An Allegory on Educational Testing in New York State
The year was 1714, and author Dava Sobel recounts that Great Britain was long tired of losing sailors by the hundreds each year due to the inability to determine longitude at sea. So crucial to the future of the nation was the discovery of a means to determine longitude that the British Parliament passed the Longitude Act, offering a king's ransom to the person who discovered how to determine longitude at sea.
The Board of Longitude (BOL), composed of scientists who looked upon anyone out of the mainstream of science with disdain, reviewed countless schemes and scams to solve the conundrum and, of course, win the award. Meanwhile, John Harrison, the son of a carpenter and himself a mechanic and not a scientist, designed and built an extremely accurate timepiece that would work at sea and so allow navigators to determine longitude.
It is Harrison's 40-year struggle to get his timepiece accepted that Sobel writes about in Longitude, The True Story of a Lone Genius Who Solved the Greatest Scientific Problem of His Time. What made matters worse for Harrison was that he was an extremely poor writer. Sobel notes, "No matter how brilliantly ideas formed in his mind, or crystallized in his clockworks, his verbal descriptions failed to shine with the same light." In his last published work describing dealings with the Board, his first sentence runs on twenty-five pages without a single punctuation mark.
After years of pestering by Harrison and innumerable failed longitude proposals from scientists, the BOL agreed to at least listen to him. He was permitted to test his sea clock on a voyage to Lisbon. During the difficult voyage, Harrison cajoled the captain into taking the course determined by his timepiece. The result: the course was accurate; the ship reached land safely.
In her book, Sobel recounts the continuing resistance to Harrison and his idea. The BOL refused to believe that a nonscientist could solve a problem that had been perplexing Her Majesty's finest minds.
Fortunately, Harrison did have a few supporters in the scientific community, and the Board did continue to listen and did minimally supported his work in developing an accurate seaworthy timepiece.
Harrison worked on this project for over 40 years. All his test runs proved to be incredibly successful, yet the BOL would not grant him the award. Each time he presented proof of success, the BOL added more requirements, new resolutions, new regulations, allowing time for the "real scientists" of the day to solve the problem.
One of the scientists who attempted to solve the problem by using the stars was the Rev. Nevil Maskelyne. Logic (and cloudy nights) should have put an end to this exercise in futility. Yet the BOL continued to give Maskelyne's work credence.
More years passed with no solution from the scientists. Harrison was on his fourth version of a seaworthy timepiece. Each successive version had gotten both smaller and more accurate. The fourth version was about the size of a large pocket watch and kept near perfect time. After more badgering, the BOL agreed to a double test run, allowing Harrison's son William and the Rev. Maskelyne to set out in separate ships to Jamaica. The result: Harrison's clock guided his ship with precision; the Reverend's "scientific" method failed.
It didn't matter. The BOL remained obstinate in its position and just added more restrictions, regulations, and demands. Not until 1773, when Harrison was 80 years old did Parliament, not the Board of Longitude, award Harrison the full prize.
Little did I know when turning the first page of Dava Sobel's Longitude that I was reading the parallel history of Commissioner of Education Richard Mills of New York, the New York State Board of Regents, and its chancellor,
Carl Hayden.
It was the late 20th century and the U.S. government, along with its business partners, had determined that American schools were failing miserably. So crucial was the improvement of student test scores to these great United States that legislation was passed that would use a "scientific" reform to turn education around and right its course. Testing would be the primary method. Those school districts that did well on the tests would be rewarded with the prize--high ratings, more money, and more prestige. Those who did not do well would be punished.
The prize offered was an incredible incentive to schools to increase their standardized test scores. Such proven practices as using performance assessments, developing multiple intelligences, and employing alternative assessments were abandoned. Curricula were narrowed and aligned with the tests (as much as possible given the secrecy surrounding the tests as well as their questionable validity). Daily test drills began in September, and daily drill camps were created to run year round. During this period, large numbers of students were retained (i.e., failed); the dropout rate increased 2% each year in New York City for regular education students and 12% for English language learners, and the number of "special education" diplomas increased nearly 22% across the state. From Montauk to Niagara Falls, schools were pushing children into GED (General Education Development)programs to disguise the dropout rate. Over 14% of New York State's GED students left regular education as a result of the new "scientific" testing reform.
Meanwhile, inner-city schools such as Urban Academy in NYC and School Without Walls in Rochester and 28 similar schools with proven track records of success with low-income students and students of color were forced to abandon the methods that had yielded validated and benchmarked quality as measured by high college acceptance, outstanding attendance, and very low dropout rates, and general satisfaction among students and parents. These schools and hundreds like them across the state could no longer ply their craft because it did not fit the "science" of the time, as determined by the Board of Regents, the commissioner, and the chancellor. Even though not one study in the 20th century that proved the Regents' "scientific" theory that higher test scores yield improved learning or improved job opportunities, the Regents forged ahead. They had to continue, for to retreat meant admitting failure and risking loss of respect and credibility. It would signal an admission that some people out of the mainstream of their "science" had reasonable, respectable, and logical solutions to complex problems.
Over the years, numerous entreaties to the Regents to make room for alternatives to their plan fell on deaf ears. In an effort to appear fair, the Regents held regional meetings across the state, ostensibly to vet the rules and regulations for the test. Unfortunately, the procedures established at these meetings followed a planned, scripted format and thus proved only a frustration to those with opposint points of view. The Commissioner continued to follow a rigid, unbending path. allowing no other ideas or exceptions. He said that there would be "casualties" along the way, and indeed there were. The chancellor spewed the same rhetoric as the commissioner. He marketed the "science" provided by the Business Roundtable, the nation's governors, and such groups as the Education Trust. Both men--the Commissioner, who never taught a day in a public school, and the chancellor, a lawyer from Elmira, knew how kids learned best, or so they thought.
During this same time, such respected national organizations as AERA, APA, NCME, CRESST, AASA, NASSP, NAESP, and others developed reasonable guiding principles for standardized tests. One superintendent provided to the Board of Regents, the commissioner, and the chancellor a detailed analysis of the failure of their plan to meet any of these respected standards, but to no avail. The damage to students continued to mount. Two of the Regents' own commissioned studies portended imminent disaster.
When presented with these findings, the Commissioner and the Board of Regents created still more rules, restrictions, and regulations. They developed a new attendance policy that was completely unmanageable. However, it did manage to control the local districts. This policy was a bureaucratic nightmare, a policy that sought to work by means of the threat of punishments and the promise of rewards--neither of which had worked in the past. It seemed to be a way of ordering districts to make parents send their children to school solely so that they could take the standardized tests. The Regents developed a new code of ethics to further control and regulate the local school districts. Scoring schemes were changed annually. Scores were scaled to make the tests appear to be challenging (by limiting the number of high scores) while allowing more students to pass each year in order to simulate progress.
Meanwhile, other brave souls fought the tyranny by contacting their elected officials. Many bills were put forward in the legislature in an attempt to force the Board of Regents to listen to other voices. Educators, business and industry managers, university professors, parents, and community members formed a foundation to implement a national diploma alternative (National Coalition Diploma). This alternative proposed to make use of common sense, measurable outcomes, and the findings of research in support of student learning. The commissioner, the chancellor, and the Regents continued to march on to the beat of their own drum.
The Board of Regents took on a new member during this testing reform. Charlotte Frank, vice president of McGraw-Hill (provider of fourth- and eighth-grade tests for the state). As a board member, she sat in judgment of those who presented any alternative that would limit the profit to her employer.
By now, the Board of Regents had committed to an untenable theory. Harry Phillips, a lone voice on that Board, did his best to persuade the rest of the members to listen to alternate voices, but to no avail. The members of the Board of Regents had to save face. They couldn't retreat, for to do so would be to admit that they had been wrong all along. So, they kept on muddying the water by adding rules and regulations in order to prevent schools that used any methods other than the ones the board prescribed from "winning the prize."
Such arrogance inflicted a terrible toll on the lives of students, increasing the number of dropouts, transfers to GEDs, and special education diplomas. Many millions of dollars had been spent on tests, scoring, and lost instructional time. Valuable programs in the arts were trimmed. Kindergartens began preparing children for fourth-grade tests at the expense of development and socialization. The purposes of public education--to help students become good people, to produce good citizens, and to develop the unique talents of individuals--were lost.
As John Taylor Gatto, author and former New York State teacher of the year and author, has succinctly stated:
In the new system, schools were gradually re-formed to meet the pressing need of big businesses to have standardized customers and employees, standardized because such people are predictable in certain crucial ways by mathematical formulae. Business (and government) can only be efficient if human beings are redesigned to meet simplified specifications. As the century wore on, school spaces themselves were opened bit by bit to commercialization.
To date, no end to the damage is in sight.
Yet someday, someone will be granted the prize. It will not be granted by the commissioner, or by the chancellor, or by the Board of Regents. More than likely, it will be an act of the legislature or some other arm of the government that will validate the John Harrisons of the educational world. For John Harrison,a genius, a craftsman, because of his inability to write, would not be eligible for any diploma offered in this state. I pray that we do not have to wait 40 years for the prize to be granted.
— William C. Calla
Superintendent, Fairport Central School District
Phi Delta Kappan
An Allegory on Educational Testing in New York State
March 2003
MORE ATROCITIES
