Tag Archives: assessment

SOLC Day 6: The Power of the Invisible

I’m particularly interested in the volume of invisible work in our world.  As a teacher, I experience firsthand just how much work it takes outside the classroom to ensure that students learn, that parents are communicated with, that accountability boxes are marked.  Those school hours don’t even begin to contain the lesson plans, the emails, communication with colleagues, professional learning, and the preparation of “stuff” for students that are necessary to a successful classroom learning environment.

I’ve also been working on a National Writing Project research team with the primary goal of supporting an evaluation study of upper elementary (grades 4 and 5) argument writing.  And while an evaluation system was already in place for middle and high school students, the development of grade appropriate materials to make the system work for younger students has been an amazing learning experience–and involved hours and hours of invisible work.

Evaluating student writing is not as easy as simply checking boxes and assigning the writing a score.  In the case of this argument writing, we developed sourced-based prompts that would reflect the kinds of tasks students would experience in lessons supported by the professional development their teachers received.  We piloted the prompts to ensure that the tasks put together by adults would be relevant and accessible to students.  We refined the prompts and then sent them out into the field to be administered in pre/post situations with students who are a part of the study.

Our research partners culled writing that we then sifted to establish a set of anchor papers to be used to operationalize our scoring continuum, each anchor helping to define the range of particular score points.  These will be used to train scorers to ensure that they are calibrated to the scoring system, increasing the reliability of the scores.  Anticipating potential questions from scorers drives the development of mini lessons to clarify the scoring system, again working to ensure that scorers are calibrated to the system and reliable in their scores.

And while most of the this work is invisible to those outside our small research team, when we come together in our work, powerful collaborative learning takes place.  It’s as if this process opens the faucet that pours out words to describe all the moves that writers make. Even the most basic and underdeveloped of essays contains promising next steps, illustrates what the writer does know and can do, and fits somewhere on the continuum of what argument writing at this level looks like.

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And the camaraderie of our team turns what could be drudgery into pure joy.  We laugh, delighting in a student’s turn of phrase, unexpected use of evidence, or insightful interpretation of source material.  We argue over score points until we can agree unequivocally on the boundaries of each score–sure enough that we can convey this understanding to a team of scorers who will tackle scoring thousands of papers during a week this coming summer.

And while much of the work is invisible, it isn’t unimportant.  This groundwork will ensure that student writing will teach us about the effectiveness of professional development–and about the power of looking closely at student writing.

 

Balancing: SOLC 2019 Day 19

Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one struggling to balance the demands of work with the pleasures of leisure.  More often than not, work wins, creeping into my mind, occupying my thoughts, even when I am sleeping.  And I’m lucky, I love my work.  It gives me purpose and satisfaction…and a fair share of frustration.

It’s report card time, the time when I most feel the tug threatening my balance.  My shoulders start to knot, carrying the unspoken conflicts of the mechanism of reporting student progress.  Somehow my students are also feeling the tip too, rocking like those weeble dolls of days gone by, out of sorts and out of focus–just when I need them to be so much more.

Walking on the beach on the weekend, I noticed some other people seeking balance.  I watched an engineer/artist drag quite a few rocks over to a large algae covered boulder facing the low tide seas–the perfect canvas for this temporary art.  With careful precision each rock was placed, with an eye to both balance and beauty.

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Nearby another person sought to achieve balance of the body.  Crouching low and tipping forward, lifting first a toe, testing the raising of each foot until both feet were raised and balance was achieved–if only for a few seconds.

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Instead of planning assessments for tomorrow, my students will be making wire fish sculptures.  Using floral wire and buttons, they will bend and crimp, thread and fold until beauty emerges from one long wire.  Ultimately, they will create a mobile, seeking to balance their wire fish on a piece of driftwood with the help of fishing line.  I’m pretty sure their efforts to create balance and beauty will create an oasis of balance and beauty for me too.  I’ll tackle the report cards later.

March Madness

It’s that time of the year…

No, I’m not talking college basketball, brackets, and the sweet sixteen.

It’s report card time, and I can feel the March madness starting to seep in.  That insidious doubt that narrows my vision and makes me doubt what I know to be true.

If I weren’t writing report cards right now and you asked me to describe student learning in my classroom in one word, I would say blossoming.

Our students are blossoming.  They are reading and writing eagerly.  There’s a sense of confidence and fluency among this group of 6, 7, 8, and 9 year olds that defies grade level benchmarks.  Last week when students learned about how reasoning could make their evidence more compelling in a piece they were writing about this special place where they live, they were undaunted and dug in to add reasoning to their evidence, carefully explaining just why the beach makes this place special and why having a family owned donut shop matters to them.  A line like this one makes my heart sing… A second grader describing an iconic statue in our community that makes the community a special place to live wrote:  We also have a Cardiff Kook that loves to get dressed up.  I think everyday is Halloween for him.  And I want to shout from the rooftops when I read an ending like this one a third grader used to close the essay: So where were we again in the beginning? Oh yes, the beach.  Now the sunset kisses the dusk with oranges, yellows, reds, pinks, purples, and blues too beautiful to explain, and as you see the last foamy white whale spout on the horizon, there’s no doubt Encinitas is a very special place.  

Of course they weren’t written on demand in an decontextualized setting.  They are the result of rich discussion and leveraging of background knowledge, a writing community where revision is ongoing and expected, instruction that encouraged students to go back and add reasoning to their claims and evidence, and a space filled with mentor texts that highlight and celebrate beautiful language.  These complex sentences mean that the punctuation isn’t perfect…and the vocabulary students use push them to depend on phonics to express the words they don’t yet know how to spell, but honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

But I know the first thing people see when they look at student writing is the mechanics…and that sometimes it can stop them from even noticing the beauty of the language and composition.

And then there’s math.  All year we have worked to develop a strong sense of number and the ability to solve real life (or as close as you can get in a classroom) mathematical problems.  So why did we hand our students traditional equations to solve?  March madness is my best excuse.  Luckily I took the time to look closely and notice that every one of our third graders competently solved a problem that featured Alexander Calder and his wire circus–and required both multiplication and division to solve.  And the majority of them solved three different versions of the problem that varied the level of difficulty!  (Thank goodness we decided to add that problem to our assessment to represent the kind of problem solving we have worked on all year!)

And most people don’t even ask about students’ programming skills, design abilities, persistence and resilience, empathy…or even their dispositions as budding scientists.  (You can read a bit about that here and here)

So, as I write report cards I’m trying to remind myself to breathe…and focus on the blossoming, pushing against the March madness.  Are all our students right where we want them to be?  No. Is there still room for growth?  Of course!  Can I improve my instruction to better support student learning?  Yes–and I’m working on that every day.

But, our students are blossoming.  And I want to make sure that the way I communicate progress helps their families and other educators see all that they can do, all the ways they have grown as learners…and help our students recognize that growth can be measured and documented in lots of ways.  And also know where they need to continue to work and grow…because learning continues for a lifetime.

I understand the importance of accountability and communication in our educational system.  I want to make sure that students are making progress and not slipping through the cracks.  But I also want to honor hard-earned growth and pay attention to the attitudes and processes that aren’t measured by standardized tests or traditionally reported on through report cards and assessments.

I’ll keep pushing against the March madness…and once the report cards are done, maybe I’ll watch a bit of basketball…