No Child Left…My Behind!!

Okay, so it’s testing week in sunny Central Florida. This means that all meaningful learning screeches to a halt while a slew of young people between the ages of 15-18 determine conclusively whether I’m a good teacher.

All together now: Oh, Holy God.

I’m not against testing per se. However, I do have issues when 160 minutes of read-and-answer, with a little writing sprinkled in, determine whether a student graduates from high school. Or I can keep my job. Never mind the work we’ve done all year or the portfolios they’ve assembled or the writing and rewriting and questioning and laughter and learning. One hundred and sixty minutes tell the whole story. Or so the Florida legislature and, I daresay, the Department of Education would have us all think.

I teach in the inner city. These kids live nightmare lives you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy–drugs, violence, abandonment, abuse. I mediate, counsel, listen, wipe tears, and work in some literature and writing and questions about themselves and their places in the world. Contrary to what the media would have you believe, there is not a single public school teacher in the United States who’s sitting around on his/her butt drinking coffee and watching kids throw their lives away. There’s simply no time. Unfortunately, since corporate types are so invested in their bottom lines, they’ve invented one for my profession: test scores.

Let me say this very, very clearly. MY STUDENTS ARE NOT WIDGETS, AND I AM NOT A QUALITY CONTROL OFFICER. If I were, three quarters of them would never cross my threshold. They’re damaged goods from the word go. But I don’t have the luxury of changing suppliers, as the corporate world does. There’s no such thing as a competitive bid process for kids (unless you believe that vouchers really are a good thing–and that’s a whole different rant altogether). There’s a saying in my corner of the ‘hood: Their parents aren’t keeping the good ones at home. They’re sending us the best they’ve got.

Know what? I love them for their flaws. My students are funny, bright, wise beyond their years. They have taught me more about myself than I knew was possible. They’ve also broadened my world far more than I would have imagined when I was growing up fat and happy in the ‘burbs.

But the world won’t, because funny, bright, and wise don’t come across in 160 minutes of multiple choice questions. But that’s what they’ll be judged by, and so will I.

No child left behind? Give me a break. Make sure every kid in the US has the same damn ticket on the same class of bus, then we’ll talk.