I'm sort of in "assessment mode" here in the homeschool, nine weeks into the school year. We're just finishing up a grammar text and assessing before we start a new one; my 10-y-o just finished a unit in his physics-kit-based activity; I just gave a quiz to all three of the oldest kids to see what they remembered from American history so far; and last week I made them a Latin test. Next week a proctor will come to my house to administer the required annual standardized test to my 10- and 7-year-olds.
Some of these assessments are created by third parties, but a lot of them I write myself. I expect that won't change much as the kids grow older, unless I radically change my style of homeschooling. Which always makes me think about the purpose of assessment, and consider how third-party assessments and my own homegrown style achieves those purposes.
Let's set aside the derivative purposes of (1) meeting state-mandated requirements and (2) teaching children how to perform on various assessments to demonstrate accurately their mastery of material. The primary reasons for assessment are these:
(1) use by the teacher to find out how well students have mastered material, so that the teacher can either move on to new material or to adjust her teaching to present material more effectively
(2) use by the teacher or student as a practical tool to aid retention through motivated reviewing of material and working under external constraints (e.g. without outside help, or with time limits)
(3) by third-party gatekeepers (e.g. potential employers, educational admissions staff) as a purportedly objective credential.
By the way: Not just the teacher, but the student, can use self-assessment techniques for purposes (1) and (2). It also must be said that he student can also evaluate his assessments as credentials, and in so doing tailor his search for employment, educational opportunities, and other benefits that are controlled by third parties.
As the teacher who's also the parent, I have a certain dilemma.
As the teacher (and to some extent, as the scientist I will always be), I want to measure something. I need the information so I can tailor my teaching to my young students. But I'm aware, as that teacher, as that scientist, that I'm also not a biased observer -- because I'm the mother of the student, there's always a result I'm hoping to see, a hope that my child will "do well." I want my child to show himself that he is learning, and to be pleased with his progress, and to confidently attack new material. I want to believe, and I want him to believe, that he's smart and studious and capable.
And because I'm the teacher, I am also hoping to see that same "good" result because it will demonstrate that I'm a pretty darn good teacher. Since I only have a few students, by the way, it isn't acceptable for "almost all" or "all but one" of my students to pass muster. They all have to do it -- some slower, some faster, but they all have to do it -- or else I have to face an unpleasant truth: inadequate teaching or parenting. (Yes, as kids get older their schooling decisions become more their own; but the responsibility of choosing the school is mine until they are adult.)
And because I know each of my own kids pretty well, I could (if I wished) design a test on purpose that I know he would complete at an apparently excellent level. Or I could design one to trip him up on purpose. It all depends how I select the questions.
Choosing only objective assessments written by someone else is one way to get around the bias, and of course it takes little time or effort. I do this with most of our purchased curricula -- for example, I use the tests that come with our math program and some of the tests that come with the Latin book. The downside is that it may not measure exactly what I am interested in knowing. The math assessments I choose are pretty objective and matched to the material, so I'm comfortable with those (especially in combination with the annual standardized test). But the Latin tests don't quite cover everything I teach, because I've tweaked the material so much and also added some material that I thought was being covered too slowly. And then of course I sometimes want to know more subtle things, like the difference between remembering detailed objective facts and understanding how causes led to effects, or the difference between failures of understanding and failures to avoid careless oversights. Sometimes you have to look deeper than the test-in-a-box to see those.
I don't use school-in-a-box much; I write or design or improvise most of my own curriculum. And if I want an assessment, I have to come up with the assessment myself . If all I cared about was leaving a paper trail proving I had done something that looks like assessment -- and I respect the views of parents who choose to assess only to provide the state with its required paper trail -- it would not be so hard. But I really do want to measure how the kids are doing. And the truth is, when I sit down to write an assessment, I can feel the temptation to write questions that have an outcome I already know.
That's not to say that there's no purpose in writing some questions that I am sure will be answered correctly, because those questions may help the children remember what they've learned or make them confident to attempt harder material. And of course it generates a paper trail for the state. But it's not really "assessment" if it tells me only what I already know. I'm wasting my time unless I go beyond demonstrating and really start evaluating.
It's never been more clear to me now that I am writing assessments for other people's children as well as my own. I carefully designed a Latin test for three different children a couple of weeks ago, and I'm pretty sure that was a fair assessment, although I knew well how my own son would perform and couldn't predict quite as closely how the other two would do. I decided on impulse to write a history quiz yesterday, and wrote it in about fifteen minutes, and I am less confident that I designed it well.
The difference is how much time I spent on them. With the Latin test, I began by asking myself pretty objectively, "What have I been trying to teach for the last few months? What do I want the children to know before I can move on?" I listed those teaching goals, and then I tried to write questions that would measure them. As I wrote it, I had a pretty good guess which children would do well on which parts of the test, but I didn't know exactly what was the extent of their knowledge. I tried to suppress an impulse to trip them up on purpose. I needed the test to see what to emphasize in upcoming lessons; I also wanted to use it to demonstrate to my friends, their mothers, how well they were mastering the material.
I wrote the history test more on impulse, and not wanting to make it very long, used just a few questions. The first part, where I listed eleven historical events (1492 through 2001), and asked them to put them in order -- that was definitely a well-designed question. But for the other ones, I just sort of thought quickly about a few of the books we had read, and then asked a question or two about the time periods they covered. Two questions asked for recall of details that I knew quite well my own son would know easily and that I had a pretty good idea the other children wouldn't. That's not why I picked them, I picked them because they were objective-sounding questions that came quickly to mind, but I didn't think very hard about whether it was the kind of question I really needed to be asking. The other two questions were meant to be essay- or list-type questions, and while I think the questions covered good material, I didn't write them well -- it wasn't obvious to the children that I wanted them to write as much as they could remember about each subject (they each wrote a few words and had to be sent back to write more, and only one answer of one question turned out to be anything like what I wanted them to write).
So, that history test created a paper trail for the state, and demonstrated mastery of one question, but I'm not really satisfied with it. As an assessment of myself it was pretty darn effective. I now know that I need to take more time writing tests. I can also use the essay questions to help teach the kids how to answer essay questions. So: not useless, but needs more work.
I haven't written yet about the gatekeeper/credential function of assessment. Unfortunately, the traditional use of "grades" (as assessed by the teacher) as credentials -- for employment or higher education admission-- is obviously absurd for the homeschool student. If higher grades will help my kid get a job or a scholarship, wouldn't I be insane not to give him higher grades? Or rather, wouldn't it be insane to imagine that I could assess performance objectively? On the other hand, maybe it's not unfortunate that it's obviously absurd, because maybe all grades-as-credentials is absurd, and homeschooling only makes that absurdity more obvious. How can letter grades be objective credentials at all, when different schools teach to different levels of difficulty to different pools of students? When the student is also a "customer" paying for the credential? Do credentials such as letter grades really predict success in all the endeavors for which they serve as proxy qualifications?
The bottom line is that a single method of assessment cannot serve two masters, i.e., the teacher and the third-party gatekeeper. As my children approach high school age, when the assessments and the credentials start to converge, I'm going to have to decide how to navigate this problem.
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