I can't really speak for any other teachers, but the process of putting together an exam is not really that easy for me. Although I'll recycle things from old exams, most of what I do is based solely on what I've covered in the class and how I think the students will handle it. It's really an extension of what I do in the classroom, which is to listen to the students and try to understand what they know and how well they know it. Sometimes I use a computer test generator, but more often it's cut and paste. For one of my tests this year, I took material from 3 different books, 3 different sets of resource materials (the extra stuff that teachers get along with the book, and 2 old final exams. All to make 50 questions.
Once that's done, you take the exam yourself to see how long it is and make sure that all of the questions can be answered. Once I used a test generator that spit out multiple choice questions where none of the answers were correct. I caught most of the mistakes in the editing process but missed a few. Good thing there wasn't a "None of these" option, or that would have been the correct answer for everything.
Not only are you taking the test to make sure it's correct, you're reading it to make sure that it's the correct length. Nothing makes for a stressful finals day like writing a 3 hour test for a 2 hour test period. When putting the test together, I try to not look too closely at the specifics of the question, just type, because otherwise I get a skewed version of how long it takes to complete it. Then I have to equate how long it takes me to take a test to how long it would take a student. One would hope that I can complete a test more quickly than a student, but you never know.
Then I have to think about how long it would take students to do the exam as a multiple. This varies tremendously, anywhere from 4:1 to 10:1.
The other thing you are looking for, of course, is whether the students are actually familiar with the material you are testing. As much fun as it would be to create a test where all the questions looked as if they ought to be easy but are in fact impossible or completely different than the course material (hmmm, a Russian History question would look good here), the fun would be short-lived because of what happens in the exam room.
Typically, all the math exams are given simultaneously in the Named After Generously Donating Family Dining Commons (NAGDFDC). The teachers go down to the NAGDFDC about a half hour before the exam is about to start and start covering the tables with exams, scrap paper, and candy. The exams are distributed so that no two students from any one class are at the same table and the traditional candy is Hershey’s Miniatures and either DumDums or Jolly Ranchers.
Once this is done, we get ready for the onslaught. The students always seem quite energized and almost enthusiastic about taking the test, or at least about getting to their seats. As they rush by the teachers call out their colors- the exams are keyed with a colored cover sheet. At some point a couple of years ago, I came in possession of a ream of neon orange paper, which nobody seemed to want back when I had taken a few sheets, so I’ve been orange for the past couple of years. This time, someone else snagged orange so I was what they call Canary, a pale yellow that is the epitome of blandness.
It’s traditional for math teachers to put a cartoon on the cover of their exam. I rarely do that, because my classes tend to be cartoonish enough without outside assistance, but this year for Geometry I saw one where there were a bunch of geometric figures hanging out at what appears to be a cocktail party. This looks like more fun than most cocktail parties I’ve attended, and would have the added curiosity of seeing two-dimensional figures consuming three dimensional drinks. In this cartoon, a figure of some sort is “standing” between two straight figures and says something like, “Well Tom here is also a parallel line, so it’s not surprising that you two haven’t met.” Funny, eh?
Once we get the kids settled down we’re ready to start and the kids get to work. Then next two-plus hours consists solely of wandering around the NAGDFDC, looking around for students with their hands up.
The early questions usually pertain to how to record answers (yes, multiple choice means you can just write the letter, not the whole answer, in the space), should they show their work and do I have an extra calculator. We quickly settle into a rhythm of questions ranging from “How do I do this?” something I’m amazed students have the nerve to ask during an exam, to “is that 35 or 85 in that diagram?”
The more difficult parts are when as student is stuck and you know they just need a little boost to get the answer. Earlier in my tenure, I would tend to be very helpful in that kind of situation, which I eventually realized was too helpful. How stupid is giving someone a test to see if they know stuff and then telling them if they don’t? So now the most I will try to do is structure the way someone is thinking abut something, to put it into some sort of smooth logical flow that combined with a basic knowledge of the subject could culminate in a correct answer. This is an unnecessarily poetic was of describing what happens, but it’s accurate.
Another difficult situation is when a student is simply freaking out. It’s happened to me a few times and I have no idea if it’s more or less frequent for teachers. I’ve gone so far as to take a kid out of the NAGDFDC for a short walk, but more often will just try to encourage them to stop for a moment and breathe. Staying calm is an underrated test-taking technique.
And occasionally I’ll get entangled with another teacher’s students, either because they’ve got too many other students calling on them or because I know the student. This has the potential to get sticky, because I don’t know what their teacher would be willing to tell them.
The most frequent question we get is “Do I need to simplify?” This is a deceptively simple (sigh) question. All math answers should be simplified except for very specific circumstances (AP exams, for example, do not require even such rudimentary simplification as adding two numbers together). However, many students do not have a solid understanding of what constitutes a simplified answer. This raises the danger that in the name of simplification they will do things that are unnecessary and wrong.
I once gave a test where every single student got the correct answer (in one step) and then continued on by, performing one incorrect, ill-advised, and perhaps nefarious action after another until all they were left with was a pool of nonsense symbols. That’s simple in its own way, but until we’re accepting things like a zillion, not what we’re looking for. The most frustrating kind is when the student has a perfectly correct answer and is asking if they “can leave it like that.” Understanding the concept is only one part of the learning process. Knowing what the answers are supposed to look like is nearly as important. That may seem unfair but that’s what life is like too. And also just like life, sometimes all the kids want is more candy.
The final stress point comes as time is beginning to run out. Students can begin to panic and beg for additional time. This is a good opportunity to bargain for money or manual labor, but we are discouraged from doing so. This year, everyone finished close enough to on time that there were no issues. A first for me. Maybe I really am getting good at this.
And now it’s time for the last stage, the grading. This is no fun at all, but it has the advantage that when you are done, you are done. Every other step has something subsequent, but this is, after all, a final exam.
No comments:
Post a Comment