children. They may well prove actually irrelevant to anything they have learned or will be learning. "I haven't told them yet," Mrs. K. said. "I don't know how to tell them. I'm going to let them take these tests first, the tests that count. And then I guess I'll just tell them not to worry and that the test is... what, for fun? Come on. This is nuts."
These are nine-year-olds.
I am twenty-five and have never taken a three-day exam. I've taken some heavy exams. Not only did I take the SATs like five times, and I took 4 SAT II exams, and I took 5 A.P. exams, AND THEN I went to Britain and I sat two A-Levels after only one year of preparation during which I had mono.... (Two As, thank you very much.)
But I've never taken a three-day exam.
Kids this age don't know how to handle that kind of stress. And it's ridiculous not to let their teachers help them learn to cope with the stress. "By day three," Mrs. K. said grimly, "they're burned out. They write essays with conclusions that say, literally, 'And this is my last sentence,' because their poor little brains are fried." And she's not allowed to encourage them, reassure them, comfort them, remind them that they've done harder things in class... (because they have: these are smart kids, for the most part.) No.
And (this is new), she's not allowed to talk about the tests afterward. (Heh. Four thousand angry letters-to-the-editor later, they've decided that the solution is to gag the teachers, not fix the system...)
By the way, every fourth-grader has to take this test, without assistance. That includes the kids in special education programs. (special ed, in NY state at least, is for kids who, for emotional, physical, or mental reasons, are in some way handicapped and need extra help to learn. Some are so handicapped that they never even attend regular classes-- paraplegics, developmentally disabled children: the very handicapped. Others are just given remedial help-- dyslexics, ADD patients who don't know how to concentrate and need help coping, children with learning disabilities.) And includes the physically handicapped kids who can't hold a pencil. (Used to be, aides were allowed to scribe for physically handicapped kids who couldn't write; the child would dictate, the aide would write. Now? They tie the pencil to their wrists and tell them to do their best, and try to puzzle through the chicken scratch afterward. (No. They aren't given extra time.) But now, they're not allowed to say, "Do your best." Because that's helping them, and it's illegal.) A special ed teacher, in tears, recounted to Mrs. K. how she watched her students completely crumble during these tests. "I tried to pump them up," she said, "but they just... they're in Special Ed for a reason. They can't do this stuff yet. They're not ready. That's why they need me. It's inhumane to throw them into this. But it's required."
And one last thing: The exams are graded on a 0-4 scale. No finer granularity. Ridiculous. How is that meaningful? Three days and you get so little information out of it about how the kids are actually doing? They pass, or they fail, pretty much.
So, fuck you, Mr. Bush and your bullshit education reforms. All they do is waste tax dollars and convince a new generation of kids that School Is Hard. Go ahead, label the poor test-takers early as "dumb", before they've had a chance to catch up. It's still six more years till they can legally drop out, so make sure they're primed to waste those six years. Expose them to levels of stress we used to reserve for highschoolers. See what happens. It's only our children: they can't vote for another eight or nine years. And gosh, it sounds good when you talk about what you've accomplished.
And, and this is the best part, mandate that these tests be given, and then don't allocate the funding. So we've had to cut all extracurriculars from most school schedules in order to fund these God-damned, bullshit fucking tests that still don't mean anything.
Oh. Next year?
They're starting this testing in THIRD GRADE.
EIGHT YEAR OLDS.
What did YOU do in school when you were EIGHT? Did you take long exams with reading comprehension and essay questions in short time-frames that required you to have time-management skills?
Dude, in third grade, I think I learned cursive and read my first chapter-book. School was fun then.
Well, so much for that.
Sorry, didn't mean to get political. I'm not one of those Oh Children Are So Great, Let's Make It All About The Children people but the image of a nine-year-old clawing himself because he's being subjected to more stress than he knows how to cope with, while his teacher looks on and can do nothing, really bugs the shit out of me.
In other news, I made a bunch of money today instead of, well, getting all my errands done. (Shit, I have no clean pants to wear to work tomorrow.) It was nice, for once, to work one of the shifts that has actual customers. I think I made more today than I'll make in my 15 hours of work tomorrow. ... Ugh.
I also found out that the girl that they just hired, who's junior to me? Isn't. She's been working for my company's parent company for nine years. So, she won't be working in the Club at all. ... Joy. I get to keep my 15 hours a week of earning just under minimum wage hourly. Yay!!
But maybe I'll be picking up another 8-hour shift per week now that everybody else is back in school, so I'll have just over 40 hours a week of work, and maybe that'll add up and mean that I can get subsidized health benefits and maybe, just maybe, be eligible for holiday pay!! And maybe I'll earn enough to, I don't know, stop worrying. I'm not asking for riches, here.
Oh yes. The novel. I was going to post Ch. 5. I guess I will. Crap, it doesn't have a title. Help! What do I call it? Augh.
My brain is so fried. I did make some helpful notes on revisions I need to make to the novel, and reviewed all my research notes. If the library's back in commission (Erie Co. was going to shut down its library system as of Jan. 1st but I think they got a stay of execution. Question: If the libraries shut down while I have books checked out, do I get to keep them? ... Please?) perhaps I should do a little more research; methinks details in early chapters here are too vague because I didn't know enough about Viking-era daily life in Wales.
Anyhow. Yes. Ch. 5. I'll get over my righteous indignation and sudden headache and get on with the Vikings already.
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Date: 2005-02-02 02:13 am (UTC)She can't discuss the tests, but perhaps *before* the tests she could make the parents aware of what's happening and encourage them to write their feelings on it to the state.