Teaching for the Test

The author in his classroom at Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology. (Scott Gregory Robinson)

One of those times was when we compared James Michener's Chesapeake with N. Scott Momaday's The Way to Rainy Mountain. These books weren't usually a part of our humanities curriculum, but I figured kids building a Native American boat should read novels about Indians. Pulitzer-winner Momaday's 1969 work relates the historical and mythical past of his Plains forebears, the Kiowa.

The portfolio entry I was working on at the time required me to film my students working in small groups. The day I taped, kids were discussing an assignment asking them to compare the worldviews of Michener and Momaday by creating 3-D models based on the structure of each work. (Remember, these kids are future rocket scientists.) One group of girls made a three-tiered fountain to represent the three sections of Momaday's story, trying to show how the natural world ran through the book.

My required 11-page analysis forced me to review carefully not only what I'd done along the way, but why. "My goals were to cross disciplinary boundaries by bringing the canoe into the classroom," I wrote, "and to challenge students to appreciate cultural diversity beyond their own community."

On the day the projects were due, the girls brought in a beautiful fountain with water dribbling over polished rocks, writing that "Momaday has a worldview which is very focused on oral traditions and the Kiowa Indians . . . He needed to have a writing style that was less linear than a traditional Western-styled novel . . . [This] style allows him to flow through the story without having a distinct set plot or to emphasize the aspect of characters . . . In giving out his story, he cautions the reader that the medium of his book should be different -- it should be spoken, as it was spoken to him."

I asked myself how much I was shaping my teaching around the certification process. If the videotape hadn't been rolling, would I have challenged my

students with abstract assignments or walked around the room instead of standing up front? You bet. But would I have studied that video over and over and then written a 4,000-word analysis?

No way.

WHILE THE SELF-REFLECTION REQUIRED BY THE NATIONAL BOARD gave my lessons a boost, the blog I was writing about the certification process for Teacher Magazine became a safe place to think about them away from the National Board's constraints. The blog --which I called Certifiable?-- helped me determine how the canoe fit into my classroom plans and explore new technologies such as wikis that might help my students learn. Most of all, my blog became a virtual water cooler for colleagues from around the country who were struggling, just like me, to eat this elephant.

When I wrote about feeling behind schedule, a reader named Beth from Virginia Beach commented, "We had our first [support class] meeting yesterday, and I'm pleased to hear that you all are at about the same point that we are." She added, "[Someone] at our meeting also gave Marybeth's suggestion that we post the standards around our computers, so I'm definitely going to do that!" Marybeth, already certified, was a regular visitor to the blog who gave helpful tips throughout the year.

Comments came not only from wannabes and alreadys, but also from teachers who hadn't passed certification. Consider Charlene O'Brien, a teacher of gifted third-graders at Annandale Terrace Elementary School. I first heard of Charlene from one of her colleagues, who was taking a graduate course I taught last summer to help educators write for publication. Later, Charlene became a regular visitor to my blog. When her Northern Virginia school decided to set up a gifted and talented program four years ago, the principal tapped Charlene, a 17-year veteran recognized by the Northern Virginia Council for Gifted Education as one of Fairfax County's best. During the 2005-2006 school year, Charlene attempted National Board certification. Her score missed the cutoff by 24 points. Undaunted, she tried again during the 2006-2007 school year and was hopeful that she passed.

"I'm very glad I did it," she told me, without a trace of bitterness. "I intuitively know I'm a strong teacher, but this makes me prove it."

BY MAY, OUR CANOE WAS READY TO LAUNCH. Looking at the finished product, I found it hard to believe that this was the same stubborn log we'd started with so many months before. During field trips throughout the year, we'd removed the bark with adzes, rough-shaped the log using crosscut saws and hollowed it out with fire and oyster shells. Now, 100 kids wearing T-shirts designed by a classmate for the occasion stood beside an impressive 17-foot canoe the color of honey.