Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Today, in the State of Massachusetts, is the day when all fourth and seventh graders buckle down and take the MCAS long composition test.  They have all day (if they would like) to write a personal narrative based on whatever prompt the state has issued.

Usually, the prompt is pretty convoluted.  Last year’s seventh grade prompt was “Imagine you had the opportunity to live anywhere in the world for a year.  Where would you live?  Why would you choose this place to live?  What would you hope to learn there?"  On the surface, it seems pretty harmless, almost fun even.  But think about the last question.  How would you answer it?  How is the average seventh grader supposed to answer that one?

The MCAS comes to us courtesy of the 1993 Massachusetts Education Reform Act.  It followed the national trend toward measurable teaching standards and predicted the NCLB legislation.  Initially it involved only a handful of tests at a handful of grade levels.  Now it is immense.  Testing in Massachusetts begins in the third grade and occurs annually until eighth grade.  Then students have a year off from testing before they have to take MCAS again in tenth grade; this time as a graduation requirement.  Between third and eighth grade, students are required to take two reading comprehension tests in March and two math tests in May.  Fourth and seventh graders are required to take a writing exam as they are doing today.  Eighth graders are given a science and technology exam in May.  Up until a couple of years ago, there was a seventh grade social studies test.  That (fortunately) was discontinued due to lack of funding. 

Since September, my curriculum has been centered around MCAS preparation.  The past two weeks have found the only words coming out of my mouth being related to the long composition.  Before that, I jammed poetry into three weeks.  How exactly do you instill  a love of poetry into a three week crash course on style, format, and figurative language?  Before that it was short stories.  All of this with the fear that either genre will appear on the test, and I haven’t covered it.

That’s my primary complaint about the MCAS.  The reading comprehension test of MCAS isn’t valid.  In terms of test validity, a valid test is one that always tests the same skills.  If a test is given repeatedly, annually, it needs to be testing the same skills in order to be valid.  MCAS is not valid because it doesn’t test the same skills year after year.  Generally, there is a non-fiction text on the test.  Some years, the remaining selections are all non-fiction.  Some years there will be a poem or two, and then some years there will be a play.  It is never the same.  So when we compare this year’s seventh graders (or any grade) with last year’s seventh graders, we’re really comparing Granny Smiths to Golden Deliciouses.

Another complaint I have is that the test does compare one year’s seventh (or any grade) graders scores to the next year’s seventh graders.  That’s problematic for a couple of reasons.  First, we’re not really checking for student growth then (although Massachusetts did add a monitoring system for student growth—not comparing, just monitoring).  To do that we would need to look at seventh grade scores and compare it to the previous sixth grade scores or the next year’s eighth grade scores.  If we’re not really interested in student growth, why test in the first place?  Why have our kids take these tests if we don’t want to see how they improve or don’t improve over time?  If we’re not monitoring growth, what are we monitoring?  Teacher performance.

Another reason why this is problematic is that the test isn’t valid.  If we’re comparing this year’s kids to last year’s kids, we’re already comparing different groups of kids with their different needs and strengths to one another.  It would be a fair comparison if the test were valid.  If this year’s kids were taking the same test as last year’s kids, it would be one thing.  But last year’s kids were tested on drama…their predecessors were tested on poetry.  This time we’re comparing tangerines to nectarines.

The test, however, is mainly fair.  What’s done with the test once the kids have taken it is not valid, but the test is fair.  It tests students only on what is in the Massachusetts’ State Frameworks—our state academic standards.  If I am doing my job, students should do well, right?  If I teach everything I’m supposed to teach, and if I am a competent teacher, shouldn’t my kids automatically do well?

Um…yes and no.  And this is a failure of both NCLB and The Race to the Top Fund.  They’ve forgotten Maslow.  In 1943, Abraham Maslow wrote a paper called, “A Theory of Human Motivation,” and this theory has a direct impact on schooling.  Basically, Maslow said that we, as humans, are all needy.  We order, subconsciously, our needs almost like a pyramid.  At the bottom, the support of the pyramid, are our physical needs (food, shelter, warmth, health).  Next up are our safety needs—both physical and emotional.  Then there are our needs for belonging—family, friendship, romantic love.  This is followed by our need for both self- and external esteem.  And at the very top of the pyramid is self actualization in which education, in general, falls.  It is common architectural knowledge, that if the bottom of the pyramid is not steady, sturdy, or strong, the rest of the pyramid will crumble.

So what’s the connection, then?  MCAS or any other standardized test falls under self-actualization.  How can students, of any age, succeed at a test if their other needs aren’t met?  If they are coming to school hungry or cold, their physical needs outweigh and block out their self-actualization needs of performing for the state on the state exam.  If kids aren’t safe at home or aren’t loved, what is their concern?  No matter how I present poetry or how many writing tips I dispense, I cannot compensate for those needs that form the support for the pyramid.  No matter how competent I am—and trust me; I’m pretty damned competent—how can I overcome those needs that can only be met at home?

NCLB, The Race to the Top Fund, and the ed reform that came before do not take this into account.  The push is for teachers to teach more, to teach better, to jump through flaming hoops, but what is left for parents to do?  Aside from bashing teachers, that is.  It’s so much easier to blame someone else for your own failings.  Not that all parents are bad or purposely neglectful.  In fact a majority of parents do everything they can to nurture and care for their children to the best of their abilities.  The honest truth though is that sometimes that’s not enough and sometimes that doesn’t happen.  It is no coincidence that the schools in the poorest districts do the worst on standardized tests.  It has very little to do with the quality of the teachers, because often times the teachers in those districts are the best and the brightest.  Firing teachers and administrators in those districts, blaming them for their failure to improve doesn’t come close to solving the problem.

On the flip-side, though, are there teachers and school administrators out there who are not competent and who should probably be in some other line of work?  Um…yes.  There are.  I think anyone of us can name at least three off the top of our heads.  It’s the same with any profession.  But understand this:  No one goes into teaching because they are waiting to make the big bucks.  We are all fully aware that—for at least most of our careers—we’ll have to work at least one extra job to keep ourselves and our families afloat.  We do it because we love children and we have a passion for our subjects.  We want to be where we are, doing what we do.  Who, exactly, is better to be in the classroom?  Someone who is waiting for the financial pay-off or someone who wants to be there to help the kids?

There are a lot of things I could write about education.  I have only touched the surface of teacher bashing, the achievement gap(s), the ineffectual legislation governing education, etc….But right now my seventh graders are finishing up their long compositions and I’ve got to count tests and answer booklets.  I’ve got to make sure I’ve collected all the number 2 pencils and highlighters.  Maybe some of that could be fodder for tomorrow’s test session, or the next day or the two days we test in May…I’ll have the time since I won’t be teaching.

In the meantime, check this out:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xuFnP5N2uA&feature=related 

Movie Night

So tonight John has to work late.  Every six months he needs to do some sort of maintenance thing that cannot be started until all the clients are gone for the night.  It's a really late night.  So when I came home from work, I threw the kids in the car to bring the kids to Target.  I needed a few things, but we got TV dinners and a movie "A Bug's Life."  After dinner, we built a tent in the living room and started to watch the movie.

Anna got excited about it and immediately wanted to put on her feety pyjamas and pop some popcorn.  She went upstairs and brought down all the pillow pets.  She crawled into the tent and cuddled up with her blanket.  That lasted all of 30 minutes.  Then she went into the dining room to play and chat.

Jack didn't want anything to do with the feety pajamas.  In fact, he was kind of pissed that I wanted him to shut off his movie so that I could start the movie.  The movie is just about over it, but he's still laying in the tent, watching the movie. 

Regardless of how many times I've rebuilt the tent, it's still a great start to the weekend.

The week started off on a shakey note.  Anna was sent home from school because the nurse and the teacher thought she was having severe stomach pains.  She wasn't, but the nurse somehow got her to say that her tummy hurt.  I can honestly say that it wasn't her tummy because she was fine in the nurse's office and she was fine at Judy's house.  Something set her off.  I couldn't talk to the teacher at the time, so I tried to call.  She didn't return my phone call until the following morning.  I wrote a note explaining why it wasn't a stomach ache (The kid's on enough Miralax that if she even thinks of poop, she poops).  I explained, for the umpteenth time what the anxiety attacks look like and that this was probably an anxiety attack.  Blah, blah, blah.  The teacher finally called the following morning and spoke with John.  John said the same thing.  I got a phone call from the principal regarding the note.  Of course I missed the call and had to wait for the following day to speak with her.  She told me that she really didn't believe that it was an anxiety attack because Anna looked like she was in pain.  I tried to explain it all again, but she didn't believe me.  She wanted to know how to manage the pain. 

The principal did tell me that she had been watching Anna and she found Anna to be a pleasant, happy little girl who plays with the other kids, shares well, and participates in the activities in the class.  She then went on to tell me that she prides herself on her staff's communication home with parents.  I told that was interesting because what she had told me was the only feedback I received about how Anna was adjusting to the new program.  That floored her.  "I'll have to go talk to Miss ________________!"
You do that.

The best of the phone call, aside from the part about how well her staff communicates with parents, was when she told me how professional her staff was.  See my previous posting to see how I feel about that one.

Actually the best part of the phone call was hearing the positive things she had to say about Anna.  It's nice to know that she participates.  It's nice to know that she's pleasant, because, honestly, she's not always pleasant.  It's nice to know she plays well with other kids (She's not quite verbal enough to vocalize the old David F. Hannon adage, "I'd like to share my toys all by myself!" but she feels the same way). 

I am angry that they're not listening to me.  It wasn't a stomach ache.  It was an anxiety attack.  I don't want to come get her if she's having anxiety attacks (I want to, actually.  I want to pick her up and cuddle her and love her and make the anxiety go away, but...) because she needs to learn coping mechanisms.  Also, if we come running every time she cries, she'll learn that she just needs to cry to get out of something.  Don't want to take that 10th grade biology test?  Just cry and say you're nervous.  The school needs to listen.  Those attacks are why she's there in the first place.

On the other hand, Anna is more verbal than she had been.  Even in only two weeks, she's talking more.  She's clear and she's funny.  She talks about circle time and another little girl in her class.  The place makes me crazy, but she's learning.  That's the best thing, right?

So Jack is becoming the master of exposition.  Lately, he's been announcing every, single little thing he does.  One day last week, I was sitting at the dining room table while he was standing right next to me, and he said, "I'm scratching my butt."  The thing was that I was watching him do it.  He's come into our room in the middle of the night to tell us that the touched the wall in his bedroom or that he pulled his blankets up, or he touched Brian (his dog who sleeps in his bed with him).  It's trying my patience in the worst way.  I didn't understand it.  Why was he torturing me this way?  But John had a light bulb moment and said that perhaps he was acting this way because Anna was getting a lot of attention.  In fact, this blog is mainly about Anna...they all are.

So this morning we had a bit of time before we needed to leave for Judy's.  So I sat down and told him that Anna needed our help because she wasn't where she should be and we were doing everything we could to help her.  She was taking a lot of attention, but that didn't mean we didn't love him as much.  I was telling him how much I loved him and how proud of I was of him and he wasn't paying attention.  He was looking around the room and out the window.  I was just getting to the sappy, yet important part when he looks at me and tells me that he was standing there looking out the window.

Oh well.  She'll speak better and he'll quit the narration.  Right?

Anna 1, BPS 0

So yesterday I got a call from the school nurse at Anna's school.  Anna had been in class and suddenly hid in a corner crying.  The teacher sent her to the nurse.  The nurse called me.  The nurse asked her questions about whether her head or her tummy hurt.  Anna decided that her tummy hurt.  This surprised me because Anna is not really a conversational kind of girl; she's just not that verbal.  She rarely answers questions when you ask her directly.  So I was absolutely amazed that she had told the nurse that her tummy hurt.  It turned out that the nurse got the tummy hurting answer after touching her own tummy and head and asking Anna to choose. 

The nurse and I spoke and and at that time Anna was absolutely fine.  She was happy and smiling in the nurse's office.  So I asked if she thought I needed to come get her.  The nurse said no.  She was fine.  The nurse thought maybe she was constipated.  I admitted that it was possible--sometimes Anna has pain when she is constipated.  I didn't think that was the case as she had pooped multiple times the day before, but whatever.  At that point Anna was fine, and she'd had a conversation (of sorts) about her needs.

Anna was sent back to class and started the crying inconsolably and hiding in the corner.  She was brought back to the nurse's office and I was called.  The nurse questioned Anna again and Anna admitted that her tummy was hurting, but once she was in the nurse's office, she was fine and bouncing off the walls.  So I called and asked Judy to go get the princess.  When I checked in with Judy later, Anna was fine.  She was singing and dancing. 

Judy, John and I all figured that it wasn't a cry of pain, it was a freak out and that something in the class had upset her.  So John wanted to call to speak to the teacher.  We all wanted to know what it was that had caused her to freak out.  I called the school and left a message, but the phone call was not returned that afternoon.

When I came home, Anna was singing and dancing.  She was absolutely fine.  So I wrote the teacher a fairly lengthly note, letting her know that we weren't really sure that Anna's tummy hurt, but that it was more likely she was having some sort of panic attack.  I reminded her that this is what I had described during every stage of the testing and even though none of the evaluators witnessed it, it was still a concern.  I told the teacher what could trigger it and that I was hoping that by being in this integrated pre-school program Anna would learn some coping mechanisms.

The teacher called me this morning before she got the note, but I had phone issues so I asked her to call John.  John explained to her everything that was in the note.  That this was not constipation, but a freak out.  That while she had improved since November, we were still concerned about this behavior.  He reminded her that this is what we had told them about and asked them to be aware of and that this behavior was why we refered her in the first place.  At one point the teacher told John that her crying was heartbreaking.  Tell me about it.  Really?  Didn't notice that myself. 

When Judy dropped her off at school today, the teacher asked if Anna had pooped.  Um...no.  She didn't need to poop.  When Judy picked her up, she asked the teacher how the day was.  The teacher responded, "Fine."  Judy tried to ask her what was going on in the class when Anna flipped and the teacher didn't think anything had happened.  And then the teacher said that she had been told that Anna hadn't freaked out since November.  Not what she had been told, but whatever.

So this afternoon while I was cleaning up the mess the dogs had waiting for me when I came home from school, and the principal from the school called and left a message on my phone.  She wants to talk to me about the note.  Interesting.  The teacher didn't want to discuss it with me; the principal does.  She said that the note was great, but she wanted to talk about what we want the school to do if Anna is in pain.  I joked with Judy this morning that the teacher wouldn't like me by the end of the school year.  The answer is she doesn't like me now.  I think it is official to call me "one of those mothers."

Anna wasn't in pain.  I'll gladly come get her when she is in pain.  But I don't want her to learn the lesson that if she doesn't like something or if she is a little sad that she just has to shed a few tears and she can leave school.  That is the lesson we taught her yesterday.   It will be a long educational career for all of us if we let this lesson sink in.

My big complaint about this place is that there is no feed back.  I don't know what is going on with my child.  I really don't.  At home she sings songs about cleaning up--which is nice.  At Judy's she clicks her heels together and says, "Don't hit!  It's the first day of school!"  Is she hitting someone?  Is someone hitting her?  I'd like to know so that I can address both those issues with her.  I'd like to support what is going on in school, but I can't if I don't know what it is.

I must say that I have been completely underwhelmed with the professionalism of the people we have dealt with thus far.  They kept John and I waiting for approximately 15 minutes for Anna's IEP meeting to talk about one of the teacher's new dog.  They had a very private conversation with another parent right in front of us (during that 15 minutes) that could have been handled way better and not in the school corridor.  Then, mid-IEP, the team talked about the parent.  That's just the tip of the iceberg.  That's not the stalking of the school psychologist I had to do to get the appoint, or the begging I had to do to get the paper work two days in advance.  Or the fact that even though I told them Judy would be dropping her off and picking her up, they all thought she would be coming by van.  I know that I am spoiled because of the caliber of professionals I work with; however, this is ridiculous.  What I have to decide is whether or not to address this.  Or perhaps when is the better question.

After her bath this evening, Anna lifted her scraped knee and told me "My tummy hurts."  Clear as a bell.  I asked her about it, "Your tummy?"  "My tummy," she told me, shoving her knee in my face.  "That's your knee," I told her.  "Oh.  My knee hurts."  I kissed it, helped her put her jammie pants on and then she ran off. 

Anna's got us all wrapped around her little finger.  I'm sure of that, but I can't wait to talk to the principal.

Me and the Beeb

My birthday was on Tuesday.  Ultimately it was one of the nicest days I've had in a long time.  It turns out that I share a birthday with Justin Bieber.  No kidding.  Just about every adolescent girl told me that it was his birthday, too!  Wasn't that amazing?  And you know what?  I wore purple on my birthday, and apparently that is the Beeb's favorite  color!  OMG!  Did I do it on purpose?!  Jeez!  Beeb aside, it was nice, nice day.

This had the potential to be a momentous week here in our little corner of the world.  We were waiting to see if Jack had earned the Student at the Month at karate.  He didn't.  Fortunately, no one did.  We are, though, looking for a new place for him.  He seems willing to move.  I think the place he is at used to be a great place, but it has declined over time.  We'll see what happens.  We'll give them a little while longer--so long as he's happy.  Let our current contract run out or let us get to the next belt graduation.

Anna's first week of school was last week.  I wish I had something to report, but I don't know what the deal is.  We received a couple of pieces of paper.  I think a total of five pieces of paper.  We got a newsletter, two copies of the school fundraiser, a sign that says "Julianna Dumas had a great first day in Ms. Mary's class," and a page on which Anna drew some circles.  That's it.  There was no feedback, no nothing.  I don't know what the story is.  Our friend Judy--who gets the kids to and from school and watches Anna during the day--thinks they're a little bit lax with the way they do things.  They let Anna go on the first day without checking for id.  We'll see how it goes.  I think she's talking more.  She now tells me what's happening on TV--what characters are doing, etc.  That's kind of a step up.  She's still not where other kids his age are, but we're moving.

My sister Karen came up last night as my birthday present.  She watched the kids while John and I went out.  Before I moved up here, we used to go to a little place in Wollaston called Fuji.  We ended up going there at least once a week.  We got to know the owners pretty well.  They were (are) nice kids--when we met them, they were too young to have a liquor license.  The sushi was amazing.  So they sold the little place, and opened up a bigger place in Quincy Center.  Then the opened a little take-out space in Wollaston and then another little place in Wollaston.  We moved out of Quincy, so we don't get there.  We hadn't been to third place yet.  We tried to get in last night, but it was packed.  People were lined up outside the door.  We went, instead, to Fuji in Quincy Center.  It was nice.  The food was good, and one of the owners was there.  It was nice to see him (and his sister), and the food was amazing.  It was just a nice ending to a great week.

TV Confessions:
1.  I am watching "The Amazing Race."  Love this show.  It's an "All Star" season featuring 11 teams from previous seasons. There are some teams on here I didn't like the first time around, but I really like the host.
2.  I spent much of today watching the first few episodes of "Firefly."  I missed it during it's first and only running.  I caught it in syndication, but never caught all of it.  So now we've got it on Netflix.  I do so enjoy a cheesey sci-fi program.  :)
3.  "Bones."  I like this show.  I really do.  I like nerds.
4.  "Hawaii 5-0."  I like this show.  I remember watching the original when I was a kid--must have been on syndication.  But as I said in #3, I like nerds.
5.  I've also been known to watch "Glee" and "Raising Hope."

I started with a birthday and I'll end with a birthday.  Today is the birthday of a woman I have always considered to be a second mother to me.  Any time I had a problem or I needed (or wanted) anything, she was there.  I could (and did) tell her anything and everything.  She is the main reason I became a teacher in the first place.  Much love to you, Lillian, on your day! xx