Today I received what in education should be the ultimate compliment: my classes scored higher on the district exam than other classes in the same grade at our school. It genuinely made me feel so good about myself because most of the time I feel like I’m not doing a good enough job, like I have these kids’ futures in my hands and nothing I do will ever be enough. Teaching is challenging. Every day.
The feeling is bittersweet because I guarantee my students’ scores will not always be the highest. Tests are such a load of bull*%&#. In another grade level, the classes with the highest scores are being taught by a long-term substitute. If I ever leave the public school system, it will be because we care more about whether a kid can choose A, B, C, or D correctly 70% of the time instead of caring about whether or not we made a difference in a child’s life (you see, that’s not statistically measurable). It doesn’t matter that the kid (whose father died, who’s in a gang, who works part time, who takes care of his younger siblings) refused to even pick up a pencil before he took your class, but has now given writing a chance. That doesn’t matter because he failed one test on one day in a language that is not his native tongue.
I teach minority kids in poverty. Those are the only kids I’ve ever wanted to teach—until I was slapped in the face with the reality that my worth as a teacher would be determined by these students’ test scores. Let me give you a hint: not all of them pass. I don’t know how to teach to a test, and I doubt I ever will. Yet, the last couple years that is how I’ve been trying to teach and—maybe that’s why I feel so bad about myself all the time. It’s tempting to think about going to a district where we didn’t worry about our students passing the test because, of course, they would; they always do. It’s tempting because I think about all the amazing things I could do with them, the insightful conversations we could have about the material, the length at which I could expand their critical thinking, the width at which I could stretch their imaginations. To use a cliche I would never allow from those students, the grass is always greener on the other side.
Tests are all that matter anymore in education. I’m a huge supporter of President Obama, but last night in his State of the Union speech, he heralded the fact that he has taken a page from his conservative couterparts and promoted competition in education. What he neglected to say was that this competition will be based on test scores. In fact, President Obama's Race to the Top program emphasizes linking teacher pay and evaluation to student data (read: test scores). Apparently, this will hold me accountable to spending every moment of my time teaching to the test. If educators were allowed to design education policy, they would keep in mind that teaching to the test is the worst form of teaching, and yet, it is the form of teaching we administer to the students who need good teaching the most.
The depressing part is, at the risk of sounding boastful, I am one of the teachers that those in education policy purport to be so eager to recruit. I was at the top of my class in college with multiple majors. I have my master’s degree in education. I’m motivated, and I care deeply about my students and my job. Yet, I pull my hair out, stressing over my students’ test scores. I worry that I’m not doing my job well enough. If I cannot develop myself into a “good” teacher, who can?
I honestly want to know. To those of you pundits who talk about how good teachers are the answer to improving our education, I ask you this question. If I cannot become a good teacher, who can?