I mentioned earlier that my students had low scores. They're achievement levels were low (though, oddly enough, every one of them improved dramatically from the first benchmark test). I was in a rut on Monday, because they were rowdy after the break. On Tuesday, they were awful for the sub. I still find myself frustrated and impatient. And yet . . . Two students talk to me before school, asking about the NCAA Tournament brackets. It wouldn't seem like a big deal, except for the fact that they spoke no English at the beginning of the year. Both students worked far harder as students than I worked as a teacher. I call that achievement. I check out the student blogs and compare the first posts to the most recent posts. They are deeper thinkers and more articulate writers. Some of it is simple. They use transition words and higher vocabulary. Some of it is more difficult to measure, like the passion and voice and personality in their writing. I call that achievement. The bell rings and students groan on a Friday, because they wanted to continue a project. A few of them take pieces of it home to work on their own time. It is totally optional, but they choose it anyway. I call that achievement. A student falls in love with a difficult book series. Another student is writing in complete sentences and paragraphs. The class is nailing the data analysis unit that we're doing, finding their own connections to the world around them. I call that achievement. So, when someone asks me about our achievement levels, I'm not going to spout off a bunch of test scores. I'm going to talk about achievement. Real achievement. The kind that lasts beyond the sixth grade. And I'm going to recognize that even if I was a part of the process, my students worked incredibly hard to pull it off. I call that achievement.
