Odds & Items: Beginnings
“Of all human powers operating on the affairs of mankind, none is greater than that of competition.” — Henry Clay
I remember myself as a seventh grader. All state-administered tests were in the cafeteria. Seemed like a sea of students, organized into rows, separated by an empty chair, which was either blue or dark blue. No student directly across from another student, so that if you looked up, you would see the back of the student’s head at the next table. I remember the mandatory, obedient silence. The booklets passed out but that couldn’t be opened. Flanked by the pencil, eraser, sharpener, and calculator—four function only. Everyone with the same five items in front of them in relatively the same layout. All of us knowing that inside the booklet sealed with a small, round, white sticker lay a bubble sheet of unnecessarily bright color, most likely one of the pastels. There was a multi-year-lasting rumor that an uncertain amount of points were awarded for bubbling your name correctly. I always wondered how they would know if you spelled it wrong. Eventually someone would tell us to begin and the only sounds would be pages turning, people coughing, and the short screech of chair on tile. A proctor was stationed every three tables, pacing endlessly, completely inaudible except for infrequent whispers heard only by the student spoken to. The air conditioning or heating units would kick on, then stop, then kick on, then stop, at almost unnoticeably slow intervals. This scene went on for hours.
I can’t remember the precise moment I started enjoying these settings. Perhaps it stems from living in a world where as children we are bred into competition. The first report cards are norm-referenced measures against a simple rubric of passing versus non-passing. Those scores are aggregated over time in a book that lists the scores of all, and turning the pages of that book will reveal other data, including attendance, class participation, and extra credit. It is no secret that these data exist. We may not at first realize that decisions are made from the data, but the first time a letter is sent home or a phone call is placed voicing a classroom or performance concern, we know we are being judged, and it’s not hard to figure out against whom. Over time the competition intensifies, as lettered grades are assigned. Our classroom tests are scored and handed back, in class, without a discernible filter protecting the security of our score from others who are also scored. Our parents or guardians often advertise these measures on refrigerators for siblings, friends, and relatives. As we progress through school the scale of available scores grows, and numbers are used to more accurately report our performance. Eventually we try out for team activities, and we compete against known peers for the right to compete against unknown peers. This trend continues through high school—where we are judged by SAT scores on an even larger scale, higher education—where we are judged against a larger population of people, and the workplace—where we are judged against a variety of performance factors including the two previously mentioned that get us the position in the first place. It is no surprise that children who are entered into a framework of competition are driven to compete.
In this blog series, I will explore the facets that govern this competitive framework and recount the curiosities that steered me into the Director of Content & Assessment Services chair for Vantage Education and Government. I hope you’ll join me in this sociological journey.
-Joe
