Category Archives: Assessment

No Pathway to Graduation

11/6/2019 EDIT: See the comments for some updated information since the post originally published. –mg

Last spring, the state legislature made a policy move that, in the Tweet-length-version, seemed like a win for kids often marginalized in our system. The oft repeated phrase? “Legislators delink state tests from high school graduation.”

The essential premise as I understand it: The current assessment system (SBA) didn’t deserve greater weight than the rest of a student’s academic performance when it came time to determine if the student had earned their diploma.

Ultimately, this premise prevailed, and the resulting policy established eight separate pathways toward earning a high school diploma. So far, so good. I’m on board.

Unfortunately though, as I’ve tried to sort out what this means for my current students, I can’t help but be concerned. Unless I’m missing something big, there still will be a handful of kids… particularly in the graduating class of 2020… for whom no pathway to graduation exists.

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The Care and Feeding of the Twice Exceptional Child, Part One

“Twice-Exceptional” (2E) is a term used to describe a student who is both gifted and disabled. These students may also be referred to as having dual exceptionalities or as being gifted with learning disabilities (GT/LD). This designation also applies to students who are gifted with ADHD or gifted with autism.

Last year, at the end of the school year, I overheard one of my mothers talking to other parents, telling them how hard it had been to get her child admitted into the Highly Capable (HC) program at our district because “no one in the district understands twice exceptional children.”

I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t the time or place. But her child was not the first 2E child I’ve had in my class. He certainly won’t be the last.

Yet I am sure every parent of a 2E child feels the same frustration she felt.

First of all, it can be hard to identify 2E children for any of their needs. They are intellectually advanced enough to devise coping mechanisms to help overcome some of their disabilities. At the same time, those disabilities are like anchors that weigh them down, not letting their intellectual giftedness shine. They can look bright but unmotivated, advanced but lazy. They can look too high to qualify for special ed services but too low to qualify for HC services.

In truth, they may need both.

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The Equity of Alternatives

Offering alternatives to students is, ostensibly, a great thing to do. We can all agree that individualized learning that inspires every student to meet their own potential is ideal. However, it is wrong to assume that we can legislate such alternatives and extra options into existence, especially in small, rural schools.

As an educator in a rural district, I have spent many years observing how our students often have less access to the options that are readily available in larger and urban districts. For instance, in addition to fewer electives, we offer few opportunities for students to take AP or dual credit courses, forcing many of our best scholars to travel forty miles to a community college as Running Start students. Additionally, where other districts had classes to support students who failed the state assessments in math or language arts, we did not have the resources or staff to offer such dedicated courses. Instead, because we are committed to our kids, our staff has worked outside of the regular schedule to support them and create Collections of Evidence or prep for test retakes.

The fact is, in small schools, it is most likely that everyone gets the same offerings, and individualization can be difficult, because it is expensive. Granted, many small schools have gotten very creative to offer programs to their students that go above and beyond the core offerings. There are online programs that support individuals as they explore their interests, and many great educators in small schools offer outstanding and creative programs that would be the envy of the larger districts. Such enhancements in rural schools depend on administrators and teachers with extra energy and creativity to spare.

So, now we have the ultimate in alternatives- an alternative to passing the Smarter Balanced Assessment. New legislation rather vaguely outlines how the state assessment is no longer directly tied to high school graduation. Almost everyone is celebrating this change and hailing the final victory against high stakes testing. I am less enthusiastic.

You see, what happens next is still a mystery. House Bill 1599 (summary on page 31) effectively delinked the statewide assessment from graduation requirements, BUT it did not let anyone off the hook for proving mastery in language arts and math. Students will still take the test, and passing it is the easiest and clearest way to prove mastery. The bill also added a lot more to the High School and Beyond Plans that students must have. Districts will all have to determine what is meant by “graduation pathway options,” and they will have  to adopt academic acceleration policies for high school students. It sounds like we will have more requirements, but not more money.

In small rural districts, that means figuring out how do the most with the least support. And who misses out? Students do.

When the state steps back and puts more on the districts, it can be a benefit. However, look at it through the lens of a small district educator. I predict that determining mastery of core subjects will become the responsibility of local entities. In large districts, that will still require a level of accountability. It is possible that the people in charge of determining the students’ mastery of a subject in a larger district could be both qualified in the subject and not the direct instructors of the students in question. In a small district, when a department has so few people in it, who makes that call? Who has the expertise? Who is accountable for the instruction received by the student? Is it the same person?

So, what if we are allowed/expected to offer courses that replace the assessment? We implement the instruction. We score the work. We make the determination. It sounds great, if you are ethical, equitable, and without bias. But, are you? And that doesn’t even address the issue of how small districts will have the funds to offer such a class for a small handful of kids.

I know, I know… the test has problems with equity and bias, too. I’m just saying that these are ongoing issues, delinking the test or not. And, more importantly, solutions to these problems are very different in small districts, and small districts have very little pull on the legislature.

Having common requirements for students can be limiting, but, in many ways, it ensures that all students get the education our public schools promise to provide. All districts have their challenges, and small, rural districts have some extreme challenges when it comes to offering a variety of courses. When we loosen up the requirements for schools and give way to local control, we are going to see problems with equity. Where is the oversight for this? How do we pay to support it and monitor it? How can we ensure that students in every district in Washington are still getting the skills they need to be successful?

I know that the one thing a small district does have is the opportunity for all players to sit at the same small table and come up with common solutions. Our staff will do what’s best for our kids, and I imagine it is the same all over Washington. I sincerely hope that it is.

I would love to hear some other views on the subject. Are you seeing only positive outcomes from the change? Does anyone else worry about the consequences? Let’s talk about it.

 

Differentiating around the Traffic Jam

At the end of last school year, I had a heated exchange with a colleague about the concept of “differentiation.” I have evolved the mindset that it is my responsibility as teacher to attempt different strategies to enable students to access and demonstrate learning. My colleague’s perspective was that this was setting students up for failure. Her claim was that the world doesn’t do for people, so in her classroom, it was the student’s responsibility to do what was asked, how it was asked. In the real world, when an employee is given a task, that employee must execute the task. That’s the way it is.

Besides, she concluded, she didn’t have time to make 25 different lesson plans for each of her learners.

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Thinking about Feedback

In the last few weeks of school I was admonished by two students from different classes, and different schools actually, about the feedback I’d given them on their writing. There was not enough, basically, is what they both said.

I don’t disagree with them.

I remember the power of teacher feedback when I was in high school, and college. In fact, my graduate program did not give out letter grades. Each semester our professor/mentor/writing guru would write a half-to-full page review of our work. I was not alone pacing in the vestibule before the wall of student boxes afraid to pick up that powerful envelope, open it, and read what those professors said about me and my writing.

And that was after a semester of generous feedback. My whole master’s degree program was modeled on writers in conversation about their work and the great writers of the world.

As a professional I have read Nancy Sommers’ Harvard study, Stanford’s information on how to improve student writing through feedback and many other sources.

I get it.

Currently I teach four different English courses across seven sections, and they are all writing intensive. I love it and I don’t want a different course load. But there are realities I must face with this course load, like the amount of hours I can remain awake. And I don’t need much sleep.

I have rubrics designed to give as much feedback as a rubric can with the circling of a box. I hold individual student conferences, a few times a semester because I can say more than I can write, and I strive to, at bare minimum, note something working and something not working in a piece of writing so students can give it attention and amplify it or rework it. I think that works. And I know for a fact there are weeks and, sometimes months, where I do this really, really well, and there are weeks or months where I do not do this very well.

Here is what I am thinking about, offering up, and plan on working on next year: the way students ask questions about their writing. The students who questioned my level and quality of feedback had a legitimate concern. I looked back at their documents and remedied the problem by offering feedback and asking them multiple questions. I don’t mind doing that. But what has stuck with me most in the exchange is the fact that these writers (these student writers—though I’d argue we’re all student writers) did little more than complain about a lack of comments and never engaged with their own work at any level.

If a student won’t engage with their own work beyond, “is this good?” or “what’s wrong with this?” or “I need your feedback to reach my full potential,” then one problem in my classroom is not my feedback or lack of feedback, but the way these writers are engaging with their work. I have not taught them how to ask questions about their own writing. Good writers are good tinkerers. They always look at their work from one direction, then another direction, delete something, add it back in, re-arrange, etc. I need to find ways to foster that mentality in students. I never know if a piece of writing is “good,” and I know for sure I have nothing to do with a student’s “full potential.” Those, of course, are things they must work out for themselves.

I read interviews with writers obsessively, and can say with some confidence that the majority of great writers will acknowledge that the quality of a piece is ultimately measured by the writers’ internal satisfaction with it, with the knowledge they’ve done everything they can and it is time to abandon the work. What the world does or does not do with it is, well, up to the world. All artists know this.

Therefore, the writers I know and share my work with have conversations about our writing that center around language such as, “I’m having a problem with the ending….” Or “is the tone off in the third paragraph?” or “do you believe this character?” or “dear god, I can’t think about commas any longer, but I’m sure some of the commas are off in this, could you take a look?” The point is the questions are specific and come from a perspective of deep engagement with the piece of writing.

That is my new teaching focus in writing instruction. How do I foster attention (beyond telling them to pay attention to their language and to ask specific questions, which I’ve done for years) in a student writer?

Good thing I have some time to think about it.

Project, Products, and Publishing (or All’s Well That Ends Well)

Assessment. That’s a loaded word these days, particularly in the last months of the school year. But, what is it, really? Is it the state test? Is it an essay? Is it multiple choice?

Of course, the answer is yes to all of that, but there is so much more. We could get into the semantics of what is summative or formative assessment, and what type/mode/format of assessment is more valid or reliable or necessary. However, today I am interested in discussing one particular sort of assessment: publishing.

What I mean by “publishing” is this particular definition: to make publicly or generally known.

The Washington State English Language Arts Standards reference it:

W.9-10.6 Production and Distribution of Writing

Use technology, including the internet, to produce, publish, and update individual or shared writing products, taking advantage of technology’s capacity to link to other information and to display information flexibly and dynamically.

Ooh…and “to display information flexibly and dynamically!” That really gets to the heart of the matter, there. How do we assess this? How do we teach our students to publish? to create products? to display information flexibly and dynamically? And then, once we do teach these skills, how do we assess them?

My answer to all these questions is project-based learning. This last week, while my seventh-graders were busy toiling over their answers on the Smarter Balanced Assessment, my ninth-graders were wowing the public with their “Shakesfair” projects. Both of these assessments are valid. Both give me information that informs my practice. Both can really stress a kid out if they don’t have the skills or support. And, both can bring a sense of pride and accomplishment.

Animatic Project for Shakesfair 2018

The difference is that one can also be an entertaining and educational way to connect with families and the community. It can inspire creativity, and it can celebrate individuality. It can encompass so many aspects of a child’s intelligence, skills, and talents. I can tell you without a doubt that the projects my students create prove their understanding of the material we cover in class. They also extend the learning, showing the reading, writing, communication, and research skills I am teaching them. These are valid assessments, and they also “display information flexibly and dynamically.”

On the down side, projects can be a royal pain. They are messy, hard to manage, and time-consuming. They require a teacher to set firm guidelines and offer support in ways he or she never imagined, like problem-solving last-minute tech issues for an Animatic animation, or finding creative ways to serve non-alcoholic English trifle to hundreds of guests. While projects bring out the most creative and imaginative attributes of most students, they bewilder and frustrate others, often those with special needs. To avoid these pitfalls, projects take tons of preparation, patience, and dedication.

I am committed to assessing my students with projects several times a year. Sometimes these are project-based learning activities, and sometimes they are just projects. To understand the difference, check out the handy table here. Some of my project-based assessments are small, such as one day tasks chosen from a menu to show understanding of a text through multiple pathways. These are simple and not too terribly messy or complicated to score. Each grade level gets a couple big projects, too. Some are group projects, some are individual, and some are flexible. They choose. Student choice is paramount for successful projects. For all projects, I have carefully crafted rubrics and timelines and rules established over time. Of course, that was all accomplished through trial and error, pursuing a good idea and learning how terribly complicated it really was!

That said, project-based learning is not for every teacher. It takes a willingness to face the issues head on. It takes a lot of patience to guide students through the discomfort they often experience when they actually have choices. It takes a lot of nerve.

Now the nerve is what you need when you get to the publishing part. That part requires the PUBLIC. The public is your audience. They see the whole big, beautiful mess, with all of its warts and all of its wackiness. You have to be willing to let your students shine or fizzle in a public format. And that is very, very hard.

Historical Recipe Project

At our 14th Annual Shakesfair, my students were shining. Well, mostly. We had Renaissance Era a slightly messy smorgasbord of food – trifle, roast chicken, meat pies – served by enthusiastic students. We had music researched and played heroically by young musicians, and there was a variety of artwork created by students who surprised their classmates with their hidden talents. Others shared creative writing based on Shakespeare- short stories, poetry, and songs. Several this year chose analytical writing, critiquing plays and films and examining themes. A select few gave slide show presentations, and there were the always popular models of the globe theater. Students from previous years came in and begged to show the films they produced when they were freshmen, and we all enjoyed seeing their first attempts at film-making once again.

I have thirty freshmen this year and well over a hundred visitors joined them. Parents, grandparents, staff, upperclassmen, and members of the community came and viewed their work, displayed “flexibly and dynamically.”

It was an exhausting time. The project overlaps with a full month of our Shakespeare unit, but the last week is a flurry of activity. And, to top it off, I was proctoring the 7th grade assessment for three hours on the day of the event, with no prep time. Luckily, my students in my afternoon classes chipped in to help set up, and clean up was well-managed and fast. I have a system.

To those brave and crazy enough to take on project-based learning, I am here to tell you that it is worth it. You will never forget the creativity and enthusiasm of your students, and the praise of their families. And, neither will they.

Ubiquitous Globe Theater Project

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Do you assess with projects? Tell me how your students publish their work and create products to share.

Thoughts on Testing Season from the Heart of Testing Season

 

It is hard to sleep.

Often preparation, at this point, feels futile.

Changing schedules can feel as stressful as examinations.

Young students who love school often don’t want to go to school.

Teachers learn to hope and to let go.

This is hard on teachers too.

And administrators.

Administrative calendars fill with colors.  From March 5th to June 8th thousands of Washington students (as students all over the country) will take ELA, Math, Science exams, re-take exams, take make up exams, all during school days, in libraries, spare rooms, classrooms, headphones and computers must be found and provided, pencils provided, tools provided, time provided, proctors trained, proctors reminded, schedules changed, altered, and developed to both provide the lowest impact to a school and honor the time and intensity of the test takers.

A bumper sticker reads: a child is more than a test score. When Graduation is on the line it is hard to remember that a child is more than a test score.

As a Washington state student you want to be in the 2500 range for math and for English.

For Washington state:

In grades 3-8, students take tests in ELA, math, and science for federal accountability.
In high school, students take tests in ELA, math, and science for federal accountability.

For some students the exam is not stressful. The calendar change is not stressful. They will cruise through this, like a subway commuter. We are all happy for them.

From May 7th to May 18th hundreds of Washington students will take AP exams—a different exam offered each day, all offering the possibility for college credit.

It will be hard to sleep.

Last night I listened to Naomi Shihab Nye talk about books and the importance of voice for everyone across the world, but especially for children. Among the many inspiring and thoughtful things she said, was a story about one of her own essays that was used for a state standardized exam and how a reporter smuggled that section of the exam (essay and questions) out and showed them to her. She said she could only be certain of the answer for 3 of 10 questions about her own essay.

Ms Shiab Nye also mentioned that, though hailing from Texas, Washington State’s motto is her favorite. The motto is Al-ki, Chinook Jargon (a native pidgin trading language of the PNW) meaning “by and by.”

This is my new mantra for testing season, by and by. Presently, be present, as things will happen, things will pass, students will succeed, students will fail, and by and by we will proceed with school, with all sorts of tests, and with our lives.

Failure and Its Uses Part Two

I will pick up from my previous post by describing a recent assignment in my AP Language classroom, but first want to address a few things that have been brought up in the comments to the “Part One” post. A few people mentioned that one situation evolving out of the reaction to decrease failure is to homogenize, or lower standards in order to avoid failure and create one vision of success. I think this is true—to a point. I’m sure it happens, but I’m also leery of the tone of such an assumption. I’ve never met an educator who mindfully, consciously, and intentionally compromised their academic integrity and lowered standards for students to simply pass them along and avoid failure. I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, but I am saying I’ve not been party to it in fifteen years and working in three school districts. By-and-large teachers are an ethical bunch who care about learning. Even the system of second chances mentioned in my previous post, does not imply a lowering of standards. What it does is offer second chances in ways I’m concerned are unhealthy to the learning process.

The other comment from part one I would like to address coincides with a recent post by one of my colleagues here at “Stories from the Schools.” One problem with evaluation and pacing in the public schools is the arbitrary nature of batching students by age and assuming that they learn at the same pace. I agree this is problematic and worthy of long discussion. I also agree that this is one arbitrary choice among many. I admire the project of the Khan Academy, and also admire Sal Khan’s stance of working to support public schools and not as an active critic of them. I think this is something worth exploring, but it is also something that much change at the larger systemic level first, or alternatives must be put in place or we set students up for an unfair failure. If a college does not know how to read a high school graduate’s transcript because their school eschewed grades, how does that serve a student? How do we ensure a fair and rigorous statewide or nationwide curriculum without the traditional A-F grade system? How do we ensure another arbitrary system accomplishing the exact same thing does not replace the A-F system? Difficult and complex conversations. Personally, I am currently interested in approaching these problems within the classroom, and within our current structures. Mostly, because it will impact students immediately.

What follows is my personal attempt to create a situation where students can take academic risk, fail, and have authentic second chances that provide the opportunity to learn and succeed. It is an assignment still in progress so I don’t know if it works, but this is something I’m trying.

In an attempt to shake students out of thinking like a student when writing in my class (and to get them thinking like a writer) I gave them the “read-it-like-a-reader-not-like-a-teacher assignment.” I told them they could write about anything they wanted, and that I would read until I lost interest—just as a general reader would. The point of the assignment is to make them stop playing the “game of school” and to find a more authentic academic voice. Most of my writing assignments read like letters so here is part of my intro:

“The challenge of writing compelling, analytical, academic essays is to merge two main things—thoughtful/provocative content and well-constructed prose. Substance and style. That’s what this class really is all about. We’ve been looking at what authors say and how they say it. I want you to pay more attention to what you have to say and how you say it. In other words, I want you to write like a champ. It will be hard, but I believe in you, as do your peers, your parents, and your dog/cat (take your pick).”

Then I gave them parameters regarding page lengths, etc., and I worked to define what would lose my interest—all based on work we’ve been doing in class via reading and writing assignments all year. This is key. The “read-it-like-a-reader-not-like-a-teacher assignment” came out of a specific class with a specific need, within a specific context. This is also why I am leery of technology based, independent learning platforms. Learning is dynamic in a human way, not a computerized logarithmic way. The assignment arose out of need, context, and the specific humans in the room. Here are my definitions from the assignment:

 

Definitions:

Lose interest: there are lots of reasons readers lose interest. For some, it is because there is a football game on. Or that it is raining outside. It is a relatively subjective thing, so I will attempt to put some parameters around this. I’m a forgiving reader (mostly). I’ve been a middle school or high school teacher for 14 years, so I’ve been trained to be a forgiving reader. I want my students to do well, and I want to be engaged in your writing. This is a good thing for you (a great thing actually). But I do lose interest when I run into the following:

  • Sentences that don’t say anything due to over use of abstractions, ambiguous syntax, or a general lack of clarity. (See Orwell revision sheet).
  • When people ignore the suggestions from George Orwell on the Orwell revision sheet (dead metaphors, pretentious language, jargon, etc.)
  • When arrogance seeps through the writing to the point the author appears not to care if other perspectives exist in the world.
  • When paragraphs or ideas within paragraphs appear unrelated (and I have an associative mind, so I can make some tenuous connections).
  • When writing feels formulaic, forced, or stylized inappropriately, and that there is not an authentic voice thinking through and communicating ideas.

What you are saying: equals the content of your piece. You can write about anything you like. Something connected to class or something that just matters to you. Technology, education, politics, a theme you wish had won in the class voting. Totally up to you. Note: I’m willing to read about any topic if the writing is strong enough.

How you are saying it: equals a conscious uses of grammar and rhetoric and style. You use devices we’ve discussed in class, you use sentence variety, fresh image or metaphor, your sentence mean something and flow together.

Are some of these subjective? Absolutely. But so is the attention span of any reader anywhere. In fact, I’d argue that my students have more information here about their reader than most writers. As the poet Antonio Porchia says in his book Voices, “I know what I have given you. I do not know what you have received.” I think teachers feel this way at times as well.

About half of the students earned an “F” on their first submission as I did not read past the first paragraph, or even the first sentence because the syntax was garbled or overly abstract or any other host of listed reasons. I drew the line, entered the score and told them, in proper Beckett style, to try again. They are trickling in (the deadline for the second submission is open), and some are improved. But the best part is the conversations have changed a bit. They are looking at their writing differently. They are not asking, “what do I need to fix?” but “how do I make this more engaging?” Which was the point. It’s not a perfect assignment, but I certainly feel it is one that fails better than most I’ve created this year. I also feel it is an assignment working to authentically engage students with both the course content and with their learning selves. They must face failure in a new way. I plan on adding a reflective letter assignment as the year ends asking them to discuss this assignment, the process for them, and the self-assess themselves as both writer and learner.

Failure and Its Uses–part one

One of my favorite quotes is Samuel Beckett’s “Ever tired. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” The line comes from Beckett’s send up on westward expansion—Worstward Ho. It is one of those bits of pragmatic wisdom that arises out of cynicism and sarcasm. The narrator meditates on endurance and strips away the idealism of manifest destiny by describing one version of existence though this series of declarations.

We are always tired. We constantly fail. Big picture—it doesn’t matter. Give it another go. We constantly fail. See what you can improve. This has been adopted by everyone from artists to Silicon Valley as a mantra for risk taking, but I don’t think, at its core, it is about taking risks. Beckett meant it as raw, elemental description of what it feels like to live. I admire the humility it inspires and in the face of the impossible task of teaching it often feels apt in its combination of desperation and hope.

Beckett’s quote has cropped up in my mind lately as I’ve had many, many discussions about 9th grade failure. OSPI has decided to focus on this statewide problem, (rightly) and thus failure has been a continual topic among educators across districts. One thing that has been troubling me is there seems to be a tension between 9th grade failure as a systemic problem and said failure as a curricular problem.

As OSPI’s website indicates, they are focusing on freshman because “9th grade course failure is a primary early warning indicator for dropping out of high school. Failure is a sign that the student is facing challenges that may be related to absenteeism, transportation, health issues, mental health or drug abuse, lack of parent support or supervision as well as in school issues such as bullying, lack of perceived relevance or not feeling connected or valued.”

As a classroom teacher, and as a department lead asked to help improve this situation in my department’s classes, I’m struck that only three of the nine indicators are items a classroom teacher can really attend to with any regularity. And I don’t work with anyone who does not strive to prevent bullying, make curriculum relevant, and help students feel valued. So, how do we go on? Continue reading

Differentiation: When Virtue turns Vice

I sincerely believe in the practice of differentiating instruction for the needs of learners. To help learners grow and improve, we need to meet them where they are and craft variations in output, outcome, process, scope or purpose in order to help students move from A to B…so they can eventually get to Z.

But, a heretical wondering has been bouncing around my head lately.

Over my career I have had many students who, when we are tasked with reading a novel or other long work, either by IEP, 504, or personal preference, end up engaging with the audiobook version of the text rather than the printed version. I’ve always considered that a crucial form of differentiation.

As I was preparing to teach the current unit (Romeo and Juliet) to my 9th graders, I was mulling over how to engage them with the intimidating complexities of Shakespeare. It had been a few years since I last taught the play, so on an early morning run I was going over past unit plans, assignments, and ways I had engaged students. I came to this conclusion: I wanted my students to gain confidence when faced with complex or intimidating texts. That, to me, was more important than whether they “got” all of the nuanced details of the play.

It was clear in my head: The act of reading was what I was trying to teach, to some degree, no matter what literary text we were studying. My learning goal wasn’t that kids simply knew who, what, when, where, and how: it was that kids had the skills to decode the written word in order to be able to figure those things out from reading.

My heretical wondering: Might differentiation inadvertently place students on a lower trajectory for success if that differentiation is misapplied? To be blunt: Will listening to the audio book help a teenager learn to process a text visually? Of course, audiobooks are a necessity for students with visual impairments, but if my goal is to help students improve their processing and comprehension of text, might differentiation such as audiobooks actually get in the way of developing that skill?

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