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featured contributor
Mark Barnett
Mark is the Learning Experience Designer/Head of Makerspace at Harbour School Hong Kong. Mark is dedicated to developing makerspaces that have all children succeed in learning.
At the end of this last school year, I left my position as a middle school language arts teacher to become a K-8 librarian. Up until now, when people asked why, this is what I’ve said:
I want to build a culture of literacy that spans grades K-8. If students develop a love of reading and inquiry from an early age, they’ll be more successful in high school and beyond. As a librarian, I can help kids become lifelong readers and lifelong learners. In addition to teaching, I’m also a writer who writes books for kids. The shift makes sense, doesn’t it?
It does make sense, and all my reasons are 100% true, but there’s another side to the coin, one that I haven’t been able to share until my new contract was signed.
The other side is that I refuse to participate in standardized testing. Our district mandates 11 standardized tests per year from kindergarten through sixth grade. In addition, Grade Five takes one extra test, bringing the total to 12. Here’s a list of them.
The effects of the tests go far beyond losing 11 classes of instructional time. Most of the assessments take more than one class period for students to finish, and there are mandatory test-prep lessons that we’re required to teach as well. Moreover, the tests determine and control the schedule and culture of the school, including what we teach and how we teach it. This past year we were handed a brand-new curriculum that’s specifically designed to target the exact type of questions asked on the 11 tests. In order to achieve the results promised by the new program, we’re required to teach it “with fidelity.” In other words, we have to follow it to the letter. It’s so streamlined that anyone can use it, even if she/he isn’t a certified teacher. Because, as all curriculum companies will gladly tell you, packaged curricula are supposed to make a teacher’s job easy. Our new program even comes with a built-in AI unit that grades our students’ writing.
This is a good thing, right? If we follow the program, everyone’s scores go up. But each year, the results of the tests are the same: Of the seven K-8 schools in our SAU (School Administrative Unit), the poorest schools always score the lowest, and the wealthiest always score the highest. Socio-economic conditions predict the schools’ ranking every time. We don’t need a test to affirm this truth, never mind 11 of them.
Even more worrisome is what’s going on at the legislative level. As I write these, New Hampshire is considering a “Part-Time Teacher Bill” (HB1298). Here’s what it says:
I. A part-time teacher or paraeducator for the purpose of this section shall mean an individual who: (a) Is hired by a local school district to work less than thirty hours per week; (b) Has expertise or significant professional experience in a subject-area offered by a school or district; and (c) Shall not be required to hold a state board of education credential. [emphasis added]
The Part-Time Teacher Bill supports the notion that with our new curriculum package, a teacher’s expertise is no longer valued or needed.
But aside from the worry that certified teachers can be replaced by part-time, uncertified individuals who have “significant professional experience,” the result of our 11 tests and mandated curriculum is that teachers can’t teach anything that isn’t directly measured on the tests themselves. One might argue that teachers are allowed to teach additional material above and beyond the mandated curriculum which only covers skills that are on the test, but the curriculum literally (and conveniently) takes the whole school year to cover. It has a numbered lesson for each day of the year. And of course, we’re teaching the program with fidelity.
Factory-model education has been alive and well for over a hundred years, but the quality-control system seems to have reached peak efficiency – or at least peak dominance. In the face of such excellent quality control, people often wonder why standardized test scores are so low and continue to drop. They also might wonder why we have plagues of student apathy and increased violence in schools.
What administrators and perhaps the public don’t realize is that students know that none of the 11 or 12 standardized tests matter to them. No student (thank goodness) is held back a year in school because her test scores are too low, and no one’s report card or grades are affected. But students become resentful after taking, say, the first four, five, or six tests, and develop what I call test fatigue. Imagine having to perform something on your own, like a gymnastics routine or a musical recital – something truly difficult – but you know you won’t be rewarded. You won’t be able to share the performance itself, or even your score: the results must remain private, lest others feel badly about their own efforts. There’s no prize if you perform well. If you perform poorly, no one will dare criticize you, lest you fail to put in your best effort next time, on Performance #5, or #8, #10, or #11.
Under these circumstances, you might get sick and tired of putting on these performances. You might even start feeling resentful about the whole thing.
I’m alarmed that we’ve stopped trying to hide the fact that school is a factory, and instead openly embraced the idea that students are products to be improved. It's no surprise, then, that so many students claim to hate school. We used to say that we don’t “teach to the test,” but our curriculum purchases, test schedules, and the requirement to post each day’s lesson standards on the wall send a different message.
None of this is news to actual, certified teachers. None of us love standardized testing. But if we speak out against it, those who aren’t tenured run the risk of being non-renewed. And of course, if we tell our students how we feel about tests, they might not put in their best effort on the next one. If my students don’t show improvement on the tests, I’ll be spoken to – reprimanded – by my administrator. It’s my fault, since I’m the one getting paid to provide students with an education.
And my test scores have always been fine. Even so, maintaining them has prevented me from teaching what I believe is most important: inquiry, critical thinking, and a love of reading – none of which can be measured on a standardized test.
So I’ve jumped ship, as the saying goes. For the past two years I’ve been taking classes at my local university, working part-time in a public library to gain experience, and completing a practicum to earn my certification as a library media specialist. In my new role, I’ll get to promote reading and research, and will help students pursue inquiry, which is a cornerstone of the American Association of School Librarians' Standards for Learners. Inquiry – the art of asking questions in order to explore a topic – may as well be unauthorized education. It might seem rebellious to administrators because it can’t be measured, but inquiry is the foundation of critical thinking.
Teachers know that learning takes place in all moments, even when no one is keeping track. The most important educational experiences I’ve ever had have taken place outside the classroom, either on field trips or through experiential learning. Most of us learn best when we’re able to pursue what interests us. We try harder and remain open to new perspectives when we have teachers who care about us, as opposed to our performance. Tests and pre-packaged curricula get in the way of authentic education, and do more than just thwart the learning process: they make students hate being in a classroom.
They make teachers hate being in the classroom, too. I hate the factory that our classrooms have become. That’s why you’ll find me down the hall, in the library.
References
American Association of School Librarians. (2018). AASL standard frameworks for learners [Pamphlet].
Relative to the definition of part-time teachers., H.R. 1298-FN, 2024th Gen. Court, 2024th Sess. (N.H., as introduced, Feb. 8, 2024).
See https://legiscan.com/NH/text/HB1298/id/2864605
