One Teacher’s STAAR perspective
http://letterstotheeditorblog.dallasnews.com/2013/04/a-day-of-staar-testing-through-a-third-grade-teachers-eyes.html/April 24, 2013
Tomorrow when my
students take the first STAAR test of their young lives, they will be
exactly measured and judged against all other 3rd graders in the state.
There are no special boxes to check off for them that say: raised by
single parent with 3 jobs or slept on the floor or we didn't get dinner.
Equally so, there aren't special boxes for other students that say:
college educated parents or had a healthy meal or slept in a clean,
comfy bed or both parents kissed me goodnight and told me they're proud
of me.
The state will never see how some of our kids came to us not knowing how to read (yes, even at 3rd grade) or knowing the difference between odd and even numbers yet they will leave us in 35 school days having made huge gains, some by as many as 2 grade levels.
To the state, they are still behind. To the state, many will be considered failures should we not meet our new state blanketed "Meets AYP" standard.
To the state, they're just another number. Another quota.
To me and my team, they're kids who need an extra hug, who need words of encouragement and who need some sense of stability. They need people believing in them. They need to know they have hope when their parents say there's none. They need something good in their life when so much seems astray. We give that to them the absolute best way we can the 7 hours they're with us.
It's my calling. It's my heart. It's my life.
I do not bark at them. I do not scream. Right now as I sit back and watch, I see them smiling and completing test review games while listening to beach music. They're relaxed. They're explain their thinking. They're reasoning. They're teaching others.
They do not feel even the slightest sense of stress, fear or frustration from me because I hide it well. They do not realize their bubbling A over C on a question impacts my "grade" and "effectiveness" as a teacher. In my heart I know I'll be remembered by each of them and their parents have faith I've done more than everything imaginable for their child. That keeps me hopeful.
Regardless of how my 22 little scholars perform, I have hope and faith that they will rise above "projections" and doubters and do the very best of THEIR ability and be proud of themselves. As long as they give me 110%. Not 10%.
I've done my job. Now it's time for them to do theirs.
In the midst of all other life's struggles and demands, tomorrow they will show you, State of Texas, they CAN...
...and then they'll go back to being a kid again. Pretending to be pirates out at sea or princesses riding ponies and living happily ever after.
After all, they're only 9.
Tomorrow when my students take the first STAAR test of their young lives, they will be exactly measured and judged against all other 3rd graders in the state. There are no special boxes to check off for them that say: raised by single parent with 3 jobs or slept on the floor or we didn't get dinner. Equally so, there aren't special boxes for other students that say: college educated parents or had a healthy meal or slept in a clean, comfy bed or both parents kissed me goodnight and told me they're proud of me.The state will never see how some of our kids came to us not knowing how to read (yes, even at 3rd grade) or knowing the difference between odd and even numbers yet they will leave us in 35 school days having made huge gains, some by as many as 2 grade levels.
To the state, they are still behind. To the state, many will be considered failures should we not meet our new state blanketed "Meets AYP" standard.
To the state, they're just another number. Another quota.
To me and my team, they're kids who need an extra hug, who need words of encouragement and who need some sense of stability. They need people believing in them. They need to know they have hope when their parents say there's none. They need something good in their life when so much seems astray. We give that to them the absolute best way we can the 7 hours they're with us.
It's my calling. It's my heart. It's my life.
I do not bark at them. I do not scream. Right now as I sit back and watch, I see them smiling and completing test review games while listening to beach music. They're relaxed. They're explain their thinking. They're reasoning. They're teaching others.
They do not feel even the slightest sense of stress, fear or frustration from me because I hide it well. They do not realize their bubbling A over C on a question impacts my "grade" and "effectiveness" as a teacher. In my heart I know I'll be remembered by each of them and their parents have faith I've done more than everything imaginable for their child. That keeps me hopeful.
Regardless of how my 22 little scholars perform, I have hope and faith that they will rise above "projections" and doubters and do the very best of THEIR ability and be proud of themselves. As long as they give me 110%. Not 10%.
I've done my job. Now it's time for them to do theirs.
In the midst of all other life's struggles and demands, tomorrow they will show you, State of Texas, they CAN...
...and then they'll go back to being a kid again. Pretending to be pirates out at sea or princesses riding ponies and living happily ever after.
After all, they're only 9.
The state will never see how some of our kids came to us not knowing how to read (yes, even at 3rd grade) or knowing the difference between odd and even numbers yet they will leave us in 35 school days having made huge gains, some by as many as 2 grade levels.
To the state, they are still behind. To the state, many will be considered failures should we not meet our new state blanketed "Meets AYP" standard.
To the state, they're just another number. Another quota.
To me and my team, they're kids who need an extra hug, who need words of encouragement and who need some sense of stability. They need people believing in them. They need to know they have hope when their parents say there's none. They need something good in their life when so much seems astray. We give that to them the absolute best way we can the 7 hours they're with us.
It's my calling. It's my heart. It's my life.
I do not bark at them. I do not scream. Right now as I sit back and watch, I see them smiling and completing test review games while listening to beach music. They're relaxed. They're explain their thinking. They're reasoning. They're teaching others.
They do not feel even the slightest sense of stress, fear or frustration from me because I hide it well. They do not realize their bubbling A over C on a question impacts my "grade" and "effectiveness" as a teacher. In my heart I know I'll be remembered by each of them and their parents have faith I've done more than everything imaginable for their child. That keeps me hopeful.
Regardless of how my 22 little scholars perform, I have hope and faith that they will rise above "projections" and doubters and do the very best of THEIR ability and be proud of themselves. As long as they give me 110%. Not 10%.
I've done my job. Now it's time for them to do theirs.
In the midst of all other life's struggles and demands, tomorrow they will show you, State of Texas, they CAN...
...and then they'll go back to being a kid again. Pretending to be pirates out at sea or princesses riding ponies and living happily ever after.
After all, they're only 9.
Ashley Jones, Richardson
@MsJonesyBU
http://letterstotheeditorblog.dallasnews.com/2013/04/a-day-of-staar-testing-through-a-third-grade-teachers-eyes.html/
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