An Article by Janette MacKay

Herman's arm was stretched across the top of his desk, his head had long ago dropped down and I was pretty sure that a small pool of drool had puddled on his desk. Jocelyn shifted in her chair, bumping her knees under her desk. She was tall for a 4^th grader, but desks come in one size fits all around here, so she makes due. Vincent, always the achiever, was the lone hand offering a response as we went over the umpteenth worksheet from our Houghton Mifflin Literacy Curriculum. The warm stale air blowing out from the overhead projector was fighting for dominance with the clanging air conditioner.  We finally filled in the last blank, but no one moved. No smiles of accomplishment, not a wiggle nor a rustle. Just 34 blank stares from heavy eye lids. I think I was the only one in the room who had enough hope left to bother sighing with discouragement. 

I was nine years into teaching and had watched the life being squeezed out of learning as the boa constrictor of testing slowly suffocated my students. If we failed to make Adequate Yearly Progress we would lose funding, but in the process, we were losing our passion. Did it matter? Wasn't student achievement up? My students' scores had increased year after year as my district adopted a strong scripted curriculum, teachers dutifully marched off to trainings and staff development, and we carefully filled out our state standards based lesson plans. If scores were going up, didn't that prove that this was in the best interest of our kids, even if it wasn't exactly exciting? I mean, they can have fun after school, right?

But looking around at my listless, lifeless 4^th graders, I aspired to do better. Solid instruction and clear objectives weren't enough if my students viewed learning the same way they viewed their kindergarten immunizations: imposed, painful, and unavoidable.

A lot has changed in the past decade since the advent of No Child Left Behind. And it isn't all bad. In my own classroom, cute activities that filled time, but didn't really teach much have fallen by the wayside and I see my students reaching ever higher in their academic achievement. But in the process, love of learning and my own love of teaching have dimmed.

We know enough now to understand the positive impact standards have on learning. We know how to create lessons that are measureable and achievable and we know how to assess the impact our lessons have on student learning. We can and we do monitor progress and adjust our instruction. We can and we do enforce rigorous standards and support our struggling learners to meet those standards.

But with this growing understanding of effective practice, I'm left asking: Is there a meaningful difference between being on-task and being engaged? Can I teach the curriculum and still create activities that make learning relevant and even enjoyable? These questions are particularly significant for those of us who teach in high-needs schools. With ever growing numbers of English language learners and students from low-income homes with overburdened parents, our students need every second of learning available. Whatever we do has to be worthy of their time, so we must utilize strategies that will have the maximum impact on learning and yet inspire and motivate our students and keep our own passion alive.

There is no doubt that this is a daunting task, and yet it is far from impossible. Using simple strategies like math inquiry groups, readers' theater, poetry performances, science workshops, book clubs, and authors' breakfasts, we can cover the curriculum and enjoy doing it. As we invite our students to learn while engaging in social interaction, performing and presenting their learning in alternative formats, we can follow the state or district mandates and find pleasure in learning and teaching.

Looking back at that stifling afternoon in 4^th grade, I saw my own moment of conversion, my own little rebellion against the downward spiral of standardization. We turned off the overhead, put the workbooks away, pushed the desks to the side and tried it a new way. My weary 10-year-olds took on the look of children again as we created our own TV news show, wrote scripts, researched current events, practiced public speaking, and finally filmed our broadcast. When the assessment for that unit rolled around, they all did just fine. Better than ever, in fact. And they did it without filling in a single blank.

No Child Left Behind does not need to stifle our inspiration. We can move forward to integrate what we know about student achievement and what we know about students. We can raise the bar of achievement and celebrate childhood at the same time.