Duncan's Magical One Size Fits All Test Unicorn

One of the central tenets of Arne Duncan's edu-amateur structure of beliefs is that Low Expectations Are Bad. This has led him to the corollary that special education, adaptations, modified curriculum, and specially altered assessments are all bad things, that special ed is a morass of perfectly capable students who have been shunted into learning support programs because of race or misbehavior or any number of reasons. Once in special ed, these students go into academic free fall because they are surrounded by teachers who expect them to do poorly.

Like much that comes out of Duncan, this is not 100% baloney. If we're honest, we all know stories of students who ended up labeled special needs for every reason from being a behavior problem to having insistent parents-- but not actually needing a Learning Support label.

But Duncan's continues suggesting that the entire system of structures, rules, and pedagogy that has sprung up a some sort of complex dodge, a bizarre lie perpetuated as a way to keep students, selected almost at random, held back and stomped down. This is just... weird. One would think that in all his years in Chicago, he would have met at least one student who struggled with the difficulties of a disability that truly rendered her unable to achieve at the same level and pace of her fellow students.

We've seen Arne argue that all students with disabilities just need teachers who expect them to do well. We've watched him struggle through a grilling about USED's (non-existent) policy for helping students with dyslexia.

Well, here comes the latest USED pronouncement on the subject: Improving the Academic Achievement of the Disadvantaged; Assistance to States for the Education of Children with Disabilities, a rule that is supposed to take effect in about a month.

The rule is laced with the now-usual Department of Education balderdash. Let's open with this:

High standards and high expectations for all students and an accountability system that provides teachers, parents, students, and the public with information about students' academic progress are essential to ensure that students graduate from high school prepared for college and careers in the 21st century.

Torn between two questions here: 1) Why exactly are these things essential and 2) Is it going to be a problem that none of these things currently actually exist?

The document offers the history that way back in 2007, the feds were willing to allow modifications of standards and tests because 1) they believed "there was a small group of students whose disabilities precluded them from achieving grade-level proficiency" and who would take longer to get there and because 2) the regular state assessment was too hard.

But now it's 2015, and the feds believe that 1) newer research shows that "students with disabilities who struggle in reading and mathematics can successfully learn grade-level content and make significant academic progress when appropriate instruction, services, and supports are provided." This appears to be based mainly on meta-research, everybody's favorite sort of research. The feds also believe that 2) the new generation of tests are super-magical and can measure students of any level against all the standards.

Therefor, states should not modify tests or standards. Students with special needs should take the same tests and be accountable for the same standards-- but they should be totally successful at dealing with these things, because magic.

Any Discussion?

If none of this sounds new, it's because this rule was put up for discussion in August of 2013, with an opportunity for comments (the comment period was closed in October of that year-- about six weeks later). 156 folks shared their two cents, and the department takes some time to respond to some of those.

Some folks said, "You go, federal authorities." Using principle of "universal design of learning" and fixing accessibility issues "have eliminated the need for alternate assessments based on modified academic achievement standards." In other words, one size really does fit absolutely all! The magical testing unicorn can carry any student, whether she's 400 pounds or ten pounds or can't grip reins or is deathly afraid of unicorns.

One state-level person pointed out that their alternate assessments represented five years of time and money and actually were working quite well at helping students with disabilities have access a good education and helped teachers figure out how best to deliver quality educatin' to the students. The federal response is a mass of bureaucratic gobbledeegook that translates roughly to, "We hear what you're saying, but the new tests will be totally awesome and work great. Because, reasons."

Some parents made the point that without modifications, some students with special needs will not graduate-- can't we keep that? The feds respond with a pretty straightforward, "No, they can't do that any more." But they do note, as either a consolation or a further slap in the face, that states are required to provide a "free appropriate public education" even as the new rule will forbid it. Oh, those wacky federal rules. Put another way, IDEA and IEP's will still be required for the local school district, but under this new rule, the feds will require states to ignore both. There's a long discussion of the regs involved, but here's your bottom line:

However, under these final regulations, an IEP team may no longer select an alternate assessment based on modified academic achievement standards to assess students with disabilities under title I of the ESEA.

Some commenters argued that students with disabilities should not have lower standards because otherwise the students just fall behind-- because putting something on a test guarantees that students will master it no matter what?? But other commenters that setting students up for failure is sucky, and that "high standards" vary depending on the student ability. The department repeats its assertion that all students should be held to exactly the same standards because the only reason that students with disabilities fall behind their same-age cohort is that teachers give them easier stuff to do. Full speed ahead. Calculus for everybody.

But but but, argue some other parents and teachers-- giving students assessments that we know will be a "struggle" is just setting them up for failure. The federal response is. "We've rounded up some research that we think proves that students will do as well as you insist they do. So get in there and insist." Also, the new assessments are magical.

There's some discussion of timelines (originally the department thought this rule would come into play last year). There's some discussion of technical assistance and monitoring, which all boil down to more paperwork for state-level functionaries and the local officials they collect their data from. There's assurance that this will not affect students with "the most significant" cognitive disabilities. What actually gets your student into that particular club is not laid out, even a little.

Sigh. You get the picture. This goes on for lines and lines and lines of text, with the department occasionally dropping in pieces of crazy-making bizarro-world policy baloney such as

 The Department shares the goal that students with disabilities experience success. Removing the authority for modified academic achievement standards and an alternate assessment based on those standards furthers this goal because students with disabilities who are assessed based on grade-level academic achievement standards will receive instruction aligned with such an assessment.

So, students should succeed, and we will insure that they succeed by giving them one-size-fits-all assessments that ignore their developmental issues because we will tell you teachers to just make it happen, with unicorn horns dipped in fairy dust.

We eventually arrive as the department's assessment of the regulatory impact. Short form: they have no clue. Long form: some things, like taking high school kids who have had modified assessments their whole careers and now tossing them into the regular assessment may be hard, so we'll offer some grant money. For something? I don't know. Grants for wigs and toupees for special ed teachers who are tearing their hair out? Turns out that the impact statement doesn't cover things like "Large number of students with cognitive and developmental disabilities will now flunk and fail to graduate, become discouraged, and start looking for any kind of alternate education source."

Deep Impact

The new rule hits and hits soon, and it is going to be ugly. It is why the special ed teachers in your building are extra touchy; be extra kind to them. Meanwhile, Arne can keep riding his magical one-size-fits-all testing unicorn around the rainbow farm, secure in the knowledge that he has helped erase all cognitive and developmental difficulties in the country by simply insisting that they go away. Who knew it was so easy!

Toxic Expectations

"Expectations" seems to be having a moment, shouldering aside "grit" in the pantheon of reformster Orwellian obfuscatory baloney.

To be clear, I am a big fan of educational expectations. I learned about expectations from my chemistry teacher Joe Stewart. We would whine that he expected too much and he would say, "I know. But if I expect this [hand held above head], I will get this [hand held at eye level]. If I only expect this [hand still at eyes], I will get this [hand at chest]." All of my experience as a teacher suggests that Joe had it right.

I communicate two things to my students with expectations-- 1) I intend to hold them to a certain standard and 2) I believe in their ability to succeed. We talk in my class about the pathway to awesome, not the road to good-enough-to-get-by. Students are fond of asking questions ("How long does this have to be? How much time should I spend on this?") that are basically reworded versions of "What's the bare minimum I can get away with on this?" My response is some version of "You are not trying to do the bare minimum. You are trying to be awesome. Don't settle. Be awesome."

Sometimes they want to offer some version of, "What do you expect from me? I'm dumb." They get in return, "I see no evidence of your alleged dumbosity. I expect you to be your version of awesome."
Okay, actually, I communicate three things. 3) I will be with you every step of the way. My role is support and guidance. On the trek up the educational mountain of excellence, I'm a sherpa. It's my job to egg them on. It's my job to make sure they have the supplies and support they need to get there. It's my job to gauge their strength and ability, to know when to say, "Come on! Let's go!" and when to say, "Let's set up camp and rest." It's my job to select a goal that will stretch them but not break them.


I tell you all this so that you know that I understand the power of expectations in education. But my understanding is apparently very different from that of many reformsters.

Arne Duncan has repeatedly insisted that students with disabilities are the victims of low expectations. The state of Washington, using Duncan's fact-free position paper as backup, insisted that

The evidence is clear that disabilities do not cause disparate outcomes, but that the system itself perpetuates limitations in expectations and false belief systems about who children with disabilities can be and how much they can achieve in their lifetime

Get that? All differences in outcomes are entirely the fault of the school. Students with learning disabilities, cognitive impairments, physical challenges-- they only have problems with school work because of the school. The blind student just has trouble seeing the PARCC questions because his teachers expect him to have trouble seeing. The student with limbs twisted by disease is unable to run a ten-minute mile because his phys ed teacher doesn't think he can do it. And the state of Florida was correct to demand that Ethan Rediske take the Big Test even if he was profoundly disabled and dying. We can expect that all children will be exactly the same, and we are just going to expect them all into magical compliance.

But it's not just that reformsters have imbued expectations with mystical magical qualities. Consider Erika Sanzi over at Education Post, Peter Cunningham's $12 million PR machine. She is ruminating on events and unrest in Ferguson, and about the question of the role of education in making young people feel valued:

When I think of how a school shows that it "values" children, my mind automatically goes to the question of expectations.

Does it? Does it really first go to the question of expectations? Because when I read that sentence, my mind automatically went to the question of baloney.

Do you know how a school shows that it values children? It does it by giving them just as much support as it can muster. It makes sure they have the best physical plant that money can buy, a school with all the amenities, a nice library, a well-equipped gym, classrooms that are clean and well-lit and filled with the best new resources that can be found. It spends top dollar to get the best people in the classroom. It makes sure the school can provide every kind of support, resource and facility possible. That's how a school shows it values children.

I am tired to the bone of reformsters claiming that expectations are all that we need, of the repeated chorus that we can't make schools better by throwing money at them. I have an experiment for testing that. Find the school in your state with the lowest level of spending, and reduce every single school-- including the schools in the wealthy neighborhoods-- to that lowest level of spending. When parents squawk, tell them it's okay because you are just going to load the expectations on. You are going to expectation the living daylights out of those kids and nobody is going to miss a cent of the money that was just cut, because, expectations. Try that, and get back to me.

You cannot truly deliver the expectation of success without becoming a partner in that success. You cannot help people climb the mountain without climbing it with them.

If you stand at the foot of the mountain and tell someone, "Get to the peak. Do it. I'm not going to check you out to see how high you can safely climb in one day. I'm not going to give you supplies or support, and I'm not going to help you, either. I'm just going to stay down here and expect that you'll make it to the peak, or else," that's not high expectations. That's just cruelty.

And to say to our poorest schools and communities, "You don't need to have the same kind of money and support and resources that the rich schools get. You just need expectations" is the lamest, most ethically lazy excuse since Cain said, "Brother? Um, where? Wasn't my day to watch him."

There is a half-truth in the reformster argument-- it is deeply wrong to look at students and say that because they are poor or challenged, there's no point in even trying. But it does not follow that by saying we expect them to succeed exactly like anyone else, we're doing any better. There are two groups that are ignored in this touting of high expectations: the children who have been rescued from low expectations by readily available money and resources, and the children whose high expectations have been crushed by the poverty and societal neglect that surrounds them. Neither group is aided by expectation blather, but only one group needs additional support.

When parents discover their child has a gift, they do everything they can to support it. Lessons, equipment, trainers, teachers-- even if they have to squeeze the family budget. They don't say, "That's nice, child. We expect you to be awesome, but you should not expect us to help you." There isn't an elite private school on the planet that says, "We have classes in a moldy, rat-infested barn. There will never be a nurse here when your child is sick or a counselor here when your child is troubled. We will do nothing special to assist your child whatever her difficulties. We have no books, no computer, and no facilities outside of the crumbling classrooms. But we will have really high expectations of your child, so send him to us!"

Nor does the parable say that the Samaritan found the man beaten and lying at the side of the road and said, "I'm going to do you a huge favor. I'm going to expect you to heal yourself and get yourself out of that ditch. Good luck. I expect I'll see you later."

To say that children who face the obstacles of disability or poverty simply need someone to expect more-- that's wrong in too many ways. First, it assumes that they are incapable of having expectations of their own, that they are simply idling and aimless, waiting for someone to slap them awake with a cold bucket of expectations (provided by people who know better than they what their goals should be). And second, it ignores our obligation to provide support, assistance, guidance, and even company on the climb to the mountaintop.
 
Expectations without investment are just empty promises and deluded dreams. They are excuses, a way to shed responsibility, to say that we have no obligation to help clear a path-- we can just sit back and expect the travelers to break their own trail, without even checking to see if they even have the tools to do it. The best expectations help show the way and light the road, but the worst are toxic, not only failing to push back obstacles, but adding the additional roadblock of Not My Problem indifference. If our students living in poverty don't feel valued, I'm pretty sure that the low expectations of their teachers are not the most likely culprit.

Originally posted at View from the Cheap Seats