(A post for newbies and those teachers who are sometimes taken by surprise by events in their classrooms.)

A definition taken from the Urban Dictionary, a great source for clearing up mysterious classroom expressions:

Cop eyes:
“The ability to see cop cars and police officers from such a distance that you remain “under the radar”.

Andrew(on the phone to Chris): “Hey, man. I got out of work late, but I’m gonna fly to meet you at that party asap.”
Chris: “Alright. Just don’t get pulled over; make sure you got Sam with you. That girl’s got mad cop eyes.”

The best cops have their own version of cop eyes, the ability to notice atypical behavior on the street, to feel when a scene is not right. They hear unnatural quiet. They see arms that fall oddly in wrong directions.

If you have cop eyes, count yourself lucky. Teachers with cop eyes enter the classroom carrying a large, natural advantage. If any rational discipline plan has been put in place, students will behave under those watchful eyes. Trouble seldom even starts.

“She knows. Somehow she always know when you are going to do something,” students tell each other.

I never had those eyes. While I am explaining polynomials to one student, other students will often fade out of view even when they are right beside me. My classes and I have almost always gotten along very well, so that lack of peripheral awareness has mostly not caused me grief. But in the wrong class, at the wrong time, students who are “under the radar” can be real trouble — for themselves, for you and for others.

What can you do? I suggest that you practice developing your own set of cop eyes. At first, you might set alarms to remind yourself to practice. Otherwise, your efforts are likely to become an afterthought. This one skill has the potential to make your whole teaching career easier, every day of every year.

Take 5 minutes in every class to use your peripheral vision. What is happening? Where is it happening? How does the room feel? Is the room messy? Where is it messy? How did it get that way? Who is on task? Who is drifting? Don’t react right away to what you see. If you start to pull in that kid who is drifting, you may lose your focus, and cop eyes are all about focus. Your goal is to develop that peripheral vision, to learn to sense the class mood and to stop trouble before it starts.

Some people naturally scan the room around them, others not so much so. This topic seldom hits the educational school radar, no doubt because it’s impossible to quantify. We have no Cop Eye Scale where a teacher can measure an average of 42% alertness in the morning, falling to 27.5% by late afternoon. (Thank goodness! If we did, somebody would be making us record these numbers in another spreadsheet somewhere.) But if you are one of those teachers who is taken by surprise by events in the classroom, this post is for you.

I once turned down a job offer from two of the nicest guys I’d met in the education world when I was in my third year teaching. The district was obviously well-run and had surprisingly good test scores given its poverty rate. But class sizes were large, and explaining my choice, I said, “I never know where that paperwad came from.” I moved into bilingual education instead, opting for smaller class sizes.

I got better. Each year, I became more able to see the whole of my classroom, rather than just part.

To some extent anyway, cop eyes can be learned. I suggest taking time to deliberately practice if you are not a natural. One other tip on this topic: Sleep helps enormously. That mysterious peripheral view that you are striving for will come more easily when you are rested.

Optional observation from the blogger: I have told readers I am ADHD. ADHD runs heavily through the maternal side of my family and I’ve passed it on. My oldest fits all the classic lists of ADHD characteristics and the youngest one struggled at times in elementary school with attention issues. One characteristic associated with ADHD is hyperfocus. From “Learn About ADHD: Focus on Hyperfocus,” at http://www.additudemag.com/adhd/article/612.html:

“What you might not know about ADHD is that there’s another side: the tendency for children and adults with attention deficit disorder to focus very intently on things that do interest them. At times, the focus is so strong that they become oblivious to the world around them.”

This trait makes teaching tougher sometimes.

(To young, new teachers especially. Readers, please share this post with new colleagues.)

I messaged a friend tonight warning her about her recent Facebook posts. If you are a recent graduate in your first teaching position, you may be relaxing your social media caution. Please don’t. Even the tenured can be fired for speaking negatively about their students. Don’t assume no one will be checking now for scenes of riotous partying or zombie dissection videos. If no one else is checking, your students will be. That sea of faces that walks into your room? They are curious about you. Some of them are tech savvy and, especially if you live in a smaller town, may know younger sisters and brothers of friends of yours.

Social media can ambush you. After a long day, vent to friends in the teacher’s lounge or at the local pub, but don’t vent over the internet. Don’t share too many details from the big party last Saturday night, either.

Eduhonesty: I know many teachers. My feed is filled with recipes and pleas to rescue puppies. If you come across great ideas to help in the classroom, those make fine shares, too.

But view Facebook and social media as part of your job application package. Even if you are doing an excellent job, you may find yourself on the market next year. I have been riffed three (four?) times as part of reductions in force. I was always recalled, but I was looking for work those years to hedge my bets.

True or not true: “Leveled reading is intuitive and smartly packaged (who wants kids to read “frustration level” books?), but its evidence base is remarkably thin. There is much stronger research support for teaching reading with complex texts.” (http://edexcellence.net/articles/leveled-reading-the-making-of-a-literacy-myth)

I strongly suggest readers tackle the URL above. Leveled reading has been considered a best practice for years now. What is the evidence for this belief? Apparently, evidence is thin on the ground. What evidence there is supports leveled reading during the earliest school years. Beyond that, the weight of evidence falls behind more demanding material. At least, so the above article claims, and I have been blindsided by so many dubious interpretations of shoddy studies by now that I am willing to consider the above contention not only possible, but likely. What is the research-based support for leveled reading? More importantly, has that support been unjustifiably used to choke off the reading of more demanding texts?

My husband and I were discussing the fact that we both read “Silas Marner” in middle school. I read “Moby Dick” in middle school. He is rereading Silas Marner now. Here is part of a paragraph from page 31, a paragraph that extends 39 lines down the page:

“That, at least, was the condition of Godfrey Cass in this six-and-twentieth year of his life. A movement of compunction, helped by those small indefinable influences which every personal relation exerts on a pliant nature, had urged him into a secret marriage, which was a blight on his life. It was an ugly story of low passion, delusion and waking from delusion, which needs not to be dragged from the privacy of Godfrey’s bitter memory. He had long known that the delusion was partly due to a trap laid for him by Dunstan, who saw in his brother’s degrading marriage the means of gratifying at once his jealous hate and his cupidity. And if Godfrey could have felt himself simply a victim, the iron bit that destiny had put into his mouth would have chafed him less intolerably.”

Both my husband and I waded through that vocabulary in our early teens. We are agreed that “Silas Marner” is probably an inappropriate middle school choice, but not because of the verbiage. A great deal of life experience is needed to understand Silas Marner. Still, I suspect we were both the better for the literature choices of our time. As the article referenced above observes, selecting dense and complex texts, as well as leveled reading, may be a better best practice than endlessly protecting our students from “excessively difficult” material. Who decides when material is too difficult? Too often, I believe we are being presumptuous when we assume we know what a student ought to read.

I remember a student of mine who came to me in middle school reading at a first grade level. At one point during the year, she picked up Twilight. Day after day, she picked up Twilight. Twilight represented a giant leap for my girl, but she persisted. She wanted to know every detail of Edward and Bella’s romance. Nothing I did that year probably helped that girl as much as her tenacious attack on the prose in Twilight. Sentence by sentence, she fought through that book.

While I support Pondiscio and Mahnken’s article, I do want to pull out one paragraph, feeling the need to add my own caveat.

“By marked contrast, Common Core asks teachers to think carefully about what children read and choose grade-level texts that use sophisticated language or make significant knowledge demands of the reader (teachers should also be prepared, of course, to offer students support as they grapple with challenging books). Instead of asking, “Can the child read this?” the question might be, ‘Is this worth reading?'”

That one line inside the parentheses above represents a big whammy. Yes, teachers will need to offer support. I’m sure many of my middle school peers had no chance of getting through Silas Marner without support. We spent weeks on that book. We may have spent a month on Moby Dick. A problem with Common Core demands in this time of nonstop testing rests in the pace expected from teachers. If we try to teach these rich, complex texts too quickly, we will be wasting our students’ time. Rich, complex texts cannot be batted out in a few days. The discussion necessary to understand texts and subtexts, especially in an unfamiliar historical context, demands weeks of work. A shallow reading of a deep book will provide little benefit and may do harm. We need to encourage reading. Spending a week ploughing through incomprehensible pages will certainly discourage reading.

That said, Alfred Tatum, Dean of the College of Education and director of the UIC Reading Clinic, said, “Leveled texts lead to leveled lives.”

Eduhonesty: He may be right about that.

In the last 10 years, I have worked under 10 different principals, one for 3 1/2 years. They come, they go. When scores don’t improve, they get moved to another school or let go. In one school, two retired guys were filling in for a year, each trying to stay under the maximum number of days that a retired principal can work in public schools under the current pension system. One principal lost her job and was replaced by two consultants. One principal pleaded with teachers to help her raise scores since her job might be on the line. She was replaced the following year. My favorite principal was shifted to another school within his district because of a government grant: Strings attached to that grant required the replacement of the school’s administration. Another principal and assistant principal were fired in February to be replaced with an interim principal whose evaluation of me that year never made it to my permanent file. Or the original principal’s evaluation never made the file. Who knows? The district office asked me and other teachers if we could provide them with copies of our evaluations since the district seemed to have lost a number of these. Chaos ruled that year.*

Eduhonesty: Other teachers and I have discussed this. In our view, part of the Principal Problem stems from frantic efforts to boost test scores. Many of these Principals had put good systems into place. They had instituted clever ideas and were tracking progress. But if the scores don’t immediately go up in Year One, too often Principals don’t get to see Year Two or Three.

Struggling districts, like oceanliners, cannot turn on a dime. Especially by middle school and high school, no quick fixes exist for the knowledge deficits that lead to low scores. Yet fixes that take time may never have a chance. Former Principal Fred’s longer reading blocks and afternoon phonics program fall victim to replacement Principal Sally’s new, computer-based reading intervention. Either one of these plans might yield the desired results, given time, but that time does not happen. Teachers and administrators spend Year One learning the new phonics program. During Year Two, the longer reading block is shortened to make room for the new computer-based intervention, rendering all the hours spent in the now-abandoned phonics meetings and professional development (PD) useless, even as the new computer intervention spawns its own set of meetings and PDs.

*Did an angry or frustrated person deliberately lose those forms? I don’t think it’s inconceivable.

My last post sits uneasily on the post before it. I have been offering suggestions for new teachers interspersed with commentary. The character of that commentary varies and I acknowledge that yesterday’s post represents a type of post that has led me to nickname this blog “The Blog of Gloom and Doom.”

I recognize that many teachers will not see themselves in that post. Where I live, schools are cranking out scholars who are ready to take on any university in the nation. I have taught in a very different location, though. In that place, the poverty level ran above 90% and the percentage of students meeting or exceeding expectations on the last ISAT ran below 25%. Only 2% exceeded expectations in reading in 8th grade, only 3% in 7th grade. We were locked in academic battle in my school and I can’t begin to tell readers how many best practices and other practices I tried in order to improve the situation. My life was action research. I lived action research. I managed to put together some wins, too.

My frustration especially spills out when I think of all the unreadable books that my district obliged me to hand out to those students who could not meet or who barely met expectations. If those books had only been slightly unreadable, I would not be this angry. I can work with slightly unreadable. With a great deal of extra tutoring, slightly unreadable becomes a nut that can be cracked. But when my Assistant Superintendent picked a new math book based on its greater rigor, I wanted to tear my hair out. (Or his, especially since the math teachers on the committee to help pick the textbook had picked a more readable and therefore approachable, textbook.)

I am not against rigor. I am not against richer, denser, more complex text. I am against books that are pitched years above students’ documented reading levels.

They don’t work well. Students give up. Students leave them in lockers and never look back. It is as simple as that.

(A post for all.)

What is happening in education today? Essentially, we are threatening people from the top down. “Get those test scores up! Do it or else!” I have been known to glibly assert that if more people in education actually knew what they were doing, this management-by-threat system might work. “Do it or else!” has been used effectively in private industry for years.

I doubt the truth of my assertion, though. “Do it or else!” has been in place since 2003 when No Child Left Behind first bared its teeth. Yet schools in many areas show scant improvement and much of that improvement probably results from teaching directly to specific tests, narrowing academic content in an effort to push up scores with little regard for the long-term usefulness of abandoned content.

“Do it or else!” will not work when “it” is undoable. The boards in a Home Depot store cannot be used to build a skyscraper. I can say “Put a colony on Mars or else!” I might even be the President of the United States talking to NASA’s leaders. My threats will not necessarily result in a Martian colony. Budgetary, technological, supply and personnel issues are in play.

Threats have not produced the desired results in education today and at least part of the problem has to be our attempts to regard children as fungible goods. Back when I was studying for my Masters Degree in Business and Public Management at Rice University, we discussed fungibility. Fungible goods are goods that are interchangeable, possessing essentially identical characteristics. For example, if you and a friend go shopping together and you both buy 10 pound bags of Pillsbury flour, you won’t care who gets which bag when you split up later. Sugar is a fungible good. Depending on your needs, refrigerators may be fungible goods.

Children are virtually never fungible goods. Sam is not Abby is not Emma is not Joel is not Danielle is not Max and so on across the planet. You can’t exchange Joel for Max. And you can’t come up with a one-size-fits-all educational program that will meet Sam, Abby, Emma, Joel, Danielle and Max’s needs.

Since No Child Left Behind, however, we often appear to be trying to do exactly that. In effect, what happens today is simply silly. Administrators buy 7th grade math and science textbooks specifically written to a test – without regard for how well their students can read the books. They know the bulk of their students are reading at a 5th, 4th or even 3rd grade level, but they can’t buy the 6th grade book. That book doesn’t have “the right material.” It’s not geared to the 7th grade test. So they hand the kids a book that many can’t read, instead.

The phrase, “You can’t get there from here,” comes to mind.

A few years ago, I asked both my Assistant Principal and the Bilingual Director for my district for help getting reading-level appropriate Illinois State Achievement Test (ISAT) prep booklets to use in my afterschool ISAT tutoring classes. As usual, I had received books based on grade level rather than reading ability. The 8th graders were hanging in with their 8th grade books, challenged but not lost. The 7th graders might as well have received instructional materials written in hieroglyphics.

My 7th graders were reading sections about marathoners without knowing what a marathon was, and without enough English vocabulary to use context clues to figure that out. They would laboriously translate words in the reading sections. Translating one three paragraph section could take one-half hour for some of them. They were frequently totally missing the point of passages. These students were in the bilingual program because they could not pass a fairly easy English-language learning test that indicated they were ready for regular, English-language classes. They were going to have to take the ISAT along with everyone else.

My Assistant Principal told me he could not get 5th grade books, but he would see about 6th grade books. He knew what I was asking and why I wanted those materials. He also knew he risked upsetting multiple higher-ups by admitting to the need for these books. For political reasons, we had to be studying “appropriate” material. I need to note that my now-former Assistant Principal is a bright, savvy man who keeps up-to-date on best practices in education.

The Bilingual Director said, “But how will those books help get them ready for the ISATs?”

I simply pointed out that material in the 5th and 6th grade books contained numerous items that were repeated in some form on the 7th grade test. There seemed little point in continuing the discussion. When administrators think that students who are challenged by some of the vocabulary in “Clifford the Big Red Dog” are somehow going to pass the middle-school ISATs – well, the zombies are nearing the gates in my view. In fairness to my Bilingual Director, her focus on seventh grade ISATs was entirely understandable; her job potentially depended on student scores.

I never got any new books.

Handing those students grade-level prep books was not useless. They learned many new vocabulary words. They devoted hours each week to academic English, frequently picking the wrong answer at first, but then adding to their knowledge base while I patiently explained that the answer was not “B” but “C” and they needed to pick “C” for a set of reasons I carefully broke down for them.

But the prep books were still the wrong books. Handing a student in Physics 101 the textbook for Physics 102 or 103 will sink most students. In a small group, with my attention, these prep books weren’t sinking my seventh grade students, but they weren’t preparing them for the Illinois State Achievement Test either. When a student doesn’t know the majority of the relevant vocabulary in a passage, answering questions on that passage provides little test preparation. Fifth grade books would have taught my students considerably more English by virtue of being much closer to their understanding level. They would have been able to put much more material in context — a critical aspect for learning. Those fifth grade readers needed fifth or sixth grade books, books that would have allowed them to use context clues to figure out unfamiliar vocabulary.

In terms of the larger educational agenda, easier books would also have encouraged my seventh grade students to keep reading. If our goal is to foster independent reading, reading has to be fun sometimes. Enjoyment of a book depends heavily on reading speed. When a page takes too long to read, kids become bored. For many kids, too-challenging equals too-discouraging. For my seventh grade tutoring group, the ISAT prep books I had been given were nothing but exhausting and scary.

Common core proponents advocate for more complex, demanding literature and reading materials in the classroom, arguing that America’s students should be given the opportunity to read rich, complex text. I don’t disagree with that position. But not all books and not all materials are appropriate. My tutoring group never read those ISAT prep books: They deciphered them instead, almost as if they were scholars interpreting hieroglyphics.

Eduhonesty: Can we raise standardized test scores? I am sure we can, but I do not believe we can do so without radically overhauling education as we currently practice it. In particular, we should exempt students are going to get completely clobbered by those tests and put them into a longer school year with a longer school day, emphasizing the math and vocabulary they need in a rational, linear fashion. If the book matches the test, but the test does not match the student, we are wasting an opportunity and may even be wasting our student’s time.

(Continuing posts especially for newbies)

Soccer season has begun in many places. Students are running back and forth across fields, while parents pull lawn chairs out of vans or sit on metal bleachers. Friends of players are sitting on the sidelines, sharing Gatorades and squiggly, red chips.

Are you sitting in your classroom grading? Or trying to figure out your new grading program? Do yourself a favor. Take a blanket or chair out to the sidelines. Watch Ozzie run after that ball. Cheer a little for your students. Or cheer a lot. Nothing will garner more goodwill in the classroom than a few well-placed cheers and the ability to greet Ozzie tomorrow by saying, “I could not believe that last kick! The goalie never had a chance.”

(A post for newbies.)
With luck, you can lock your desk drawers. I think I had one key for one desk in the last ten years, though. Those keys get lost and school districts don’t often have money for more desks. I hardly ever had closet keys. Last year, I got by with padlocks and chains.

If you can’t lock up all your important supplies, yelp and keep yelping. Turn in whatever forms your district requires. Follow up on those forms. In the meantime, find functional chains and padlocks. Talk to security. If all else fails, talk to your Principal. (Don’t bother your Principal, however.) I finally got a key to lock my classroom door one year when I told my Principal about my clever plan for an emergency lockdown, the plan where all my students fled out the two windows that opened, running to a district elementary school about one-half mile away. If you want to try the crazy-lockdown-plan to get your door fixed, you have my permission.

You must be able to secure your items and valuable school supplies. I learned that as a new teacher when I left a small group in my classroom after school and went to my car to pick up snacks. Those were great girls and a couple of them are now young adult Facebook friends. Still, while I was gone, they went into my desk and stole money from a change bag I kept. The next day, the group confessed, crying and apologizing for a crime that I might have never even noticed if no one had said anything. That event taught me a lesson, though. Even the best kids can succumb to temptation.

I’ll add to that lesson. Don’t let anyone go into your desk. Period. Only you should remove items from your desk. The problem with letting trustworthy Richie go into your desk arises later, when other classmates interpret Richie’s opening of your desk drawer as a more general permission to go into your desk. No student should ever pull out a drawer from your desk, a rule that needs to be explicitly clear from the beginning. Desk drawers are off-limits.

One last piece of advice: Never set your phone down anywhere, anytime. Don’t charge the phone at school. I suggest women get a small bag to wear during the day, keeping phones inside when not in direct use.
Kipling makes small bags that work wonderfully.

Eduhonesty: I’m sure some readers are baffled by this post. They had those locks in place a week before school started. But new teachers have so many small details to manage that locks and anti-thievery measures may fall off the radar.

I think back to my search for a phone a few years ago. The new phone had been a birthday present from a first-year teacher’s husband and she had only had the phone for a little over a month, before setting the phone down briefly while moving classrooms. That soft-spoken, beautiful, young African-American woman looked so sad. I remain convinced that at least a couple of my students knew what had happened to the phone, but no one ever discovered the culprit. I tried, adding my questions to those of other adults, but not one of the student movers ever admitted to seeing anything.

I hope I made the responsible party feel guilty anyway.

(Another post that may be especially helpful for newbies.)

My last post about PARCC testing and the failure to release PARCC results speculates that the majority of America’s students failed that test. We will know sooner or later. They may change the passing score to fix the problem.

Shifting back from big-picture to daily life, though, I feel I ought to address the problem of the test or quiz that most or all of the class fails. When I first started teaching, that problem seldom impacted my life. I was writing my own tests and quizzes based on what I had taught. Students had seen and worked with the material. They seldom failed.

You may not be writing your own tests and quizzes, though. You may be forced to teach to tests and quizzes that somebody else wrote for you. You may get those tests and quizzes a week or less before you are required to administer them. That’s what happened to me last year. The fail rate went through the roof and I was doing damage control and test retakes all year. But that’s another story. Maybe.

Whether you wrote the test or not, if most students failed, you can’t simply move on. Further, you have to acknowledge a truth that seemed to elude my administrators last year: You just gave a bad test. Tests or quizzes that fail everyone don’t provide much information about what students know and they discourage future efforts, especially on the part of those who studied. If you worked three hours the night before to get ready and got clobbered, will you work three hours next time? Where’s the pay-off?

For purposes of this post, I am going to assume you are writing your own tests. You wrote and gave your test. The scores came in ranging from low to abysmally bad.

Here are some tips:

You probably need to reteach. If your district has a tightly-scripted curriculum and you don’t see available time to reteach, look at the subject matter. You may be able to move on from the history of astronomy. Your students won’t suffer across the years from their lack of knowledge of Tycho Brahe. Curve the test, start on the next topic and don’t look back.

But if you were teaching two-step equations, you must reteach. Your students require this knowledge to go forward in algebra and other math classes. In a curriculum time-bind, try to find before and after school tutoring time. Reserve at least part of the class block for vital, as-yet-confusing topics like those two-step equations.

Make sure your teaching aligns to your test. Any topic you test, you should have specifically taught. No student should ever see new material on a test. That’s the problem with borrowing tests or using older tests from past years. Even if those tests prove mostly appropriate, they often contain an idea or two that the class never explored.

If you have to borrow a test in a time crunch, go through that test and eliminate problems that don’t fit well with previous instruction. In an extreme time crunch, when you can’t go through the test, allow students to drop a number of problems of their choice.

If you taught a topic but tests and quizzes show confusion, admit you don’t know how to get the idea over the plate yet. If teaching was a cookie-cutter job, they could make robots to spew out preprogrammed information. They can’t. There’s no disgrace in not knowing how best to teach a topic. We all learn by doing. The research indicates that first- and second-year teachers underperform their more experienced colleagues. Well, duhh. It takes time and effort to learn what works. Ask more experienced colleagues for help. What do they do? What works for them?

Steal lesson plans off the internet* if no one in school can help you. Use lectures on YouTube to explain a process differently when you can find quality material. Some kids listen more attentively to strangers on a screen, and a fresh take on a topic may reach learners who need extra reinforcement.

I have been known to apologize when tests went badly awry. If almost everyone failed, and I wrote the test, then I mishandled my topic or process somewhere. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with owning that failure. If I took the test from the book, but students studied the lectures, I should have warned them to study their textbook. If I assumed students knew a topic because they did a good drawing of the process, but I didn’t check beyond that to discover that most of those projects were copied off phones or home computers, I didn’t do enough pre-test assessment.

I strongly suggest test retakes be available to students. If grades fall too low, some students give up.

Allowing students to substitute projects for make-up tests can work well with many topics. Certain students learn better when they can pull out the colored pencils and markers.

As a last resort, if most or all of the class failed a test or quiz, reserve the right to throw that test out entirely, substituting a project to teach necessary concepts. Instead of testing scientific method, have your class prepare a PowerPoint or write a paper detailing the scientific method. A test that pulls down the whole class’s average benefits no one.

*Perhaps I should say borrow. If you do borrow, please give credit. When you change materials, share credit. I would write “By Sally Smith, adapted by Ms. Q” on such presentations. Giving credit for borrowed materials conveys a quiet lesson to students. We have too great a problem with plagiarism already.

Computerized test results are supposed to be fast. Results from the ACT go out in three to eight weeks, for example. Most ACT results can be viewed online within two weeks.

According to the PARCC website, Arkansas, Colorado, District of Columbia, Illinois, Louisiana, Maryland, Massachusetts, Mississippi, New Jersey, New Mexico, Ohio, and Rhode Island took the PARCC test last spring. Dates varied from school to school, with some schools finishing in March. New York City also conducted a pilot program with 5,000 students in 25 schools. Where are the PARCC results?

Some districts suffered from large technological glitches. Those glitches no doubt explain some of the reporting problem. But we are still at least three months out now, in some cases four, and counting. I suspect that part of the problem rests in the results. I suspect PARCC has failed almost all the students in the country and Pearson/PARCC leadership has been working furiously, but without success, to try to figure out how to spin this mess.