No matches for NAPLAN despite so many dates
SOMEBODY needs to book NAPLAN a oneway ticket to Love Island. Because there sure ain’t no love for him here. Ten years after he was introduced to thousands of potential matches, he’s yet to receive a single rose.
To be honest, I used to be kind of interested in him. I thought he had some engaging qualities and I could even see a future together. After all, I already had a past with his American cousin.
Growing up in Texas, standardised tests were the norm. As a high achiever (ie NERD), I quite enjoyed them. I’d finish early and then read a book. It was paradise. (I’m pretty sure I had friends, but reading this I’m not sure why.)
Then the results were sent home and I’d smugly smirk in the knowledge of my pedigreed percentile.
But it turns out, NAPLAN isn’t so fun if testing is not your idea of a good time.
Now that my kids are the ones behind the desk, I don’t want this guy anywhere near them. He has a bad habit of making others feel worse about themselves.
NAPLAN has come under fire in recent years for focusing on only reading, writing, literacy and numeracy and ignoring what is known as the 4 Cs of modern learning – critical thinking, communication, collaboration, and creativity.
But actually, they forgot one C-word (no, not that one): confidence.
I’m not sure how you would test for that … but I do know that these ‘snapshot’ tests certainly don’t help create it.
I’m not advocating the ‘every child gets a ribbon’ school of thought, but I am suggesting that we look beyond the holy grail of an Agrade when it comes to assessing success.
And the one area that Australians – not just children and not just women – fail, is confidence.
From my first week in this country way back in 1991, I noticed it. The most insulting thing you could say about another girl was that she “loved herself”.
Huh?
I grew up in a country where Whitney Houston told us that learning to love ourselves was the Greatest Love of All.
The Tall Poppy Syndrome is well documented here, we don’t like it when people rise above. And to rise above takes confidence, so best nip that in the bud.
But it’s interesting to look back at my own high school class of 1994. Some of the most successful people were not those who scored top marks, but those who believed they were tops.
It’s not over-confidence or arrogance but the belief that they’re worthy to give anything a go. Somehow, we need to foster that.
There’s no love lost between my son and NAPLAN. The first time he sat it in Year 3 he wrote a persuasive instead of narrative text – and on the wrong topic.
He’s a super confident kid, but the nerves of that NAPLAN first date got to him. And that at a school which admirably downplays the test.
We never showed him the results, why knock that confidence? We know from his normal grades he literally had a bad day. But now that’s on his record forever.
Still, I’m pretty sure he’s going to be OK in life … no matter how he does on that test today.
That boy can tell a joke, sing a song and dance like nobody’s watching (although he does prefer an audience). Even more important, he’s a true empath. Forget his brain, his heart is head of the class.
I understand the point of NAPLAN. We’d like to know where our strengths and weakness lie, in our children and in our schools.
It just seems so superficial. Besides, if we’re really into this relationship, don’t we already know that?
Besides, we’re never going to make every child equally proficient.
The best we can do is teach our kids the basics and encourage them to follow what they enjoy.
It may not make them a fortune, but it just might make them happy.
Which is more than I can say of a future bound to NAPLAN.
Read Ann Wason Moore every Tuesday and Saturday in the