To Teach or to Assess? Is that Really the Question?

David pulled a toy car back and forth and as he released the car said, “Look Tyrique!  The car going down the road fast.  We gonna have a race.”

As I heard David refer to cars and racing, my ears perked up.  I had just completed small group and was preparing to circulate our classroom’s interest areas to collect anecdotes showing the children’s progress and to seize some great teachable moments.  We are currently exploring transportation, and David was incorporating ideas from class discussions and “read alouds” into his play.  While I often have to refer to my individualized student action plans to remember the specific target areas for each child, David has struggled to pick up on this listening skill for some time, so I knew instantly that it was a breakthrough moment.

Last year, when I first started using the performance-based assessment system, I typically spent the first couple weeks of each collection period working with children using their individual plans, rather than taking anecdotes.  As I have become more comfortable with performance-based assessments and familiar with my students’ needs, my approach has become less compartmentalized.  I can now simultaneously assess progress and work with children on other skill areas.  I responded to David with questions leading into an informal one-on-one lesson on print awareness and vocabulary.

Ms. Pappas: Great, David, how can we make it go faster?  Is there something we can use?
David: Uhh, I don’t know.
Ms. Pappas: What if we used a ramp?  Do you know where it is?
David (shrugging his shoulders): No.
Ms. Pappas: You know what, I sometimes forget where it is too.  Is there something we could put on the ramp so we know it is a ramp?
David: I don’t know.
Ms. Pappas: Well, how do you know the hats go here?
David (sweeping his finger from left to right over the label for hats): Because it says “hats.”  Hats, hats, /h/, /h/ hats.  I see the letter h!
Ms. Pappas: So what could we do for the ramp?
David (grabbing a paper and marker): We could write it.
Ms. Pappas: Great idea.  What should we write for ramp?
David (writing the letter “R”): /rr/ R!  Like Ryan!

The next day David came to me briefly after entering blocks and, with a strong sense of urgency in his tone asked, “Ms. Pappas, where’s the ramp for the cars?  I want to make them go fast.”  The other pre-k teacher unfortunately needed to borrow the ramp, but David was able to construct his own ramp using flat boards from memory.

As I prepare for parent-teacher conferences this week, I notice dozens of other instances like this one, where a more efficient and dynamic exchange between teaching and assessing has resulted in more substantial student progress.  That’s not to say that the state or district should inundate teachers with more assessments to maximize teacher quality.  There is a tipping point.  Yet the question I often hear at teacher workshops - “When am I going to have a chance to teach with all these anecdotal assessments?” - presents a false dichotomy between the two.

Which Came First, the Assessment or the Children?

Ravon: Ms. Pappas, look, I found the word calcium on my milk.

Ms. Pappas: Wow!  Great job, Ravon.  How do you know it says calcium?

Ravon: Because I see the letter “C” with the other words like “cat” and “car.”

At this moment, I am thinking three things:

1. I am so proud of Ravon;
2. How fast can I write down exactly what he said on my clipboard, so I can use this exchange as evidence of his growth in early literacy?; and
3. How will I ever balance active teacher-student engagement with anecdotal note taking if the school district requires me to collect anecdotes on another 50 skills for still another assessment system?

While I appreciate the value of performance-based assessments in helping me target individual student needs, I also sometimes wonder if a drive to make assessment as comprehensive and in-depth as possible comes at the expense of quality teacher-student interaction.  I am not sure if state and district policymakers realize what their mandates look like on a day-to-day basis at the school level.

In my school, we now have four types of assessment, soon to be joined by a fifth:

1. The Early Learning Assessment System (ELAS) – a state mandated performance-based literacy assessment charting student growth in six areas.  Reported three times per year.
2. A district mandated checklist charting growth in the areas of social emotional, gross motor, and fine motor development.  Recorded twice per year.
3. A district mandated beginning of the year Brigance Screening used mainly to identify any developmental delays.
4. Math checklists from the district mandated math curriculum charting growth in various skill areas. Recorded three times per year (recommended but not required).

Recently, the pre-k teachers in the district had a workshop on Creative Curriculum’s comprehensive performance-based assessment, which covers 50 skills and is recorded three times per year.  I personally like Creative Curriculum’s assessment the most and hope the district will replace other assessments with it.  All signs, however, suggest the district will make it supplemental and, therefore, probably more cumbersome than helpful, despite its potential to hone in on a wide range of student needs.

I would love to hear about teachers’ and administrators’ experiences in other states and school districts - just post a comment and we can compare and discuss.

Not Your Grandmother's Scantron: Assessments in a Pre-k Classroom

The first years of school are far too critical to waste time on ineffective strategies. Accountability in pre-kindergarten programs is therefore vital to the academic and social growth of our youngest learners.

The word "accountability" may conjure images of standardized exams and hours of tedious test prep—not exactly what we would deem appropriate for a four year old. So what do assessments and accountability look like in a pre-k classroom? Well, despite the obvious attraction of handing a multiple choice test with fifty rows of neatly curved "a to e" oval bubbles to a four year old, the reality is that assessment in pre-k just isn't that easy. Yet that doesn't mean accountability in pre-k is or has to be non-existent.

Four year olds don't always show you what they know. Their moods, interests, and developmental stage can affect their performance on a day to day basis. And if they do demonstrate growth in a particular skill area, they certainly do not all do it in the same way like drawing a picture or responding to questions orally. But if you watch and interact with them everyday, all day, while taking anecdotes and collecting work samples, you can have the data needed to chart growth, design properly differentiated lessons that meet the needs of all learners, and hold programs accountable. My students' words, actions, drawings, and singing are my "a, b, c, d, and e" answers.

Take Tanasia, for example. For the first two months of school she spent the majority of her day either bawling and asking, over and over, "When is my mommy coming?" or in a state of total silence. Our one-on-one interactions often incited desperate pleas for her mother. Then, in early October I began to observe her making connections between the print around her and her friends' names during choice time. That is when I knew not only that she was starting to adjust and build relationships, but that she was picking up on basic literacy skills. She would point to letters on labels in Dramatic Play and say to her friend Karen, "Look, it's the K like in your name." If I confronted her with a barrage of letter identification questions, she would clam up and start to cry. I began to address more and more of those skills during choice time where she felt increasingly comfortable.

One of my students last year struggled with letter identification but masterfully used movement to act out stories or create his own. My extensive anecdotal notes reflected these weaknesses and strengths. I consequently decided to address the latter with the former by working with him one-on-one to create movements for each letter. We waddled like penguins for the letter "P," made elephant noises with a long trunk for the letter "E," and so on. I recently met up with him down the hall in his kindergarten class, at which point he pointed out a letter and made the movement we had devised.

My recent analysis of the anecdotal notes revealed that Kevin (aka the "anti-sharer") is a visual learner. Stay tuned for a post focusing on how my aide and I teach the fairness of sharing using a visual approach that puts him in charge.