Assessment in Teaching Practice: Navigating Feedback, Policy, and Personal Growth
Tshepiso Monareng
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9-25Mia: Imagine standing in front of a class, lesson plan in one hand, nerves in the other, all while knowing someone is taking notes on everything you do. For student teachers, this isn't just a bad dream; it's the reality of their training. It’s this process of being assessed, while also learning how to assess others.
Mars: Exactly. It’s this intense dual experience. And the mentor feedback part is particularly fascinating. I remember my own mentor pointing out I was rushing through instructions. At first, it stung a little, you know? But then I realized they were absolutely right. The thing is, this isn't just a simple tip. For a student teacher, you're on this psychological tightrope, trying to perform while also figuring out who you are as an educator. That feedback isn't just about your technique; it feels like it's shaping your entire professional identity.
Mia: That's a great way to put it, the psychological tightrope. But that assumes the feedback is 'spot-on.' What happens when it isn't? Or what if the mentor's teaching style is just fundamentally different from the student teacher's emerging philosophy? I could see how an overly critical or simply mismatched mentor could actually damage a new teacher's confidence, rather than building it.
Mars: That’s a very real risk. And it happens. The ideal scenario is open, respectful communication, but that's not always the reality. Sometimes mentors are overworked and have limited time, or they just see the world differently. This is where a student teacher’s resilience is tested early on. It forces you to learn how to filter feedback—to take the useful parts and respectfully question or set aside the parts that don't align with your goals or the needs of your students. It's a tough, but necessary, skill.
Mia: Right, it’s about learning what to absorb and what to let go. That makes sense. Now, let's pivot to that other mirror: self-assessment. We often hear about student teachers keeping reflective journals, which sounds nice. But beyond just jotting down today went well or the kids were noisy, how does this evolve into a genuinely strategic tool? What does that phrase, 'intentional pedagogical adjustment,' actually look like in practice?
Mars: Well, it's the difference between a diary and a lab notebook. A diary entry might say, My lesson on fractions bombed. A strategic reflection asks *why*. It looks for patterns. For example, a student teacher might notice in their journal that learners consistently struggle with written tasks. An intentional adjustment isn't just trying again tomorrow. It's saying, Okay, the written approach isn't working. What if I try incorporating diagrams and charts? What if I use a group activity? It's a structured process of forming a hypothesis, testing it, and analyzing the results. It moves you from just judging yourself harshly to actively problem-solving and building your own toolkit.
Mia: I see. So, whether it's the external lens of a mentor or the internal one of self-reflection, both are indispensable. They don't just measure performance; they actively sculpt the educator. This brings us to another critical aspect: how these budding teachers then turn around and assess their own learners, a responsibility that carries its own unique ethical and practical weight.
Mars: It's a huge shift in perspective. One moment you're the one being judged, and the next, you hold the power to judge others. And it’s not just about grading. The responsibility is immense. It's easy to talk about 'fairness' in an academic paper, but it's another thing entirely when you're in a real classroom. You might have students whose home language isn't English, or the school might have almost no resources for creating diverse assessments. Suddenly, the gap between the policy you learned in university and the practice you need in the classroom becomes glaringly obvious.
Mia: That gap seems like the central challenge. If we were to look at this from a learner's perspective—say, a student who is struggling with the language—what does 'fair assessment' even feel like to them? It can't just be about getting a good grade. How can a student teacher, who is new to all this, even begin to identify and correct for these hidden biases in their tests and assignments?
Mars: The key is empathy. It starts with asking: what am I actually measuring here? Am I measuring their understanding of science, or am I measuring their English proficiency? To make it fair, a teacher might need to get creative. Maybe they allow a student to demonstrate their knowledge through a drawing, a verbal explanation, or a simple model instead of a formal written essay. It's about providing multiple pathways for a student to show what they know. It challenges the old, rigid idea that one size fits all.
Mia: That makes so much sense. And this seems to connect to the idea of shifting from just giving a final grade to using what's called 'formative assessment.' You mentioned things like exit tickets or peer reviews. Beyond just being a different type of test, what's the deeper psychological impact on students when assessment becomes less about a final judgment and more about continuous guidance?
Mars: It completely changes the dynamic. When the focus is on a final grade, a summative test, learning becomes about performance and avoiding failure. But when you use formative tools—quick quizzes, checking for understanding, giving feedback on drafts—it reframes the entire process. The assessment becomes a conversation. It tells the student, I'm here to guide you, not just to grade you. It helps them see learning as a process of growth, not a one-time event. They become active participants in their own improvement, which is incredibly empowering.
Mia: It's clear that assessing learners requires not just pedagogical skill, but deep empathy and critical thinking to ensure equity and foster growth. But these individual classroom decisions don't happen in a vacuum. They are constantly shaped, and sometimes constrained, by larger educational policies and the rapid evolution of technology. So, let's turn our attention to these broader systemic forces.
Mars: That’s a crucial point. Policies, while often well-intentioned, can create what I'd call a 'practical chasm.' In a country like South Africa, you have the CAPS policy, which is very detailed. But a document in an office doesn't always translate to a diverse, under-resourced classroom. Teachers, and especially student teachers, often struggle with what we call 'assessment literacy'—not just knowing the rules, but understanding how to apply them meaningfully and ethically in their specific context.
Mia: And what are the long-term consequences of this 'practical chasm'? When there's a huge disconnect between the policy ideals and the classroom realities, how does that affect a student teacher's ability to be creative, or even just their desire to stay in the profession?
Mars: It can be incredibly demoralizing. You're caught between a top-down mandate and the real, immediate needs of the children in front of you. It can lead to stress, burnout, and a feeling of having no professional autonomy. The best educators learn to critically engage with policy—to adapt it, to find the spirit of the law rather than just the letter. But that's a sophisticated skill that takes time to develop.
Mia: I can imagine. And then you throw technology into the mix. Tools like Kahoot or Google Forms are undeniably engaging for students. But I wonder, is there a point where the allure of technology risks overshadowing the actual purpose of the assessment? Could an over-reliance on these slick digital tools accidentally water down the role of human judgment or, worse, create new kinds of inequality for students who don't have access?
Mars: That is the central tension with technology in education. It's a double-edged sword. On one hand, it can offer amazing, personalized ways to assess students. On the other, there are serious concerns. Does it truly measure deep understanding, or just quick recall? What happens to student data and privacy? And most importantly, does it risk replacing the nuanced, compassionate judgment of a human teacher? The key isn't just adopting tech for novelty's sake. It has to be a thoughtful integration, where the technology serves the pedagogy, not the other way around.
Mia: So it seems clear that policy and technology are powerful forces, capable of both guiding and complicating the assessment landscape. Navigating them requires critical thinking and a firm commitment to educational values. When we tie this all together—the mentor, the self-reflection, the learners, the policies—it really paints a complex picture.
Mars: It does. I think the journey of a student teacher is fundamentally shaped by this interplay of different mirrors. You have the external mirror of your mentor, the internal one of your own reflection, and then the mirror held up by your students when you assess them. Each one reflects and refines who you are becoming as a teacher.
Mia: And throughout that process, it seems they have to constantly navigate that gap between the ideal—like perfectly inclusive design or a flawlessly implemented policy—and the messy, resource-constrained reality of a classroom.
Mars: Exactly. Adaptability is the name of the game. The most effective educators are the ones who can bridge that gap. They understand that assessment isn't just about assigning a grade or ticking a box for a performance review.
Mia: Which brings us back to the core idea. At the end of the day, assessment in teaching practice is really not about measuring performance. It's about a continuous process designed to cultivate thoughtful, empathetic educators who can then go on to empower their own students. It’s all about growth, not just grades.
Mars: Well said. That’s the entire point. It’s a process of becoming.
Mia: The narrative of assessment in teaching practice ultimately transcends rubrics and scores. It is a profound human endeavor, a perpetual cycle of learning, unlearning, and relearning, shaping not just how we measure knowledge, but how we nurture wisdom, empathy, and resilience in the next generation. As educators, whether seasoned or aspiring, we are constantly being assessed—by our students, our peers, and our own consciences. The true question isn't just how do we assess? but how does assessment help us become more fully human, and in turn, help others do the same? This ongoing inquiry is the very heartbeat of growth, for both teacher and taught.