I am a Gemini

Reflecting on Part One of Daniel H. Pink’s A Whole New Mind: Why Right-Brainers Will Rule the Future

“I am a Gemini”

So I was born in the middle of the year and in the middle of the month. I used to think this was ideal because it meant I got presents every six months, which is much better than having a birthday in, say, November. After Christmas you’d have to wait another eleven months to get more presents! But then I learned more about what being born in the middle of June means; it means I am a twin, a Gemini, a versatile communicator valuing relentless stimulation and expression. When I took personality quizzes in Seventeen magazine or even later when in undergrad I had to take the Myers-Briggs, I was never totally at one end of a spectrum. Am I more creative or intellectual? Intuitive or thoughtful? I used to think ending up in the middle meant I was bi-polar (OK, not really), but now I see this as a kind of balance that has benefitted me greatly in developing relationships with colleagues, students, and superiors alike. (In fact, I was just perusing astrology.com—no joke—and it said that Geminis “are fascinated by psychology and the way human relationships work”; this could not be more accurate.)

So why do I even mention all of this? Because Pink’s A Whole New Mind is about precisely this: the difference between the right and left brains, the thinkers and the creators, the mathematicians and the artists--and what this difference implies for America's future.  After having read Part One of his text, I am finding that I feel assured by his observations and predictions, and that makes me wonder the extent to which this relates to my “sign,” baby. Since the way of the future is apparently “high concept” and “high touch,” I can’t help but feel elated that what Pink describes as “the capacity to detect patterns and opportunities… to empathize with others, to understand the subtleties of human interaction, to find joy in one’s self and to elicit it in others” (p. 3) is exactly how I keep my own life interesting and fulfilling. Is it possible that my English major and music minor have prepared me for the future beyond my anticipation?

Further, I have to say that Pink’s opinion on America’s plenty—that “the defining feature of social, economic, and cultural life in much of the world is abundance” (p. 32)—makes total sense to me: It’s no wonder we are drifting further from a focus on reductive thinking when we can walk into any grocery store and have, like, seventeen different options for rice! As Pink mentions, having such abundance as “freed literally hundreds of millions of people from the struggle for survival” (p. 35), and I can only hope that while many American youth in particular have been “liberated by prosperity” they will continue to “not [be] fulfilled by it” (p. 35). As I continue to reflect on my educational philosophy and get involved in not-for-profit organizations like Ambassadors for Children, I am learning more and more about the importance of service learning; and as I continue to hear stories about kids in our own community who feel forced to steal from their peers and principals in order to help their parents make ends meet (true story), I know that although many of us are blessed with plenty, many more of us do still struggle for survival.

While Pink has some excellent food-for-thought, I think his bias is clear: The business of power. Look at the subtitle of the text: “Why Right-Brainers Will Rule the Future” (bold mine). And even the fact that his book has been a bestseller in BusinessWeek is telling. Is this a book meant to give readers a leg up on competition by prompting themselves to ask if they are cheap enough? Fast enough? In enough demand? (p. 51). Or will reading Pink encourage readers to find fulfillment and create meaningful context for their lives—in ways that help us to think beyond our abundance and toward the needs of others?

I am doubtful that Pink offers a philosophical blueprint in altruism, but I am only 93 pages in….


Pink, D. H. (2005). A Whole New Mind: Why Right-Brainers Will Rule the Future. New York: Riverhead Books.

From 2007: On Anyon's Radical Possibilities

Anyon’s text was a refreshing read, and it was an excellent catalyst for forming connections among the texts I’ve read and courses I’ve taken for the Master’s in Urban Ed. It is becoming quite evident that a collaboration of educational stakeholders is essential if America is to realize any sort of educational reform. On what specific mission do stakeholders collaborate, though? Whereas Anyon said the larger needs of a community must be addressed before the particulars of education can be remedied, Noguera (2003) determined that it’s the quality of our schools that will determine the future of our society (p. 157). Regardless of this pseudo which came first riddle, Anyon’s point that middle and high school teachers can make a significant impact by encouraging students to participate in civic activism was an essential one. This implies, though, that not only will teachers “step up” but also that students will find themselves worthy of their own—and others’—efforts. Many teachers are unfortunately not likely to find an incentive in taking on the charge of a new social movement, but the importance of teens and educators working together will both help teens see that they are worth a quality education and help develop trust between student and teacher. Once this trust begins building, the possibilities for dialogue and change are endless. Anyon remarked that teachers need to consistently—and publicly—assert the potential and abilities inherent in minority students while also explaining to minorities how to negotiate around the predominantly White culture of power. I can’t imagine this conversation going well if there isn’t a significant amount of trust among educators and students. Further, it is vital that educators to develop trust among community members; however, there may be a catch: We have talked in class about a bitterness directed toward White teachers who, albeit well-intentioned, come into the neighborhoods of their students trying to build relationships; is it not possible that even the best intentions of educators will be met with resistance from minority community members? How will this trust begin to take shape?


What’s frustrating is that I don’t see an end to America’s societal “us”/ “them” dichotomy. There will always be “haves” and “have nots.” (For that matter, consider the experiment conducted in Aldous Huxley’s fictional Brave New World; when a group of the high-achieving Alphas were put on an island together they destroyed each other. Although a satirical commentary on society, Huxley does highlight some truth: Society cannot function if there are no followers to the leaders.) So what is most important to America’s future? Stone, et al. (2001) said that “the global economy shows no mercy to individuals who lack basic skills” (p. 11), yet Anyon noted that even with an increase in skilled workers, poverty persists. Where does that leave education? Anyon referenced Doug McAdam in her text, and he observed that belonging to a social group makes it more likely that an individual will participate in “contentious politics.” Perhaps the key is not in leveling the playing field, per se, but rather in encouraging members of any social group—regardless of race or class or religion—to develop pride and confidence; perhaps these are the true determinants of social capital.

Anyon, J. (2005). Radical Possibilities. New York: Routledge.

From 2007: On City Schools & the American Dream

Pedro Noguera’s City Schools and the American Dream (2003) is an empowering text that refuses to contribute to society’s negativity regarding America’s urban schools. Noguera points out the interdependent relationship between schools and society, and he posits that America’s children are not the sole responsibility of her education system. Although Noguera seems to imply a competition between society and its schools for the attention and enthusiasm of American children, he assures readers that the solution is well within reach: America’s schools and societies must get on the same proverbial page, a page of communication, motivation, and commitment. The question remains, however: How, in a world of economic distinction and cultural diversity, can a single social identity be identified and worked toward? Noguera emphasizes the need for partnerships between communities and schools, a linkage of educational and environmental issues. Just as schools must address a student’s basic needs while affirming his goals and values, they must also have their own values that encourage bonds among administrators and educators to promote positive change. By systematically examining the current “crisis” of America’s urban schools through social, cultural, environmental, and academic contexts, Noguera ends with a hopeful charge that those who understand the extent of education’s possibilities will work deliberately and without delay to inform others and encourage them to collaborate and commit to improving America’s schools. Her future depends on it.

Noguera has done extensive research and has an impressive background in education. His self-proclaimed “critical support and pragmatic optimism” regarding urban public schools is encouraging, and although his claims are well-founded in his own and others’ research, they do not branch beyond the San Francisco Bay area. It would be interesting indeed to know how the data of his small section of California matches up with other major metropolitan areas such as Chicago, New York City, or even Atlanta. Additionally, it was hard to tell if some information was gathered from students, parents, or objective data collection. When Noguera mentioned, for example, that Black and Latino students are more likely to garner suspicion when walking through the hallways than White students, did this come from the “suspicious” students or suspecting staff members? Student perceptions of adults’ perceptions are not always accurate; therefore, it would be helpful at times to have data to back up certain subjective statements.

One of the biggest assumptions Noguera seems to make is that all urban public schools are similar to those within the San Francisco Bay area. As his main solution to the issues in urban schools is for there to be more significant collaboration among schools and their communities, he further makes the assumption that these two entities—school and society—are so strongly interrelated that when one fails the other is likely to also. Even if the school-society relationship is undoubtedly a significant one in San Francisco, can it be assumed that this is the case across the U.S.?

Additionally, if a particular school is thriving, is it truly because of an extensive, positive collaboration among the civic-minded, or is it because that particular district or school community has many members with significant social capital who know how to make the system work for them? If education is to be the “equalizer” of opportunity (p. 22), Noguera seems to assume that those with opportunities will take advantage of them. How can that be assured? What can be done to increase intrinsic motivation? How can one strengthen the social capital of those who sense no immediate benefit and aren’t willing to divert from their norms?

Further, Noguera makes the assumption that the label community is a positive one. In Robert Putnam’s Bowling Alone, he asserts that the effects of social capital can sometimes lead to tragedy, most notably the Oklahoma City bombing and the emergence of the KKK (2000). How can it be assured that any created community will benefit not only its members but also those within its grasp?

For the sake of argument, say members of a particular community are willing to collaborate in a “positive” and beneficial way, and say PS #84 has excellent leadership able to motivate its faculty. But where does the single vision come from? Who decides which battles are worth fighting and which should be ignored? Noguera seems to assume that the “crisis” with urban public schools is one that can be solved with collaboration; however, the nuance of educational policy will keep the solution from being that easy. Think semantics: Who would argue against legislation titled No Child Left Behind? Yet there are many aspects of this act that are not beneficial for American students, and there are countless educators who abhor some of its implications on schools. The question remains: Even if members of a school community are willing to collaborate, how will they agree on what message with which to collaborate? Noguera acknowledges the difficulty of creating a collective identity, and his answer to the above question would likely deal with empowerment; he would likely assert that both students and parents need to feel safe, respected, and empowered; they need to have information and opportunity and encouragement. It’s the individuals who understand this, who are not threatened by empowering the masses, who must take the charge to lead education into a future marked by confident, knowledgeable students of the world.

Noguera is a clear proponent of Horace Mann’s philosophies, especially, as mentioned earlier, Mann’s belief that American schools as an institution is “an arena where inherited privileges [should] not determine one’s opportunities (p. 22). Additionally, Noguera mentions Brazilian Paulo Freire, an educator who sees education as a way to equip students to discover their ever-changing role in a transitory world. Noguera seems most intrigued by Freire’s notion of the “limit situation,” and this major tenet can be sensed throughout Noguera’s text. Freire’s idea is that when it comes to adults who have problems reading and writing it is not because of mechanics but rather because of feelings of powerlessness. While Noguera doesn’t focus solely on literacy, the center of his argument deals with making certain that students and parents alike feel connected and important to a child’s education. There is little concentration on data and numbers compared to Noguera’s emphasis on relationships and connections.

It is likely Noguera is also familiar with John Dewey, who acknowledged the variety of influences that shape one’s character and saw a great opportunity within schools to make positive change, provided that they are “organized as a community” (qtd. in Rosario, 2000, p. 33). (For all intents and purposes, it can be assumed that the term “community” is used in the most positive sense.) However, an important distinction exists: school communities need to—as quoted in Jose Rosario’s chapter in Curriculum and Consequence (2000)—“see that they are a part of the larger school and not separate entities unto themselves….[W]e also need [students] to understand that this community is only part of the whole society” (p. 41). Although Noguera does not mention the philosophies of educational gurus such as John Dewey by name, concepts of community have been studied for years, and Noguera has surely done his homework.

This text has been remarkable in stimulating considerations regarding school-community connections. Although there are tremendous possibilities for change in American public schools, as Noguera (2003) notes, “Public education is one of the few enterprises where the quality of service provided has no bearing whatsoever on the ability of the system to function” (p. 15), and that is a frightening thought. The most lasting impression Noguera’s text gives, however, is a sense of empowerment for educational stakeholders. He makes it seem possible that those who “get it” can successfully encourage others to stake their claim in the future of education, and that, little by little, America’s public schools can make a change for the better. Although the school-society relationship is reciprocal, change truly does need to start in the schools through motivated educators. One of the toughest challenges, though, is finding ways to recruit the quality people into the profession, and even beyond that is making certain these quality people understand the power they have and the most effective ways in which to use it. What is the potential power that these professionals have? To empower others. By helping to develop mindsets within students that they are worthy of opportunity and choice, and by encouraging them to take advantage of the organizations and classes available to them, educators can begin to shift the social paradigm that labels and limits “urban” kids.

The clearest way to encourage and perhaps even mold future educators lies in the teacher preparation provided by colleges and universities. Maslow, Dewey, and Piaget are all important names to know with philosophies worth studying; however, just as critical is developing an educator’s methodologies and philosophies that ultimately support a civic-mindedness. This is not an impossible feat; future teachers need to be aware of just how many resources are available for developing lessons that both meet state standards and create readers of the world, and they need to understand the dire importance of instilling this skill in their students. Read Chaucer and discuss sexism; point out the oppression in Hugo’s Hunchback and write problem-solution essays on how the oppressed can break the cycle; have students create public service announcements and post them around the school or read them on the daily announcements. Little by little, as students begin to understand the authority they have in their own lives and the responsibilities they have in the lives of others, American society will shift… and so will the “crisis” marking urban public schools.



Noguera, P. (2003). City schools and the American dream. (J.A. Banks, Ed.). New York: Teachers College.

Putnam, R.D. (2000). Bowling alone. New York: Simon & Schuster.

Rosario, J.R. (2000). “Communitarianism and the Moral Order of Schools.” In B. Franklin (Ed.), Curriculum & Consequence (pp. 30-51). New York: Teachers College.

From 2007: America, the land of the tolerant? Hardly.

"Move It"

“Tolerance does not move us ahead. It maintains the status quo,” Jerome Harste (2007) writes in his Thought Piece for chapter seven of our text. I disagree. To say that tolerance maintains the status quo is to assume that there currently is tolerance, that our society, a society filled with difference, is able to coexist peacefully. True statement? If it were, you would not know the names Rodney King or Matthew Shepherd; you wouldn’t have heard about “the Jena six,” and Mel Gibson wouldn’t have had to apologize for making despicable anti-Semitic comments. America, a land of the tolerant? Hardly.

Nevertheless, one of the first thoughts I had when reading Harste’s comment was, Oh, no! I love the Teaching Tolerance website! Have they got it all wrong? But then I mentally catalogued some of the articles I’ve read on that website and the myriad lesson plans I’ve adapted for my own classroom. Most recently I read an impassioned article taking issue with Columbus Day, its central question asking, “Is Monday’s holiday a celebration of discovery or genocide?” Further, some of the website’s lesson plans have titles including “Conflict Resolution & Peace” and “The ABCs of ‘We the People,’” and one of the annual events Teaching Tolerance promotes in schools is Mix it Up at Lunch Day, a day each year in November where students are encouraged to break the cafeteria’s careful boundaries and sit among peers with whom they don’t normally socialize. I wonder: Would Harste argue that each of these activities simply “maintains the status quo?” Is not tolerance an essential strand in the cord of critical literacy?

To maintain the status quo is to support intolerance, and if we hope to guide our students in reframing their positions in society, we must start with the understanding that, for some of them, reframing will mean getting their hands out of the proverbial cookie jar. This is a tough but necessary step, for how can we promote social action if any student believes another doesn’t deserve empowerment? How impacting will an investigation into, say, educational inequity be for my students who seriously don’t see any problem with their privilege? Who have no qualms about making disparaging comments to those who are not like they are? Who fight each other in the hallways because of difference in immigration status? Now, in all fairness, I must ask: Is tolerance all it takes to “move us ahead”? No. But can we drive across town without putting the key in the ignition? Again: no. Without tolerance, we’re not going anywhere.



Lewison, M., Leland, C. Harste, J.C. (2008). Creating critical classrooms: K-8 reading and writing with an edge.  New York: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

From 2007: On Hoping for Humility...

"A Novel Notion: Trust Teachers!"

As I read the articles and editorials pertaining to reading instruction, I could not help but think of Michael Apple’s Educating the “Right” Way (2001), a text that challenges the power structure of education and insists that the policies and practices in education are moving towards the conservative right. I promise I will make clear the connections I see between Apple and the assigned readings, but to set up this comparison effectively I need to give a brief run-down of a couple of Apple’s core principles (do excuse the pun...).

First, he calls this movement towards the right “conservative modernization,” a process where different interest groups (“interested” in education) position and reposition themselves in relation to other groups vis á vis power relations. Now what is important to consider is how power is accumulated, and, in the words of Sir Frances Bacon, “Knowledge is power.” So then the question becomes, Who has access to knowledge? And this begs consideration of the notions of social and cultural capital; those who have these forms of capital are the ones who are more likely to gain and maintain power and, by extension, a voice. (I can go into a whole thing about social and cultural capital, but that’s too much of a tangent even for me… if you care let me know and I’ll write an addendum or something and post it later… lol.)

OK, so anyway. America is considered the land of the free, right? But Apple posits (and I totally agree) that freedom is really based on a fear of freedom, a fear of either losing distinction or of becoming too uniform in the “wrong” way. And who determines what is the “right” or “wrong” way for our culture to be represented? Those with the most social and cultural capital, and who currently has this? The right. (Again, there’s lots of support for this, but let’s just operate on the assumption that Apple knows what he’s talking about.) Let me start connecting this stuff to our readings: The Stutz article (1999) discusses how Texan conservatives are pushing for phonics and how their opponents argue that the “conservatives’ agenda is driven by a desire to have a more rigid learning structure in schools, one that avoids critical thinking by students.” Shouldn’t education empower students through engaging in critical thinking? Aren’t we taught in our undergraduate methodology classes that the ultimate goal is to get kids to a level of higher-order thinking? Why would any interest group discourage critical thinking? Fear of losing power.

So here’s the conflict: The state thinks it’s the expert in education and social welfare, yet so do the teachers who spend their days surrounded by students (I know: the nerve!). I absolutely love that Carpenter (2000) quoted Farstrup’s analogy that “[F]ederal pedagogy legislation [is like] having the government ‘tell an aircraft mechanic how to bolt a part on.’” Ultimately, whether the debate is reading instruction or standardized testing, my premise remains: We the educators should be those trusted to make the call when it comes to effective practices, not those with agendas steeped in fear or power-maintenance mode. And for that matter (sorry, one more tangent), I’d like to add that when it comes to methods of research (which I’m assuming proponents of any particular methodology base their arguments on), only quasi-experiments can be conducted on human subjects because of the innumerable variables; if we believe that this is true, then why on earth would it make sense to boast a single “best” method for any kind of instruction? The majority of articles on reading instruction that we read agreed that a blend of pedagogies is best; why do those with power so often fail to see the shades of gray that envelop education? Or, if they do see the gray, why is it a “bad” thing? Unfortunately, I think Andrea Neal (1999) reported the answer (ala Motes and Hall): “[C]hildren’s needs may take a back seat to adult... egos.” Here’s to hoping for humility….

From 2007: Not for the Conservatives!

"Do Your Little Bit of Good"

Indiana schools have failed. We have failed, and so have 42 other states in the climate survey conducted by the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network (GLSEN). The criteria for “grading” are cited in Carrie Kilman’s “THIS is why we need a GSA” (2007): “the existence of state wide ‘safe schools’ laws; statewide non-discrimination laws; support for education on sexual health and sexuality; local ‘safe schools’ policies; general education issues; and the existence of laws that stigmatize LGBTQ people” (p. 32). If my experiences as a high school English teacher in an extremely diverse Indianapolis high school are any indication of Indiana’s attitudes at large, I am not surprised that we have failed to provide supportive environments for our LGBTQ students.

The first conversation I had with my seniors about homosexuality was in 2002. I don’t remember what started the whole discussion, but I do remember sharing with the class that one of my best friends is a lesbian; I had hoped sharing this would help them understand that straight people can, in fact, co-exist with people who are gay. Instead, I was met with a barrage of ridiculous questions. No one seemed to understand how I didn’t fear her, how I would still be willing to have her spend the night at my house, how I didn’t worry she would try to hit on me. There appeared to be a complete lack of knowledge about homosexuality, and students seemed convinced that if you are gay you are, by default, attracted to everyone of your same sex. Unfortunately, over the last five years I have seen a significant shift, one from absurd ignorance to blatant intolerance. And this has to stop.

Perhaps the major cause of Indiana’s failing marks in the protection of LGBTQ students lies with teachers who “don’t seem to reprimand anti-gay language as often as remarks targeting students’ race, religion or ethnicity” (Kilman, 2007). It seems that, for whatever reason, it is still socially acceptable to discriminate against sexuality. Why? To me, discrimination is discrimination is discrimination. It doesn’t matter if you are rich or poor, Native American or Japanese, gay or straight. It doesn’t matter if I pray to God and you pray to Buddha or if you were born in Canada or grew up in Africa. What does matter is awareness and integrity, and as a teacher, I feel partly responsible for helping my students to develop this awareness and integrity. That is why I refuse to shy away from tough topics; I want each of my students to leave my class as the best possible version of himself, and this sometimes means dealing with discomfort, especially when building tolerance among students. In fact, I sometimes even stage discomfort to create an opportunity for discussion. My latest attempt to trek toward the topic of tolerance was an eye-opening one to say the least.

Each teacher in our school has an advisory period that meets on Thursdays; on this particular morning there were only three students in my room, and none of them seemed particularly motivated to finish their geometry homework or study for their next vocabulary quiz. I perused my shelf of young adult literature and decided to approach Deon, an African American sophomore, with Nancy Garden’s Annie on My Mind. “If you’re not interested in Pythagoras,” I began, “how about a story about a lesbian couple?” Not only did Deon refuse to take the book, he proceeded to harangue all the “fags” of the world for their indecent, sinful ways. I quickly redirected his phrasing from his offensive, three-letter word choice to a more appropriate one, yet the twenty minutes that remained of advisory became a forum for two of my three students to attempt to justify their mistreatment of homosexuals. “My son come home and decide he gay?” Deon said at one point, “I’d whoop ‘im. You gotta beat it out of ‘em so they’ll learn.” At this, Caleb added, “Yeah –and you gotta yell at ‘em so they’ll change their minds!” Finally, Patricia spoke up, citing the Bible and Jesus’ call to his followers to treat each other as they would want to be treated. Although Deon could not be convinced, a look of recognition registered in Caleb’s face. I began emphasizing the importance of treating people as people when the bell rang.

It is critical that we as teachers, whether elementary, middle, or secondary, refuse to accept intolerance of any kind in our classrooms, particularly intolerance directed at sexuality. Not only does narrow-mindedness ruin a productive learning environment, but also, according the GLSEN’s December 2003 climate survey, there is a direct link between harassment and the declining GPAs and college ambitions of LGBTQ students (cited in Kilman, 2007). Even if we are only able to influence one “Caleb” or “Deon” to rethink his treatment of others at a time, we must continue to insist on integrity. After all, in the words of Desmond Tutu, “Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.”



Killman, C. (2007).THIS is why we need a GSA. Teaching Tolerance. 30-37.

From 2006: Thoughts on High-Stakes Tests

James Noll puts it best in his overview of Issue 9 in Taking Sides: Clashing Views on Educational Issues when he observes that there is a “direct impact of test mania on the nature of the learning process” (2007). In short, Noll’s statement sums up why my connection to the issue of high-stakes testing is so important: ultimately, it is my job to analyze my students’ learning processes and figure out the most effective interface between my methods and their abilities; I must be aware of and understand the various contexts affecting each student’s learning. Further, I am a constructivist. There are innumerable ways to measure students’ skills and capabilities, differentiated ways that allow for individual accommodations and provide a respect for diversity. As teachers, we are continually challenged to develop professionally, to create innovative lessons and find new ways of reaching our students. I refuse to accept the disparity between what teachers’ assessments in the classroom are expected to look like and what the state’s assessments have become.


In terms of a personal context for this assertion, I have just a couple notations. First, I was raised in a Chicagoland suburb and attended schools where the majority of the student population was just like me: white and middle class. I was always a good student, taking honors and AP classes and getting involved in choir and drama. I say these things to be clear that my motivation in developing such an emotional, negative opinion about high-stakes testing is not due to a particularly bad experience that I had in my youth. In contrast, I scored well on Illinois’ IGAPs and never felt lost or confused because of misunderstanding the language of the test. My distaste for tests such as Indiana’s ISTEP+ actually only developed as I began instructing the ISTEP+ remediation academy that met for two hours after school on four weeks of Tuesdays and Thursdays. In this time I met countless ENL students who could hardly communicate with me, let alone read or understand the directions on an exam. Additionally, I met many students who were incredibly capable of passing but just didn’t care, and I also worked with students from honors English classes who just couldn’t seem to pass the ISTEP. The most eye-opening moments, however, came as I began preparing the review materials; some of the questions were worded incredibly awkwardly, and I didn’t always understand what some prompts were trying to get at. With my combination of having degrees in both English and Secondary Education and graduating from Butler University Cum Laude, imagine my feelings of inadequacy at getting stumped by the ISTEP! I cannot even fathom the confusion and aggravation of students whose fortes do not include reading comprehension or essay writing. Further, the rubrics for the essays allowed little to no room for creativity or outside-the-box thinkers. If students didn’t write a standard five-paragraph essay addressing the bullet-pointed prompt precisely, they were unlikely to score well. In a system where teachers are to encourage discovery and independent thinking, is it not contradictory to assess them via prescripted formats? I do understand that to be successful in a global market we all need to be able to understand and adhere to protocol, but I still feel strongly that more liberties need to be taken to look at a student’s test—his essay especially—holistically.

I truly enjoyed the Hurwitz and Hurwitz’s “Tests That Count” and Ken Jones’ “A Balanced School Accountability Model: An Alternative to High-Stakes Testing” because each made points that required me to sit and think. I found myself writing several combative questions in response to Hurwitz and Hurwitz’s suggestions, and, in contrast, I marked many lines in Jones’s that resonated with me as I nodded along with his observations and calls for action. Let me begin with a couple of my challenges. Hurwitz and Hurwitz note that in order to make high-stakes tests “work,” “learning not testing [should be] the goal” (2000). My thought about this is twofold: First, if there is a test given by the state, does preparing for it not inherently become the goal? Don’t teachers develop objectives before lessons and plan assessments based on objectives? Second, if learning is the goal, can it not be assessed in a variety of ways? Shouldn’t it be assessed in a variety of ways? I just don’t understand how Hurwitz and Hurwitz can support testing by asserting that learning needs to be a school’s true goal or that testing can accurately measure such learning.

In another section Hurwitz and Hurwitz claim that “there has been a heavy investment in addressing the academic performance of the weakest students” (2000). My question here is about the methods; how is the money being used to improve weak students’ performance? In workbooks? In paying teachers to instruct tedious after school skill-drills? Without knowing how this funding is being used, it is unfair to judge Hurwitz and Hurwitz’s point; however, it is likely the means of addressing weak students’ performance are not innovative or engaging, and I just don’t see how such means would encourage learning or adequately prepare students for success in the global market.

In contrast to my continual skepticism of Hurwitz and Hurwitz was my appreciation of Jones’ text. One of the most poignant points Jones makes is that “A standardized approach toward school accountability cannot work in a nation as diverse as the U.S.” (2004). Teachers need to be trusted to adjust their methods to the contexts of their classrooms. We know better than anyone what will and will not work for getting our students to reach the objectives and standards set by the state. Further, not only will flexibility in assessing schools help reestablish teachers’ feelings of professionalism (which Jones argues is waning), but it also has the power to put the emphasis back on learning, not testing, as Hurwitz and Hurwitz noted as necessary.

Jones also asks the question, “How can students be expected to meet high standards if they are not given a fair opportunity to learn?” (2004). Although I agree strongly that schools need much more equality in terms of funding and resources, I think Jones’ question is a gross oversimplification; there is so much more to a “fair opportunity to learn” than what an institution can offer. Consider the impacts of socioeconomics or race; what can a school do to change a student’s environment once the bell rings at the end of the day? Is it fair that one student goes straight to work after school and has little to no time to complete homework or study, yet another goes home and has the evening free to do homework on the computer, study for an upcoming test, get help from an older sibling? Each student’s background and home life contribute significantly to his success in the classroom, and I think it’s important to understand that educational institutions cannot erase these influences but should be especially cognizant of them in their effort to be “fair.”

Before reading these articles I knew that I was not a fan of high-stakes testing, although all I could really say about it was that the tests were often called culturally biased and that ENL students were counted in the school’s statistics, which I found remarkably unfair and inaccurate since many of these students are extremely limited in their English proficiency; their failure of the ISTEP+ is no indicator of their intellect. However, I can now better articulate the reasons why high-stakes testing doesn’t make sense; I can discuss the differing considerations affecting a student’s schooling and can point out which of these are neglected by using standardized tests to hold schools and teachers accountable for student achievement. Therefore, whereas I have not changed my opinion, I have shaped my perspective. I can now engage in discussions about testing with more confidence and evidence. Further, I will continue to focus on learning in my classroom, and I will continue to give a variety of assignments and assessments. Because there are such high stakes when it comes to ISTEP+ scores, though, I must still help my students learn how to become effective test takers and how to answer essay questions to earn the most points. I will still go over scoring rubrics with them. But I will not pour all my energy into teaching them to take a test, for that will do little to truly prepare them for emerging into successful people with integrity and character. In all, it is incredibly reassuring to me that there is literature out there testifying to the inanity of objective assessments. There is hope that this, too, shall pass.


Noll, J.W. (Ed.). (2007).  Taking sides: Clashing views on educational issues (14th ed.). Dubuque: McGraw-Hill.

From 2006: On Struggle

Why do we constantly play the game of who-has-had-it-worse? When we get into discussions connecting cultural contexts and education, it sometimes seems like a contest where we think the “winner” will be the one who has overcome the toughest struggles. Yet how can we quantify conflict and contention? How can we make objective judgment calls on subjective scenarios? For example, how many English language learners feel inferior as they struggle to communicate with their children’s teachers or their landlords? How many special education students feel ridiculed and separated from their peers and classmates? How many homosexuals feel judged and suppressed by the society that surrounds them? Any of these scenarios would likely not make it into history books or even the nightly news; however, does the lack of publicity make their feelings less real? Less intense? It is not fair for us to rank the pain of others based solely on its visibility. Although there is not a special water fountain for children with disfigurements or a reserved back section of a bus for homosexuals, that does not mean their struggles have been less intense or should be in any way discredited. Lipman says that “Urban space is both a place and a cultural context of human actions” (p. 31). Human actions. Not White actions, not Black actions, not oppressive actions, not defiant actions. Human. And when it comes down to it, that is what we must recognize in each other: Our human right and ability to struggle and survive, to be tested and triumph.

Lipman, P. (2004). High Stakes Education. New York: RoutledgeFalmer.