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Standardized Testing

I hate standardized testing.

With a passion.

It’s the thing that makes me think the longest and hardest about homeschooling.

My girls are both quite bright, with some of the highest grades in their respective class levels. I’m not saying this to brag; I’m just giving you context.

Because Maddie started her first-ever round of standardized testing yesterday, and she was terrified.

Maddie was worried she wouldn’t do well and I’d be mad at her. She was worried she’d fail and it’d make her teacher look bad. She was worried she’d need to go to the bathroom and end up having an accident in her underwear because of the strict rules surrounding bathroom breaks.

I keep telling Maddie that 1) the state isn’t measuring her, it’s measuring how well her school does its job; 2) she will do just fine on the test; and 3) I don’t give a rat’s butt how well she does on the test. I’ve explained to her that as long as she gives a good effort I’m content and she should be as well.

As we walked to school Tuesday morning, Maddie talked. Non-stop. Non. Stop. She was so nervous she couldn’t even pause to take a breath. And when she left school there was a skip in her step and relief written large across her face: she’d survived her first day! Yippee!

Have I mentioned I hate standardized testing?

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