Wait, Isn’t Norm-Referencing Bad?

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From http://commons.wikimedia.org

From http://commons.wikimedia.org

I was lucky enough to be in a day-long session last month about assessment and one of the statistical models that is used to measure the value-added by teachers.  Before I start to vent, I want to admit that my statistical background is sketchy at best.  I am also in a particularly frustrated place due to the impact that these models play in the determination of teacher “effectiveness”.

During the presentation, one of the most fundamental aspects of state-wide standardized test analysis was explained to my group and I was floored.  The metric that is used to determine if my students have shown growth (or academic improvement) is not their absolute score on the test.  It is their percentile rank that is expected to improve.  Students who improve at the same rate as the average in the state will have a growth index of zero.

This is akin to lining up all of the students in my state according to their scores.  If this line of students all move five steps (or fifty steps!) forward, they have all made improvement.  By the simplest definition, they have all learned.

But, in the world of high-stakes testing, since none of the students moved “up in line” or improved relative to others, they have not improved.  As a teacher, I have failed them.  Even if they made five hundred steps of forward progress, their growth index is zero.

Perhaps the biggest reason that this frustrates me, is that classroom teachers have been taught for decades that norm-referenced assessments have many weaknesses.  These assessments present students and teachers with a “moving target” since success depends on the performance of others.  Grading on the curve is widely accepted as unfair assessment practice.

Yet, this is exactly what we are doing at the level of standardized tests and teacher effectiveness.  In the interest of continuous improvement, the bar moves from year to year. But, the result is shifting sands beneath our feet that rob educators of the ability to anchor their instructional goals to something concrete.  We are told, “Just keep teaching them the best you can and you’ll do fine.”

But, if large groups of students do better, my evaluation will be negatively affected. In the world of norm-referenced standardized testing, a rising tide can actually sink many ships.  If we were pessimistic about the anti-collaborative effects of standardized testing before this realization, we should be downright fearful that as more educators realize the way that our effectiveness is calculated, corruption will become much more common and teachers will begin to make choices that are not in the best interest of students.

Am I overdoing it on the gloom and doom?  Let me know in the comments.

Uncommon Value of the Unconference

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Screenshot_5_5_13_7_19_AMAs I get older and more crotchety, I find myself walking out of more and more professional development sessions.  I’ve written in the past about the limited value that I place on traditional conferences, but it also happens in school- and district-based PD classes.  I usually just take an extended “bathroom break”, and hang out in the hallway/lobby with my iPad or laptop, seeking out better alternatives.

The reasons that I tune out are varied.  Sometimes, it’s because the PD seems aimed at those with much less experience (tech and otherwise) than I have.  Sometimes, it’s because the instructor is ignoring their own advice and using didactic and demeaning teaching methods to push content into my head.  But, often, I tune out simply because I have no interest in what is being taught.

In most cases, my favorite part of any professional development event is not the sessions themselves but the spaces between them.  These are the times and locations that my most meaningful education takes place.  I choose who to interact with and what to discuss, and I have an opportunity to sit face-to-face with a small group of my peers to explore their perspectives and share my ideas.

This is the heart of the “unconference” model that began with EdCamp Philly some years ago.  At EdCamp events, no one prepares slide decks and there is no conference program.  The attendees arrive in the morning with ideas and questions, and the schedule for the day is born from the collaborative efforts of all who attend.  The sessions are conversations that take on their own life as those in the room explore the various strands that emerge.  It’s both exciting and a bit scary, but always rewarding.

The North Carolina version of EdCamp was born in May 2012 and that iteration had some flaws.  But, this year it really took off and felt like one of the most powerful social learning experiences of my career.  Ironically, one of the best sessions was entitled “What makes PD suck?”, in which we discussed all of the same arguments that keep me from enjoying traditional professional development opportunities, as we contrasted what it often is and what we wish it could be.  How meta is a discussion during a great PD experience about why other experiences stink?  And how awesome!

I want to thank everyone who helped make this year’s EdCampNC a truly transformative experience for me, including @plugusin, @kellyhines, @thomasson_engl, @mrhgaddis, @bethanyvsmith, @PCSTech, @mjsamberg, @twilliamson15, @katiehey, @mj_maher, and others who haven’t braved the Twitter yet.  I look forward to seeing you all next year for more learning that truly engages me.

The Absence of Value

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medium_3887821803The always awesome Seth Godin posted a quick entry on his blog in January entitled “The cost of neutral“. He discusses an example from the business world, but it applies equally to education. Godin writes,

“Not adding value is the same as taking it away.”

What a powerful statement, particularly in the context of our current furor over “value-added” measures for teachers. It rings true for me in so many ways:

  1. As a teacher, if my students finish my class no better off than they would have been without me, then I have taken something from them… time and motivation.
  2. As a colleague, if I don’t actively participate in collaborative meetings and activities, my team is worse off than if I never attended.
  3. As a teacher leader, if I don’t provide professional development that is meaningful and useful to my staff, they would have been better off anywhere else.

These ring true, don’t they?

Where is the Ladder?

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Blogger’s note: I know it’s been awhile since I’ve used this space to share.  I promise to be back soon with some really good stuff.  In the meantime, check out my work over at SeizeTheData.

medium_8198404833One of the issues that has bugged me ever since becoming a teacher is our lack of advancement opportunities.  There are few skilled vocations in which there is not a path, transparent or otherwise, for promotion.  In most careers that demand specialized skills, one can move up through a series of jobs that carry increasing responsibility (and often management of others) and increasing salary.  The type of skill is the same, but the level of expertise and the need to build skills in those below you become more important at the higher levels.

At first glance, school administration seems to fit this description for education, right?  I suppose in a perfect world, every principal would be a master teacher at the top of her game, now given the chance to develop other teachers into the best version of themselves.  But, that is not the reality.  Part of the reason is that school administration is a completely different job than teaching.  Principals handle budgets, discipline students, and make organizational choices that have little to do with teaching and learning.

The truth is that most administrators are people better suited for managing large organizations than educating children.  With a few truly outstanding exceptions, the majority of principals are not instructional experts.  These are not teachers who mastered their craft and then took it to the next level.  They are people who worked as teachers long enough to get to the place where they want to be, or where they belong.

That leaves classroom teachers, many of whom have ambitions to make more money and have more of an impact, with few choices.  The National Board of Professional Teaching Standards tries to remedy this situation.  The Center for Teaching Quality is working to create a class of “teacherpreneurs“.  Ariel Sacks even wrote about the problem recently.

But in the trenches, it still looks like the only option is to dig in a little deeper.  Or, pack up and go somewhere else.

What ARE the choices for master teachers who don’t want to become administrators?
photo credit: AstridWestvang via photopin cc

Grades as measurements

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The following post was originally published on SmartBlogs Education on January 23, 2013:

medium_406716712I have gone to great lengths in my classroom over the past few years to teach my students everything I know about grading and assessment. Why? Because I am trying to dispel the notion that a grade (all by itself) is an accomplishment. I want them to understand that learning is the goal. Grades exist simply to communicate the amount of learning.

Convincing my students, however, is easier than convincing their parents, other teachers, administrators and community members. It seems that everyone has bought into the idea that a good grade is an achievement that should be rewarded. It’s common sense, right? To earn an “A”, students must have worked hard and sacrificed, and we want to encourage that kind of character. We compensate students with sports eligibility, scholarships and plaques for academic excellence. In some families, there is even a financial reward.

Why do we do this? Well, the answer is simple. We learned in our Psych 101 courses that if you want a behavior to occur more often there must be a positive consequence when it does. Put aside for a moment the findings of Daniel Pink and others that this sort of classical conditioning only works for simple tasks. The underlying problem is that a grade is not an accomplishment. It’s a measurement.

Consider this: would you give your daughter a prize for being an inch taller at her annual check-up? Would you clap a student on the back and praise him for having a body temperature of 98.6 degrees? Of course not because these measurements are seen as important information that a medical expert will use to diagnose and treat problems. So, why don’t grades work the same way?

The easy answer is that we have created this monster. As parents, we have incentivized our children to earn better grades. As teachers, we publicly recognize the best scores. As school leaders, we herald the honor roll. We create intense pressure among nearly all of our students to earn the highest marks.

This pressure breeds negative behaviors. We see students so focused on earning an “A” that they stop thinking in creative ways. Students begin to undermine each other to improve their rank, rather than developing collaborative skills. Cheating becomes rampant in a world where all that matters is the letter on the report card.

All of this can be seen in a typical classroom, especially near the end of a marking period. Students who slacked off for weeks beg for extra credit. Those who have not demonstrated superior content mastery try desperately to find a way to excel. Unintended lessons supersede the important ones: Effort is more important than mastery, appeasing the teacher is better than studying, and if I can’t turn my “F” into an “A” there is no reason to try anymore.

So, what’s the solution? In my classroom, it comes down to re-education. I train my students to understand the value of assessment. They know that formative assessments help me (and them) to understand their weaknesses and address them. They see the value of improvement over the absolute mastery level. They begin to see each test as a check-up, not a challenge.

Obviously, I can’t change a system that values letter grades so highly. But, I can help my students value my feedback and their own growth over the fleeting thrill of an “A”. And I can look on with satisfaction when they begin to care about their own progress without rewards or consequences from anyone else.

photo credit: timsamoff via photopin cc