Standardized testing in February comes at the perfect time. You feel blah with cold, cloudy days. You might be halfway through the curriculum and outside activities you began, and the second half feels a bit like a prison sentence. I find this the perfect excuse to take a mid-winter break from school and take the week off.
{Do you know what "a week off" means for a homeschooler? Let me tell you . . . last week at least one member of our family visited the doctor, dentist, dermatologist, and the orthodontist. The kitties went to the veterinarian for booster shots. We also went to the U of M Bell Museum of Natural History, CTC's Pinocchio, the Sky Zone, Stations of the Cross, The Works, and a harp recital.}
Anyway . . . testing. If you homeschool (or have your kids in school), you know that nagging doubt about the progress they may or may not be making. Homeschoolers are prone to wondering if our children would be better off in school. We wonder if our children would thrive by developing close relationships with peers, learning from passionate teachers, and taking advantage of extra-curriculars: drama, band, Lego robotics club, sports, debate, chess club. Our children would have so many choices!
You know your home with little kids running around is detrimental to the educational atmosphere and daily rhythm you are striving to create. You wonder how your kids could possibly be learning anything with the constant interruptions. Worst of all, you worry about what damage is being done every time your kids see you lose your patience or struggle to keep your head above seasonal depression. They notice when you sneak into the pantry to raid your stash of dark chocolate and pretend not to notice if you imbibe in a glass of wine at the end of the day as you cook dinner.
Come February, that standardized testing appointment stares back at you from your the pages of your planner. You panic a bit, because you know the kids aren't "ready". One child does not start decimals until next week in Teaching Textbooks, and you haven't yet reviewed the ti/ci/si sounds in phonics and spelling in Logic of English. You know there will be questions to which they don't know the answer and you wonder how it will affect their confidence. You ease the pressure by telling them it's not really a test to see how well they are doing, but how well mommy is doing teaching them.
Nevertheless, your kids are excited to hear "Mr. Peabody" ring the doorbell. The first child gets settled at the table and the test begins. You station yourself nearby and eavesdrop, wondering why in the world your child does not know what a normal body temperature is (did they not have any fevers this year, or were they too delirious to pay attention to their temperature?), that the molecular structure of water is H2O, why you feel cooler in light colored clothing, or who painted the Mona Lisa. Then you think of all the things your kids do know, and are not on the test, but you still chastise yourself for neglecting these various and vital bits of information.
Each child has a turn with the tester, displaying their own strengths and weaknesses. Scores are tallied, payment is made, and that "grain of salt" conversation takes place between you and Mr. Peabody. The kids reemerge, eager to see their scores. Do you let them?
Well, I let them, but a few hours later I wished I had not. What do these annual scores really mean to me, to them, to their educational future, to their everlasting soul? I suddenly find I have a lot of interpreting to do. What do grade levels mean? Percentiles? Why does our educational system draw lines, form the lines into boxes, and try to make everyone fit in that box?
In Minnesota we homeschoolers are required by law to administer a standardized test, but are not required to report the score. What you do with the scores is up to you. The scores can signal gaps, learning disabilities, or just different educational priorities. What makes a certain set of information "standard", and do you teach to this standard? Isn't that why we homeschool, so we don't have to teach to the test?
Educational standards may have drawbacks, but I don't believe they are evil or unnecessary. I want my children to know what their normal body temperature is and who painted the Mona Lisa. Standard information can serve the purpose of being something to aim for, but should not be the only thing you aim for. I don't really have a problem with standards, I just have a problem with institutional regulations of requiring a particular set of information to be mastered at a particular age.
To me, standards are the base of a trampoline - the black mat on which to stand. But what are the springs? Springs may be found in outside activities or more home-based projects, in hands-on learning or reading books, in computer-based presentations or traditional texts, in child-led learning or scope & sequence planning. Whatever works for you and your child. I think we all agree that standards are the mat, but kids thrive with springs that enable them to jump from that base.
Fortunately/unfortunately my kids have always scored well on the Peabody test; at grade level, or even up to six grades above grade level in some areas. They see their scores and think, "Whooo-hooo! We can take two (+) years off from school!" I see their scores and feel justified to ask for a raise and a bonus. Measurable results beg for measurable rewards.
So, how did we celebrate? I found a half price deal and took them to the Sky Zone for the first time ever. I ordered myself an Emma Bridgewater mug and Susan Branch's new book. We felt entitled to celebrate. We jumped higher than the box.
But - (and I am tempted to end this post right here and delete the whole second half) - what comes from comparing? Is comparison is the death of contentment? Or does comparison help you strive for excellence? Does success make students and teachers complacent, or inspire them to continue?
I think it can do both. What you do with the scores is up to you. You can let test scores make you feel discouraged or encouraged. You can let them shape your curriculum and fill gaps, or disregard them completely. You can take them as a sign your kids need some extra help, or lighten up the schedule so they have more time to enjoy being a kid.
Compulsory, government designed and mandated education might be something relatively new, but schools are not. The Catholic Church has a long tradition of education and formal schooling, and I tend to trust she has good reasons for this. In fact, skimming over a lengthy entry on education at New Advent, this passage caught my attention:
Considering the nature of the child-mind, the whole curriculum of the school is best presented when it is organized and unified, not fragmented and disconnected.
Organized and unified! I will have to read this article more carefully! I have heard countless talks and conversations about child-led learning and the ability of kids to piece together, over time, a smattering of information presented out-of-order. Sounds tempting.
Now that we have completed the annual testing, my thoughts turn towards our 8th year of homeschooling. Have we been too stringent? Too loose? How can we be more organized and unified with children who will be age 3 - 13? How can I re-vamp our schedule, prune away redundancies, design a rhythm that is less rushed, and continue to find the "springs" in our homeschooling journey?
I have to continue to explore options that work for me, to find my springs. What I am realizing is that the spark of enthusiasm has to come from me - I have to stay motivated to learn and experience joy in the journey. I have to be more than a list maker and box checker. We need to have more fun together. I want to get my kids back together for the mother of all subjects: history. And six of us need more exercise. But more on that later . . .
While it's too early to decide on all the details of our fall curriculum, it's not too early to start thinking about our choices, because each year we homeschool I get stretched further than I ever thought possible and I have to make room for growth. Homeschooling continually stretches me, every step of the way, each passing year, in every area.
So, the insight I have to share with you this week is this: don't just jump into the box, or even out of the box - jump higher than the box!
