Lessons from the Student Seat - High-stakes Testing

Almost a year ago, I became a student again. At that time, I had no idea how sitting in the student seat would impact my teaching. It wasn't because I was a learner once again because I continually think and learn in order to improve my teaching. I think all good teachers should do this.

But it was about placing myself in my students' shoes and being where they are. It was about doing the hard part.  And there are many hard parts to being a student. In these next few blog posts, I hope to share with you lessons I have learned about being a teacher while sitting in the student seat.

In all of my courses, the assessments consisted of writing 8-10 page papers, with the exception of my Foundations in Research course. This assessment was a 62 question multiple-choice test. And yes, they even called it a "high-stakes test."

I spent weeks reading the material, taking notes, and studying those notes. Throughout the course I had check-points, which were small quizzes that were not graded, just a way to check my understanding as I moved through material.

I took almost 50 pages of notes throughout the course, and I knew there was no way my old brain could remember that much new information. I was able to take a practice test and receive a report that broke down how I scored in each of the categories.  The report let me know the areas I needed to study more. Although I passed the practice test, I was still worried about taking the final assessment.

The night before I was scheduled, I set up my webcam and had everything ready for the next day.  I went in early, reviewed my notes, cleared my desk, and signed in. After everything was set up, I clicked on the first question.

My mind went blank. All the material began to run together, and my thinking became one big blur. I needed to get a grip. I took a deep breath and remembered, even if I failed this test, I got another chance to take it...unlike my students.

When students take their state assessments, they get one shot to show what they have learned.

One shot.

I, on the other hand, was so worked up over this test, yet I knew I was able to retake it. Going through  this experience made me realize the stress many of our students endure during testing times.

I know I cannot change the testing culture that surrounds our students. But at least now I can empathize with them.  I can let them know that yes, I do know how they feel because for one day I sat in the student seat with a high stakes test staring back at me.

I know that feeling of panic that I had forgotten everything I was supposed to know.

I know the pressure that I put upon myself because I wanted to do well.

I know that I am thankful I only had one of these tests...unlike my students.

Lessons from the Student Seat ~ Length Requirements

Almost a year ago, I became a student again. At that time, I had no idea how sitting in the student seat would impact my teaching. It wasn't because I was a learner once again because I continually think and learn in order to improve my teaching. I think all good teachers should do this.

But it was about placing myself in my students' shoes and being where they are. It was about doing the hard part.  And there are many hard parts to being a student. In these next few blog posts, I hope to share with you lessons I have learned about being a teacher while sitting in the student seat.


As I began my first assignment, I quickly questioned whether I had made the wrong decision.  Was I crazy? Could I really do this?  Learning again in this capacity was something new.  It was uncomfortable. It was down right hard.

I decided the only way to tackle this challenge was to just jump in. I began the first assignment, began to read the material in order to show my competency, and began to write the paper.

It wasn't long before this question camp up, "I wonder how long this needs to be?" I almost laughed out loud because how many times have we heard this question from our own students? It could be the number of words in a sentence, the number of sentences in a paragraph, or the number of paragraphs in a piece...but they always ask!

I began to think about my quick, though not effective, response to this question.  Many times I would answer with exasperation, "It needs to be as long as it takes to tell your story" or "However long it takes for you to get your ideas across."

Those responses that I have given my students over and over again were not comforting me now as a student. Not only do my students ask the length question, but I asked it too.  But why do we ask it?

The fear of the unknown.  For each of my classes, I had a template in which to write my paper. I knew the structure, but I was still unsure of what I was doing. I was writing about an unfamiliar topic - curriculum theories, and that was scary. When our students begin a piece of writing, many times they have no idea of  where it is going. Some may feel the need to just write while others need to follow a certain set of guidelines for a particular genre or an assignment. Even when we read mentor texts, have a template, or see the structure or the length of a piece of writing, the fear of the unknown still exists.

The fear of being wrong. In my graduate class, I was writing for a grade or to show my competency in this area. Of course I wanted to pass! The fear of the unknown is coupled with the fear of being wrong. We want to get it right or to get a good grade or to pass the class. For my middle school students and the emphasis on grades, getting it right is a legitimate fear.

Because I have been sitting in the student seat again, I have reflected on why we ask this question. Yes, we have kids who want to know the length so they can write the bare minimum and not put in any extra work. I am not completely naive!  But for some, it could be the fear of the unknown and the fear of being wrong.

For me, the length of the writing gave me a known value and a goal to reach - the first assignment was to be 12-15 pages. There was comfort in  knowing that it needed to be a certain length. It made me feel like if I hit a certain length, I was on track. This length also gave me the security that it was right because I knew at least one of the expectations.

This doesn't mean that I will begin giving my students a required length, but I will think differently about how I answer the question. As we begin to write next year, I want my students to know that writing takes us in many different directions, and there is no set path on how to get there.

Using more guiding questions such as "Where do you want this piece to go?"  "Is there more you want to say?"  "Will your reader understand your message?" will hopefully eliminate the need for "How long does this have to be?"

Teacher Restoration

This week I attended The Lead Learners Summit Institute, formerly known as All Write. This conference, set in the middle of cornfields, always jumpstarts my thinking for the coming school year...even if it is the month of June.

Todd Nesloney was the keynote speaker, and his quote, "You cannot teach the mind if you have not reached the heart" is one that will stick with me for a long time.

I was also able to hear Stephanie Harvey talk about comprehension and Gravity Goldberg talk about teacher decision-making and reading notebooks. Katherine Sokowloski talked about the importance of expanding our audiences for students. Colby Sharp shared his top 2018 books so far, and Christy Rush-Levine opened my eyes about social justice book clubs.

It was two days of learning, thinking, and spending time with great educators.

Tonight as I sit out on my porch and look at an old trailer my husband is restoring, I can't help but reflect.

This past school year was a difficult one for me. By the end of May, I felt more than exhausted; I felt defeated.

In a way, I felt much like this trailer. My drive and motivation to teach had been stripped down to the bare minimum, and all that was left was the frame -- rust and all.

Leaving Summer Institute with my overloaded brain and a four and half hour drive ahead of me, I began to process the learning which had taken place over the past two days. I began to think about the changes I wanted to make, the books I wanted to purchase, and the new ideas I wanted to try. The excitement of teaching began to restore itself.

As I take a second look at that trailer, I see it's potential with a little restoration. The frame is sturdy, and it stands solid on two new wheels.  With new side boards and a new hitch, this trailer can be (somewhat) functional once again.

This past year may have left me with nothing but a rusted frame, but this old frame still has potential.

Summer learning inflates my flat tires with air. Surrounding myself with educators who share their ideas becomes my new side boards. Spending time in professional books hitches me to new ways of thinking and improving my teaching.

Tonight, I begin to feel like I can be functional once again, just like this old trailer.

This is teacher restoration.