At Christianity 21 I had a fascinating conversation with a couple of educators about how No Child Left Behind with its extreme emphasis on standardized testing has ruined our schools and teachers. They were discussing the stress such tests put on students and the lack of real learning that takes place in schools these days. I totally agree with all that, but the timing of the conversation sparked a few new connections for me. You see, we had just all done the small talk thing about what sorts of churches we attend and why. I understand the huge role personality and preference play in our choice of church to attend, but this conversation helped me pinpoint how much my learning style and hatred of standardized tests effects where I go to church.
Growing up, I never had a problem with standardized tests. They didn’t stress me out. I didn’t have to cover for my teachers helping me cheat on the test like many students these days. No, I was the kid who always got a perfect score on every standardized test. I’m not saying that to brag (because I hate the things), just to say that I learned how to take tests. I learned very early on how to give the test or the teacher exactly what they wanted to hear. So I could parrot back right answers. I could fill in the correct bubble with my number two pencil. And as I grew older I could ace pop quizzes on books I simply skimmed or get an A+ on a 10 page book report on a book I never read. I knew the system, I knew how succeed in a “learning” environment where all I had to do was regurgitate the exact crap the teacher wanted. And I thought it was all a joke.
I hated classes where this sort of so-called learning was the norm. To me it was just a game of information and not true intellectual engagement. I felt silly at the grade-school assemblies where I got trophies for my perfect scores because I knew it was meaningless. I felt ashamed at good grades that meant nothing. So when I first started to encounter settings where real learning took place, I dove headfirst into the opportunity. In high school that was the IB program. Where the AP classes were just all about learning the right way to take more vigorous tests, the IB classes were all discussion based. With no more than a dozen of us in each class we would explore the books we read, discuss poetry, pull out the themes in history, and design our own science experiments. Our grades were based on long essays where ideas and not form were the point. Or we were evaluated by sitting down for hour long discussions with our teacher. I came alive in that environment as I realized that real learning involved interaction and engagement. In college , expecting more of the same, I could barely stand the classes where it was all about just playing the system and bsing my way through. I wanted to learn, not just make it through.
So understanding that about myself helps me see why I attend the church that I do. I really can’t stand sermons or liturgy. I don’t want someone telling me what I should think without giving me the chance to engage. Nor do I like feeling like I have to engage in the right rituals of the system in order to do church right. I get how those things work for people with other preferences and learning styles, but they aren’t for me. I need to engage, be a part of a discussion, to push back when presented with ideas, to be able to connect what happens in church to life, and history, and music, and politics, and movies, and parenting…. I don’t want to feel like I have to fill in the right bubble or spit out some pretty sounding bs in order to be a part of church. I’ve been there, done that, and it felt false. I was good at it, just as I was good as standardized tests, but it didn’t spiritually form me. So I get uneasy with the recent popularity of discussions upholding the traditional forms of church and the sermon as the only right way to do church. Those are hollow to me and represent a detachment from meaningful faith. Others can have and celebrate those things, I just need something different.