National Assessment Program or Who Put These Idiots In Charge??

I know I have let my little blog garden go untended for a long time but facebook seems to meet so many needs in terms of posting a quick photo, making a quip or keeping in touch, that I rarely feel the need to wander through here anymore. Today however I am up for a rant, and professionalism and test security mean that facebook is an inappropriate forum.

National Testing: Oh. My. Goodness. Where do I start?

At recess this morning I hailed one of the young pupils I teach.
"How's the NAPLAN going?" I asked her cheerfully.
"Pretty good," she replied nonchalantly.
"It's no big deal, is it?" I hurriedly added, realising too late that by asking about it, I was indeed making it a big deal.
"No," she smiled,"Mum says it's really testing the teachers."

The idea of testing a cohort of children across a nation on the same day at the same time with the same test, is one which has provoked heated debate throughout the years. Issues of student (or parent!) stress; teaching to the test; relevance; using the tests to drive funding and the dubious nature of what the tests actually tell us, rear their heads again and again in media and staff room alike. As a Special Ed teacher my concern has always been with the damage these tests may do to the self worth of pupils whom we know to be struggling.
 "Oh let him have a go," one of the teachers in the UK would say to me, of a dyslexic child who was still struggling with basic sight words. Why? I ask. It's like saying "Let's shoot him and see if he bleeds." DUH!!!!!! We KNOW he isn't going to do well. Why set him up for failure???

The Australian testing regime insists that all students, except those with 'severe and complex' disabilities, are expected to attempt the tests and schools are instructed to provide sanctioned 'adjustments', which will ensure  that the tests are accessible to all. We are advised that it is not our role to counsel parents against including their children in these tests, but to make provision such that everyone can 'have a go'. And be judged. Sorry, did I say that out loud? As a result, children with Language Disorders, severe Dyslexia and yes, Autism, are expected to complete the national tests.

So if this is a test of the teachers, to see how well (or how poorly) we teach, why can't we 'teach to the test'? Then you'd know who was doing it well wouldn't you!? No? OK, so it must really be a test of the children, of what they know, or what they can do, right? So why is my severe dyslexic sitting this test, this test which includes spelling, identifying misspellings and providing correct spellings, when we know, we know in agonising and frustrating detail, just how little he knows about any of that. We DO know that he knows twice as much as when he started last year because we have him on a special program and have been working in close consultation with parents and class teachers to painstakingly measure his micro 'skills growth', but I'm pretty sure that's not going to show up on your test.

But that is not all of it. One of the scintillating joys our pupils must endure is the Writing test.  In this test they will demonstrate that they can generate ideas, structure a written text, write in sentences, proofread, use appropriate, evocative language, tell a story or argue a point. Now get this: the stimulus material provided by the testing authorities is the same for all four tested grade levels. Yes, you heard me correctly. The eight year old Year 3s and the fourteen year old Year 9s get the same topic and the same wordy set of instructions. Is there a picture? A catchy title? Some ideas to draw from? NO. In fact, as teachers we are prohibited from discussing the topic with the pupils, except to re-direct them to their instruction sheet. There will be no brain storming session, no wordbank of useful vocab, in short, none of the usual teaching which we would undertake when introducing a task of this nature. Imagine a football team turning up for the game, after a regime of directed training, and the coach telling them that they would need to check the rulebook if they wanted to know anything about how (or where) to play the game that day. Oh and by the way, you can't talk to your team mates either.

Now comes my favourite part: the topic for writing this year was.......(wait for it)

"Change a Rule or a Law": Think of a rule or a law that you would like to change and convince the reader of your opinion. You must be changing the rule for the better.

Let's put aside for a moment the fact that at least 50% of the Year 3 pupils couldn't think of a law or a rule they would like to change (no brainstorming remember). Let us instead consider the plight of my Year 3 Autistic boy remembering that one of the cornerstone characteristics of Autism, as described in the Diagnostic Manual (v5) is:

Restricted, repetitive patterns of behavior, interests, or activities, as manifested by at least two of the following, :

              Insistence on sameness, inflexible adherence to routines, or ritualized patterns or     

              verbal nonverbal behavior (e.g., extreme distress at small changes, difficulties with

              transitions, rigid thinking patterns, greeting rituals, need to take same route or eat 

              food every day).

AND THEY WANTED THESE CHILDREN TO WRITE ABOUT CHANGING THE RULES??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

Really! Who ARE these people and what right do they have to judge any of us?

As Time Goes By (and posts slip away)

My Baby Angel attended a Formal with her BFF tonight.



(remind me never to sew with stretch satin again. Hit me if I even suggest it, and perhaps point me at this post. >:-(.......)

These two have known each other since 2003 when, praise God, the BFF's family moved in across the road from us in Happy Valley (no, that is a real suburb!). We had just arrived from the UK in the January, knowing no-one, and my poor BA had been suffering from leaving a very large and tight knit group of friends in the UK. She had made a few school friends, but no-one that really resonated, until the BFF moved in. What an amazing blessing.

The redhead on the right was the school friend that we have not seen since 2005, the BFF is on the left.

Even though BFF is 14 months older, the two hit it off like the proverbial house on fire. Dress-ups were the theme of the day



developing as the years passed



and it appears dress ups are still the fave game.


So for this Formal, the BA was the date of BFF's twin brother. That's him there on the right.

Aaaaaaand, there on the right again.....

My how time flies!


To be honest, I think the girls had the best night dancing together!! High School Formals are like that :-)

************************************************************

I have learned a lot from this one and I think the BA has too.
Lesson 1: Hair
The hair that looks good in a photo does not necessarily suit you. The back was pretty but she didn't like the front.
Lesson 2: Make-up
More is not necessarily better. Don't let the make-up wear you.
(note to self: make up short course as a Christmas present)
Lesson 3:
Never sew with stretch satin unless you are a whizz or have done some kind of a course.......
Lesson 4:
Picking up 16 year olds early from 'after parties' is definitely a good idea.......especially when you see young men helping themselves to two large bottles of vodka on the breakfast bar whilst you wait for your baby!!!!!:-(

On that note, I am fast reconciling myself to the fact that my area of expertise is younger children. In the warzone that is teen parenting, I find myself constantly a victim of 'friendly fire'.

Tonight, for some reason, I looked back over some unfinished (there have been many) posts from this last 18 months, and I found this:

85% Proof Parenting

"So Mum, if I were at a wedding, would you let me have a Breezer?" With this one question, innocuously asked after a visit with her father to an interstate cousin's wedding , the BA moved me deftly into the 'mega-hard, rethink your whole peace of mind', advanced section of the parenting course. Not for Sissies. I don't even know why I am making light of this. Except that of course I do. We make light of all difficult things in life in order to convince ourselves that they are less serious than they seem. Like Harry Potter we shout 'Riddikulus' at the boggart in the trunk, in the hopes that it will vanish into a puff of triviality and distress us no further. Of course, it's not going to happen. Having kept the spectre of the 'difficult teen years' at bay until now I am fully aware that I am about to be engulfed in the floodwaters. Back in July when La Jeune Fille was here, we had our first minor brush with the question of alcohol. The two of them had been invited to an 'end of exchange' party to be held at the home of one of the Year 11 girls who had had an exchange student. I didn't think twice about saying yes. It was a school function, at a parent's house....what could be simpler? Of course the BA returned full of excitement because alcohol had been provided by the parents and several members of the party had got 'very drunk'. She assured me she hadn't had anything and didn't appear anything other than her normal lovely self, but I noticed La JF slink off to bed
surreptitiously.

I am glad I didn't finish that post because it was going to rant on about the irresponsible parents who provide alcohol to under age children at parties. I am far less self righteous nowadays.

I also found this:

Formal: Part Two

A busy, and sometimes traumatic month down the track and I thought I would fill you in on the lead up to, and the second part of, the BA's Formal Adventure. I don't know how much you guys know about 'after parties'. In my day I don't think we called them 'after parties', I think they were called 'Join us for coffee and cake after the Formal'...usually on an invitation. Nevertheless, 'after parties' is what they're called now! I had a small idea about the phenomona from our own school formal last year, where I attended as a staff member. At the end of what was, let's face it, a pretty tame evening, there was a great buzz of excitement and much phoning and texting as pupils regrouped for the whispered 'after party'. Later, I was able to see from facebook photos that it involved a tent, apparently some music and, undoubtably, some alcohol. A little investigation revealed that this was a common event in school life today. The schools tend to cover their ears and go 'LA LA LA LA LA' as the parents organise the events and, apparently, often provide the alcohol. Well, some parents at some schools, I rather archly and naively snorted in my head. Or maybe it was out loud? Sometimes that happens.

Again, I failed to finish my sanctimonious post about the weakness of some parents. (although it was a good story and I should probably tell you sometime...)

Well tonight I sighed and drove my daughter home knowing full well that the no alcohol policy had been breached and all I said to her was 'I'm very disappointed'.

In retrospect, any stance I had on the issue shuddered majorly in its housings after that Halloween party where she went dressed as Cleopatra. Later in the week I saw photos on one of her friend's facebook sites, showing her clearly standing with a bottle of some sort of hideous blue alco-pop in her hand. I texted her that if she wanted to be allowed to go out with her friends, she needed to tell them not to post incriminating photos. I did not apply any other consequence.

Actually, the real crack in my fortifications, come to think of it, occurred at her own after party (the one that was the subject of the previous unfinished post) when she informed me (I was a chaperone) that she was going to have the two 'drinks' her entrance ticket entitled her to. I made a spot decision not to 'make a scene' and the two UDL cans were duly drunk, happy dancing ensued and she came away cheerful and satisfied.


So here I am, at this stage of her/our life. My innate parent sense tells me it is only going to get worse. What to do?

1) I could totally ban her from attending all social events where alcohol is supplied
(and they are MANY)

2) I can set acceptable limits and lower the boom gate when these are breached.

The only trouble is, I am wrestling with what the acceptable limits are. I thought I knew, I thought I held them securely in my hand. Now, in the reality of the situation, I feel their organic writhings and their nasty, sharp teeth.