True Story: When High-Stakes Testing Hits Home
Most of the posts on this site focus on practical strategies for improving assessment practices and advancing compassionate assessment frameworks. Today, however, I want to share something a little different—a personal story that continues to shape my perspective on testing and its impact on the people we serve. This story goes beyond policy and process and dives into the human element of what we do as educators and leaders in the world of assessment.
Years ago, while working at a state department of education overseeing the statewide assessment program, I received a call from a parent that I’ll never forget. The woman on the other end of the line was the mother of a third-grade student, and she was clearly distressed about the upcoming state test her child would soon face. As we spoke, I did what I always do in these conversations: I walked her through the format of the test, explained the kinds of skills it would assess, talked about how her child might experience it, where she could check out the sample test herself, and outlined when and how the results would be available.
What happened next, though, completely caught me off guard.
Before I could finish explaining how we considered the test results in decision-making at the state level, she said something that stopped me in my tracks: “When the scores come back, I’ll know if I’m a good mom.”
Her words were like a punch to the gut. After all the years I’d spent developing, refining, and explaining assessment systems, I’d never been confronted with the reality that this mother was living. To her, the test wasn’t just a measure of her child’s learning—it had become a measure of her own worth as a parent.
It took some time to reach this point in our conversation. At first, she asked the usual questions about test content, format, and timing. But underneath her inquiries was a deep anxiety, a fear about what those test results would say, not just about her child, but about herself. When she finally expressed her true concern, it couldn’t have been more clear: she felt that her child’s performance on this test was a direct reflection of her abilities as a mother.
When Any Test Becomes High-Stakes
We often think of "high-stakes testing" as those big, end-of-year state tests that carry weighty consequences—school rankings, teacher evaluations, or funding decisions. But this experience taught me that any test can become high-stakes, depending on how the results are perceived or used. For this mother, a third-grade assessment had somehow become a judgment of her parenting.
As education leaders, we often talk about how we design assessments to be fair, equitable, and informative. We work to ensure that tests measure students’ learning accurately and provide actionable insights. But what we sometimes overlook is how these tests—and their results—can affect the people on the other side. For this mother, the stakes weren’t just high—they were overwhelming.
A Rare Recommendation
In every other situation I’d encountered before this, when a parent expressed concerns about testing, I would calmly outline the pros and cons, offer information, and leave the decision in their hands. At the time I was in a state that allowed for parental opt-outs. I would always respect those decisions after sharing what the test could or couldn’t provide, even creating processes to ensure students could not accidentally test once opted out.
But this case was different. I could sense the emotional toll the situation was already taking on this woman. I knew that no explanation about the test’s intended purpose or about how her child’s score wouldn’t reflect her parental abilities would change her perspective. In fact, I feared that subjecting her child to the test might do more harm than good—not for the child, but for her.
In the end, I made a rare recommendation: I suggested that she opt her child out of the test.
It wasn’t an easy decision for me to make. I believe strongly in the value of assessment as a tool to inform instruction and guide policy and that EVERY child should be represented in the data used for these important decisions. But in this instance, I was convinced that it would be more harmful to this family if the test went forward. It wasn’t about the test itself; it was about the emotional weight that had been placed on it, and I knew that proceeding would only deepen that burden.
A Lesson for Leaders
This story isn’t about promoting or discouraging testing—it’s about recognizing the human impact of the work we do. As school and district leaders, we’re too often removed from the daily lives of the students and families we serve. We may not realize how deeply our decisions around assessment resonate with the people we serve.
For many, especially parents who experienced struggles in their school years, the stakes of any test can feel incredibly personal. Tests, by design, are tools for measurement and feedback, but when those tools are perceived as judgments, they can create unnecessary stress and anxiety—both for students and their families.
It’s a reminder that while we work diligently to design assessments that are fair and useful, we must also remain compassionate in how we communicate their purpose and use. What seems like a routine evaluation to us may feel like a life-altering judgment to someone else.
Conclusion: Compassion in Action
The experience with that mother left a lasting impression on me. It reminded me that in education, data and metrics are important, but the well-being of the people behind those numbers matters more. It’s a lesson I carry with me in my work and one I hope resonates with you as a leader in your own school or district.
As we move forward in designing and implementing assessments, let’s not forget to lead with compassion. Let’s create systems that not only inform instruction but also support the emotional and mental health of the students, parents, and educators who are impacted by them. And, above all, let’s remember that every test—whether high-stakes or not—touches lives in ways we may not always see.
