Legislators sharpen their No. 2 pencils

01/30/2007

BY TAD VEZNER
Pioneer Press


One group of Minnesota lawmakers walked the halls of the Capitol on Monday with their stomachs churning.

It was high school all over again: The nervousness. The curriculum. The testing.

One test, in particular, was to take place at 4 p.m. sharp in a basement hearing room.

"It was the most talked-about meeting in the halls (of the Legislature) today," said Rep. Mary Murphy, new chairwoman of the House Education Finance and Economic Competitiveness Division, whose committee members Murphy asked to take an abridged version of the Minnesota Comprehensive Assessments test — the yardstick by which the state measures school performance.

"I didn't have a clue what they (tests) looked like now," said Murphy, a DFLer from Hermantown. And lawmakers — especially those on her committee — should know and experience the tests that Minnesota kids are required to take, she said.

Regardless of high-minded motives, at least one lawmaker told Murphy how much anxiety the test was creating.

"They said, 'I can't believe this. I'm nervous,' " Murphy said.

Although the abridged test was a mere 15 minutes, and consisted of just five questions each in fifth-grade reading, eighth-grade science and 11th-grade math, the roughly 20 committee members were put through a rigorous gantlet.

Dirk Mattson, the Department of Education's director of research and assessment, made a stab at discipline as test administrator, urging legislators to clear their desks of all books and materials, use only No. 2 pencils and not break their booklets' seals before the test had officially begun.

That last rule brought some nervous chuckles and "oopses" from those who had already broken the cardinal test-taking rule.

"I may have to invalidate it," Mattson quipped.

And while some spaces on the lawmakers' desks were cleared, there still remained slews of papers, folders — even an open laptop.

"I leave it to your discretion," Mattson said patiently.

From the audience, one could not detect any wandering eyes as the test began. Heads and pencils were raised and lowered at the appropriate times.

To ease their anxiety, Murphy assured fellow committee members that their answers — which they each checked and kept to themselves — wouldn't be published. Unless, of course, they wanted them to be.

No takers there — though a few lawmakers surrendered some scores, when asked.

Even Rep. Randy Demmer — a businessman and self-described "bean counter" — said he got only two of five questions right on the math portion, which included algebra and geometry.

"I remember an isosceles triangle. I couldn't remember the application right," the Hayfield Republican said.

"We're in our niches right now," he added, noting it had been years since he had been asked to solve anything of the sort.

Demmer was hardly alone: The math questions, in particular, were almost universally lamented by those interviewed.

"I think community ed could offer some adult education (courses)," Murphy said when asked how she had performed. She added that even one of the reading questions was tricky.

"That cat question — No answers were right for that question!"

The "cat question" asked what was meant by the line of a poem about several cats, each doing different things. The line stated, "one cat almost smiled," and test-takers were asked to reflect what that said about the cat. The official answer was that the cat was "content," rather than "foolish," "selfish" or "timid."

"I got it right," Murphy said with assurance while noting there were many reasons a cat could "almost smile."

"But I think it would be tough for anyone."

Although the abridged test was a mere 15 minutes, and consisted of just five questions each in fifth-grade reading, eighth-grade science and 11th-grade math, the roughly 20 committee members were put through a rigorous gantlet.