If one views instruction as a dynamic process consisting of a continuous sequence of interactions between teacher and student with each action by one party affecting the subsequent action by the other then it is obvious that the most important question on the mind of both teachers and students at any given moment is “What’s Next?”, as in what am I going to do next to elicit a desired action/response from the other party. It doesn’t really matter whether the duration of the interaction is a brief oral question/response during a lesson, overnight as in the assignment of homework, or across several days or even weeks as a project is being completed.
As a student processes an assignment or teacher feedback and as a teacher processes the reactions, response, or lack thereof, from a student, the pressing question to be answered is “What’s Next?”. Anything that doesn’t contribute to answering that question is regarded as noise – ranging from a minor nuisance at best to the worst case scenario of a major inconvenience or barrier to instruction and learning.
State tests, by design*, were never intended to contribute directly to answering the “What’s Next” question. However, for the better part of their history, state tests (whether commercial norm-referenced tests or custom standards-based tests) were viewed as a minor nuisance by teachers and students and were treated as such. Around 2010, however, for reasons well-documented, tests become a major inconvenience and were perceived to be barrier to instruction and learning. Consequently, the fact that they were not contributing to answering the “What’s Next?” question became a much more of a problem.
Dealing With A Distraction
For more than a decade now, the major criticism directed at large-scale state tests (and standardized tests, in general) has focused not as much on their validity, reliability, or even fairness as on their utility**. And when push came to shove, utility is defined in terms of the extent to which tests and their scores give teachers the answer the question, “What’s Next?”
Initially, that lack of utility was described as the inability of tests to provide actionable information that could be used by teachers and students to plan appropriate instruction which would, in turn, lead to improved student learning. The term actionable information had a good run, emerging during the first Obama administration and lasting until the pandemic.
Post-pandemic, the call has been for tests that are instructionally useful – a phrase that at the same time seems more specific and more vague than actionable information; in other words, a perfect phrase to slap onto the marketing materials for your favorite test***.
At the heart of the calls for actionable information and instructionally useful tests, however, remains the plea for the answer to the question, “What’s Next?”.
We Are Not Alone
Although we tend to focus on the test, an overlooked takeaway from the urgent plea for tests to answer the “What’s Next?” question is that teachers are desperate for an answer. Implicit and inherent in the urgency with which the “What’s Next?” question is being asked of state tests is the absence of an answer to the question.
Teachers were lacking an adequate answer to “What’s Next?” long before NCLB and its consequences forced teachers to begin to pay attention to state tests****. An answer apparently was not provided by formative assessment or by individual tests inappropriately labeled as formative assessments. An answer was not provided when districts began administering interim assessments decades ago. Frankly, an adequate answer to the question “What’s Next?” has not been provided since the question first became relevant with the shift from “teacher-centered” to “student-centered” teaching in the 1970s*****.
In short, the search for the answer to the question “What’s Next?” predates state tests and their utility, or lack thereof.
The fact that the answer to such a seemingly fundamental question as “What’s Next?” has remained elusive for such a prolonged period raises several interesting questions. Questions that probably should be answered before we throw up our hands and hand the “What’s Next?” question and the reins of instruction over to AI.
Do We Really Want An Answer?
I might as well begin with the elephant in the room. Answering the question, “What’s Next?” puts teachers and students in the position of having to do something productive with the answer.
Accompanying the question is an image of fluidity and flexibility, differentiation, and real-time adjustments that I’m not sure match the reality of the PK-12 classroom in the United States. We embrace the ideals of personalized instruction and student agency; but are they nothing more than a facade. From afar, based on available data, results, and anecdotal reports from the trenches, I can only conclude that the metaphors for public education that were predominant throughout the 20th century remain too applicable today; that is, the conveyor belt and the locomotive.
Despite the selection of personalized “add-ons” that one might select with a student’s ticket, the public education train leaves the station on time in late summer and arrives at its destination in the spring, and all passengers are asked to disembark. Its route is laid out by a curriculum, preselected instructional materials, and daily lesson plans. Once it leaves the station nothing can stop it, not even a pandemic.
Think about that.
In March 2020, schools closed and chaos reigned (at least for a while), but the 2020 school year ended at its scheduled time. More significantly, the 2021 school year began at its scheduled time, with students advanced a grade level. Regardless of whether schools were open or kids were physically, mentally, or emotionally present, the train rolled on.
It will be difficult to believe that we are really serious about things like individualized instruction, personalization, competency and unlimited retries, until we see the changes to the education framework and infrastructure necessary to support such efforts.
What Do We Mean By “What’s Next?”
The question “What’s Next?” is more complex than it seems.
At its most basic, the question has two very different meanings: one relevant for the student who has mastered the content being taught (e.g., standard, instructional unit, competency) and a different meaning for the student who has not.
For the student who has mastered the content, the question is seeking to identify the next step in the instructional sequence or perhaps the next milestone in the learning progression leading to the ultimate destination. The next station along the route or the conveyor belt. Although we have plenty of high-level road maps to answer that question in a general sense, we are often lacking turn-by-turn directions for the individual student.
For the student who has not yet mastered the content, the question is more complex. It may be asking for information on an individual student’s particular areas of strength and weakness – what to build on, what to reinforce, what to add. However, it may be asking also for guidance on what instructional strategies more likely to produce a better result to try next – which, I suppose, presupposes the availability of background information such as what has already been attempted or what has been successful in the past and contextual information to help discern which available strategies are the best match for the student, teacher, and content at this time.
The system is set up to serve the first student although all available data tell us that at least half of the students we meet in schools are the second student.
What’s Next for “What’s Next?”
It’s obvious that answering the “What’s Next?” question requires data, but what will be the source of that data – not to mention that information, knowledge, and wisdom that must come from that data?
For the longest time, teachers working in isolation in the classroom supplemented their training by leaning heavily on instinct and experience to answer the “What’s Next?” question. As in, prior students like this who were performing like that responded well to this, but not that.
When given the opportunity to collaborate with colleagues, the available data expanded to include “what worked for you?”
The advent of the internet expanded the number of colleagues with whom teachers could collaborate, but the type and quality of the available data did not change all that much.
It’s only been in recent years that data has begun to flow from the classroom to populate student information systems. A few data points like attendance and scores from interim and state tests are far from sufficient to answer the “What’s Next?” question, but it is a start It is the first signal that the classroom is no longer an impermeable lead box.
“What’s Next?” is a complex, data-intensive question and for the first time, the image of complete and continuous data flowing from the classroom and being returned in the form of useful information seems less a fantasy and more an inevitable reality.
Some, but by no means all, of that data will come from student assessment (and some even from standardized tests). What we need to do now is to begin to prepare for what comes next; to understand the possibilities and pitfalls associated with the flow of data and information. We need to avoid extremes, knee-jerk reactions to blindly open everything up or shut everything down.
Most importantly, we must commit to building an infrastructure that supports the use of the rich information that will be available.
What we do next will be a high-stakes test – one that we must pass for the future of PK-12 education.
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
Additional Thoughts and Notes
*A significant portion criticism of the utility of state assessment programs has focused on their timing, comparing the post-instruction, end-of-year state tests to a post-mortem or autopsy. Such metaphors, however, reflect a fundamental misunderstanding of the measurement and/or medicine. A state test can perhaps be compared to a pronouncement of death, but unlike post-mortems and autopsies is not designed to answer questions about the cause of death or to report on underlying conditions (or subscores).
**Yes, I know that utility is part of a unified theory of validity and is/should be a particular concern of the consequences crowd.
*** Two of my former colleagues have gone to great lengths to define the term and explain what makes a test instructionally useful, even finding time in their busy, billable-hour driven schedules to write a book on the topic.
****Of course, it was not only the consequences associated with student performance on state tests that caused teachers to take notice of state tests. The expanded footprint of the tests both in terms of frequency of testing and the length of individual tests also was a factor. As was the increased cognitive complexity, if not difficulty, of the tests associated with alignment to state standards, in general, and the shift to the Common Core, in particular.
*****Although what was considered student-centered instruction at the time of the initial shift away from lectures and teacher-centric instruction in the latter quarter of the 20th century is very different than what is considered student-centered instruction today, the question “What’s Next?” is relevant in both cases.
