More Than a Score

by Jesse Hagopian

  But it was not just teacher rage and disillusionment that allowed the newly formed Badass Teachers Association to take off, it was also the approach to organizing that it employed. In April 2014, provoked by a toxic package of “reforms” forced through the New York State legislature by governor Andrew Cuomo, which included Common Core–aligned tests that were so long and difficult they resembled a form of child abuse to many—ten thousand families throughout New York decided to opt out their children from state tests and start a movement to push back against the testing. What made this movement so unique was that many of its leaders were Republicans and conservatives, some of them aligned with the Tea Party, who welcomed working with liberals, leftists, and leaders of local teachers unions. Never before in the state, or perhaps anywhere else in the nation, had a movement this diverse arisen to defend local control of public schools and fight back against uncontrolled testing. Keeping such a politically diverse group together was difficult, but two groups were created in the midst of the test revolt that were committed to that approach—Parents and Teachers Against the Common Core and the Badass Parents Association, formed with my help by a libertarian intellectual named Michael Bohr, who said only a “multipartisan” approach could defeat Common Core, one in which people kept their core beliefs but worked across the spectrum to defeat policies that threatened their schools and their children.

  It was in these groups that I met the two key figures who would help make the Badass Teachers Association the force it is today: Priscilla Sanstead, whom I met in the Badass Parents Association, and Marla Kilfoyle, a Long Island teacher and parent who was a major force in Parents and Teachers Against the Common Core. While Priscilla and I founded the group, it was Marla’s idea to have a recruiting contest on Sunday, June 16, that put us on the map. In one hour that afternoon teachers competing for the designation “Badass Teacher of the Month” drew more than a thousand members into the newly formed group. By the end of that weekend there was a buzz surrounding the group that began to resemble what Occupy Wall Street had inspired. For the second time in two years, a movement with an improbable name was moving to the forefront of social justice activism in the nation.

  However, there the resemblance to Occupy Wall Street ended. Whereas Occupy Wall Street was committed to an anarchic, hyper-democratic governance structure, Priscilla and Marla, who were both organizational gurus, decided to create a complex structure that allowed for the creativity of the membership to find organizational outlets while clamping down hard on those who promoted positions that would split the group. Their first stroke of genius was to do everything possible to encourage members to use the arts to express discontent with current education policies—whether poems, songs, music videos, memes, innovative designs for everything from bumper stickers to T-shirts—and adopt the symbol of the bat, along with Batman imagery, to give the group a distinctive identity. The result was an explosion of creativity, much of it with a humorous edge, that made the Badass Teachers Association Facebook page an exciting, fun-filled place. What took place could be described as “the revenge of the arts teachers”—as the test-driven policies of the Obama and Bush administrations had succeeded in marginalizing the arts in public schools throughout the nation. Payback could be seen every day on the BATS Facebook page.

  Another organizational innovation Priscilla and Marla introduced, with my full support, was to create a structure to carefully monitor the BATS Facebook page to delete posts that might prevent teachers of diverse political perspectives from being comfortable in the group or that took time and energy away from the group’s political actions. We developed a team of trusted page administrators—now numbering sixty-one—to carry out this function, inspiring charges of censorship from those whose posts were deleted but allowing the fragile unity of all teachers committed to defending public education from attack—whether left, center, or right—to be preserved. To keep discussion on mission, we clamped down on any posts that challenged the name of the group; on posts that took a position on guns or religion; on posts that attacked the noneducation policies of either of the major parties; on posts that were racist, sexist, or homophobic; and on posts that used political clichés to demonize people on the right or the left. Many people predicted this approach would destroy the group; in fact, it may have made more teachers feel safe to join it, as discussion was generally kept focused on issues directly related to policies that affected teachers and their experiences “on the ground.”

  But perhaps most important of all, the group’s founders—and this was more Priscilla and Marla than me—created a decentralized structure that allowed the incredible talents and energies of the teachers who gravitated to us to find an outlet. This took two forms: the creation of state BAT organizations that could mount actions based on local conditions, which varied greatly from state to state and region to region, and the creation of special-interest groups—BATS in Higher Education, BATS in Special Ed, BATS Under Fire, Author BATS—which reflected the full array of issues teachers were passionate about and challenges they face. This allowed BATS to simultaneously have a strong, clear, national identity while giving members the opportunity to launch actions and discussions with smaller groups of people who shared their concerns. There is no other education activist group in the nation that has a structure like this—a national organization with over a hundred functioning subgroups working within it. In that respect, BATS has more in common with the ACLU and the NAACP than with Dump Duncan, Network for Public Education, or Parents Across America, although Save Our Schools has some similar features.

  None of this could work without a passionate investment of energy by thousands of teachers around the nation who participate in the state BAT groups and BAT special-interest groups. Who are these teachers? Although I have not made a formal survey I would say the following: the vast majority are veteran teachers, with twenty or more years of experience, who are enraged at how they are being demonized, marginalized, and disrespected by those shaping current education policy. These are confident, talented people whose wisdom is being squandered and whose professional standing is being undermined. By giving these teachers—90 percent of whom are women—an organizational outlet, BATS has created a movement that education policy makers around the nation have learned to reckon with, and in some cases to fear.

  But when all is said and done, more than all the discussion and support groups, all the memes and videos, all the BAT T-shirts and bumper stickers, it is the actions the group has taken, and its political statements, that have put BATS on the map. Ever since mid-July, under the guidance of general manager Marla Kilfoyle, BATS posts actions for the week on its national page. These range from Twitter swarms on Bill Gates, Michelle Rhee, Arne Duncan, the Koch brothers, and ALEC, demanding they stop demonizing teachers and promoting school privatization to organizing support for protests against school closings in Chicago, Philadelphia, Newark, and Camden; to bombarding elected officials around the nation with calls, emails, and tweets demanding they stop seizing teacher pensions, undermining teacher tenure, decertifying teachers unions, giving preference to charter schools and Teach for America, and rating teachers on the basis of student test scores. Because of such coordinated actions, teachers around the country, leaders of teachers unions, and education activists like Diane Ravitch now call on BATS for help whenever teachers and public education are under attack.

  BATS has also produced important position papers on key issues in education policy—ranging from the Common Core State Standards to Teach for America—and members have testified at numerous hearings and policy forums sponsored by school boards, legislatures, and state education departments around the United States. Our next big steps will be organizing a teachers March on Washington (July 28, 2014) and running candidates for state, local, and union offices. Three of our BATS are running as write-in candidates for governor—in Florida, New York, and Connecticut—and scores more are running for school boards, city councils, state legislatures, and leadership positi
ons in their teachers unions.

  The explosion of energy this organization has triggered is unlike anything I have experienced in years of participating in social justice movements since the 1960s. The provocation has been education policies so profoundly misguided, destructive, and corrupt as to defy the imagination. But the response reflects the immense talent, energy, and idealism found among America’s public school teachers—a group whose abilities policy makers have profoundly underestimated. The Badass Teachers Association is what those of us who grew up in neighborhoods like Brooklyn would call payback. America’s teachers, truly a sleeping giant, have awakened and it turns out they are BAD TO THE BONE!

  Standardized Testing and Students of Color

  I’ll never forget the day that my students lost their science experiment. I was teaching fourth grade in East Harlem, and we were in the middle of a weeklong investigation. Teams were assembled with trays of powders and liquids. Students were busy all over the room mixing and pouring, making observations and recording them. At one point in the proceedings my supervisor entered the classroom and told my students to stop what they were doing. As she held the door open, youngsters from another classroom delivered stacks of test preparation workbooks. My supervisor turned to me and explained that we needed to stop our experiment and immediately begin preparing for the upcoming state standardized tests. Assuming I misunderstood her, I suggested we would begin test preparation immediately following the experiment in progress—since it was in progress. She clarified: we were to clean up that very moment, and begin test preparation. No more science experiment.

  There’s something reassuring about the tests. Every student takes the same test, so there’s an appearance of fairness. The poor and the rich are treated the same, apparently. Every student receives a score, so there’s the semblance of transparency. Numerical scores provide an easy-to-grasp gauge of student progress: high scores are good, low scores are not. So it makes sense, on some level, for everyone—students, teachers, and administrators—to focus on raising test scores. If scores go up, that means students are learning and growing. It shows that teachers and administrators are doing their jobs. I don’t entirely blame my supervisor for canceling our science experiment. Her action was logical. Our school was populated by students who traditionally have not done well on state standardized tests. Low scores or slow progress in raising scores could mean bad things for students, teachers, administrators; they could even herald the end of the school itself. So administrators are forced to prioritize raising test scores. In turn, teachers must force students to focus on raising their test scores.

  The idea that standardized tests can be a lever of advancement for people of color has some powerful roots. There was a time when black people and other US “minority” groups were excluded from public sector employment, for example. Working for the government in transportation, social services, or education, you pretty much had to know someone to get a foot in the door. When civil service exams were introduced, many (but not all) people who had previously been excluded were now at least potentially included. To this day, bus drivers, firefighters, and many other public sector employees get their positions by taking a test. In most people’s minds, a test is an opportunity, and believing in our children and encouraging our children means teaching them that they can pass anyone’s test.

  For people who have experienced racism in the schools, standardized tests can seem like part of the solution. In 2013 I participated in an event at a public school where parents, educators, and students came to discuss high-stakes standardized testing. It seemed to me that most of the attendees were already opposed to the spread of such tests, but at least one man was on the fence. Toward the end of the discussion, this parent rose to ask a question. He was dark-skinned and had an accent I couldn’t place. His question, as I remember it, was something like: “I hear what you are saying about the problems of these tests, but what if a teacher doesn’t like my child or discriminates against my child? Isn’t the test more fair than the teacher’s judgment?” From where that man was sitting, the choice between a standardized test and a prejudiced teacher was no choice at all.

  I once asked the Chicago public school teacher Xian Barrett how he deals with these thorny questions. His advice was simple: “When parents raise those difficult issues, that’s when you have to deepen the conversation.” I thought of Xian when I was sitting backstage with a black parent at a right-wing television talk show. He was about to go on the air and talk about how great his kid’s charter school was and why he supported school choice. I was about to go on to talk about how competition and choice were harmful to the universalist goals of public education. But instead of clashing backstage, we deepened the conversation. I asked him a lot of questions about his child’s charter school and what he liked so much about it. As it turned out, the things he liked were the things public school parents have been fighting for all along: small class sizes, real arts education, science labs—in a word, resources.

  Likewise, when we deepen the conversation about standardized testing, we usually discover that parents and educators want similar things for our children. If standardized tests are widely and loudly touted as an antiracist measure of opportunity and fairness, some parents who are desperately searching for some measure of fairness for their children might latch onto that. Those of us who are opposed to high-stakes standardized testing shouldn’t moralize with people, or disparage their viewpoints or their experience. Rather, we have to validate their experience and find a way to deepen the conversation.

  In my mind, we can find a lot of common ground on resources and curriculum. Of course, I think teacher training is important. It is absolutely essential that teachers be trained to respect the languages, cultures, and viewpoints of students and their families—and engage them in the learning process. But this should never lead us away from demanding the kind of educational redistribution that this country refuses to take seriously. My experience as a student has convinced me that resources are central. On scholarship, I attended an all-boys’ private high school. As one of the few students of color (let alone black students), did I experience racism and prejudice? Absolutely. However, there are aspects of my education that I wouldn’t trade for anything—the opportunity to read whole novels and discuss them in small classes, the opportunity to participate in several sports teams, to put on plays, to engage in organized debates, and to practice giving speeches. If, for my own child, I had to choose between an amazingly well-resourced school with a fabulously rich curriculum staffed with some prejudiced teachers, on the one hand, and a resource-starved school with progressive, antiracist educators who were forced to teach out of test-prep workbooks on the other, I hate to say it, but I would choose the resources every time.

  Our society is currently spending untold sums to create more tests, more data systems, more test preparation materials, ad nauseam. And then they have the audacity to tell us that these are antiracist measures! Of course, all this focus on testing is a huge market opportunity for the private companies that provide all these services and materials. What is never under serious consideration is the idea that we could take all those same millions of dollars and create for all children the kind of cozy, relaxed, child-centered teaching and learning conditions that wealthy kids already enjoy.

  It’s not just that my students lost their science experiment. Science is about asking questions and learning how to find your own answers. It turns out that’s not a bad way to approach literature, or mathematics, or history, or art, or social studies, or anything else that you want to learn about. But formulating your own questions and then trying to figure out what you might do to answer them takes a great deal of time. And when you’re dealing with a population of students whose natural intelligence, curiosity, creativity, and brilliance tend not to register so well on standardized tests, then, if the stakes attached to those tests are high, time is one thing you don’t have. The survival of my school required us to spend a ridiculous amount of
time in test-preparation mode. From that perspective, tests—and the high stakes associated with them—were most definitely not a measure of fairness or of justice or redistribution but actually meant my students spent even less time working with the resources they did have.

  When I was a student in public elementary schools, I definitely took tests. I took tests created by the teachers and I even took some standardized tests. However, I never remember anyone encouraging me to prepare for them. I certainly do not remember feeling that my future, or the future of my teachers or of the school, hung in the balance. Tests were just tests. I took them to show my teachers how I was doing, with almost no pressure attached. When I began my career as a public school elementary teacher in 2003, things were very different. A breaking point for me was the idea—presented to the staff in a professional development session—that the test itself should be the object of a genre study. Our reading and writing units were more or less organized around genres. One unit on poetry, another on memoir, the next on informational texts, and so on. Now we were to insert a new genre—the standardized test. Studying this genre required students to get into the head of the testmaker, understand their strategies for trickery, for offering false possible answers, for writing questions in a purposely confusing manner, and so on. And for the record: such lessons are effective. You can teach an eight-year-old how to do process of elimination in a multiple-choice test, and you can improve their scores by doing so. When wealthy students have to take a high-stakes test (the GREs, SATs, LSATs, or MCATs—and the value of even these are increasingly called into question), their parents often hire very expensive tutors who teach them the specific nature of the test. Do you lose points if you leave a question blank? If not, you might be better off leaving questions blank than attempting to answer them. That’s important to know! Or is it? Should an eight-year-old learn things like that? Is that justice? And given the fact that it is precisely those students who have the least resources who will inevitably have to spend the most time in preparation for these tests, we have to ask: is that fair?