Those Who Can

Why Don't Some Students' Scores Improve? Part I: Underperformers

June 20, 2007

by Cal Lanier

Some students don't improve. Categorizing and alleviating their symptoms as I spotted them became a hobby. I have no idea if there's a whole field of study on "test psych"; for all I know it's got its own department in education school. My test prep employer usually funnels kids who don't improve to me when their parents sign them up for tutoring rather than a class.

I identify problems and work out solutions with students in one on one tutoring sessions. Once I have the "cure", I can identify students in a class with the same problems and advise them without needing too much individual time.

My classification system is unofficial and broad: underperformers and "underimprovers". Underperformers, the larger of the two groups, struggle with the test itself, and their performance does not reflect their actual abilities. They will learn and master new skills, but still fail to demonstrate even existing skills in a standardized testing environment. Underperformance is always, in my experience, caused by stress, but is not "test anxiety" as commonly described. Test anxiety, in fact, doesn't impact performance at all.

Underperformance Diagnoses

Sleepiness

These students feel fine and raring to go up until the moment the proctor says "Begin working". Then they want to take a nap.

I can't find any description of sleepiness as a stress symptom. However, I can describe these symptoms to any class of students and see two or three students look shocked and raise their hand. They struggle through the test convinced that they are exhausted--and how can they expect to remember anything if they are exhausted?

Once they know that they're just feeling a weird form of nervousness, they can shake it off and perform. At that point, sleepiness becomes just another case of nerves, which doesn't significantly affect performance.

Boredom

Hands down, the boredom problem is the weirdest thing I've ever heard of. I first ran across it three years ago, with a slight, fair "shrugger", Steve. We were going through his diagnostic test and I was about to review a problem he'd missed.

"Oh, I know how to do that one."

"And yet, you got it wrong." (I say this with wry humor, as in, "Help me out here, kid.")

"Yeah. I was bored by then."

"You were bored."

"Yeah. Once I'm bored, I just randomly bubble in answers, even if I know the right answer."

Pause. Like most test prep instructors, I play for blood on tests of consequence. I remember the joy I felt on my SAT English Lit subject test (back when it was called an Achievement test, circa 1980) when I realized that the first passage was from Pride and Prejudice. Six years ago, I just barely clicked my last GRE analytical question bubble before time ran out, and to this day I still wonder if the test registered the answer or dinged me for not finishing. I can recite from memory all the free response questions from the CSET algebra and calculus subtests I took last month and at least half of the multiple choice questions.

Steve may as well have said "Once I'm bored, I suck the slimy coating off of dead chickens' eyeballs" for all I was capable of comprehending this behavior.

However, subsequent inquiry reveals that many students suck dead chicken eye have this boredom response. It goes like this:

The student feels fine until he runs into a problem that he doesn't know how to do. He tries to work it, but can't. He feels discouraged. He moves on to the next problem, but the joy is gone. If he runs into a second problem that he doesn't know--and he will--he stops trying. He just bubbles randomly, waiting for time to run out.

I get at least one student per class with this problem, which primarily affects math performance.

I don't know what else to call this, if it's not a stress response. The student emotionally and mentally checks out.

Treatment: Students must avoid all "boring" problems. They are to page through the test section cherrypicking the ones they know how to do.

After they've done all those problems, they usually have some time to kill. So hey, whatever. Do those other problems. Pick the least boring ones--after all, doing a problem is less boring than sitting around.

Students with this problem see between 50 and 100 points improvement on the next test. The improvement is offset at first by the decline in the second half of the test, as they're exhausted. They've never worked so hard before.

Stampede

This is the closest symptom to "test anxiety", but describing these students as "anxious" is as useful as describing a tidal wave as a ripple. A student stampedes because she sees a test as a wholly separate entity from school, knowledge, or personal ability. She'll keep her eyes on the teacher every second, taking furious notes, study and practice religiously, and then plow through the test as if none of that mattered. Behavior during the test is completely disorganized and very easy to spot in the answer patterns.

Some might call this response panicked, but "panic" doesn't communicate the frenzied activity that erupts. These kids don't freeze like deer in the headlights; they are, rather, ants three seconds after their hill has been kicked over.

Some students in this mode just stare at the answer choices and try to figure out which one looks best. Everyone does this occasionally, of course, if it's a test without a guessing penalty and they haven't a clue what the answer is. But these students don't do the work for any problem--including problems well within their ability level. They just stare at the answers.

Other kids will start to work the problem and then stop, give up, and randomly circle one. Rinse and repeat.

Treatment: Step one is to convince them that the test isn't a rigged booby trap. When working with SAT students, I often tell these students that they're only allowed to complete half the test questions in any section on the next practice test. They invariably pick up 100 or 200 points, and I can begin to peg their actual knowledge.

Step two is often unnecessary; many students figure out how to improve their performance from there. Others will overcompensate by working too slowly and need to be goosed. Still others will then reveal a second problem lurking behind the stampede, usually involving underimprovement.

The Fugue

I just finished working with an Asian American student who consistently knocked out 2250 SAT scores in practice, then shocked her first instructors by barely achieving 2000 on the real thing--three times in a row. She felt no nerves at all; in fact, she felt fine until she saw the score. She'd come to me for ACT prep and hadn't mentioned her problems until I asked about her SAT scores. When she mentioned that she'd been similarly disappointed in her AP European History score (practice tests consistent 5s, real thing a 3), I realized she had The Fugue.

I've only seen this a few times, although never with such a high scorer. The only symptom is a lousy score on the real test, stunningly lousy in comparison to actual abilities. The only explanation that makes sense is a fugue state--and I'm only partially kidding.

The students, who are naturally depressed and disheartened by their performance, readily accept this explanation and my "treatment". Thus far, all the students I worked with on this have very clearly defined comfort zones. They work at their desk. Or at the table. Or on the floor. They like the music on, or they like the music off. They like pencils, just so--or, of course, they like blue pens. They aren't what you would ordinarily call control freaks. All of their preferences are reasonable--but they're extremely strong.

Treatment: boot them out of their zone. I made my last student take practice tests standing, sitting, in noise, in silence, hanging from a tree. She worked test sections in half the usual time. I'd make her work math problems without a calculator, answer reading questions without reading the material first. She was also taking my class on the US History Subject test, where she was required to finish the practice tests in no more than 50 minutes.

I haven't heard how she did on the ACT (she's moving cross country), but her 740 US History subject test score was well in line with her practice tests--for the first time ever.

Unknown Cause

Say, for example, Frank. Why is he not performing to ability? Fortunately, Franks are rare.

What about "Test Anxiety"?

Test anxiety, otherwise known as "really really nervous", is simply not much of a factor in test performance and I have never seen any FTI with typical test anxiety. People who feel anxious fall into one of two groups.

Drama Queens: Yes, they are usually female. These students may or may not feel anxious, but they certainly talk about their anxiety. They are conditioned to think confidence is arrogance and have noticed that if they wail and hyperventilate about their fears of failure, everyone around them will tell them they'll do great.

Treatment: "Wow, you're nervous? Maybe you aren't ready! Maybe you should put off the test so you can study more!" Bumfuzzled, they will automatically correct the speaker and explain that they are, in fact, ready. To which the obvious response is "Then what on earth are you worried about?" Harshes their mellow something fierce, but drama queens must be discouraged.

If I know Her Majesty well and we've already had The Talk, I will say, "Oh, spare me the angst, toots. Find someone stupid for hair pats" and she'll laugh or be mildly wounded.

Silently Stressed

The other group of test anxious suffers more quietly and, although I see no sign that their nerves affect performance, they aren't wallowing in their angst like the drama queens. These students suffer because they have formulated a false dichotomy: anxiety or readiness.

They associate anxiety with a lack of preparation. If they can become perfectly prepared, the thinking goes, they will no longer be anxious. Thus, any anxiety is evidence that they are not yet perfectly prepared.

Treatment: They are nervous because they are nervous. They are ready if they are ready. They delude themselves about any further correlation. I inform them of something that should be blazingly obvious, but appears to have escaped them: many people never get nervous about tests. Some of them ace. Some of them tank.

So when they feel nervous, they are to remind themselves that butterflies mean bupkis.