STANDARDIZED TESTS
<>t’s true that standardized tests don’t measure the educationist version of critical thinking.
They do measure proficiency in mathematics, reading, geography, history etc. More and more these tests are incorporating a component to measure writing skills. Why in the world would educationists object to tests that measure these important academic skills? I believe that there are two reasons: Rejection of accountability and repudiation of academic achievement
<>Rejection of Accountability>
<>Accountability is anathema to the educational establishment. The results of these tests permit citizens to make painful comparisons. They can compare the results of individual teachers, schools, or school districts. The average parent doesn’t want to hear alibis. Just try telling a parent,
“Your son scored in the 10th percentile. I wouldn’t be concerned just because he can’t read at grade level and can’t do simple math. None of this really matters because your son is one hell of a critical thinker! Go ahead ask him what he thinks about saving the whales. Besides, if he can’t get into college, there is always an education department somewhere that would welcome him. He will be able to use his critical thinking skills as a teacher.”
Repudiation of Academic Achievement.
There are, of course, superior teachers, but contrary to the precepts I was fed in my education classes, they aren’t dullards. I was privileged to attend a parochial high school that fielded a veritable teacher all-star team. As I recall, none of these teachers had taken a single education course. In the view of educationists, this splendid cadre of teachers lacked the qualifications to teach in public schools. How ironic! I particularly remember my freshman algebra and Latin teachers. These men were not educationist hacks; they were scholars who instilled in me a life-long love of their subjects. Their passion for their subjects was contagious. When I entered high school and found out I was going to study algebra and Latin, like it or not, I was less than thrilled. Actually, I had wanted to go to the local public high school with my friends. Thanks to the wisdom of my parents, I wound up in this excellent parochial school. Within weeks, owing to the excellence of my teachers, I started to develop love for academic pursuits.
I think back to the days when my children were in school. Both of my sons, for one reason or another, generated a lot of notes from teachers. Sometimes, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when I read these notes. They were often full of grammatical errors and misspellings. On several occasions, I mentioned these bouts of illiteracy to principals and vice principals, but the only reaction I got was a formulaic assurance that Mr. or Ms. So-and-so was a consummate professional. I got the message that literacy was not a skill required of teachers because they were professionals. I think one must be a member of the inner sanctum of educationists to comprehend this wisdom. I was tempted to request a teacher who was a literate amateur rather than a professional illiterate, but one learns not to exhibit intellect in the land of the dullards. If you have ever let a loud fart in church, you can begin to understand the horrendous nature of this faux pas. The educationists will forgive you anything—ignorance, apathy, stupidity--but not intellect. I also fondly remember the newsletter that was published by the middle school attended by one of my sons. It was chock full of errors in grammar, syntax, and spelling. I used to delight in editing each issue with a red pencil and mailing it to the principal, who never thanked me for my editing. One of the highlights of each issue was an article by the principal. I could see why he was the boss, because, in a profession notorious for its illiteracy, the principal was the grandest illiterate of all.
One of my sons, who had a vocabulary superior to that of most of his teachers, once used the word “meretricious” in a paper he wrote for a sophomore English class. When I reviewed what he wrote, I told him that the word “meretricious” came from the Latin word ”meretrix”, which means ”prostitute.” When my son got the paper back from his teacher, she had penciled in the margin,” Is this really a word?” After class my son told the teacher that it was indeed a word and it came from the Latin word for ”whore.” Boom! Major incident. I was called to school and informed by a humorless vice principal of my son’s barbarous behavior. I concurred that he might have made a better choice of words, but I didn’t think he should be suspended. When I tried to divert the issue to that of an English teacher whose vocabulary was deficient, I was given the old “She is a professional.” Can you imagine complaining about an accountant who couldn't add a column of numbers and being told not to worry because the guy is a “professional?”
Then there was the high school algebra teacher (Call me, coach) of the son of one of our neighbors. “Let’s all learn this stuff together”, was reportedly his opening exhortation to his students. According to our neighbor’s son, the students left coach in the dust. One has to live in Texas to understand the reverence with which coaches are viewed. Their mystique pervades the educational establishment. Reputedly, they can teach any subject. An ordinary garden-variety math teacher may require years of preparation to teach mathematics on the secondary level, but not coach. No siree bob.
The school in which I served my two-year sentence as a social studies and Spanish teacher was an intellectual wasteland. The school had a terrible reputation, which it richly deserved. A fair share of the students was on probation--not academic probation, the other kind. Few of the students seemed to have any aspirations or dreams and many of the faculty members had long since left their aspirations and dreams at the door of this school. “All ye who enter here……..”
Yet, even in that dispirited institution, there were a handful of gifted teachers who really cared. Every day they battled against the demons of ineptitude and apathy that haunted the place. One of these teachers, a retired NYC fireman, served as my informal mentor. The most valuable single lesson he taught me was that you could not “outtough” our students. They knew more about the dark side of life than we would ever know. Many had been abused and brutalized. They had no family life and had had to fend for themselves since they were babies. There was no threat we could make or carry out that would faze them. My mentor taught me that, with respect to imposing classroom discipline, I could not rely on the system or the school administration. I had been briefed by a vice principal that disruptive students were to be sent to the office of the guidance counselors. My mentor told me that, if I ever had to send a student to a guidance counselor, I would have lost the war. He taught me that the key to classroom discipline was mutual respect. No educationist gimmicks, no manipulation would work. He pointed out to me that the students would not respond to armchair psychoanalysis, but they would respond to respect. He advised me to make a written pact with the students on the first day of class. He gave me a copy of a pact he had made with one of his classes. This pact contained rules of behavior for both the teacher and the students. For example, one of the obligations of the teacher was to never belittle a student. One of the obligations of the students was to never talk when the teacher or another student was talking. After negotiations with the students on the first day of class, the students and I signed the pact. This pact turned an unruly mob into a law-abiding community. Peer pressure forced the students to conform to the covenants of the pact. The pact I concluded with my students amounted to the establishment of a constitutional monarchy. It began, “The teacher is the king and his students are his subjects However, students have certain rights that the king must respect.” Even though I was recognized as the king, I was also bound by the pact.