Dear State Ed.: You Don't Know Me

To the State of New York Department of Education,

You don't know me, but I am a "Developing" teacher.

This is according to the mystical math equation you used to determine my effectiveness rating, a formula that looks like some new age hieroglyphic. So, even though my boss, an experienced teacher, watched me do my job and gave me "applying" and "innovating" marks, and though I earned equally good marks for my evidence binder (which was entirely electronic, thank you very much), and despite the fact that I earned 80% of the points possible for my students' local exam performance, my overall rating was "Developing".

The factor that ultimately destroyed my rating (and for a while my self-esteem) was my students' performance on the State test, a test that represented just 3 of our 180 days together. My students at our small rural school did very poorly. If I was a rocket scientist, I would understand how heavily factors such as poverty, lack of home support, having any number of disabilities, and chronic absenteeism - all challenges our district faces - factored into that whacky equation, or the fact that I was on maternity leave for four months of the school year. I also don't know how a student's apathy or their worry about dad in jail or mom on drugs, or the fact that their stress level was through the roof when they took the high stakes test factored in.

I would also like to know how the following factors affected my rating:

1. The fact that just recently, one seventh grade boy became distraught in the middle of my lesson;  after class he confided in me, through tears, that some of his classmates had been calling him "retarded". I spent some time talking to him, trying to help him recapture his self-worth, then sent him onto his next class. The next day, he brought me a red carnation.
2. The fact that the same twelve year-old boy now gives me a hug nearly every day.
3. The fact that another boy, considered to be a difficult and disaffected student, stops by my classroom several times per day and wants to join my AIS class (though he doesn't need remediation) instead of going to study hall.
4. The fact that after doggedly encouraging my students to read over December and February breaks, three of my 65 students finally read 20 minutes per day over April break to complete the Reading Challenge, and the whole class applauded them.
5. Or the fact that just the other day, one of my former students came to tell me she is graduating early and going to Hudson Valley Community College.  She shared how much she loved and missed my class.
6. Oh, and what about the fact that one of my mild-mannered students trusted me enough with his life that he admitted that he had thoughts of killing himself?

And that's just data from the last three weeks. How did those factors calculate into the formula to determine my score?

There is one thing of which I am sure.  I AM a developing teacher. 

I am growing, my abilities and talents are constantly evolving, never stagnant. I am ever finding new and better ways to inspire and motivate, to value and honor my students, to challenge and push them beyond what they thought possible. I am continually reevaluating my own work, rethinking my craft, reflecting on my students, our community, and our world to find more challenging, relevant, and meaningful texts, resources, technologies, writing, and projects. Each year, I grow to understand more and more about what kids need beyond learning to read and write, but what they need to feel visible, to know that they have a voice, and that they are more than just a score. I am growing to help kids find better ways to hone their skills and develop their voices to stand up to anyone who would belittle or devalue them, to exercise their rights as informed and aware citizens.

Please allow me to teach you something: There are passionately taught lessons that are never tested, like reading for the sole purpose of enjoying it, or writing for authentic audiences (or *gasp* for fun), collaborating effectively with peers, or learning tolerance and respect. The learning students do in these areas cannot be easily measured, nor can the influence a teacher has on her students that makes them remember him or her fondly, or share memories about that teacher, or return for a visit, even decades later. The human effect teachers have on students cannot be measured. The humanity of teaching - its most crucial component, I would argue - is unquantifiable, even with a formula as complicated as yours.

Because, ultimately, teaching well is about more than teaching content or getting kids to perform on a standardized test. And because some really important aspects of teaching and learning defy a rubric and transcend the test.

You don't know me, but I'm a developing teacher. All great teachers are.