In the province where I teach, provincial achievement tests and standardized diploma exams are a thing. I'm just going to out myself right here and tell you that I think they are poor practice if the aim is learning for students.
For teachers, however, there is plenty to be learned. For example, they can learn how ineffective the exams are at evaluating educational programming and educator performance. They can learn about the power of standardized exams in shaping and limiting student performance. Teachers can also discover that mandated exams further marginalize minority groups, cost upwards of a billion dollars per year in the U.S. alone, and are detrimental to pretty much every aspect of teaching and learning.
These lessons, of course, are highly debated and divisive. So, is there anything to be learned from timed, norm-referenced, inauthentic-task exams?
I, personally, have learned a lot about student writing while marking Grade Six Provincial Achievement Tests (PATs) this year. It is, I'll note, information that could have been gleaned in other settings such as reading a student's journal or personal response writing, first draft essay- or report-writing, or other creative writing. It would have come up in a one-on-one writer's conference or in peer-editing sessions. But, I was reminded of these things through student efforts on standardized tests in English Language Arts, and, yes, I learned.
Just to put us on the same page, I'll let you know that on this particular exam, Grade Six students were given two hours (plus an extra 30 minutes, if needed) to complete two writing assignments:
Pretty much everything I observed while reading and evaluating student writing on the exams was bathed in the warm, even-tempered glow of this fantastic article by a teacher in my province who both administers and marks PATs. I read it just before immersing myself in the rubrics and exemplars. I recommend the article to you for the perspective and suggestions offered about remedying challenge areas in student writing.
What has me a little concerned is that with all of the first level writing I encourage -- the stuff that is really just for getting the inside out and not destined (yet) for polishing, publishing or appraising -- a lot of errors are repeatedly being made...and reinforced. Parallel instruction (taking spelling words from a piece of writing and reinforcing them at another time, or direct teaching outside of the creative writing experience about what paragraphs are and how they help with clarity ) is my usual approach, but I also think I would -- going forward -- suggest that students "fix one thing" just after a writing activity so that consciousness of form is gradually being built and practice happens. That might look like this:
"Ok, guys. Let's take 8 minutes and freewrite about the ending of 'Our Town.' One rule: keep your pencil moving."
Just after the timer goes I could suggest: "Before we have a chance to share what we wrote, everyone look through your writing and see if you've got capitals at the beginning of sentences and periods, question marks or exclamation marks at the end. This will make it easier for you to read aloud, if you choose. And, while you're at it, pick out five of your most powerful words or phrases." (The latter is a usual practice when we freewrite.) I would choose a task that is already known, and make it simple. There are other settings for being a "shreditor."
To recap, writing form matters when it matters. And it might matter more in everyday practice than I've been thinking, simply because lots of free flow writing is still reinforcing habits, good or not so good.
The simplest way to teach this valuable punctuation tool is by establishing in a child's mind that the part that is actually spoken is enclosed in quotation marks. Here's how I usually go about teaching them:
I make several cards with a quotation mark on each. The children and I create a collaborative story out loud, and any time a child's contribution to the story is spoken, he or she raises the quotation mark cards (one in each hand) to the sides of the face, then drops them before adding, "she said," or "he whispered," or "we yelled," etc. Next, we record a dialogue on the board (usually one that's just happened in class, which often makes for giggles) which I divide into appropriate paragraphs and to which the students take turns adding in quotation marks. The children then each create a dialogue on paper of their own, practising the punctuation. We peer edit this. The process might take a week to get through, but with regular reinforcement, those little marks are not so mysterious.
This also applies to subject-verb agreement. Since the students in my school had taken a timed test, they probably didn't have the leisure or skill-set of going back and making sure their grammar was at its best. It's an valuable check, though, when writing in more authentic situations. Largely, this can be as easy as reading the piece out loud -- errors usually stand out and can be a quick fix. With some sentences, it might take coaching to go back to the original subject and make sure the verb is in the appropriate form.
For example:
The mouse and cage I bought at the yard sale was a good deal. (were)
There is seven cookies left in the package. (are)
You get the idea.
My best recommendation for understanding paragraphing is for the student to read well-written literature as mentor texts, and -- especially -- to have regular opportunities to read them out loud. The breaks between paragraphs (in good writing and storytelling) are often natural and follow the cadences of speech and thought, as well as the logical shifts of action in any story. The pauses between story (or essay) chunks tell us "We're done with that and now we're moving on," or "You (reader) should particularly pay attention to this next part" or "I'm about to shift and you'd better hang tight!" Largely, this help was unavailable to me in the students' writing on the PATs and I had to break up the text in my own mind, sometimes quite forcibly, to understand what was happening and to whom. The students also couldn't read their pieces aloud or consult with a peer editor.
If I were to work with a student on a piece of writing to reinforce well-crafted paragraphs, I would make a photocopy of the story, then sit together and have the young author read the story aloud to me. Each time he/she paused meaningfully, I would mark the spot on the text. "Raella, I learned so much from the way you read your story. What if we put some breaks in at these places, then read it out loud again -- you, then me?" The breaks, we would discuss, form paragraphs, and paragraphs help us organize action, information and thought, not just in our minds but in the readers'.
For a next step, I'd probably share the story in writing with the class, then invite "stars and questions" or use another simple peer-feedback approach. This often elicits questions that help the reader clarify points in the story/essay.
Again, mastery in this area comes with exposure -- and I would add deliberate exposure -- to great writing where transitions are noted and the plot has few seams. For beginning storywriters, I find that asking gentle questions (when everyone is well-fed, not exhausted by brain-output, and feeling friendly) can guide a writer to soften the whiplash from one action-packed (or thoughtful, or crescendoing) moment to another in a story.
"Maggie, I really love how you describe the inside of this cave. Can you help me understand how your main character got there from the grocery store?" Maggie storytells a bit here. "That really helps me as the reader. Let's write that part into the story and see if you like it better, too."
Accompanied by commentary of genuine support for the process, an author (who is also a reader) will probably soon recognize that logic, reasoning, flow, and clarity are worthy companions to imagination and serendipity.
The overall value of any assessment, in my mind, is whether it helps the learning process move forward. Capturing this handful of noticings on one particular measure of student performance has been a useful exercise for me. The next step is to make sure what I've learned from reviewing the standardized exams becomes a springboard for my students to better and better writing and not an instrument for conveying discouragement or disapproval. There are two ways to do anything in teaching: seeing our students as human beings (like we are) or seeing them as something other than that. Our students are learning people entrusted to our expertise and care. They are not test results, obstacles, or vehicles to our glory. As long as I keep that in mind, this -- and any other standardized evaluation -- can carry some value. Whether the exams are worth the costs (time, money, emotional impact, etc.) is a topic for another time.