{"id":9288,"date":"2026-07-08T12:50:42","date_gmt":"2026-07-08T09:50:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/reschool.gr\/9288\/"},"modified":"2026-07-08T13:22:22","modified_gmt":"2026-07-08T10:22:22","slug":"stop-assessing-only-students","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/reschool.gr\/en\/stop-assessing-only-students\/","title":{"rendered":"Stop Assessing Only Your Students. Start Assessing Your Activities."},"content":{"rendered":"

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\nStop Assessing Only Your Students. Start Assessing Your Activities.<\/h3>\n

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\nThere are days when I find myself staring at an activity I have just created, and, strangely enough, the first question that comes to mind has nothing to do with grammar, vocabulary, or exam preparation. I no longer ask whether my students will remember the Present Simple or master a new set of words. Instead, I catch myself wondering something much deeper. <\/span><\/span>Who will be in control during this lesson?<\/span><\/span><\/strong> The children… or the activity itself? It sounds like a simple question, yet it has completely transformed the way I think about teaching.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

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For many years, I believed that a successful activity was one that clearly explained a language point and produced the correct answers. The children completed the worksheet, the boxes were filled in, everyone seemed busy, and I went home feeling productive. Looking back now, I realise something uncomfortable. Sometimes the activity had become the most powerful person in the room. It dictated every step, every answer, every movement, every decision. The children were no longer exploring. They were simply following instructions, hoping to avoid mistakes and guessing what the designer of the worksheet wanted them to write. Without noticing it, <\/span><\/span>the activity had quietly become the boss of the classroom<\/strong>.<\/span><\/span>
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The strange thing is that this is almost the opposite of how human beings learn outside school. Nobody learns to ride a bicycle by completing a worksheet. Nobody falls in love with music because they coloured the correct answer. Nobody develops curiosity by discovering that only one answer was acceptable all along. <\/span><\/span>Real learning is wonderfully untidy<\/span><\/span><\/strong>. It involves movement, imagination, emotion, conversation, surprise, wrong turns, laughter, and the freedom to think differently from the person sitting next to you.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

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That realisation slowly changed the way I create every lesson. Today, before an activity ever reaches my classroom – or my website – I imagine placing it under a bright interrogation lamp, like a suspect in an old detective film. And then <\/span><\/span>the questioning begins<\/strong>.<\/span><\/span>
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