It’s not you, it’s me

How one conversation convinced me to end a dysfunctional relationship with my assessment

Every year, at semester finals time, I turn into a monster. Come mid-January, I’m bogged down by assessment after assessment. All I do is grade. I wake up, I grade. During my prep, I grade. During lunch, I grade. I get home, I grade. You get the idea. Even during class, all I think about are the piles of grading awaiting me the second the bell rings. (On a side note, it’s crazy to think that teaching a class is what I consider a break).

I spend two weeks like that. And for what? Sure, students do some research about a “hero” from a Latino culture and make a cool, multi-media presentation to share with their classmates; but as it turns out, it’s not that meaningful. I actually used to feel like a genius for having designed this assessment because it was an inquiry-based project. But now that I’m analyzing my assessment protocols, I’m rethinking this entire project (and by extension, my entire grading philosophy). The truth is, it’s really not inquiry based if I’m the one who gives them the questions to answer. All they have to do is a simple google search, spit out facts, and cite their sources. That’s not higher-level thinking; that’s just completing a checklist.

For the amount of precious class time it takes students to complete and present, and for the amount of my precious free time I spend giving them feedback, it’s really not worth it. Perhaps the only good thing about it is that students get to choose a Hispanic person to research, which opens their eyes to positive things people of color have contributed to society. That’s it. There is only one thing I like about this project. So it’s over. I’m sorry, Voice Thread project. We had a nice run, but now it’s time for us to go our separate ways.

Now that I’m back in the dating pool, it’s time to decide what comes next. Recently, in a conversation with a GMWP colleague, I was citing these same concerns when she so blatantly asked,

“So, what do you want to do instead?”

It’s an obvious question that I never thought to ask myself. I just kept forging though, not questioning my instruction, because that’s what I’ve done the past several years. Just like a dysfunctional relationship, it was comfortable, but it offered neither me nor my students much in return for all the work we put in. It’s funny how such a simple question can be so powerful. It made me realize that I do have the control to change it.

And that’s the power of teacher-centered, inquiry-based professional development-the core philosophy of the Greater Madison Writing Project. After just one short conversation, I feel empowered to question the status-quo, take a risk, and try something new.

The truth is, I don’t know the answer to the question about what I want to do instead. But I can guarantee, what I do end up doing will be more authentic, more interactive, and certainly more efficient. And thanks to the power of collaboration and one simple question, it won’t be something that I resent.

So it’s time for me to go, old project. I hope we can still be friends. I’ll always appreciate how you helped me grow as an educator, but now I’ve got to move on to something that will bring out the best in me, and more importantly, my students.