Why Bother?

In my many years of teaching and standardized testing, I have seen a lot of things.

We've moved from all multiple choice, "teach to the test", MMAT and Iowa Basic assessments to a higher-level, written response, MAP assessment. In my first years of teaching, the only calculators allowed were the ones in your head, and now the more scientific and expensive, it seems, the better. Fifteen years ago (heck, five years ago), there was no such thing as an ACT+Writing test. And now many of the more prestigious colleges require that test to show that the prospective student is a well-written, thoughtful, reflective thinker. (Or at least that the teacher scoring the essay test on that particular day believes that he/she is.)

Not only have the tests changed, mind you, but so have the strategies used to study and to take the test. There are mind-boggling editions of ACT/SAT preparation guides, along with books for every AP (advanced placement) test available in high school. Along with that, there are CDs (the musical versions being my personal favorite), computer programs, flashcards, study clubs and after-school and summer prep classes and tutoring sessions. Some parents even pay to have private classes to help their children better prepare for standardized tests.

I thought, then, that nothing would surprise me when I volunteered to supervise a group of high school students taking the ACT test this last Saturday morning. I was wrong.

Of course I had the typical, work-to-last-minute students, who rushed to fill in every blank in the final 15 seconds before the timer went off. I also had the exhausted, "I'd rather be asleep", teens, who obviously dragged themselves out of bed just in time to get to the test. Their yawns all morning long said it all. I appreciated the studious testers the most. I could tell that they wanted to perform well, they read each page and question carefully and paid close attention to the time. They will, most likely, perform the best on the test and ultimately, in life.

Then, there was the boy in the row next to the wall in the second seat back. I didn't recognize him, but I would guess he was probably an upperclassman, most likely a senior. He was a nice-looking, young man, wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt, but he just wasn't present from the moment he walked in the door. He didn't talk to anyone, and he sat quietly at his desk the entire morning. When it came time to take the test, his strategy was certainly a unique one. He would read (or at least appear to read; I think he was just looking) at one question. Then, he would close his eyes and sleep for about five or so minutes. Upon waking, he would quickly write down about 10-15 answers in his test booklet. Then, he would start the process over again by reading/looking at another question, sleeping, then writing down about 15 answers. If a test should have taken an hour, it took him 20 minutes. For the final two tests, this young man chose not to even open his test book at all. He simply slept for a bit, then put all the answers down in one fail swoop, and was done with it.

I wanted to ask him why he was even there that day, but he left the room just as quickly as he had finished his tests, so I didn't get the chance.

But as I watched him on and off for the four hours, I kept asking myself the same question. If you don't care about something, if you don't have an investment in it, if you don't see the point or have a reason for doing it, should you even bother doing it at all?