Data can be quite helpful. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have them to look over and examine if truly, they were a waste of time. And then, there is data that when reflective of your efforts and skills, you find yourself stumped, leaving you in a moment of silence to ask yourself, “Is this for real?”
Prior to school commencing, teachers have already well gathered together to discuss a collective plan of action to best serve our incoming students. There is no meeting I have ever known or participated in where everyone gathers not for just an hour, but a full days work, examining topics of discussion pertaining and relating to all and everything to anticipate for the year, day in and day out, for several days.
Aside from lunch, the assemblage of teachers and staff in one room, one day after another, can truly be a try for the heart, mind, and spirit. Had it not been contractual agreements all must be present within these days, I suppose many absences would be noted. It is of good fortune that everyone understands presence is mandatory, leaving no one to feel inequitable.
On the other hand, arriving at these meetings require one to step away from the feels of those who suggest a forced presence rather than one, although required, ready and willing to engage to the fullest.
You do your part, reminding yourself that growth and development for all staff and teachers happen at these meetings as they are opportunities to dig deep into what is working, missing, and/or needed to improve. You engage in academic discourse, trying to bring the “real” into discussions, wanting to send out the message that you are invested in the children as much as all others around you. There is no harm to accepting other’s views as long as you hold trust that all would reciprocate the same respect and understanding for you. And then, Data Day.
Last year seems so long ago, but I recall ending well. I pushed back any concerns of post-pandemic impact. I took in the immediate reality of students being more in need of attention, understanding, and patience. I owned whatever the year presented before me as another garden to tend to, roses with or without thorns. I faced the year like any other, ready to sow to the end.
Faith and devotion, the garden grew. In fact, I think back to the day almost to school ending, where I had a celebratory dinner with my husband and our two youngest children, sharing all the growth affirmed through test scores. I distinctly recall having a conversation with my spouse during final days of testing, happy to share how remarkable some of the students had shown improvement from their first results in fall to closing the school year. You smile inside to think back how happy you felt and dig into your memory even more.
There were those high-fives and fist-pumps I remembered quietly exchanging as one student at a time were called up to discuss their end-of-the-year test results. Those eyes that lit up, big as their smiles before me, as students individually got to take a look at their growth. Sure. There were those few whose scores fell a few points back, but you helped the student own it with the understanding that it wasn’t the end of the world and the next year would be their year to shine. I didn’t get all to celebrate an increase, but even better, I planted hunger and perseverance for those who fell short.
You exhale. You think all is good. Another year done. Not your greatest, perhaps. Maybe even categorized onto the other side of the scale, but you watered the soil and you brought in as much sunshine as you could even on those dark days. You know they must move on now and just like all the previous years, no matter the challenges, struggles, and at times, thoughts to surrender, you never gave up. You kept believing in each and somehow, just somehow, you managed to do the unthinkable- you got each seed to keep growing. Then, that data gets placed right before you at the table.
You look. You examine. You stare. Wonderment. Inexplicable confusion. The numbers before you do not match up to your memory. The scores before you are low. Very low. And, just like an uppercut followed by a right hook, you feel you’ve been silenced by the blow.
I went home after that Data Day like a child who came home with shameful scores times 125, about the number of students I had last year. Sure. I had another colleague to share the overall scores with me, but I didn’t see it that way. I took those data scores and owned them all to myself. I saw all those moments of celebration in my memory and as if I had some dual multi-verse occurring in my head, I saw the smiles of my students disappear; their eyes having lost that shine and instead, dulled and dropped down in great disappointment.
Others saw the very low percentage score of students who passed, you see. Raw score data doesn’t show how many students jumped two to three grades up, with some, four. The numbers before you report a scale. On another spectrum to relate, while losing thirty pounds is a remarkable milestone and victory, the doctor would point out that you are still overweight.
I recall being a math interventionist, having a discussion about individual scores of students. I remember suggesting to the principal at that time to not see that the student had “failed” to meet the standard score. I remember pointing out that we needed to celebrate how each child had improved instead. The mark is just that- a mark. One who finally passed within just three to five points to get to the green side should no doubt be recognized and celebrated. However, what for those who went up over twenty or more points who still fell three to five points short? Similarly, when I was a reading interventionalist, I caught in quickly that while there were those who improved in reading aloud at high speed, ask the student what they read and they couldn’t tell you the overall message or idea. Cognizance not only go at a different pace, but expand differently and in multiplicity as well.
I briefly came across Elon Musk speaking of a school he funds where there are no “marks” for success; all students encouraged to thrive at their level of growth and development. I wonder if he personally came from a place where he knew focusing on such marks rather than thriving on hunger for learning hurt not just the heart, but, the mind and spirit. From what he drew me to quickly read about this school, I compliment whoever created the bio- honest, genuine, and real. (https://www.astranova.org/xyz/about)
Call the scores for what they are, I tell myself. Admit to them. Own them. Don’t let go of the memories you had with your students. Hope that they held onto the memory of your pride and joy of their growth and potential. Pray that although someone else may deem scores to have “failed” by definition, this does not equate as failure. All roses bloom at their own pace, one petal at a time.
I went home that afternoon feeling like a movie where you celebrated victories with your soldiers only to be seen as having lost. I owe it to my husband for keeping it real with me (he is learning to come at me with much more thought in his choice of words after thirty years). He noted that I had to remember I don’t take criticism from others well. He is right. My rebuttal to this point taken statement (difficult to not have a comeback in this marriage) is, he should know I am my biggest critic. Being reminded of that, he inadvertently gave me key words I needed to hear:
“It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. At the end of the day, what matters is what you know, what those students thought of you, and how you made them feel.”
I chewed on those words pretty good for several days until they nourished me to get my spirit back on track for this upcoming year.
By the time I was able to take everything all in, my husband even managed to throw this at me with my only response as what I’m sure was surprising, “You are right.”
“If you used all that energy to look at everything on the positive side to see how much more you could improve, you would be the next nationally acclaimed teacher.”
You know, that one person who sometimes (a lot of times) doesn’t always tell you what you want to hear? I’m starting to listen to him (a little) more.
Here’s to a new year of building courage, strength, and confidence!
