Rearticulating Writing Assessment for Teaching and Learning

Brian Huot

• Publisher: Utah State University Press
• Year: 2003
• Print ISBN: 9780874214499
• eBook ISBN: 9780874214703
• Topic: Languages & Linguistics
• Subtopic: Creative Writing
• Index: Languages & Linguistics

Brian Huot's aim for this book is both ambitious and provocative. He wants to reorient composition studies' view of writing assessment. To accomplish this, he not only has to inspire the field to perceive assessment--generally not the most appreciated area of study--as deeply significant to theory and pedagogy, he also has to counter some common misconceptions about the history of assessment in writing. In (Re)Articulating Writing Assessment, Huot advocates a new understanding, a more optimistic and productive one than we have seen in composition for a very long time. Assessment, as Huot points out, defines what is valued by a teacher or a society. What isn't valued isn't assessed; it tends to disappear from the curriculum. The dark side of this truth is what many teachers find troubling about large scale assessments, as standardized tests don't grant attention or merit to all they should. Instead, assessment has been used as an interested social mechanism for reinscribing current power relations and class systems.

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(RE)ARTICULATING WRITING ASSESSMENT

Naming this book has been quite an adventure. When the idea for its title and shape first came to mind, I originally thought to call it Reclaiming Assessment for the Teaching of Writing. Of course, as I thought through the title and reexamined the idea, I realized that to reclaim something meant that it had to be claimed in the first place. Unfortunately, writing assessment has never been claimed as a part of the teaching of writing. As far back as 1840, writing assessment was hailed as a better technology (chapter six contains a discussion of writing assessment as technology) for assessing student knowledge (Witte, Trashel, and Walters 1986). The use of essay placement exams at Harvard and other prestigious institutions in the nineteenth century was justified in response to the growing perception that students were underprepared for the rigors of university study. This notion of assessment as something done because of a deficit in student training or teacher responsibility is still with us in the plethora of accountability programs at the state level for public schools and in the recent national assessment programs advocated by the George W. Bush administration and adopted by Congress. Throughout the twentieth century, writing assessment became the tool of administrators and politicians who wished to maintain an efficient and accountable educational bureaucracy (Williamson 1994). The literature about classroom assessment was limited to an irregular series of volumes on grading student writing (see Judine 1965, for an example). At any rate, it would be inaccurate for me to advocate the re-claiming of writing assessment, when in fact it has yet to be claimed for the teaching of writing.

RE-IMAGINING ASSESSMENT

Although I contend that writing assessment has yet to be claimed for teaching writing, I have also come to challenge the whole notion of claiming assessment at all. Probably my dissatisfaction comes from the association of claiming with the concept of the stakeholder, a concept I discuss in more detail in chapters two and seven. Although I recognize that assessment must be a multi-disciplinary enterprise, something that should never be driven completely by the beliefs and assumptions of any single group, I don’t believe that all stakeholders should have equal claim, since those closest to teaching and learning, like students and teachers, need to have the most input about writing assessment and all important teaching decisions. If assessment is to be used as a positive force in the teaching of writing, then it makes sense that those with the most knowledge and training be those who make the most important decisions about student assessment. Using writing assessment to promote teaching is one of the most crucial messages in this book.

Once I rejected the idea of reclaiming assessment, for awhile I renamed the volume Re-Imagining Assessment for the Teaching of Writing, because I now realized that the assessment of writing had never been central to its teaching and that claiming was a problematic term for many reasons. Because this volume is an ambitious work that clearly extends beyond simply staking out a claim for teachers to assessment, I thought the idea of re-imagining would work because it seemed grander, bigger, more in keeping with the ambitious nature of my purpose. As I began to work on the volume, however, “re-imagine” seemed too grand, too big, too abstract. And, of course one could argue that we had never imagined assessment for the teaching of writing. In a response to an earlier, shorter version of chapter four published in College Composition and Communication, Alan Purves (1996) had objected to my use of the term “theory,” as being too big and abstract since he thought what I had constructed was something practical, important and useful, but not theoretical. My concern with theory is that it can be construed as distinct from practice, and my intent in this book is to blur rather than emphasize any distinctions between theory and practice. As I detail in chapter seven, I was flattered by what he had to say, even if I didn’t completely agree with him. On the other hand, I decided “re-imagine” was too big, since what I propose throughout this volume is less grand and more a reasoned response to the pressures, pitfalls and potential benefits from the assessment of student writing. My ideas that writing assessment can become a more unified field with a central focus (chapter two), that grading, testing and assessing student writing are separate acts incorrectly lumped together and that makes us miss the importance of assessment for the teaching of writing (chapter three), that all assessment practice contains theoretical implications (chapter four), that responding to student writing should focus more on the way we read student work and write back to them (chapter five), that assessment has been developed as a technology and can benefit greatly from being revised as research (chapter six), and that writing assessment can never be understood outside of its practical applications (chapter seven) are less a re-imagining than they are a way of seeing something old and familiar as something new and novel. It is in this spirit that I came to call this volume (Re)Articulating Writing Assessment for Teaching and Learning. I do think that the individual chapters I mention above and about which I will elaborate more fully can add up to a new understanding of writing assessment. My purpose in writing this volume was to look at the various ways in which assessment is currently constructed and to articulate a new identity for writing assessment scholars and scholarship.

(RE) ARTICULATION

Before I outline the basic tenets that guide this volume, its scope, what the reader can expect throughout and how the various chapters work toward its overall purpose, it is important to talk about what I mean by (re)articulating writing assessment and even what I mean by the term “assessment”—what it is I hope to explain about assessment’s connection to teaching and learning, why in some ways I think we need to reframe assessment for its pedagogical value, and why I think writing assessment has never been fully connected to teaching. I chose “articulation” as the what I wanted to do for assessment in this volume because it describes a kind of attention assessment needs but has never received. We need to talk about assessment in new ways, to recognize how ubiquitous it is within the process of reading and writing. Since we are constantly making judgments about the texts we read, we need to see how our judgments about texts get articulated into specific assessments or evaluations (terms I use interchangeably throughout the volume) and how these articulations affect students and the learning environment. My use of “(re)” illustrates that assessment has been articulated already, and that part of my work is to articulate it in new ways. It is not entirely clear to me that assessment has ever been articulated in ways advocated here—ways that support rather than detract from the teaching and learning of writing. I use the parentheses around “(re)” to indicate this ambiguity.

As is already clear in my discussion of articulation, assessment can be used to mean many things. I wish I had some definitive idea of how we could define assessment. Of course, we could point to some limited notion of the word as being involved with evaluating the performance or value of a particular event, object, or idea. This limited definition, though, it seems to me, misses the larger impact of our judgments and would not necessarily be focused within the context of school, or more specifically, the teaching of writing. It is one thing for me to read a piece of writing and say whether or not I like it. It’s another thing for me to make that statement in the classroom or on a student’s paper. I would contend that the type of classroom, subject, level of instruction, and other contextual factors would further define what impact my statement of value would have on an individual or others interested in that individual. The role I have or my identity in each of these situations also influences how someone might take or respond to my judgment. I remember my daughter being in third or fourth grade and having me help her with a paper she was writing. It took a little effort for me to actually convince her that she could improve her writing by having someone respond to it and then rewriting. She received an A+ on that particular paper and for awhile would exclaim to everyone how she was going to let me read her writing and revise accordingly (my word not hers) because I had helped her get so high a grade. Although she knew what I did for a living, it really carried no weight with her. It was only after she had actually profited from my judgment and advice that she would actually seek it, something I might add that she no longer does. My role as her father did not automatically identify me as an expert to her. On the other hand, as an instructor in a writing classroom, I am often aware of the great impact my judgment about writing could have on a particular student or the entire class. I also understand that the attention students accord my judgments is not unrelated to my role as the grade-giver in the class.

The idea that we as teachers may often not wish to state a specific judgment leads me to consider that an assessment in the formal sense may be more than just a specific judgment, but rather an articulation of that judgment. The form and the context of the articulation gives us some other ways to think and talk about a new understanding for assessment. Certainly, a statement I might make in class about something I value in writing or in a specific text could impact my students thinking or cause them to take up a specific action. For example, Warren Combs and William L. Smith (1980) found that although students in a course that emphasized sentence combining would write sentences with a greater number of T-units, students without sentence combining instruction would produce similar sentences by just being told that the teacher/examiner liked longer sentences. In other words, our statements as teachers in the context of a class can have a great deal of power or influence over students. Grades are probably the best example of this. Giving students an A or even a B, even when we suggest revision, probably doesn’t encourage them to revise, because the grade itself carries more weight as an evaluation than what we can say about revision. While grades are but one kind of evaluation we can give students, they tend to carry more weight than other assessment articulations because they are more formal and codified. Grades are part of a larger system of values that have been used to identify or label people. In education, grades are a totalizing evaluative mechanism. It is common for people to sum up their experiences as students by saying, “I was an A or C student.” In recent years, it has become common to see bumper stickers that proclaim “My son or daughter is an A student at [blank] School,” as if this says something inherently good about that child or his or her parents.

It’s important to note that while we may give a grade for many different reasons, what ends up getting articulated becomes a part of that larger system of values that has weight and influence far beyond the evaluative judgment we have initially made. Moves, then, to articulate our value judgments about student work in different ways illustrate the separation that exists between the judgment(s) we make and the statement(s) we can make about those judgments. These principles also apply to tests about writing that function outside the classroom. In fact, we might argue that assessment outside the classroom is even more formal and more codified than that within the classroom. For example, in placement testing we actually decide for a student where she will be placed for the next fifteen weeks or, perhaps even more importantly, where she will begin her college or university level writing instruction. Other writing assessments have similar power and can allow or prevent students from entering certain programs or receiving a certain credential. While we can base our judgments of student writing upon many different features, we can also articulate those judgments in different ways, and both the judgments and their articulation can have profound effects upon students and their ability to succeed. Furthermore, the articulation of judgment can easily be codified and assigned cultural value. I am reminded of the story one of my students told me about his two daughters. In the state of Kentucky, students submit writing portfolios as part of a state assessment program. The portfolios are assigned one of four scale points, but instead of using numbers, the scale is divided into Distinguished, Proficient, Apprentice, and Novice. During an argument the two children were having, one of them replied, “What do you know, you’re only a novice.”

If assessment consists of the judgments we make about student writing ability, the form these judgments can take, and the context within which these judgments are made, then a new articulation for assessment requires that we attend to both the way we make the judgments and the form of our statement(s) about them. Important to this understanding is a consciousness about the level of formality different articulations can take and what influence they can have. In defining assessment as both judgment and the articulation of that judgment, I am specifically interested in neutralizing assessment’s more negative influences and accentuating its more positive effects for teaching and learning. Just as Samuel Messick’s (1989b) theory of validity includes building a rationale for assessing in the first place, I think we need to examine why we might want to communicate a specific judgment to students or others about a student’s writing—what possible educational value would such an articulation serve for this particular student at this pedagogical moment?

Actually, my intention to (re)articulate writing assessment as a positive, important aspect of designing, administrating and theorizing writing instruction has its roots in early conceptions of assessment as progressive social action. The idea of assessment as social action is not new. Since its inception in ancient China, assessment was supposed to disrupt existing social order and class systems (Hanson 1993). However, as we all know, assessment has rarely delivered on this promise. Instead, assessment has been used as an interested social mechanism for reinscribing current power relations and class systems.

This overall negative impression of assessment is exacerbated in composition, since one of the driving impulses in the formulation of composition as an area of study in the 1970s was against current-traditional rhetorical practices that emphasized correctness and the assessment methods to enforce it. One of the responses from the composition community to the negative effects of assessment has been to avoid assessment altogether. One of the results of composition’s avoidance of assessment issues has been that major procedures for assessment like holistic scoring were developed by testing companies based upon theoretical and epistemological positions that do not reflect current knowledge of literacy and its teaching. If we can influence and change the agenda for social action in tests and testing, we can change writing assessment. Constructing an agenda for writing assessment as social action means connecting assessment to teaching, something people like Edward White (1994) and Richard Lloyd-Jones (1977), among others, have been advocating for nearly three decades. Instead of envisioning assessment as a way to enforce certain culturally positioned standards and refuse entrance to certain people and groups of people, we need to use our assessments to aid the learning environment for both teachers and students.

Because assessment is the site where we marshal evidence about what we will value globally as a society and more locally as teachers, researchers and administrators, we can, by changing assessment, change what we will ultimately value. It is no secret that most standardized tests as well as local judgments about academic achievement or aptitude are biased. Women and minorities, for example, score lower on certain tests, even though there may no real reason to question their ability and achievement. We can label such tests biased, and some tests do issue point values in calculating the disadvantage a certain person may have on a particular test. We can even adjust our judgment based upon this form of social action because, like affirmative action, the assumption is that scoring poorly on a certain test doesn’t mean a person doesn’t deserve a particular opportunity. On the other hand, this kind of affirmative or social action implies deficit. Since affirmative action is increasingly under fire, it is time we visited fully the impact of assessments upon minorities, so that instead of adjusting test results, we could use tests that are fair to all. What if the tests themselves were changed, so that students of higher income-level parents, for example, wouldn’t receive a disproportionate number of the higher scores? This not only eliminates the bias in the current assessment, but it also changes the public evidence about what is valuable—ultimately influencing not only our perception of merit but also our perception of who the bright and capable people are in this country. An agenda for assessment that recognizes it as an important element for social action allows us the ability to guard against over-privileging the values, gestures and customs of certain groups and provides assessment with the potential to become an agent for progressive social change that includes and highlights the improvement of educational environments and opportunities for all students.

Although the potential for assessment is large, its overall track record is dismal. Students and teachers have seldom recognized or been able to harness its potential to improve teaching and learning. In fact, assessment has often been seen as a negative, disruptive feature for the teaching of writing. The quote below from an issue of English Journal is typical of this attitude:

This is not a topic the present editors would have chosen to focus on in their last issue of English Journal. Nor is its placement immediately after a section on romanticism particularly appropriate. Assessment is not our favorite subject. (English Journal 1994, 37)

This stance toward assessment, of course, is understandable given the lack of input from teachers in outside assessment and the punitive and pervasive nature of assessment in current traditional writing classrooms, a point I explore in chapter three where I argue for the use of assessment as a viable classroom strategy for the teaching of writing. One of the overall goals of this book is to create new attitudes toward assessment that can help harness its power for teaching and learning. Much of what is wrong with assessment, both in the way it is conceived within the teaching of writing and in the practices of assessment outside the classroom for programmatic, institutional, or political purposes, can be traced back to the lack of attention to assessment as a viable and legitimate part of the teaching of writing. As I argue in chapter three, people who write well have the ability to assess their own writing, and if we are to teach students to write successfully, then we have to teach them to assess their own writing.

It may very well be that much of the tumult surrounding the teaching of writing during the twentieth century, and in particular the recent backlash against certain theories and methods, might be related to the neglected status of theory and practice in writing assessment. Foucault (1977) and scholars in composition (Fitzgerald 1996; O’Neill 1998; Traschel 1992) argue that assessment is an essential factor in disciplinary formation. In fact, the argument could be made that composition as a discipline owes its initiation to the written examinations established by postsecondary institutions in the late nineteenth century. The shaping influence of assessment on composition cannot be underestimated. Both Peggy O’Neill (1998) and Mary Traschel (1992) make strong arguments concerning its central role. Our failure to pay enough attention to the role of evaluation has had far ranging implications beyond the development of adequate practices for writing assessment. We have failed not only to address the role of writing assessment in the ways we teach and write, but we have subsequently failed to theorize this influence at all. In a recent discussion of Stephen North’s The Making of Knowledge in Composition, James Zebroski (1998) notes that North’s inquiry into the way knowledge is made starts with the results of a doctoral examination. While Zebroski questions the origins of such an inquiry, it makes perfect sense to begin to look at how and where knowledge gets made based upon a moment of examination in which the values of individuals and the institutions they represent are most visible. Zebroski’s problem with North’s beginning is but one more example of the way assessment is undervalued. Foucault (1977) asserts that the examination is imbricated in disciplinary formation and identity. This relationship between assessment and identity and value in education is well articulated in Lauren Resnick and David Resnick’s (1992) contention that if we don’t test for something it will disappear from the curriculum. We need to articulate a much more conscious, theoretical and practical link between the way we think about assessment and the way we think about the teaching, research and theorizing of writing, recognizing that assessment is a vital component in the act of writing, in the teaching of writing, and in the ways we define our students, courses and programs. Because assessment is a direct representation of what we value and how we ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication Page
• Contents
• Acknowledgments
• 1 (Re)Articulating Writing Assessment
• 2 Writing Assessment As A Field of Study
• 3 Assessing, Grading, Testing, and Teaching Writing
• 4 Toward a New Theory Of Writing Assessment
• 5 Reading Like a Teacher
• 6 Writing Assessment As Technology and Research
• 7 Writing Assessment Practice
• Notes
• References
• Index
• About the author