Question: Why Can't You Just Tell us What's on the Tests?

If a book existed that had the questions on a test, then that test would become useless. The score for a test is based on comparing a test-taker’s results to a the results for a large number of people the same age called “the normative sample” (think of them as a bunch of people who can show us what the “norm” is for performance on the tests). When the normative sample takes the test, it's the first time they've ever seen the questions and puzzles on the test. Every score that's compared to their scores needs to also be from someone who has never seen them before, or else that person's results are not valid. If anyone studies for an IQ test, that test is useless. That's a big deal by the way.

A student who needs services for the Intellectually Disabled should get them. There have been issues historically with students ending up there who didn't belong, but a child who needs that kind of specially designed instruction should be with teachers who are trained to help and teach them. A child who does not need support for the Gifted and is only in such a program due to seeing a test early may not be on the level of other students who get there honestly. It's also important to keep in mind that IQ tests are not only given for educational placement. They are also often administered after a brain injury, and if someone had been exposed to a test previously, then it could mask an injury, or force them to take additional hours of difficult testing.

Finally, there is a legal doctrine of test security. Remember that the publishers who make IQ tests invest a lot of time and money in their creation. In court, it has repeatedly been established that they can protect their investment by keeping the test secure. If there is something that can be done (in this case making the tests public) that renders a product useless, then it's pretty reasonable for the maker of that product to want to protect it. When the product (IQ tests) is so important, then I'm glad our courts prevent this from happening.    

Question: How young is too young to evaluate a child?

There is no hard and fast cut off, but I am very hesitant to evaluate a child before he or she reaches second grade and maybe seven or seven and a half. Before this age, it’s very difficult to interpret test results for a few reasons. For one thing, the expectations in reading and math are pretty basic, so every test item can have a huge impact on score. For example, if a six-year-old misses two words on a reading test, there are certain times when this will result in a drop in score to the level that looks like a disability. This might be nothing, however, since it could be caused by a common mistake like mixing up “d” and “b” or not understanding silent “e” on the end of a word. These are often just something it take a student a few times to understand, and when he or she does, then a reading score could increase dramatically. I see these big jumps in performance after a “Eureka” moment all the time. I also see a lot of first grade readers who forget a rule occasionally. If this is still happening much later, then it’s a good reason to test.

Expectations are also low enough that sometimes a student can’t get a very low score. Imagine that on a given test, the average six-year-old gets five items correct. Since tests are scored based on the typical performance of a test taker at a given age, this can often mean that getting only one or even no items correct is still not a very low score. If twenty percent of test-takers get no items correct (which is only five items off of the Average) then a raw score of zero, would still keep a child in the twentieth percentile in the Average or Low Average range.

Finally, there’s just a lot of development that happens in the first few years of school and life. I’ve given attention tests to very young children before, and at first was always amazed how poorly they appeared to do. Very young children really do have poor memories, bad attention spans and are not very good at most cognitive tasks. However, when I’ve scored these kids, they are almost always just average. It’s simply typical for children in Kindergarten and first grade to have short attention spans, make lots of mistakes and have trouble figuring things out. These will all improve rapidly, but usually when I’ve had to evaluate children at five or six, the real reason for their difficulty is that they are five or six.

It’s also best to save an evaluation so that it can be given appropriately when the time is right. If a child is tested at six, and then again just a little while later, there can be a learning effect. It might not be dramatic, but just a little familiarity with a certain kind of task or puzzle can impact performance enough to throw off the results. Ironically, testing a child too early can create a situation where when we test him or her at the right time, the actual issue won’t show up. This is all on top of all of the class (often one or two days) that a child is going to miss due to evaluation. 

Question: Why do we need to use the term "Disability"?

This question can come up many different places, but since the term "disability" is part of every Educational Evaluation, I'm going to address that aspect of it. I’ve had this posed to me several ways by teachers, parents and children. I’ve had adorable saying come along with it like “labels are for jelly jars” and heartfelt pleas of “do you really think I have a disability?” The short answer to why we need to use such a term is, “because that’s how the law works.” Whether supports or accommodations come as part of Special Education or a 504 plan, they only come because a student has been found to have a disability. I have said more than once that if the only way to get a child the help he or she needs was to have them legally declared a horse, then I’d start the paperwork to have them legally declared a horse. There we go. Mystery solved and we can all go home, right?

That is one answer and sometimes it’s enough. I think the bigger issue here, is what the terms we use mean. Under the “American with Disabilities Act,” the term “disability” is defined basically as any impairment that interferes with a major part of your life (http://www.ada.gov/pubs/adastatute08.htm#12102). I always had the feeling that it was meant to be pretty innocuous and say little more than “if you need help, then you can’t be discriminated against for it.” What is unfortunate, though, is that I get the feeling that for a lot of people, there’s a value judgement attached to the term. I have had parents and children both object to being referred to as someone “with a disability,” whether it’s a learning disability or ADHD or even visual impairment. Sometimes, it appears to be the imprecise nature of the term since a person with a profound level of mental and physical impairment and a person who has trouble with math can both be found to have “a disability.” Other times, some parents and teachers worry that any label can become an excuse.

All of this is why, when I get asked this or related questions, the first response is always to ask back, “what does ‘disability’ mean to you?” A lot of the conversations I have after that speak to the fact that when different people use that term, they mean different things. Like a lot of words that carry an emotional charge, this one will mean different things to different people. They may have heard it different places and from people who meant all manner of things. It’s also really significant how much the consequences that follow being determined to have a disability have changed. Many parents worry that being found to have a disability means that their child will be removed from the regular education classroom or be excluded from other activities. It makes me wish there were other terms to use, or even better, that after evaluating a child, I could just say “here are my recommendations for this student,” with no regard for exactly what category, or what disability may or may not be present. Some services are reaching this point, with more and more school districts establishing supports like extra reading help that they provide as soon as a student falls behind without the need for a disability. Maybe someday, we’ll see more movement in the area. Until then, we are stuck with the terms we use, and everyone (psychologists, parents, children) will benefit from a talk about what “disability” means to them and means for their education.  

What's it Like to Take an IQ Test?

I remember taking my IQ test pretty well. I can't remember the name of the School Psychologist, but I recall that it was a middle-aged man with a beard and a sweater (for some reason, every male school psychologist I've ever met eventually developed a fondness for sweaters and beards) and I remember some parts of the test. I also remember thinking that I did very poorly.

Don't misunderstand that last part. The gentleman who administered the test was a warm, friendly kind of guy and definitely encouraged me, but there is a funny thing about taking an IQ test; they don't stop until you get a lot of questions wrong. I put together some puzzles and then suddenly, there was one that was way too hard. The next one was even harder. I became aware that I was getting a lot of them wrong and, being a smart kid and not at all used to messing things up, I was starting to get upset. In giving a test, however, it's important to get a picture of how much a student can do. This means that testing does not stop until a student hits a "Ceiling," usually three to five questions in a row wrong. A lot of psychologists I know will warn kids about this by pointing out that tests are often given to kids over a wide age range, so they shouldn't worry if they get to the end and they get the last few wrong ("those are for high school or college kids").

Aside from hitting a Ceiling though, I can say that taking an IQ test is usually fun. The student will go with the School Psychologist administering the test somewhere quiet and after some time chatting and making sure today is a good day for some hard work, they will get started. Most tests for kids start out with their most colorful and interesting subtest (a lot of them use toys and pictures) and there will be a totally different thing to do every few minutes, so I've never had a student complain they were bored (although I'm sure at least a few teenagers will insist that they totally were). The variety also means that even when a subtest is hard for a student, it's usually over pretty fast and they can feel good about their performance on the next one. For some students, I might use stickers or Gummi Bears to help motivate them to work hard, but for most, I can rely on my knowledge of cartoons and ponies to keep them engaged and make sure they do their best.   

As for the tests themselves, they don't look much like other tests. Each full IQ test will be divided into about six to ten subtests. Each subtest is distinct and meant to measure a specific ability. For some, the examiner will just ask questions or (as on some tests of Short-Term Memory) say information the person taking the test has to remember. Other tests will have pictures in a book or on cards. Finally, some tests will have blocks or puzzle pieces that the student has to physically assemble. Before each of the subtests, the examiner reads some standardized instructions to the test taker. It's a skill to get good at saying these (so you don't sound like you're reading) but everyone has to hear the same thing before they take the test so that the quality of the instructions you give doesn't influence someone's performance.