“you are brought face to face with the great question about the soccer coach: Does he really matter? It turns out that coaches or managers (call them what you like) simply don’t make that much difference.”
― Simon Kuper, Soccernomics: Why England Loses, Why Germany and Brazil Win, and Why the U.S., Japan, Australia, Turkey–and Even Iraq–Are Destined to Become the Kings of the World’s Most Popular Sport

Summer in Tennessee has become as predictable as humidity, backyard cookouts, and someone insisting they’ll finally clean out the garage.

It’s also the season when the state quietly releases standardized testing results.

The cynic in me has always believed that’s by design.

Families are on vacation. Kids are at baseball tournaments. Parents are trying to squeeze every last ounce out of summer before backpacks and alarm clocks return. It’s the perfect time to release information that otherwise might dominate the conversation for weeks.

For the most part, it works.

But my favorite part of the process isn’t the release itself.

It’s the week before.

Districts receive the results before the public does, ostensibly to verify data and prepare communications. In reality, it gives every communications department in the state an opportunity to build a narrative before anyone else sees the numbers.

Every quote has been polished.

Every press release has been reviewed.

Every talking point has been rehearsed.

By the time parents finally see the scores, they’re also handed the official interpretation.

That’s not transparency.

That’s marketing.

The Great Myth

The story almost always begins the same way.

“We’re pleased with our progress…”

“Our students showed growth…”

“We’re moving in the right direction…”

Sometimes that’s true.

Sometimes it isn’t.

But nearly every narrative rests on the same assumption:

Higher test scores equal a better school system.

Hold on.

That’s only true if the test is actually measuring everything that matters.

I’m still waiting for someone to convince me that it does.

Because here’s the uncomfortable truth.

Most of us have never actually seen the test.

Parents can’t review it.

Taxpayers can’t inspect it.

Community members can’t determine exactly what is—or isn’t—being measured.

Instead, we’re expected to trust experts who assure us everything is working exactly as intended.

Imagine trying to measure your house with a blank strip of wood.

You place it against the wall.

Someone takes it away.

A week later they return and tell you your living room is exactly 18 feet, 4 inches.

You ask how they know.

They explain they’re experts.

That’s essentially how standardized testing works.

The measurement is hidden.

The interpretation belongs to someone else.

The public simply accepts the result.

Speaking of Experts…

As a brief detour…

I’ve noticed we’re living in the golden age of experts.

This morning Yahoo featured an article explaining the mistakes travelers make in airport lounges—with advice from airport lounge experts.

Airport lounge experts.

I sat there for several minutes wondering how exactly one becomes certified in that field.

Do you spend enough time eating stale crackers and charging your phone beside strangers that eventually someone hands you a diploma?

Apparently everyone is an expert now.

Except parents.

Parents just get report cards.

The Numbers Tell a Different Story

This year’s TCAP results have produced the predictable headlines.

The Tennessee published an analysis that was notably less celebratory than many district press releases.

Their biggest discovery?

Affluent districts continue outperforming poorer districts.

Shocking.

Williamson County posted a 74% proficiency rate in Algebra II.

Humboldt City Schools posted 2%.

Geometry showed an even wider spread.

Williamson: 76%.

Humboldt: 2%.

Seventy-plus percentage points separate children attending schools in the same state.

That’s not merely an achievement gap.

That’s a resource gap.

An opportunity gap.

A reality gap.

Yet somehow we’re still pretending everyone starts from the same place.

The Swings That Should Raise Questions

Some of the biggest stories weren’t even the statewide averages.

They were the dramatic changes inside individual districts.

Pickett County experienced enormous gains.

Bells City saw dramatic declines.

Those kinds of swings should trigger investigation—not celebration or condemnation.

Because educational outcomes don’t usually change that dramatically overnight.

Context matters.

Did families move into the district?

Did instructional priorities change?

Was curriculum narrowed?

Were teachers reassigned?

Did leadership change?

Were students spending more time preparing specifically for the assessment?

Those are the questions worth asking.

Instead, we often stop at the percentages.

That’s dangerous.

Small Numbers Matter Differently

There’s another issue often ignored.

Scale.

If a small district has only 100 students and ten more fail to reach proficiency, that’s a ten-point swing.

Metro Nashville can add or lose hundreds of proficient students without seeing anything close to that kind of percentage movement simply because the denominator is so much larger.

Statistics without context create misleading conclusions.

Unfortunately, context rarely fits neatly into a headline.

Money Still Matters

Despite every political argument to the contrary…

Money matters.

Resources matter.

Teacher retention matters.

Stable housing matters.

Access to healthcare matters.

Family income matters.

Anyone arguing otherwise isn’t looking honestly at the data.

You simply cannot claim educational equity while simultaneously accepting seventy-point proficiency gaps between districts.

Those numbers demand more than applause or criticism.

They demand curiosity.

Test Scores Aren’t Really About Students

Here’s the uncomfortable part.

Too often, standardized testing has less to do with students than adults.

School boards.

Legislators.

Superintendents.

Political campaigns.

Funding decisions.

Media narratives.

Everyone wants the numbers to support their position.

Students become supporting actors in someone else’s story.

That’s backwards.

The TISA Conversation

Supporters of Tennessee’s new funding formula frequently point out that rural districts now receive additional weighted funding.

That’s true.

It’s also incomplete.

Every additional state investment requires local governments to contribute more.

How do counties raise additional revenue?

Taxes.

Communities with limited tax bases remain limited.

Good intentions don’t always produce equitable outcomes.

Policy is measured by implementation—not press releases.

Then There’s Lilith Pipkin

If you want an example of adults protecting systems instead of serving students, look no further than Antioch High School.

In 2025, Lilith Pipkin lost one of her closest friends when Josselin Corea Escalante was murdered during the Antioch school shooting.

That tragedy alone should permanently shape how adults viewed her.

Months later, while preparing for a JROTC meeting, Lilith overheard students discussing a gun.

She discovered a note warning students to leave school at 1:30 because someone supposedly had a gun.

She did exactly what we tell students they’re supposed to do.

She reported it.

Then everything unraveled.

According to reporting by The Tennesseean, administrators quickly shifted from thanking the student who reported the threat to treating her as the suspect.

She recalls being yelled at.

Threatened with jail.

Questioned for hours.

Police ultimately declined criminal charges.

The district expelled her anyway.

For twelve months.

Her father had only ten days to appeal.

Unable to immediately hire legal counsel, he spent those days simply trying to obtain evidence.

Afterward, he retained a forensic handwriting expert who concluded Lilith did not write the note.

Yet the expulsion remained.

Every Student Known?

MNPS proudly promotes the phrase:

Every Student Known.

It’s an admirable slogan.

Cases like this make it difficult to believe.

If your goal is serving students, shouldn’t every reasonable effort be made to correct mistakes?

Privacy laws certainly prevent districts from discussing disciplinary matters publicly.

They do not prevent districts from fixing them.

The Human Cost

There’s another question that rarely gets asked.

Even if Lilith ultimately returns to Antioch High School after her expulsion expires…

What does that return actually look like?

Can a teenager who publicly fought the district simply walk back into school as though nothing happened?

Relationships matter.

Trust matters.

School climate matters.

Public disputes leave scars.

The Contrast Is Hard to Ignore

Three months before the Antioch shooting, the eventual shooter reportedly pulled a box cutter on another student.

He received a brief suspension.

Lilith reports a threat.

She is expelled for a year.

I’m struggling to reconcile those responses.

Hindsight tells us the earlier incident deserved greater intervention.

I’m still searching for the tragedy prevented by removing Lilith from school.

We’ve Seen This Before

Unfortunately, this isn’t isolated.

A twelve-year-old MNPS student was temporarily jailed and expelled after reposting an online threat that he insisted he shared as a warning.

A similar case involving an autistic student in Wilson County resulted in litigation.

Different districts.

Different students.

Same pattern.

Adults prioritize institutional protection.

Students pay the price.

Adults Get Grace

Kids Don’t.

Which brings me to Tennessee’s teacher licensure changes.

The State Board is revising certification requirements.

Among the changes is allowing teacher candidates who pass portions of their licensing examination to retake only the sections they failed.

Supporters argue this isn’t lowering standards.

Candidates must still demonstrate competency in every required area.

Fair enough.

I actually agree.

But here’s my question.

Why doesn’t that same philosophy apply to students?

When students struggle on standardized tests, we rarely hear similar arguments.

Instead we hear lectures about accountability.

Rigor.

High expectations.

No shortcuts.

Apparently nuance exists for adults.

Not children.

Goodbye edTPA

Perhaps the most significant change is eliminating the edTPA requirement for many teacher candidates beginning July 1, 2026.

Professional Educators of Tennessee CEO JC Bowman explained the reasoning well.

After years of experience, policymakers concluded the assessment created significant expense and administrative burden without providing enough value.

Instead, Tennessee will rely more heavily on supervised clinical practice.

Teaching, after all, is learned inside classrooms—not portfolios.

That makes sense.

Real experience matters.

Observation matters.

Context matters.

Funny how quickly we recognize those truths for adults.

Sound Familiar?

If supervised experience tells us more about teachers than standardized portfolios…

Couldn’t the same argument be made about students?

Wouldn’t classroom performance, long-term growth, projects, writing, attendance, participation, resilience, curiosity, and critical thinking paint a fuller picture than a single assessment?

I think so.

I’m not suggesting we abandon testing.

Data has value.

I spend an unhealthy amount of time analyzing it.

But data is supposed to begin conversations—not end them.

Numbers are clues.

They’re not conclusions.

The Difference Between Data and Wisdom

One of the biggest mistakes education makes is confusing measurement with understanding.

Data tells us what happened.

It rarely tells us why.

That requires people.

Context.

Experience.

Questions.

Curiosity.

The danger isn’t collecting data.

The danger is worshipping it.

Final Thoughts

I don’t dislike data.

Far from it.

Anyone who has followed Dad Gone Wild knows I’ll happily spend hours buried in enrollment spreadsheets, funding reports, disciplinary records, and budget documents.

Data matters.

But it isn’t everything.

When numbers become more important than children…

When public relations become more important than transparency…

When institutions become more important than individuals…

We’ve lost the plot.

Education should never become an exercise in protecting narratives.

Its purpose is preparing kids for life.

Everything else is secondary.

So yes…

Release the scores.

Publish the spreadsheets.

Celebrate success.

Own failure.

But don’t ever confuse a percentage with a child.

Because unlike standardized tests…

Kids are more than numbers.

Categories: Education