Twenty-one years ago, when I first started my career in education, student assess ment was the exclusive domain of the teacher and consisted largely of paper and-pencil tests. A grade was assigned based on a percentage of predetermined to-be-correct answers, and at the end of nine weeks, the grades were averaged, a percentage was determined, and it was then converted into an A, B, C, D, or F. What could be simpler? Well, maybe it was not so simple after all. It was more like sitting on a one-legged chair—or rather—like being a one-legged chair, trying maintain your balance while holding up the weight of 100-plus students. They would read a novel; we would make up a test or run off a publisher's ditto master and grade them on it. They would write a report or piece of fiction or poetry; we would serve as editor-in-chief and sole judge of its worth. They would do an oral presentation, and it had live up our (shh...secret) standards—or else! But that was OK. We could do it all. We were teachers! Wait. Is it not time for a major paradigm shift? Assessment cannot be merely a reflection of our person al judgment. Such a view runs counter what we have come understand about the complex nature of assess ment and the equally complex nature of our students' need for self-actualization and independence. One of the tenets expressed by the National Middle School Association (1995) in its position paper, This We Believe: Developmentally Responsive Middle Level Schools, is that the middle school curriculum must allow students assume control of their own learning. This value also permeates our understanding of what has come be referred as authentic assessment, that it must permit the student to become progressively self disciplined as a thinker...[and] acquire the habit of inquiring and engaging in discourse with care and thor oughness (Wiggins, 1993, p. 200). None of this can hap pen—our students will never be able control their own learning or become self-disciplined thinkers—as long as we remain the ones in control. As it turns out, the missing legs for the chair were there all along; we simply had neglected attach them. Assessment needs be a collaborative effort among our selves, our students, their peers, and their parents. Together, with all four legs on the floor, we can make meaningful observations and decisions about each indi vidual student's growth and development. The expanding use of portfolios in the language arts classroom is a good example of a more balanced approach assessment. Portfolios are collections of stu dent writing gathered over the course of a year or longer. They are essentially snapshots of writing samples, like frozen moments in time. Looked at singly, each writing sample is simply an assignment or project whose relative success at meeting curricular objectives was determined long ago, a future keepsake or discard, a done deed. Viewed collectively, however, these samples become a powerful, living demonstration of the student's growth as a writer over time, as individualized as any form of assessment could possibly be. Unfortunately, many teachers find themselves
Read full abstract