Quantitive Passion

I am sitting on a stage in front of a large crowd of mostly superintendents/administrators from across the state.  Sprinkled throughout the crowd are also business folks and the occasional teacher. The entire school year has lead up to this moment. Sitting with me is a team of teachers representing different core subjects, a parent from the community, my building principal, but most importantly, a few of my students-some of which are 4.0 students and have continued their successes here in this new program and others on the stage, prior to this year, would have been considered “D” and “F” students, of which many teachers might even have predicted would become high school dropouts. I could not be more proud of my students in this moment. Dressed in their best attire they nervously anticipate questions that will allow them to share their class work and projects from the year. The year has been long, trying, full of doubters and people resistant to change in education. My students, my team, my administration, my every move and anything related to this program has been under the microscope this past year. It was a giant leap of faith on the part of the students and parents who signed their kids up for this new program almost one year ago. It was a risk for a new superintendent and the administrators that followed him, and not all did, some choosing to leave the district in favor of schools that did not have the problems that we had been facing for quite a while now. So much change has taken place in less than a year…an idea so incredibly out of the ordinary for this once very traditional river town in Iowa.
In our school, for years now, mandatory state test scores had fallen short of our districts set goals, numbers that always seemed just out of reach, reinforcing doubt that had long since crept into the minds of teachers about their practice. Similar to other surrounding school districts, our school turned its attention to finding a solution to “fixing” this dilemma. “Focus lessons” were developed that would ask students sample questions similar to what they would come across on the state tests. Teachers were required to take time out of their instruction and “teach” these focus lessons weekly-regardless of whether or not they were aligned to their current and ongoing curriculum. The district tried its very best to ensure that students were placed into classrooms that would better “suit their academic needs.” Students who traditionally excelled in their classes were put into “intensive” classes, and students who performed poorly were put into “general” classes. These “general level” classes typically consisted of students whom needed the most help on the state tests. If it was possible, special education co-teachers were assigned to these classes to help meet the needs of the struggling learners. It was in these classes that an even greater emphasis was placed on focus lessons, and why not? These were the kids that needed it the most…
More ideas were generated in finding ways to increase our test scores. Perhaps students would perform better on the state tests if they took the test outside of the school, in a more “professional setting,” similar to college entrance exams…and so all of the students were corralled across the street from the school to take the tests at one of the local churches. As a school we tried placing students into “Homerooms” that would meet every day for 20 minutes, creating a micro community of trust. These students would then take the state tests together, allowing for an environment that might enhance student test scores. Homeroom teachers and students alike were bribed with promises of pizza parties and donuts for the highest classroom test scores. Students’ names were entered into a raffle for scores that showed improvement from the previous year and door prizes and gifts were handed out to the winners. SO much time, energy and effort was devoted, not just by my school, but by the other surrounding districts to these state tests. I have now worked in three different schools in two neighboring school districts and in each of these; all of this was common practice.
No matter what was done, year after year tests results came back the same. What was even more disheartening was that the high school drop out rate continued to increase. Only 3 out of 4 students or 75% of students would make it to graduation. It was even worse when looking at who was being “left behind.” In some of the elementary schools, where poverty was the highest, only 50% of the students would make it through their senior year.
Fingers were pointed in many directions; everyone was to blame, and the excuses were endless. Examples included (but were not limited to):
“But it is a big school, bigger then most in the state, with more diversity and poverty than most of the schools in the state.”
“There are language barriers, most of the parents can’t even speak English.”
“Parents don’t get involved with their child’s education.”
“Middle schools just pass on students, regardless of how poor they perform, setting students up for failure when they get to high school.”
“We don’t have the resources we need.”
“I don’t get paid enough to babysit these kids.”
“Teachers get paid too much and don’t even do their job…”
I could continue with the list… but none of this is news. However, every once in a while, a news story comes out about a school district that has defied the odds, where a once, academically demolished, poverty stricken school has risen to overcome these obstacles and what should be a rejoicing moment for educators who are stuck in a failing system, becomes a moment instead of cynicism. Furiously many educators pick at these schools, combing for flaws or weaknesses. How can this be? We have tried everything! Surely they must have students with parents who care… or the poverty level in their school is not the same as our situation.
In a strange sort of way it makes since that in these schools, which have been cornered, with nowhere to turn, that the most miraculous, progressive changes are taking place. A blessing in disguise, only when bled to the point of no return, when all hope appears to be lost, do these schools prove unbelievers otherwise.
The schools of Iowa have not escaped the redundancies that have plagued the factory model of education (a point to be addressed at a later time), however, pushing forward they cling to what they know. Like many school districts across the nation, weakened by the perception of inadequate test scores, many schools in Iowa believe any change to an already unstable system would be disastrous.
And so, I find myself sitting on a stage. Sitting by my side is the team of teachers and students that began this journey a little over a year ago. We have all spent the last year changing the face of education. We have made a difference, but…the audience appears less interested in our enthusiasm as teachers as well as the obvious passion and creativity illustrated in our students’ vibrant examples.
Blinded, they want numbers, data, and proof. They can not see as I do.The students of mine who were once habitual skippers, now putting all of their creative energy into their work/projects and my straight “A” students, having to redefine their ideas of success, many being asked for the first time to create and demonstrate their classroom understandings outside of the context of a paper test. Students relying on each other for support and each one recognizing the others talents and gifts. No, the audience cannot see as I do, not without experiencing it for themselves. Some want to know how can I guarantee that such a program will work for them? One teacher inquires about our test scores...  I feel bad for these people in the audience. They cannot see past the carrot that has dangled in front of them for most of their careers, believing that the measure of a student or teacher or schools worth can be quantified in a test. Until we can quantify passion, we will always be attempting to measure the immeasurable.