For almost nine years now, ever since passage of the Education Reform Act of 1993, there has been endless discussion- ranging from earnest talk to frantic hand-wringing- over the effort to raise educational standards in our schools, especially the impact of the MCAS graduation requirement on students. But most of that discussion, with the exception of largely symbolic student boycotts in 2001, has taken place among adults. What do the kids have to say? Especially, what do those kids say who are the guinea pigs of high-stakes testing- the ones who failed the 10th-grade MCAS last spring but must find a way to pass one of four possible retests before the end of next year? If they do not, they will be the first students denied a high-school diploma as a result of adult efforts to raise educational expectations.
One group that wanted to know what those kids have to say is Mass Insight Education, a nonprofit organization working to improve student achievement in Massachusetts public schools. As part of its “Kids Can’t Wait” campaign to make sure that high-school students across the state get the help they need to pass MCAS, Mass Insight conducted interviews of 150 students at four high schools in three cities (Lowell, Boston, and Worcester), all of whom did not pass one or both of the 10th-grade English and math MCAS tests last year. MassInsight allowed me to tag along as they delved into student attitudes and interests; I sat in on two days’ worth of student interviews in two different schools, as well as a focus group of teachers at one of those schools.
It was a rare opportunity to eavesdrop on conversations with nearly two dozen members of a typically tight-lipped group- urban teenagers on the verge of academic failure. But for a journalist, the conditions were less than ideal. In order to gain this exclusive access, I became subject to all the restrictions that protect the anonymity of research subjects. And not only the kids, but their schools: no names, no identifying features, nothing that could be used to trace any revelation or observation to its source.
The research design had its limitations as well, from a journalistic point of view. I yearned to know more about the backgrounds and family lives of the young people in front of me. I wanted to know what their grades were like, and whether it surprised them that they failed MCAS the first go-round. Many of these teens were painfully shy in the presence of adult strangers posing queries from a script, and I longed to probe and prompt them beyond the two-or-three-word answer supposedly “open-ended” questions often got out of them. But even if I had been allowed to do so, the glorious detail generated by such probing would have been unusable, since it might reveal the identities of the students- that is, expose them as the individuals they are.
All that said, observing these interviews allowed for the gathering of impressions that further illuminate the cold statistics generated by the yes-or-no answers, the multiple-choice selections, and the one-to-five rankings of the questionnaire, which will be released in late March- and put them back in the context of individual teenagers struggling with school, and with growing up. The good news: These kids, who have their futures in the balance, are not at all freaked out about the challenge of passing MCAS in order to get their high-school diplomas. The bad news: They may not be worried enough.
Saundra (not her real name) sat almost sullenly through the interview, her prompt answers seeming more impatient than forthcoming. It was clear that this young African-American woman had little use for school. In general she thought it important to get a high-school diploma and go on to college “in order to get a good job later in life,” as the survey question put it. But with her sights set on show business, she didn’t think the reading and writing or the math skills tested by MCAS were important “for the jobs and colleges [she is] interested in.” (She was not the only teen I heard who had dreams of stardom, just the most serious about them.)
She didn’t cut her school much slack, either. She gave the high school an overall grade of C. Asked if her teachers really wanted her to succeed or were just doing their job, she said they “don’t really care,” even about whether she passes MCAS. But on the final question- Do you think it’s fair to require students to have math and English skills good enough to succeed in a job or college before they can graduate from high school?- this hard-bitten young woman said, “Yeah, it’s fair.”
Her answer was all the more surprising because most of the students I saw interviewed took that question to mean: Do you think the MCAS graduation requirement is fair? Several students objected to the graduation requirement, even though they thought they would eventually pass the test themselves.
“It’s fair to a point,” said one girl who expected to go on to four-year college in art and literature but is so far behind the eightball in math she didn’t even think she passed the MCAS retest in December. (“Last year I didn’t have a math teacher, just a bunch of subs,” she explained. “This year I’m kind of lost.”) “But if a kid just can’t pass it “even though they’ve passed all their courses, she said, “to judge them, and say they can’t have a diploma, that’s kind of stupid.” Another girl objected on the grounds that doing poorly in one subject ought not to discredit her ability in another.”I’ve always had trouble in math,” she said, “but I do really well in English.”
Then there was the Why Me? objection. “People before didn’t have to take it,” said Sebastien, a Caribbean islander who has been in this country just four years. “Why should we take it? The governor does a good job; [she] didn’t take it. Why should we have to take it?”
Fair or not, MCAS generated surprisingly little sense of doom among these potential casualties. A substantial number thought “the test is just too hard,” and that was the biggest reason for failing MCAS. But many thought the main problem was students not putting enough effort into homework and paying attention in class or skipping school too much. Almost none thought it was because students “are just not smart enough” to pass.
For themselves, few saw passing the MCAS as a hopeless cause. The one I heard who seemed most discouraged about her prospects was a shy Asian girl who said she thought about dropping out last year, even before she took the test. “It seemed like I wouldn’t pass the MCAS,” she said. “So what was the point [of staying in school]?” But her family, she said, “told me, just take it.”
She was among those who thought the main cause for MCAS failure was that the test is too hard, and she felt the same way about the December retest, at least personally. When asked if she thought she’d passed this time, she said, “Not really. The math, it was hard. I hate math.'” Did she think she’d pass it in the future? “I’m not sure,” she said. One Hispanic girl, asked if she’d passed the retest, said, “Not the math, no,”‘ then added, astonishingly, “It got harder.”
But for most of these students who’d failed MCAS once, the so-called “focused” retest was a big morale boost. Intended only to distinguish between passing and failing, the retest was free of questions designed to challenge the highest achievers. All these kids took the pared-down exam and were waiting for the results. (Statewide, 48 percent of students passed the English retest, 31 percent the math.) Many thought they’d nailed it.
“It was easier,” said one white boy who thought the full-blown MCAS was too hard. “I thought I got the answers right.”
One Hispanic girl explained that she thought she’d passed because “I tried harder, and I understood what I was doing.” Said another, an Asian girl who hoped to become a pharmacist, “I knew what was going on. Some of [the questions] were pretty easy.” If she didn’t pass this time, she said, “I’d probably be a little upset.”
So would an enthusiastic boy of Caribbean origin, who said he was “very confident” he’d passed the retest. “I’ve been training my mind to it,” he said. “I’ve been doing math when I’m sleeping, when I’m eating.” (Unexplained, however, is how he’d failed MCAS math in the first place, when math is his favorite subject. “I love numbers,” he declared.)
Even those less certain of their December outcomes felt they had made progress. “I did better,” said one young man. “I don’t know if I passed.” A few, however, remained entirely in the dark. “I thought I did better,” said another boy. Then he added, “I thought I passed the other one.”
To these high-school juniors, passing MCAS seemed not an impossible task but a matter of time and effort. Most said they would keep working toward passing MCAS after Graduation Day, if they had yet to fulfill this requirement for their diplomas–“for as long as it takes, “some of the students vowed.
That is, if it came to that. Few I listened to felt they’d given school or MCAS their best shot, as of yet. This was, as with so many responses in these interviews, both heartening and disturbing; the kids always seemed to think they could work harder if they needed to, but so far few had made any real concession to the threat of missing out on their high-school graduation. One girl, a Latina, said that after she learned she’d failed MCAS last year she “stopped working on weekdays. I put my time on homework.” But most said they had made little or no change in how they spent their time outside of school. Many–nearly half, according to preliminary statistics–went to tutoring or got other help, mostly during the school day, but most did not attend any formal programs after school or on weekends. “I don’t have time,” said one.
Sometimes, comments like these were hard to comprehend. There were kids who played sports or had extracurricular activities that ate up a lot of time. Many worked jobs nights, weekends, or both. One African-American girl said work was the place she got extra help. “My boss helps me with my homework,” she said. But a few seemed to have no scheduling conflicts, yet did not get any help after school. “I don’t know” was the usual non-explanation they offered.
For some, most of them girls, another reason emerged: family obligations, such as caring for younger siblings. One Hispanic girl said that after she got her first MCAS scores, she started going to after-school tutoring, “then I had to go babysit my nephew,” and stopped. Asked what she’d do if she failed the retest, she said, “I’d stay after [school], put my nephew in day care.” One wonders whether that would be up to her.
Most seemed to think that if they failed MCAS again, they’d just have to buckle down. “I would change my attitude toward that math class, because I don’t like it,” said one black girl. “I’d probably study math more. That’s the only one I failed,” said a white boy. “I’d really have to start hitting the books,” said another. “I’d pay more attention,” said a third. Though virtually all professed to be working harder in school and on homework since their first MCAS failure, even if they didn’t attend extra-help programs, most kids seemed to feel they still had gas left in the tank.
But one Hispanic girl I listened to was more dubious. Asked if she’d change anything in what she did if she failed the retest, she replied: “I guess. I’m paying as much attention as I can. I’ll ask for more help. Nothing else I can do.”
“Motivation drives attendance; attendance drives achievement. If you’re not here, you cannot learn.” That’s the way Harvey (not his real name), an English teacher who is an 11-year veteran of the high school we visited that day–36 years in the urban school district overall–summed up the formula for success in school and on MCAS. Using that equation, the eight teachers gathered around the conference table were able to predict with chilling accuracy who was and wasn’t going to pass MCAS last spring. “We can pretty much tell,” said another teacher. The telltale signs of failure, she said, were “[lack of] attendance, and not caring.”
Still, these teachers worried most about those students who did come to school on a regular basis and did care, but seemed destined for MCAS failure anyway. “It’s these kids I’m most concerned for,” said Barbara, a young writing teacher.
A social studies teacher, herself an immigrant from the island many of her students come from, worried about those in the school’s bilingual program who, after just three years in this country, would face the MCAS hurdle.”Their work ethic is beyond belief,” she said; still, she added, “I sat there, very sadly, realizing they don’t have a chance.” Come next year, she said, the results “are going to be heart-breaking.”
These teachers had plenty of complaints about MCAS, ranging from testing logistics that turn the school inside out every spring to dubious scoring of essays. “I’m angry,” said Harvey. “I am so negative about it.” When, as an exercise, the school’s English teachers re-scored actual student work, they gave one essay a higher score than the state Department of Education did, and another a sharply lower score. “These kids, their whole lives are riding on it,” Harvey emphasized. “Who’s doing the scoring? What are the standards?”
Nonetheless, some of these teachers saw some good alongside the bad. “MCAS came with education reform, and ed reform gave us more books, some accountability. It keeps us more on our toes,” said Julie, another English teacher. A young science teacher said, “One positive thing I’ve heard [is], before MCAS, there was no accountability for kids. They’re pushed through to us, even if they don’t have the skills, and we pushed them through.”
The focus-group leader posed the question: Will the class of 2003 be more prepared for jobs and college than the class of 2002? “They might be,” said one teacher. “I think we’re more focused as a staff because of MCAS.”
But these teachers don’t think their students are focused on MCAS even now, with senior year on the horizon. “They’re more focused on school achievement than MCAS success,” said Harvey. As a potential obstacle to their graduation, “I don’t think it’s sunk in,” added Julie. “They’re not going to grasp it until they watch their friends going across that stage and they’re not.”
It doesn’t help, these teachers say, when the state shifts its ground. Here, for all the tea and sympathy they offer their students and all the criticism and resentment they direct toward MCAS, these schoolmasters come off as tough taskmasters. To them, it seems, the only thing more infuriating than a rule they object to is a rule without consequences.
“We tried to pound it in,” said Harvey, referring to the message that MCAS had to be taken seriously. “Then there was so much watering down by the state”–five chances to take the test; a retest made up of the easiest questions; an appeals mechanism–that “they’re able to say to us, ‘See, we told you it’s not going to happen.'”
Along the same lines, this particular group of teachers reacted with disgust to the idea of a “13th year” of high school, offered free on community college campuses, that would combine remedial classes with electives that would count for credit once students passed the MCAS. Seeing their students fail might break their hearts, but seeing them get away with something made their blood boil.
“To offer something, when they haven’t earned it, devalues it,” observed Carolyn, a longtime math teacher. “We said you wouldn’t graduate [without passing MCAS], but you can. In fact, you can go to college.” Her tone turned sarcastic. “Will there be ice cream every day?”
“Enough’s enough,” said Julie. “I’ve gone so conservative in my view of human nature,” added another English teacher, Hal. “This is another cushion [for the kids] to fall on. Enabling, enabling, enabling.”
Although the MassInsight Education research project was designed to give direction to new efforts to help struggling kids, it also highlighted some enduring truths about high school. One maddeningly simply one: School starts too early for teenagers. One kid after another, asked what they “like least about school,” replied, “waking up early,” or “the hours are too early.” (One even offered the early start time as a possible reason students drop out: “They hate to wake up in the morning.”)
This spontaneous complaint came often enough that the focus-group leader asked the teachers about changing school hours. “We hate change,” responded English teacher Hal, only half joking.
“We’re used to it, so we love it,” said another teacher, who noted that it was sports, jobs, and buses that dictate pre-8 a.m. starts. “But we would adjust.” Harvey said he doubted a later start time would cut down on absenteeism, but “for kids who are here, performance would be better.”
The other enduring truth, perhaps of more consequence, is just what a personal thing education can be, made up as it is of individual relationships between young people, who alternately mistrust grown-ups and dwell on their every word, and adults, who alternately nurture and challenge their young charges. Nearly all the students I listened to, and a majority overall, said they were working harder and paying more attention in school because of the MCAS graduation requirement. But when they were asked to describe the qualities of their favorite and “least favorite” teachers, the dependence of these young people on their instructors came through.
Favorite teachers were sometimes “cool” and “young” or “funny.” But they invariably make sure struggling students aren’t being left behind. One favorite teacher “takes time to go over the work if I don’t understand.” Another “is there to help me out, will never…say no to helping me.” Least-favorite teachers were sometimes “mean” and “strict” (“she writes you up over anything”), but mostly they “go too fast; when you ask them to slow down, they say, ‘Oh, well.'” Said one boy about his least-favorite: “She don’t care. She teaches too fast…And when you don’t understand, she says, ‘You should have paid attention. I¹m not going to repeat myself.'”
Similarly, the personal touch of adults–teachers and others–seems to matter when it comes to seeking help. Rating various enticements for participation in academic support programs, “taught by your favorite teacher” was always a big incentive, often scoring higher than “if you were paid to go to tutoring.” Another high scorer, perhaps more surprisingly, was “if an adult that you respect encouraged you to go to a support program.” Even in this high-stakes-test era, when a young person is struggling to succeed–or deciding whether the struggle is worth the effort–there’s no substitute for a grown-up’s helping hand.