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Initial assessment is an area of public education that doesn’t get a lot of attention, and yet it is a critical step in the journey of newcomer students in Ontario. In this post, I hope to help educators become more familiar with his important process.

What is Initial Assessment?

Initial assessment is the intake process that occurs when students enter Ontario schools from outside of the province. The process of initial assessment has been established by the Ministry of Education in several documents, and Ontario educators can find these resources in the EDU resources area of Brightspace.

During the initial assessment process, newcomer families are interviewed by school or board staff to gather information about the child, and any background information relevant to their schooling. For example, if a child has a diagnosis or assessment related to special education, the family could share these documents so the appropriate supports may be put in place.

Educators then work with students to complete an initial oral communication, literacy, and mathematics assessment. The information gathered at this assessment is used to place students on the Initial Assessment STEP Continua, which offers the educator team at the student’s school a snapshot of their English language proficiency. A summary of core numeracy skills are also documented as an assessment for teaching resource.

Why is the Initial Assessment Process so Important?

The initial assessment process is important for a variety of reasons. Let’s take a closer look at these reasons next.

Initial Assessment Supports Student Transitions

Starting a new school in a new country or province can be one of the most life changing experiences for children and their families. The initial assessment process provides schools and boards with an opportunity to welcome families, share valuable information about the Ontario education system, and help them to feel more at ease in a new environment.

Through the initial assessment process, families also have a space to share their child’s interests, strengths, areas of need, and any cultural or background information that can inform placement and programming. We will explore the value of receiving student background information next.

Background Information Helps Educators and Families Plan Programming and Student Pathways

Newcomer students arrive in schools with a variety of background experiences that can have significant impacts on their learning and overall well-being. They may have been through traumatic experiences, family separation, or long periods of interrupted schooling. They may be coming from under resourced schools and regions, private schools, international schools, or home schooling.

Having information about the previous schooling experiences of newcomer students and the journey they have been on prior to arriving in Ontario helps educators and families to collaborate and plan educational pathways for students. For example, the teaching team at the receiving school may offer ELD (English Literacy Development) program adaptations to help build the student’s foundational numeracy and literacy. Referrals to community services may also be made, which helps families to settle into a new environment.

Initial Assessment Helps to Put Appropriate Program Supports in Place

A fulsome initial assessment process helps to ensure that students receive the right program accommodations or modifications. You might think of initial assessment as a quick snapshot of a new student, which gives you a sense of what to expect when they enter the classroom. Beyond placing students on the Steps to English Proficiency (STEP) continua, the assessment can help educators to broadly understand where they might need more support or additional scaffolding.

For example, many multilingual students arrive in Ontario schools with different levels of literacy in their home languages. Having an understanding of what they can do in terms of written or spoken output indicate which skills the student will transfer into English over time. If the  assessment shows the student is an emergent speaker of English, then the educator can modify learning expectations accordingly.

Who Administers the Initial Assessment in Elementary Schools?

In Ontario, the initial assessment process can be administered by any teacher. Some boards have educators in an assessor role, others have an itinerant that visit schools, and in other boards a school support teacher may administer it.

Classroom teachers may also do an initial assessment, or place the student after they have had time to gather sufficient observations of the student’s language and literacy behaviours.

Where Can I Learn More About Initial Assessment in My School Board?

Every school board has developed their own processes for initial assessment, and may have their own resources for completing the task. To learn more about the initial assessment process in your board, reach out to the ESL/ELD support staff in your board or school.

Dr Rudine Sims Bishop’s research in children’s literacy has been on my mind as of late. Many of us are familiar with the terms, mirrors, windows, and sliding glass doors as they refer to texts that children read. Sometimes a text is a mirror in which students can see themselves and their lived experiences reflected back to them. This can be very validating for students to affirm their identities and connect with characters, themes, and ideas they find in text. Sometimes a book may be a window through which they can see someone else’s lived experiences and learn about others’ identities. At times, the right text can be a sliding glass door allowing students to step into a story, to build empathy, and understanding for other people as well.

I’ve been thinking a lot about who gets to see that mirror reflecting back images of themselves in our classrooms. Whose identities are always affirmed and validated? Which children are always looking through a window at what is being celebrated as the ‘norm’ in the world?

We all know we need to have more diverse books. I can think of the books we read in school when I was in elementary – I rarely saw Asian families or mixed race families. I felt like I was always looking through the windows at how other families lived. This experience taught me how to ‘fit in’ in order to be accepted into the world. It showed me all the ‘right things’ to do and the ‘right things’ to talk about in class, but it also told my classmates what was normal and reinforced who should take up space in their world.

I had some great teachers back then, all trying to navigate teaching and learning with the best intentions, the recent research and the available resources at that time. We know that things have changed over the past forty years, but the need for diverse books in the hands of children who need to learn about themselves and others remains. Diverse books are necessary for racialized children or 2SLGBTQ+ children to see themselves reflected in that mirror, but they are also for children to learn about others, to open their minds about who belongs, and to have a real sense of the world outside of their own experiences.

As educators, text selection is one part of this journey. Looking critically at the books in your school library, classroom collection, read aloud books, student choice texts, and knowing the learners and families who share space with you adds another layer. Think about which voices and identities are taking up the most space and which voices and identities may be missing. Providing the opportunity to learn about others can help to break biases students are building about people and communities. It may build empathy and develop an understanding of lives outside of their own experiences.

It’s also important to think about the educator’s role in conversations. Engaging in diverse texts offers students the opportunity to see adults learning about others in a way that is respectful and models appreciation, not appropriation. Explicitly teaching how we learn about others, how we navigate our own biases, and modeling how we interact with texts is a great learning opportunity for students.

If you haven’t had the chance to learn about diverse identities, it’s a great idea to engage in that experience yourself. Try reading, listening, or watching something to learn about other experiences. Notice how you navigate texts, the emotions, or thoughts that you are having and what you might choose to say that would guide students through their own thought processes. It’s an ongoing practice to understand and work through having conversations with the students in your room.

Always remember to preview the texts you are interested in including in your literacy program. Know what some of those important conversations will be and the content that you are helping students to navigate and learn. It’s so important to be aware of whether you are offering a mirror, a window, or a sliding glass door to children and the different ways you can provide opportunities for discussions for each.

It is no secret that teaching can bring about the most wonderful moments, and I love the ones that come out of nowhere. You know the kind I mean. They last only a second or two. They are over almost as quickly as they began, but their sudden and unexpected beauty lingers long afterward. And when I reflect on them, some come back with such clarity it seems as though they happened yesterday. 

Over two decades in teaching has allowed me to accumulate many such memories, little snapshots in time of students’ insights and identities, talents and kindnesses. When I recall them, it is in no particular order. After some time has passed, I can never remember what happened just before a particular memory … no idea what happened right after. But those fleeting moments gifted to me stay happily cobbled together in a patchwork of images, a colourful tapestry reminding me of all the joyful moments that have occurred in my schools over the years.

This fall, a few new multilingual images have been added to that happy medley.

The first one happened a couple of weeks ago, right after morning yard duty. The bell had just rung, and the tableau of students playing in the field at once turned to unified running, as they streamed in a single direction towards their class lines. The bell also prompted my thoughts to switch ahead to the morning’s tasks … an assessment, a meeting with a new family and an interpreter, emails I had to return …

As I walked briskly toward the school doors, thoughts preoccupied with all of the above, I noticed a class walking towards me. The teacher was leading them at the head of the line, each student carrying their backpacks and books along behind her. It must have been that my gaze was turned down a bit against the wind, for my eye caught something bright and colourful under one student’s arm. The lettering on the front was bold, balanced … the shape of the script suggesting a hint of direction and movement.  As I drew closer I could see it was hangul, the Korean letter system (which, by the way, was designed with very specific movement and direction in mind … if you want to look it up, it is a beautiful creation story).  The student was walking confidently, his book for class tucked proudly under his arm.  

And that is the snapshot that comes back to me now, that lifted my spirits out of morning routines to a little bit of delight. There was a time, many decades ago, that it was uncommon to see multilingual books in schools. Where it was presupposed that English was the only language that needed to be developed, maintained, and used in instruction. Where first languages — the languages in which parents comfort children, in which children sing and play, in which identity resides — were disregarded as irrelevant to learning in school. 

What is that Jim Cummins quote again? 

It is hard to argue that we are teaching the whole child when school policy dictates that students leave their language and culture at the school house door.1 

Indeed, the benefits of meaningful inclusion of home languages in learning are vast; the consequences if they are omitted, devastating. (I discussed some of these benefits and consequences in my blog Lost in Translation, if you want a quick summary). 

The line of flapping backpacks and scuffling running shoes rounded the corner, and I was left with that ordinary-extraordinary memory. And I hoped that those school house doors would continue to be thrown wide open. 

 1   from the article “ELL Students Speak for Themselves: Identity Texts and Literacy Engagement in Multilingual Classrooms” (Cummins et al, 2006).

The majority of my career has been in a middle school environment, where teaching letter combinations and sounds was not common. And so as a longtime elementary educator, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that for much of my career, I knew very little about teaching reading. My entire teacher’s college experience focused on the junior and intermediate grades, where reading instruction was not emphasized. My own son learned reading with very little work on my part, other than reading him stories or bringing him to the library.

With the publication of the Right to Read report (2022), it became clear that I could no longer avoid learning about the critical work so many primary and early years educators do every day. Getting started, however, was nothing short of intimidating. Foundational literacy concepts like phonemic awareness, graphemes, phonics, and digraphs were pretty much a foreign language to me. I had no idea where to begin – there seemed to be hundreds of books, resources, podcasts, and websites on the topic.

Thankfully, I have the knowledge and expertise of colleagues who are not only experienced in teaching reading, but teaching it in an engaging and culturally responsive way. Devon Clarke, a very talented PETL educator who is on our board’s Central Literacy Team, graciously invited me to attend the sessions he had developed with the literacy team for elementary educators.

Here are a few key takeaways I have gathered so far – I hope they resonate with anyone on a similar journey of learning this year!

We Can’t Forget The “Four Roles of the Literate Learner”

When I started learning about the Right to Read report, my impression was that educators would be teaching a lot of decoding skills in the classroom. The “Four Roles of the Literate Learner” – a concept introduced by Freebody and Luke back in the 1990s – still provides educators with a great model of literacy learning that particularly rings true in “science of reading” focused pedagogy. The idea that as readers, we are not only code-breakers, but meaning makers, text users, and text analyzers, is a good reminder that reading is a multifaceted process. This particularly important for English language learners, who not only need to decode English text but comprehend what they are learning to read as well.

Foundational Literacy Approaches are Not Just for Younger Elementary Students

Older elementary students also benefit from learning strong decoding skills: many may have gaps in their foundational reading skills that may have gone undetected. In one of the presentations, Devon shared a pilot project he worked on with middle school teachers. Together, they implemented the resource Catch Up Your Code with several grade 8 classes. Catch Up Your Code essentially focuses on helping older developing readers to recognize and connect the ways different letter combinations can make the same sounds, strengthening students’ reading and spelling skills.

The teachers gathered before and after data and other observations about the challenges and strengths of the resource. Overall, nearly every grade 8 student improved in an area of their decoding skills. Entering secondary school, these students will be much better prepared to succeed in their courses.

There is No Such thing as a “Be all, End all” Reading Resource

While resources like Catch Up to Code, or other reading programs can help students to make gains in their decoding skills, it is useful to keep in mind that no one resource is a “be all, end all” tool. In addition to resources that help students to decode words and sentences, students should also explore literature and texts that are culturally responsive and rich in meaning. This point was reinforced in the sessions I attended as the literacy team shared books that were identity-affirming and powerful in their approach to storytelling.

Ontario Educators are on a Learning Journey Together

Learning new and innovative approaches to teaching literacy takes time and teamwork. When it comes to learning about new resources and strategies, I find it most useful to hear the perspectives of educators that have actually used different literacy resources and can describe first hand what the successes and pitfalls are. Having colleagues to check my own understanding of the readings I am working on, and the expertise of experienced literacy teachers and speech language pathologists is also important on this journey of “reimagining” reading. This is why it is so important for boards to release teachers for professional learning: if literacy is a human right, then educators must have access to the time and resources it takes to make the vision of the “Right to Read” a reality.

One of the most important things I’ve learned as a teacher is to look for what is missing. From learning spaces. From lessons. From books and conversations. From perspectives. Because sometimes, what is missing is the difference between inclusion, and isolation. Between learning, and not learning. Between being safe, and not.

It’s not always easy to notice what is missing, though. While we may be keenly aware of absences that preclude our own participation in various spaces, we are not naturally aware of barriers that impact others. Of the things, that if they are missing, lock them out …

A microphone.

Text in visually-accessible format.

Enough time to read a passage in a workshop.

Sensory-friendly lights.

An educator or presenter or decision-maker with the same background and experiences we have.

The list goes on …

Yet as teachers, we don’t have any choice but to seek out what is missing, to find those barriers and do our best to eliminate them.  To create inclusive spaces so that every student can learn.

So how do we illuminate those insidious absences? We discussed one possible way this fall, at our union local’s Disabilities and Accessibility Issues meeting.

This is the third year I have been a part of this committee. And despite the fact that our days seem to be getting busier by the second in education, the only regret I feel is not joining it sooner in my career. It’s a small group of teachers, all from different schools across our board, all passionate about creating inclusive spaces for students and staff. We meet once a month at the union office and plan support workshops for teachers, information nights, and wellness events. It’s been a rewarding way to meet dedicated educators in our union that I never otherwise would have. This year we have a new goal: assisting a union-led audit of our local’s office and presentation space, to ensure it is accessible to all.

And so it was that a question occurred to me.

As we sat at the first meeting of the year, brainstorming ways our committee could assist with the audit, questions we could ask teachers who attended events at the local, one thought kept running through my mind that seemed to encapsulate all that we were trying to ask:

“Is there anything missing from this space that you need in order to have access to the same information, and the same opportunity to participate, as everyone else in the room?”

Instead of lengthy surveys and questionnaires, perhaps that simple question would be our starting point.

What’s missing for you?

Hmm.

What would it be like, if it were commonplace for everyone to ask that question? After every staff meeting. After every PD session. After every lesson.

How can we include you?

What are we missing?

So this year, we are asking that question. Anonymously of course. But at the end of every union local event at the HWETL office, teachers will have a chance to name what they need from our union’s spaces in order to be included.

Not a bad question to ponder in any profession, in any situation, in my humble opinion.

Outdoor education is an area of pedagogy I have evaded for much of my career. I always found the concept of outdoor learning to be way outside of my comfort zone: ropes courses, orienteering, food cycle games, and getting close and personal with flora and fauna are things I preferred to leave to the experts. In my mind, I had done my due diligence by organizing trips to the board nature centre once a year or welcoming a science and nature expert to speak to the classes I taught. On nice days, I might take students outside to read or work on a dance project, pick up trash as part of an environmental initiative, or take a neighbourhood walk down the local bike paths.

My reluctance to taking outdoor education learning really seriously largely stemmed from the idea that I didn’t consider myself to be, well, “outdoorsy.” When I thought about outdoor educators, or outdoorsy people in general, I had always pictured someone who went camping, cottaging, white water rafting, canoeing, or doing big hiking trips in places like Algonquin Park.

The idea I had of an “outdoor” person was quite mistakenly based on things I had seen in the media: adventurers clad in flannel and boots that could pitch a camp in minutes or walk for miles with a canoe on their head. Funny enough, I had probably acquired lots of these ideas working in a hiking store as a teenager, endlessly looking at product catalogues and selling customers on the promise of very expensive hiking boots. All of these ideas, I realize now, were based on Western norms focused on upholding specific stereotypes about who belongs in the outdoors: typically white, male, and able-bodied.

It took me many years to realize that I am, indeed, an outdoorsy person. But to get there, I really needed to challenge my own assumptions of what it means to enjoy and engage with nature. And as an educator, I needed to get a better perspective on what it actually means to learn outdoors.

Here are some of the lessons I needed to learn to unleash my inner outdoor educator.

You Don’t Need to Love Camping to Be “Outdoorsy”

I truly believe that camping is one of the most wonderful ways to enjoy nature. Sleeping under the stars, setting up tents and fires, practicing self sufficiency, and braving the elements are exciting and rich experiences.

My personal preference, however, is to avoid camping. I don’t like setting up tents, the smell of fire on my hair and clothes, or cooking creative meals. I went camping with friends once, and ended up staying awake all night in my car wanting to go home.

I am perfectly happy enjoying the forest without sleeping in it. If I never learn how to pitch a tent, I’m OK with that too! I’ll stick with my provincial park day pass and go home at night.

The Outdoors Aren’t Only in Wilderness and Rural Areas

For the longest time, I believed that to be outdoors I needed to be somewhere rural, or in a large park of some sort. It came to me that such an understanding was limited and narrow. Indeed, organizations like Nature Canada have pointed out that urban outdoor spaces are often perceived to be inferior to wilderness landscapes – and nothing could be further from the truth!

The outdoors are everywhere, in city streets and alleys and even strip malls. Buildings, sidewalks, storefronts, school tarmacs, fields, and playgrounds are all part of outdoor life. Greenery grows through concrete cracks, wind blows through buildings, and ecosystems thrive in drain ponds and even soccer fields. Flocks of geese halt traffic and vegetable gardens can thrive on sunny balconies.

Key takeaway: we can connect with the outdoors from wherever we are!

People that Live in Cities Are not Nature Deficient

I’ve noticed that when the topic of outdoor conversations comes up around work, there tends to be an assumption that many students “lack access” or are “deprived” of outdoor time. Nature centres are positioned as a unique opportunity for kids, particularly in urban centres, to finally engage with outdoor living.

While I agree that there are wilderness or rural areas in Ontario that many urban residents do not access regularly due to economic, linguistic and cultural barriers, it doesn’t mean that there is something deficient or “missing” from their lives.

Everyone Has a Connection with Nature, But Connection Can Happen in Different Ways

Everyone has a connection with nature, but how we connect can vary along lines of preference, culture, or personal history. I recall being tasked to organize a “Canadian” fall activity for my visiting mother in law from Eastern Europe. Immediately, I suggested apple picking: what could be more Canadian and fall-festive than picking fresh fruit outside at a local farm?

Aghast, my partner dismissed my apple-picking plan immediately. “My mom is not going to enjoy doing manual labour on her vacation.” Apple picking, it turns out, is not a recreational activity in all places.

Nature and the way we experience it is deeply entwined with our cultural beliefs and assumptions. We don’t often see diversity in Canadian outdoor narratives, but visit a place like Algonquin Park or Point Pelee and it’s not hard to see that there are so many groups and individuals of different cultural backgrounds and ages enjoying the outdoors in their own way. Some prefer to enjoy the outdoors gathering with family through a big, elaborate picnic on the beach; others spend days camping in the backcountry. Whether it is running, walking, sitting, socializing, creating art, hiking, or simply visiting a lookout point, we all have different ways of appreciating nature and the outdoors.

Embracing Your Outdoor Self

If you have ever felt like me – that being an outdoor educator is a role best left for others – remember that, as teachers, we are all in a position to teach outside. Being outdoors helps us to live in the moment a bit more, and enjoy the feeling of fresh air and sunshine. By embracing the many ways people, including students and their families, can experience the outdoors in Canada, we can develop a more inclusive approach to outdoor learning.

Interested in reading more about inclusion in the outdoors in Ontario? Take a look at the report “Race and Nature in the City,” by Jacqueline L. Scott and Ambika Tenneti.