It's another Saturday morning and here I am in a quiet library doing it yet again: administering a test. As usual, I shook a new tutoring student's hand, sat her down, had her fill out form after form, then slid an answer sheet across the table to her and started the timer. This time it's a GED practice exam. It could have been reading fluency, a driver's permit practice test, or basic math skills. They're important, these assessments, I know that. They give me a starting point to launch from; an idea of where this individual has been, academically speaking; and a measure of how far we have to go together to accomplish their goals. Most importantly, they give me a baseline to report to my students' counselors, my real bosses, to which they can compare future scores. After all, they need some way to measure if our tutoring sessions are worth the pretty penny that the state is dishing out for them.
This same tutoring client also joined my GED preparation class this week at Yavapai College. What was the first thing we did together in the classroom? Again, mounds of paperwork and then 8 tests all in a row, this time the TABE. The first three class hours I spent with her consisted of this one-sided conversation and the sounds of pencil scratches and page turning: "You have twelve minutes, please begin....You have 5 minutes, please begin.....You have 8 minutes, please begin....You have 12 minutes, please begin....You have 25 minutes please begin....You have 15 minutes, please begin...You have 25 minutes, please begin....You have 25 minutes, please begin." By the end I was apologizing to her, "I'm sorry. This is the worst day, I swear. Class will get better." I let her go wondering if she would come back. Would you?
I didn't even have the heart to tell her she's not done yet. Chances are good that she might have to retest in one or more of the subject areas. The way the TABE is designed, the first four tests are "locators," meant to narrow down what general level a student performs at in each subject so that you can give them more tests at their ability level and further pinpoint their grade level equivalents. That's how those locator tests are supposed to work anyway. Frequently though, the student doesn't end up with a final score in the range that they should based on their locator. In that case, the score is deemed out of range, and we are required to retest them as soon as possible. Almost half my class needed at least one retake at the beginning of the school year. I'm not the only one; the instructor I share an office with has been bemoaning the fact that many of her retests were still out of range and those students needed to be RE-retested. Additionally, once the student has hit 30 or 40 hours of instructional time, depending on their level, I'm expected to get another round of TABE testing out of them to obtain that all important data. Eighty percent of them have got to show progress in their weakest area after 30-40 hours of instruction. It makes sense, it does. After all, our program is funded by tax dollars. The State needs data, The Federal Government needs data. How else would we get standardized, objective, quantifiable data?
How else, indeed? I began this blog last week Saturday and I've been pondering this question since then trying to come up with a moral to my tale, a positive take-away. If not all the tests, what? I still don't have an answer and my midnight on Sunday writing deadline looms. However, there are a few things I do know. "Because it's on the test" is not enough relevancy to make a concept matter to my students. Some of them may never finish 25 math computations in 25 minutes but that doesn't mean they can't learn the concepts. Most importantly perhaps, test scores only reflect one aspect of their classroom progress. There are so many valuable and important lessons that I watch my students struggle with and finally grasp that cannot be measured by any test score. There are students who realize they are capable of things they never thought they could do, like algebra. Students fall in love with poetry or develop a passion for numbers. Others who once rolled their eyes and sat with their arms folded begin leaning forward and listening, curiosity sparked. Students who originally trembled when asked to introduce themselves begin participating in conversations. I have no way to report this data but that doesn't make it any less valuable. Not all learning is quantifiable.
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