What does standardized testing, waffles, and the downfall of children’s self esteem have in common? I am so glad you asked. Consider reading on, for I had three different interactions with students on Thursday that, though seemingly unrelated, appeared more connected than what first met the eye.
Our first story begins with standardized testing, truly the bane of most educator’s existence. I think testing brings out the worst in everyone, making everyone frustrated, upset, or otherwise on edge— myself included. The test in question was the MAP Language Arts section, standing for the Measures of Academic Process. An additional duty for the social workers in our building is that we are the case managers for students with 504 plans, and we test in a small group those students with applicable accommodations. The overall disruptiveness and difficulty of managing this group does make me genuinely wonder whether small group testing accommodations actually helps these students, but that is perhaps a topic for a different day.
One of the students in this group, Ryan, is a student high on the list of kids I lose sleep over. Ryan began the year in a tough state, exhibiting symptoms of depression, rarely coming to school, and rarely participating or interacting with people while in school. Early on, we got to know each other and it became evident that Ryan thrived off of positive interactions and relationships with adults. While this is true of most if not all students, it was especially true with Ryan. Every day, Ryan’s grandmother would practically push him out of the car doing a rolling stop in front of the school while screaming obscenities at him. At the very least, we can credit Ryan’s grandmother with being the reason that our front office staff knows and understands most Arabic curse words.
After a few months, Ryan came out of his shell socially and began coming to school more. However, this quickly got him in trouble as he figured out that negative attention was still attention. Ryan was the first of my students this year to get arrested for possession and intent to distribute. His saving grace in that situation was that Ryan is nothing if not honest. I won’t go into all the other ways he’s been in trouble this year because it would take up all of our storage space here, but certainly around the time he was arrested marked a distinct change in Ryan. He had given up. Rather than pursuing positive relationships with staff members, it seemed like Ryan was intent on receiving the gazes of his peers no matter the cost.
Socially and emotionally is a different story, but Ryan is far more academically capable than he lets on. However, his impulsivity causes him to rush through things like tests. The MAP tests are taken three times per year and in the fall, Ryan came in and finished one test in exactly seven minutes causing him to go down at least thirty points from the previous year. In the winter, Ryan spent a lot of extra time working and his score went up significantly in a couple of the sections. Because of this, before he starts we always talk a little bit and I encourage him to slow down and try his best.
This time around, Ryan raced through the test again and as soon as it showed him his score he began hitting his computer on the desk. I walked over and crouched beside him as he turned his computer to show me his score— as significant drop from the Winter.
“That’s not good, right?” he asks.
I don’t really know what to say. I don’t have time to explain how this is simply a data tool to see who may need more help and doesn’t have a grade or significance beyond that. I don’t have time to explain how harmful assigning our grades and test scores a moral value that affects how we think about ourselves can be to kids right around his age. I don’t have time to explain how our underfunded education system perhaps never even gave him a chance.
“If I tried, I could have done a lot better.” Ryan says with a tone that betrays his own disbelief.
Ryan’s statement was more true than he realizes, but it became clear that Ryan did not fully believe that of himself. Ryan’s propensity for self sabotage in school is perhaps greater than any of my students, and this moment I feel as if I finally understood why… Ryan thinks if he did try, he would still fail. The act of not caring betrays what is true of more kids in our schools than we could realize— it is easier to never try then to try and fail. Self sabotage is easier than perseverance.
Our second story occurred about an hour later with a student named Ava. Ava struggles academically, and her teachers have been trying hard to get her caught up in several different areas. I’m a little unclear on the details of how it went before this day, but her teachers said they were willing to help her in areas and Ava was telling her mom that they were not. So, one way or another, one of her teachers ended up talking on the phone with Ava’s mom with Ava present in order to clear up the misunderstanding. Unfortunately and unintentionally (at least by the teacher), the phone call ended up with Ava’s mom being rather brutal towards her daughter, so Ava ends up breaking down crying and eventually ends up in my office.
“Everyone keeps telling me I can do it, but I can’t. I really can’t.” I hear amidst her tears.
Later that afternoon, our school celebrated its third quarter incentive. I had not really paid close attention to these before, but every quarter the school will do something for students that are doing well in classes and staying out of trouble. This is what brings us to the waffles.
First of all, they told each team of teachers to decide on their own eligibility criteria, which was a problem waiting to happen as it meant that students across the entire building were held to different standards. Those that were approved by their teachers got to make their own Eiffel Waffle treat which is somewhere between a waffle cone and a sundae. The idea is to reward the students that are doing well and perhaps motivate those who maybe did not do as well. A good idea in theory, and I wouldn’t say that I’m against that. Schools really do spend a lot of time making accommodations and trying to help the students that are most often in trouble that the students that are doing well can be easily overlooked and underappreciated. Unfortunately, these things just do not always work out as intended.
After our whole seventh grade class made it through the line, Callie and Emma, two best friends with a reputation throughout the school, were in my office for their regular session telling me about how the students in their class immediately took their ice cream back to the class and made every possible effort to rub it in the faces of those who were not eligible, Callie and Emma included.
The theory behind these incentives postulates that not being able to participate in this incentive would motivate students like Callie and Emma to try harder for the next one. The cruelty of some students who were eligible rubbing it in the faces of others is perhaps an unintended variable, but here’s what I heard:
“I’m just not going to go that day next time,” Emma says confidently as Callie nods in agreement.
Emma and Callie are beyond truant as it is, and they fail to see my response telling them that they can achieve eligibility the next time around as even remotely convincing. Incapability is a given in their minds. As it is for Ava. As it is for Ryan.
I see why all of these student’s teachers get frustrated with them. It is easy as an adult to look at a kid and know that they are capable and to see their potential. But, it is not easy to understand the hindrance of one’s own belief of incapability. It’s not enough to say, “You are capable! You can do this if you just…” Even if those statements are completely true.
All three stories show students that truly are capable of accomplishing the things they need. They are bright kids with their own unique sets of strengths, each extremely personable and each owning a special place in my heart. But how do you instill this same belief in them when their limiting factor is that they are convinced of their own incapability? How do you overcome the specter of failure that haunts us all?
I think back on my own life and can come up with lists of the times I have been hindered by my own fear of failure or thoughts of incapability. The cruel irony is that we are wont to see in others what we would not see in ourselves. The parable of incapability is in truth a myth, as in many cases it seems to be the only thing actually standing in our way.
Thinking about these students— Ryan, Ava, Emma, and Callie, whom I want the best for and wish every good thing towards— led me to ask a question to my therapy clients that night that perhaps I should have also directed at myself.
What would you do if you knew you could not fail?
[title pending] 