Beyond the Headlines: What NAEP Really Tells Us (and What It Doesn’t)

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Every year, the headlines arrive: scores are slipping.

This year, the spotlight is on 12th grade and the National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP). And yes, the numbers matter. But let’s not forget—our children are more than test scores.

There are numerous factors that contribute to these results, including social context, opportunity gaps, curriculum choices, attendance patterns, and even the lingering effects of a global pandemic. To tease them out thoughtfully would be a valuable national conversation in itself.

However, what is often overlooked is that the science doesn’t stop at grade 3. It stretches into adolescence. And if we ignore it at the high school level, we’re missing a tremendous opportunity.

The same threads that matter in early literacy—background knowledge, vocabulary, comprehension, writing reciprocity, and engagement—are just as critical for a 17-year-old as they are for a 7-year-old. Reading never stops; it simply grows more complex and nuanced, demanding deeper thinking, richer connections, and more sophisticated ways of making meaning.

Layer in what we know from the science of learning—conceptual understanding, metacognition, and the power of authentic, passion-driven work—and the picture becomes clearer. These are the very things we nurtured in the bridge years of middle school, when students began to experiment with independence through inquiry, projects, and choice.

Pair that with what we know about the adolescent brain—that teens crave autonomy, identity, and relevance—and suddenly the challenge of “low 12th grade scores” looks less like a problem and more like an invitation.

An invitation to rethink high school.

Not just in what and how we teach, but in how we define success. For too long, especially here in New York, we’ve operated under a narrow message: everyone must earn a four-year degree. But learning is so much broader than that. When we widen the lens, high school becomes a launchpad for multiple futures.

Consider the graduation pathways already taking root:

• The Seal of Biliteracy honors the value of multilingualism in a global economy.

• The Seal of Civic Readiness prepares students to make meaningful contributions to their communities.

• Dual enrollment programs, where students leave high school not only with a diploma but also with an associate degree—ready to transfer into college or step directly into fields like public service, trades, or entrepreneurship.

And let’s not forget: many of our students are already showing us what’s possible. One teenager I know launched her own home-based bakery without ever taking a business or cooking course. Another is day trading before first period. I’ve taught a student who played in a traveling symphony across Eurasia, another who competed in professional soccer in South America, and one who casually asked if he could finish an eBay sale before presenting his DBQ in social studies—long before today’s technologies expanded those possibilities even further.

And I am not alone in this. As educators, we see it daily in our work with kids. And as we accumulate more years of experience, we are continually amazed—not shocked—by how they keep pushing boundaries for good, doing things we as adults often wouldn’t dare to do or even dream.

Every week, we read about students across the country doing remarkable, creative, and world-shaping things. Imagine how much more our students can achieve if the system were designed to amplify their drive. They aren’t just consumers! They are already creating and innovating in real time-often without our help!

So I wonder—how accurately does the test measure our children’s abilities versus the circumstances that surround the small group randomized to be assessed? And just as important, how relevant are these tests to the skills students are actually cultivating?

If they are relevant, then what would happen if we seriously considered the science of learning in our curriculum and instruction work, while also actively cultivating teacher collective efficacy around these principles?

That combination—science plus collective belief—might be the very thing that shifts the narrative.

And maybe we can even take a cue from Benjamin Franklin, who began and ended each day with two simple questions:

What good can I do today? and What good have I done today?

He measured life not by tasks completed but by contributions made.

There’s wisdom in that for us. Instead of only asking whether students can clear a bar on a test, what if we asked: What good can they do today? What good have they already done?

And here’s something else worth remembering: do we recall what it felt like to be an adolescent? To dream, to feel like the world was at our fingertips, to want to change it—or at least make an impact that felt meaningful and relevant to us? That’s what it is like to be a high school student. That’s the energy, urgency, and vivid vision we need to tap into.

This is a wellspring of motivation just waiting to be tapped!

This is where conceptual-based unit design comes in. In the lower grades, we often talk about interdisciplinary learning—blending subjects so kids see connections. In high school, we can take it further.

Conceptual design enables students to explore timeless ideas—justice, identity, innovation, power, and sustainability—THE BIG QUESTIONS-the very issues humans have debated, pondered, and sought to improve for centuries.

Isn’t that the way of the human condition and our children’s developing sense of purpose?

And high school should, of course, cultivate the skills and dispositions outlined in a Portrait of a Graduate, but also help students take steps toward something deeper: self-actualization—the journey of realizing one’s potential.

Of becoming everything one is capable of becoming.

Imagine an educational system designed, fundamentally designed to foster that pursuit, to guide students to their unique path to their best selves.

We know from Maslow’s hierarchy that self-actualization sits at the top of human needs—rare, but possible when belonging, safety, and esteem are in place. He believed only about 1% of adults truly reached it, but that half of us have the capacity to pursue it.

What if high school played an intentional role in that pursuit?

What if our classrooms created the conditions for curiosity, authenticity, creativity, and purpose to thrive?

Couln’t all of us then have the potential to reach self-actualization?

That’s not just preparing kids for college or careers. That’s preparing them for life.

So I’ll leave you with this question—one for all of us, whether we are educators, parents, or leaders:

What would change if we measured our schools not just by the tests our students take, but by the futures they imagine, the contributions they make, and the lives they’re already beginning to shape?

That’s the conversation worth having, our kids are worth it.

With love,

Nicole & Trici

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