From the inside Out: A Look at Testing Special Education Students

Abstract

Ms. Meek invites us into her classroom to watch what happens when Dominic, one of her students with learning disabilities, has to take the same high-stakes test as his regular education peers. She wishes that everyone setting today's testing policies or asserting that they are good for the Dominics of the world could witness such a scene. ********** IN RECENT years No Child Left Behind (NCLB) has focused the educational lens on testing children rather than on teaching them. Much to the dismay of many educators and parents, the burden of this yearly ritual falls most heavily on learning disabled students, who are often tested inappropriately. (1) And a clear picture of what these special-needs students experience when taking a high-stakes test is, and should be, troubling. In this article, wish to present such a picture. Here is an inside look at the first day of the California Standards Test in 2005. Susan, the assistant teacher in our elementary school resource program, and fan out to collect the children from their various classrooms. We know full well that they will not be rushing into the resource room on their own during testing week. Our school has blended special education students with other children who require similar testing accommodations. After much encouragement and, yes, downright bribery in the form of a pizza party for perfect attendance, seven of the eight students scheduled in our first group are rounded up and herded back to the resource room. The arrangement is a little tricky, as our space is small and several students who are not familiar to the rest of the group are joining us. We know special education children sometimes have a more difficult time with transitions and changes. But where is Dominic? is a volatile child who has most of a full deck of cards stacked solidly against him at this point in his life. He has a medical diagnosis of ADHD compounded by a low-average cognitive ability, according to several formal measures and classroom data. A third-grader who has attended eight schools in the four difficult years of his brief academic career, is still receptive to the materials and lessons being presented to him both in the classroom and in his resource reading period. His short-term memory often fails him, and his delicate ego collapses easily. Multiple school-related frustrations are obvious. In spite of these many hurdles, we feel he is starting to lift academically. The phone rings. Dominic is in my office, says Nurse Kathy, he looks fine to go to collect him. I can't do it, he says. These are the first words out of his mouth as enter the nurse's pristine office. I'm tired. It's all we do in class. Test. I know, Dominic. But want you to at least try. Come with me. We'll take lots of breaks. Dominic's look is one of resignation, that lively spirit temporarily tucked away. A split second later, he kicks the wastebasket as we leave the room, not hard, but with emotion. ask him to straighten the wastebasket, which he does without protest. know he is entering the testing window (as it is affectionately called) already burned out after days of test preparation. The nurse and share a knowing look. We both know this little guy needs to blow off steam, not sit at a testing table for four hours. takes his seat next to David, an autistic third-grader on a 504 plan. David is high functioning and tested at or nearly at grade level last year. His general education teacher is collaborating with his previous teachers to design an amazingly effective set of classroom accommodations for him. nix this seating arrangement and put David in an area where he is less likely to be distracted, because distracting other students is exactly what could excel at this morning. Around them sit a cast of characters as different as the patrons of the bar on Tatooine in the first Star Wars movie, though infinitely more attractive and lovable. …