Obsession to Quantify a Person

It is seen in the copious amounts of readily available IQ, achievement, ability, and aptitude tests that we humans are very curious about our “number.”

The number pertains to our IQ, how smart we are and how fast we would be able to solve problems. The number also pertains to how much we know and how much we can do. But probably the most significant interpretation of this number is how our number fares when compared to others.

In fact, do we really care about the score as much as we do the rank? Most of these standardized tests give the number as a score, but what it really measures is a percentile rank based on a norming sample. Because of that, its interpretation is easily manipulated. You could be the top 1 of a group of unsuccessful people and yet still be considered unsuccessful despite the status of earning top place. But you could also be at the bottom rank of a successful pile of people and yet be considered so-so because despite being successful, you’re not nearly successful enough.

This obsession of assessing one’s capabilities and current capacities are not only reflected in these tests. It is reflected on how school puts value on us; it is reflected on how our families pressure us to “do well;” and it is reflected in social acceptance as well.

A person has a past, present and a future. Connecting all of these presents a colorful narrative that contains their story.

In school, what matters is the past and the present. The past signifies what you have done, and therefore expected to accomplish, and the present measures you whether you are able to live up to that expectation. What you are able to do with the present will affect your future, but there isn’t any real way that the school measures your “future worth,” instead, your next school will measure that based on your past and present accomplishments.

What am I talking about? Let’s make an example using a boy named Harry. Harry goes to school used to get merit cards in elementary. He enters high school, gets a little distracted and garners only average grades. His “worth” decreases as he is a let-down, and his next school, a college of his choice, will judge him for it. It doesn’t matter that Harry possess the potential to be great, the measurement at present is the determining factor.

At home, the past, present and future worth are all greatly combined to form a reflection of who you are to them. Your “future worth” greatly influences on how harshly or leniently they measure your present capabilities. Your past need not matter as much as they have already judged it at its present.

Let’s use Sally for this example. Sally is the eldest of the three siblings, and she is expected to be a good role model for her brother and sister. She will be the breadwinner as soon as she graduates, so anything below a medal is a disappointment. Her neighbor George is the only son of a wealthy businessman. His grades does not matter as much because he is set to take over the family business as soon as he graduates, he just needs to pass. Sally is pressured and George is bored. Their worth is determined by their parents’ plans and expectations of them, not who they really are.

Why did I need to bring these up?

As educators, we bear the brunt of the responsibility to shape human beings and reach their potential. However, this is ironically not the place of importance when we run our schools or we raise our children. Students only know two environments: the school and the home. And when our school focuses on present achievement as their only sense of worth, and the home focuses on the same thing because they worry of their future expectations, it leaves little space for the human being to develop and discover on their own. It leaves little room for potential to grow and multiply.

We box the children in these quantifiable measures that only seeks to compare them with others. And even when it measures a true score, this is only one facet of the child. There are many other facets that we become blind to because of this fixation.

This is discussed in detail in the video below:

Realizing Student Potential

Student-centered learning helps us in promoting individualized learning and their potentials. It removes the obsession from quantifying our students and reducing them to a number, and finally seeing them for who they really are.

Our assessments and lessons are reflections of what we believe is important. As teachers, we must strive to create assessments that show our students what they are presently able to do but what they can do more than what they can now.

Our lessons must inspire, not trap. We must facilitate an environment for growth, for triumphs and failures, for discovery and practice.

Our students must be greater than a number. We assess them not just for the grades, but we assess their whole being.

Rubrics vs Criteria

All of us, whether we are educators or students, are familiar with the percentages that are presented before undergoing a major project, task, or activity. It is our light house for the specific endeavor, and as students, we grapple with “what does teacher mean/want/expect?” for multiple hours before we get an idea on what to do.

For teachers, the creation of this combination of percentages, also known as a criteria, has been a mode to communicate their expectations. We launch it right after we explain the task to be done, either in a fancy presentation or just write it on the board, but after all is said and done, the outcome is the same. We present it to students, they have questions on their faces, and then we set them off to do it while hoping for the best.

Does it not make you wonder why we are always biting our nails when it comes to student performance? Was our instructions not clear enough? Weren’t we effective in the classroom that’s why students cannot apply the supposed learning? Did I forget to give them adequate examples? Did I fail as a teacher that’s why they failed?

The answer is no. Well, Yes and No.

No. No, because we can’t be too hard on ourselves. Our understanding of feedback and grading is on our own experiences in feedback and grading. We received grades at the end of the term, and that serves as our feedback whether we like it or not. The only other feedback we receive is through our parents, and through these parent-teacher conferences, our parents find out what we did well or what we did wrong straight from our teacher’s mouth. Now this will be echoed to us; we will be given either praises, nods, or tongue-lashings and reprimands, mostly out of surprise/embarrassment or combination of both, and then we get some more. No wonder we have viewed teacher as our enemy.

Taking a bit of time to reflect on my 3 years worth of experience as a teacher made me realize that I want to be more than this. A robot that teaches, passes judgments, parrots these judgments to my co-workers and to the students’ parents, and then submits a mark. There’s got to be something more than this.

Yes. Yes it is also our fault that student performance doesn’t meet our expectations. The first question that we should be answering is this: “Were our expectations clear enough?” Because how on earth will they meet them if they do not know it in the first place? You might tell me, but I did! I did tell them my exact expectations for the project, and it goes like this:

40% Knowledge and Understanding

30% Content Mastery

20% Creativity in Presentation

10% Audience Impact (because really, this has to be included, yes?)

An underneath our pride, we teachers know that this criteria absolutely makes no sense. What do we mean by knowledge and understanding? Isn’t that the same as content mastery? If I memorize the textbook from end to end does it mean that I have mastered it? If I mimed my whole presentation, that certainly has creativity, but the audience might not think so. How do you propose to judge this fairly, teacher?

And we answer them like any pageant. Of course, we employ the help of other teachers or great-performing students to use the same criteria to judge an activity, presentation, or report. Having three heads guarantee fairness!

Wrong. There is a reason why criteria is so very vague and why it is used for contests. Contests always have to have room for marketing and individual differences that affect scoring, whereas education has not — should not — have.

Rubrics, a clear good one, should be able to communicate what we want from the students. We must articulate what exactly and how exactly we want them to perform. Make a video to present the French Revolution. The Rubrics are: 5 points for Mastery of the Subject (insert description of what you mean by subject mastery):

5 – The group showcases all key and major events leading up to the French Revolution.

4 – The group shows most major events leading up to the French Revolution but is missing 1 key event.

3 – The group shows adequate major events leading up to the French Revolution but is missing 2 to 3 key events.

2 – The group’s research is evident but…

You get the picture.

By creating a clear rubric, it paves for clear communication of expectations, and by doing this, maybe, just maybe, after we present the mechanics of a well-thought out activity and the grading system, we can finally rest easy and trust that these students have the courage, ability, and rigor to self-organize, regulate, and produce the quality output that we have only since been dreaming of.

Playing by your Strengths

As a student, I have always hated examinations and graded tests and quizzes. In general, I just hated to be graded for my learning. It was always a disappointment to see my grades no matter how much I have enjoyed the subject. I could have been performing to the best of my abilities and the 85 would still be burning through my report card as an underwhelming marker and measure for everything that I thought I enjoyed. And then there are also times when I would be “winging it” and couldn’t care less about what the subject matter had for me, and yet would receive a whopping 97. Sure, it makes me smile inwardly, but the sense of achievement feels quite lacking.

Because of this concentration of making everything very numerical in their best effort to standardize something as arbitrary as interest or creativity, students feel like robots who are tasked to continue education for the sake of, rather than enjoying the opportunity for learning. One great example of this phenomenon would be this video: (to insert video, still looking for the link)

Drills, practice sets, and activities in the classroom are always framed in a way that encourages good performance in summative assessments at the end of the year. A good score on the assessment would not only make the student proud, the teacher feel good, but also boost enrollment for the institution that hosts them both. But is this really all there is to an education?

I have enjoyed numerous activities in school as well, and ironically, the activities I enjoyed most were those that were not quantified and were not reflected in my overall grades. I’ve enjoyed participating in school fairs as we would as a class create booths and make games for children to play. Booths were a fundraising contest usually for a charity that is in most need for that year. We pride ourselves in being able to market our booths, earn money for a charity and win “best designed booth” or “most customers” and the like. The sense of achievement is alive and full in this endeavor.

However, as I am now part of the educating team, I’ve realized that assessments such as this would be a nightmare to quantify, and quantification is an unavoidable part of the education system. It also highly depends on the current subjects that have been established for years and years. Our power lies in the ability to make assessments fun and interesting, but our problem would be in translating this into final grades.

If only we could shift the understanding of an education from quantifiable standardization into solidifying learning and honing the practice of skill sets, maybe our report cards would become less of the meaningless jumble of numbers, but more like a narrative report similar to a psychological report that shows strengths and areas of improvement of each individual. If this is to be done, we might need a 1:10 teacher to student ratio—and you know, that might not be a bad thing at all!

Being an Assessment Trailblazer

Learning about assessments and evidence of learning, I had sought to understand what makes tests or activities valid and reliable. I was pleasantly surprised that assessments are more than this. Particularly, the assessment cycle signifies all things ideal in the evolution of teaching. It basically proves that education should be learner centered, and flexible enough to adjust based on the needs of the learner and its time.

I think most educators are only starting the realize the importance of multiple measures. Many of the students have abilities that only come out after they have well left schooling. It is also why many students believe the clichés of how they might only reach their potentials after being freed from the confines of a traditional school. They will spout examples of Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg, people who after dropping out of school proceeded to make a successful career for themselves based on their untapped potentials.

What these students fail to realize is that these people are exceptions to the rule, they are geniuses. Regular individuals need school in order to navigate through society and through life. And these students must be encouraged to do so.

The encouragement we educators can offer is not to confine their abilities to what has been traditionally established. Thoughts of multiple intelligence are buzzing around the education industry and practices to accommodate different types learning styles are also popping up. The phrase “different strokes for different folks” certainly is being brought to light especially with the advancement of technology. Learners now have access to a multitude of information and skills that we educators were not exposed to. A student can be quiet and distant in the classroom, but may be a famous game live-streamer. These new skills and opportunities can either be a springboard for their learning or become a deterrent if we do not utilize it as a strategy.

When I was a student, I enjoyed the classes where I excelled in. Since I hated to take examinations, most academic subjects were off my list (lunch and recess were very popular with me). But high school had more activities for me. There were different projects where I got to indulge my creative side, some that allowed me to act, write a poem/song/novel/script, and some that allowed me to venture out of my comfort zone. The best part of it all was that as I labored to do well in these activities, the learning and skills stayed with me even well after schooling, and at the time that I was doing it, not once did I think about the quantifiable grade. I was merely enjoying myself.

As an educator now, I can borrow from my high school self to understand and know my students better. Would I want a written exam if I can very well perform the task instead to show you how well I can demonstrate my learning? Would I want a written test if I can just write you a long letter, telling you how much I’ve reflected on my learning for this unit? All these things give us a myriad of possibilities for student activities. Ultimately, we as teachers need to believe and prove that these methods are still valid assessments so that we can pitch them to the stakeholders and trail-blaze our way to change.

Hate to Test?

After reading about the importance, principles, and different kinds of assessments, I have begun to reflect on the assessments, which I have thoroughly hated or enjoyed when I was still a student.

I hated paper and pen tests with a passion. I would always blame my faulty memory for not being able to determine the right answer. I would listen in class and immerse myself in the lectures. I asked questions and sought to fully grasp and understand everything, but to my utter dismay, I cannot seem to test well. I hated tests so much that I’ve developed a process just to get by.

I would read all the questions in the test once over, and reread before answering. I would mark my answers in pencil, especially for items that I am unsure of and then transfer the final answers in ink. I would eliminate choices that seemed far unlikely to be the correct answer, and then allow myself to ponder between two most plausible ones before deciding. At the end of the day, I would pass the test, but I would never exceed a 90%.

I thought it most unfair to be evaluated only based on my test scores. What about my effort? What about the things I understood which were not asked of me? What about everything I knew but couldn’t put in paper? I have once raised this to a teacher when I was still in elementary. She was stunned that I felt so strongly about it, especially that this was the established formal system of education. I started developing test anxiety and began to perform even more poorly in exams.

In high school, it changed as the system was quite different. Teachers were more open to different learning styles and had different forms of assessments. There were activities where we had to apply what we have learned into posters, comic strips, dioramas, reflection papers, role-play presentations, and fictional stories. It was very time consuming, but I enjoyed every minute of it. I recited more, as teachers would say that participation is also means for them to assess how well we understood the lesson. I still hated exams, but I wasn’t all that anxious anymore since I knew that other forms of my learning were being assessed. I did exceptionally well in projects, and I participated as much as I could. Because of this, I exceeded the 90% mark and even got into the honor roll.

As a budding teacher, I believe that this experience influenced me greatly on how I assess the learning of my students. Given the privilege of conducting a skill-based subject, Culinary Arts, I do not give paper and pen tests. What would be the point? My goal is for them to learn how to cook, and learn how to do it well. Sure, they need to learn the terms too and what tools and equipment are labeled as, but that’s not the main learning we want to achieve at the end of the year. I patterned my assessments based on my goals, and boy, did it change everything!

A skill-based assessment is done based on their performance. 40% is from values related to Culinary Arts. Were they responsible enough in following safety and sanitation procedures? Did they have the initiative to choose the right and fresh ingredients? Were they a valuable team player (so important in a busy kitchen)? Do they exhibit patience, creativity, and collaboration?

And the 60% is the actual skill. Was their dish the same as the expected outcome? Does it look, smell, feel, and taste the same way? Does it exceed expectations? These were the parameters of the graded activity, and dare I say that they do enjoy this, despite it being severely time-pressured.

Assessments need not be daunting. They just need to provide us the feedback and information we need to do our best as teachers that educate and encourage our students, not discourage and threaten with numbers and ranks.