Revealing Answers on the Stanford 9 Test
She’d been a teacher long enough to know something was afoot. The students were almost too quiet. Instead of the usual din in the classroom, she heard murmurs.
“Class, let’s get ready to take our Stanford 9 test. Remember to keep your eyes on your own paper.”
One of the kids--the class clown with a good heart--spoke up.
“Why can’t we look on someone else’s paper? Especially if it’s one of the smart kids? Don’t you want us to do well on the test?”
“Of course I do. But you have to do it fair and square.”
“But we read in the paper that teachers at some other schools showed their kids some questions from the test in advance, so they could do better. Is that fair and square?”
“Well . . . “
“It’s either cheating or it isn’t, right?”
“OK, you’re right, but let’s talk about it for a second. Wouldn’t you feel better about yourselves if you did well on the test on your own?”
Dead silence.
“Maybe, but these tests are bogus.”
“Where’d you get that idea?”
“My parents are both teachers, and I heard them say they hate these tests. They said they don’t really test whether we’re learning anything or not.”
“Do you agree with that?”
“Sorta.”
“Why?”
“Because my parents said lots of the things on the test weren’t even part of what they should have been teaching during the year. So, they spent too much time teaching things they didn’t want to, just so their students would do well on the test. Is that what you’ve been doing with us?”
The teacher reddened. She felt caught in the act.
Asking Tough Questions
“OK, there’s some truth in that. But the idea is to see how you’re doing and how you stack up against kids from other schools who are at your grade level. Wouldn’t you want to know that?”
“Why do we care how we stack up against other schools if the tests aren’t good in the first place?”
The teacher both loved and hated moments like this, when she was locked in a battle of wits with 32 eighth-graders. They could be exasperatingly illogical or exasperatingly logical, often within the same minute.
“OK, I won’t lie to you. I don’t like these tests that much, either. And I think we’ve spent way too much time this year worrying about them. But the district has said we’ll take them, so we have to take them.”
“We thought teachers were supposed to know what we should learn.”
The teacher burst out laughing. These kids, what a bunch of crackups. They could really come up with some good ones.
“It’s not really like that. The state and the district tell me what to teach.”
“But aren’t you the one who knows whether we’re learning anything or not? You’re the one who sees us every day, not the principal or the state.”
Bless their little hearts, the teacher thought. So young, so much to learn.
“Is it true that our school gets more money if we do well on the tests? And is it true that teachers might get paid more if we do well?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“So, why don’t you give us the questions ahead of time? That way, the school gets money and so do you. And we won’t even charge a commission.”
“A very tempting offer, believe me.”
“But you won’t do it, right?”
“Everyone who wants to cheat on the test, raise your hand.”
Six hands shot up, but when those students looked around and saw no one else’s hand up, the six came down, one by one.
“I love you kids.”
“It still doesn’t seem completely fair. Some of us just don’t do well on tests, and this just adds more pressure. We’re only 13, you know.”
“You’re probably right, but listen to what I’m about to tell you. It may be the most important thing you learn all year.”
The students leaned forward as one.
“Life isn’t fair.”
*
Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821 or by e-mail to dana.parsons@latimes.com
