Over these last two weeks, kids at our school and across our state took the dreaded state-wide assessment. I was asked to administer the test to a lovely group of 7th graders, about half of whom I had previously taught. Practically no one looks forward to these experiences, but I was impressed with all the kids who showed up ready. They had a sense of determination and effort combined with a desire to do their best. In a project based school like ours, kids don't have a ton of exposure to formal testing but these kids had learned some skills over the year and were ready to show them off.
That is, until we started the math portion. The same kids who carefully and tirelessly wrote essays and analyzed form the week before appeared dejected and defeated by math questions that I personally thought were fun. I saw them plan and organize thoughts for their writing but stare in blank frustration at math problems that I knew they could reason their way around.
It made me sad that all my cheerful encouragement and reminders that they were capable did not crack the hardened shell of "I just can't do this." In addition to sorrow - because I knew they totally could - I felt a sense of failure. After all, I had played a hand in their learning. Granted, some of that time was virtual, but still. Surely I could have helped them develop greater appreciation for a great problem and their own ability to solve it.
Whenever my students take a standards quiz, they will invariably ask for help. My response is always the same - "it's between you and math." In the context of our classroom, this usually works. Kids draw on the resources around them - their notebook or their own sense of reasoning - to figure something out.
A few things stick out to me as I reflect on how I might have better prepared kids for this past week. I have a former student who comes to visit me every day. She grabs a granola bar and asks if there is anything she can grade for me. Because I am always behind, I let her help. She will usually do the work before she grades it so that she knows what she is looking at. She asks frequently "did we do this project when I was in 5th grade?" Often my response is no. "Why not?," she'll ask. "Because I am a better teacher than I used to be," I reply. I've stopped doing projects that were dumb and modified or rewritten units that were weak.
Being a better teacher than I was requires me to do better when it comes to helping kids to just freaking try. As much as I had thought in the past that I was doing this, it's pretty clear that I wasn't. Many things go into helping kids try and I must continue to help them develop the confidence and competence to be better triers.
The other thing I thought about this week was my younger son's approach to exams. He's a junior in college said to me as recently as last week "I am excited for finals week." Yesterday I got a text that read "that final was kind of brutal but I think it went ok." During the pandemic when he did school from my house, I learned that he sings to his exams while he takes them. There is in his brain a combination of joy and hard work that allows him to see tests as a way to prove something, rather than an experience to dread.
I like to think that joy and hard work, or even joy in hard work runs in our family. But I also know it's something that we need to foster. It's also something that comes from the privilege of learning in joyful spaces - which I know is not everyone's experience.
But being able to work hard and overcome something difficult feels damn good - no matter where you are. It requires a combination of skill, luck, pluck and effort, and I'd argue that almost all humans have experienced this in some capacity.
The question that remains for me is how do we help kids experience this in math? Routines and structures in class that support thinking and trying, relationships with caring adults, engaging work - surely there are things I could tighten around these. But if it really is between YOU and the MATH, the question is what do YOU need to feel more capable? It's probably time I ask the kids that question. Stay tuned...
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