Behold: The Power of Data...

Hello, everyone! I thought I'd post a guest spot on the blog to share what I learned this year at school about education, Texas, and school politics. It all comes together nicely in what they call here my "Annual Summative Conference," where administrators get a chance to tell their teachers everything they should have done over the course of the year to make sure they were successful. See, teachers in Texas are scored on 8 domains, which include professional communication, discipline (what's wrong with letting kids do what they want?) professional development, compliance with rules and regulations, and other boring stuff. It was similar in Iowa but much more laid back and informal, like most things in Iowa when it comes to education (especially testing).

I would first like to point out that education in Texas is focused on one thing:

MAKING SURE THE KIDS PASS THE TAKS TEST.

To that end, my life was focused for the majority of the year on making sure I did all that was in my power to make sure these kids passed. From practice tests to strategies to extra hours tutoring on the weekends to silly stories written for the sole purpose of practicing TAKS skills, I did it all.

And, I had to admit, I felt like a sellout.

Anyway, all that paid off now (or not) because we have our TAKS results back. My passing rate was 85%, "Fantastic!" for a first year teacher, but I should shoot for that goal of 90% or higher.

At my annual summative conference, after helping me remember how to get a percentage (you divide, not multiply!) my administrator asked me if I like data.

"Oh, sure," I said, thinking quickly, "but sometimes it makes me nervous."

"Aren't you using it in your classroom? Haven't you looked up your kid's scores and data before?"

"Oh, sure," I said, thinking quickly.

"It's the best tool teachers have," she said. "It gives you kind of a skewed mirror view of your own teaching."

"Oh, sure," I said, nodding.

"In fact, you should take all your kids scores, spread them all out on the floor or on a big table, and disaggregate them. You never really know how helpful data can be until you disaggregate it."

"Oh, sure," I said.

"And then you can even split them into subgroups. That will really give you interesting insights." She smiled.

Silence. At this point, I said nothing, because we both knew that "subgroups" was a euphamism for "minorities." My student's scores showed an abundance of "subgroups" that didn't pass the test. This, I believed, was obviously a red flag showing the bias of the test, but I couldn't think of a way to say that diplomatically.

I realized she was waiting for me to say something. "I bet."

"The important thing to do," she said, "Is to keep doing what you must be doing--teaching them how to think. Then the test comes naturally. Because we aren't just teaching them how to take a test. We're teaching them valuable skills to last a lifetime."

Again, numerous offensive and cutting remarks about the value of the principles and objectives I am required to teach crossed my mind, but, looking at her sincere face, I saw how strongly she bought into this hype, and I worried for her mental state if I said any of them and shattered her belief in the test.

Instead I said, "I'll be sure to look at those scores."

"They reorganize them at the end of June. Make sure you get them before then."

"Right."

"Then you can plan your teaching for next year over the summer." She smiled. Again.

I had planned to do this, in between drinking, traveling to assorted other states, drinking, playing video games, and drinking. It just frustrated me to be told that I should do it.

"Then you can get that 90% passing rate. This isn't rocket science, after all. It's teaching."

Finally, I thought of something diplomatic to say. "Of course."

And I was summarily dismissed from my summative conference.