The Ghost of Common Core...

...still haunts New York State.

I still work at Francis Lewis High School, albeit only three days a week. Next semester I swap with my counterpart. She’ll do three days, and I’ll be down to two.

There is this F-status thing where you have to work regular days. We’d wanted to just swap every other day, but that was not possible. (And everyone who’s worked in a school longer than ten minutes knows you never contradict the payroll secretary.)

Last week we were prepping kids for one of the awful tasks on the English Regents exam. For my money, it’s the second worst test I’ve ever encountered. The worst test I’ve ever encountered is the NYSESLAT, which tests English levels of incoming students from other countries. It does this very, very badly.

My test for incoming students is to a. engage them in conversation, and b. have them write something. For example, if I ask a student, “What’s your name?” and she looks at me as though I’ve just fallen from the sky, I take that student to be a beginner. I follow up with, “Where are you from?” and, “How long have you been here?” As the last question is present perfect, tough for some, I may modify it to, “How long are you here?”

Sometimes their writing tells me more, and I can draw them out. Sometimes, I learn they can barely write, or not write at all, and have rarely if ever gone to school. Those students can be very, very challenging. Sometimes I meet kids who are fluent in verbal English, have been kicking around the city for years, and have sometimes developed strategies to hide their illiteracy.

In most situations, if a student can’t speak, that student is a beginner. The problem with the state tests I mentioned is this—they don’t really measure written or verbal ability very well. While it may be interesting (for someone) to ask newcomers questions about Hammurabi’s Code, questions that entail regurgitating, or even reading things in front of their faces, things they’ve just heard aloud, it doesn’t reveal a whole lot to me.

The first year I taught ENL (née ESL) full time, I was in Newtown High School. They put me to work teaching beginners, which no one else in the department wanted to do. I had a student from China who got very good grades on all the tests. At that time, I was relying on the textbook a lot, and sort of rewrote textbook questions to create tests.

One day, he came into our department office with an interpreter. He started screaming. My Chinese is sorely limited, but I can hear anger. The interpreter relayed his message.

I studied this stuff in China!

I get good grades on all the tests!

I should be in a more advanced class!

Yet much of our class was conversation, and that boy never opened his mouth. To me, that was problematic. Participation is a big factor in a basic language class. Can you really know English if you can’t walk into Arby’s and order a sandwich?

I told the student that, as soon as he could come in and tell me these things without an interpreter, I’d be happy to recommend another placement. It seemed doable to me at the time. The interpreter translated, and that was the end of that. The student passed, but never attempted to learn the two or three sentences that would’ve made me take action.

I don’t think the English Regents exam is suitable for ELLs. However, I don’t think it’s suitable for English speaking students either. I’m no genius, but I can write a test in 45 minutes that would be more meaningful. Sure, I might spend more time grading it, but that’s what happens when you teach English.

Both the English Regents exam and the NYSESLAT are firmly rooted in Common Core, though neither bears the label anymore. Our classroom task last week was reading an article and then writing about minimalism. I’m not talking about art, but rather divesting yourself of possessions you may deem unnecessary, and focusing only on those things that bring you happiness.

There’s a lot to like about it. Who needs toxic relationships? Who needs debt, clutter, and the urge to keep up with your neighbors by getting a Lexus every time they get a Toyota? That said, I’m not a minimalist. I’m not ostentatious either. But teenagers?

I’ve had teenagers announce they wanted to be doctors. Why, I’d ask? Do you love science? Medicine? Helping people? No, they’d answer. I want to make a lot of money.

Now don’t get me wrong—I’d like to make a lot of money too. Had I joined my dad in his business, I may have done so. On the other hand, I may also have leapt from a tall building. His business did not much interest me. I’d rather be a teacher, and we all know exactly how rich teachers become.

Once, I had a student who was very, very good at the multiple choice questions on the Regents exam.

“Why is that so easy for you?” I asked.

“I don’t read the passage. I just read the questions and search for the answers.”

The kid left me speechless, a rare thing. But he had the whole thing figured out. He got the answers faster than I did. After all, I wasted all that time doing the reading. I can only suppose I’m not sufficiently Common Corey.

Back to minimalism—Every single student in our class supported it. I was shocked. I walked around and asked them, “Would you like to live in a teeny-tiny house?”

They replied emphatically in the negative. Not one student expressed a desire to explore the minimalist lifestyle.

“Why did you support it?” I asked.

They told me it was because that was what the “evidence” in the article made it easier to write about. You see, in the “argumentative” essay, students are not supposed to compose their own arguments. Instead, they use evidence from the essay, written by a minimalist.

Unsurprisingly, the minimalist mostly advocated minimalism.

The architect of Common Core, David Coleman, is well known for saying, “People don’t really give a shit about what you feel or what you think.” That’s a fundamental building block of Common Core. Therefore, students are precluded from using their own ideas.

It’s true that I don’t give a shit what David Coleman feels or thinks. Were I to adhere to his cynical philosophy, I’d have no appreciation for art. I wouldn’t love music or literature. And right there is a problem. As an English teacher, one of the things I try to do is trick kids into loving reading—by hook or by crook.

I’ve taught The Joy Luck Club many times. There are beautiful, inspirational stories in there, and my kids learn that newcomers can be confounded, but ultimately successful in the United States (and elsewhere). They learn that women can be powerful, even when it’s not expected of them. They learn that others have faced the same feelings, frustrations, and cultural roadblocks that face them now. Also, they learn what Amy Tan feels and thinks, and they are fascinated.

Coleman’s Common Core makes reading and writing a chore to be avoided. It teaches kids to dread and hate writing, and if that’s not enough, it shows them their ideas are neither valuable nor welcome. We should never have let Coleman project his miserable experiences on our children. While this has escaped the attention of the various geniuses in Albany who persist in mandating this nonsense, those of us actually doing the work can’t help but take notice.

Not a single one of my students is attracted to the minimalist lifestyle. They value their phones, their computers, their video games, and their social lives. They like having enough space so friends can visit. They’re learning about life, and while minimalism may appeal to them one day, that day is not today.

Still, we force them to regurgitate ideas from a writer to whom they do not relate in the least. They didn’t enjoy reading about him, and they don’t enjoy rewording his ideas either. We don’t even allow them the freedom to tell the truth.

I love reading. Because of that, I can plod through whatever I need to when necessary. Hey, say what you will about the UFT Contract, but it’s not exactly a page-turner. As chapter leader, I ended up memorizing parts that came up repeatedly. Members were happy I could recite chapter and verse at meetings, when idiots from DOE visited pushing absurd mandates.

Common Core was and is common crap. It’s very disappointing that we not only subject students to this nonsense, but also prep them extensively for it. We ought not to be teaching our kids to hate reading and writing. We can certainly serve them better.