“So, if I just memorize all the vocabulary, I’ll be fine, right?”
“Exactly how many questions will be on the quiz?”
“I’m so cooked for this test; I don’t understand anything.”
“How many sentences should I write?”
I hear manifestations of anxiety like these all the time in the days leading up to an assessment. And don’t get me started on test days. The panic in the room, the discomfort, the innumerable questions, the pleading looks of “am I doing this right?” And the stress level just keeps increasing every year. Anxiety is on the rise, and performance-based assessments are no help in this regard.
So, I couldn’t help but think, what can we do for our language students who see the value in achieving the Seal of Biliteracy but who are spooked by language proficiency-based assessments?
Did You Read the Directions?
The first step is acknowledging a simple truth: most students don’t actually understand what they’re being asked to do on a proficiency assessment. If you don’t explicitly tell them what you expect, they’ll guess. I’ve put directions in bold, extra-large font, underlined the key terms–none of it matters. Our students rarely read and think; they often just jump in from nervousness that inaction belies inability. And when our students don’t understand the task, they default to what they do understand—memorization, prediction, control.
That’s why you and I often hear questions like, “How many questions will there be?” or “What exactly do I need to study?” Students are trying to reverse-engineer a system that, by design, resists being reverse-engineered. Assessments like the AAPPL aren’t asking students to reproduce what they’ve memorized; they’re asking them to use the language in real time. And that shift—from performance as recall to performance as communication—is where anxiety starts to spike. Because, if we’re assessing proficiency that is applicable to real life, we need to mirror the spontaneity and unpredictable nature of the world we inhabit.
The Reckoning
Part of the issue is that students often interpret assessments as judgments rather than snapshots of their progress. In their minds, a test result doesn’t say, “Here’s what you can do right now.” It says, “Here’s what you are.” Good at languages. Bad at languages. Capable. Incapable. And once that narrative takes hold, the stakes feel impossibly high. How many times have you heard from a student (or, as is more often the case, their parents) that so-and-so “isn’t good at languages?” Oh really? Then how are we communicating right now? Well, that’s what I want to reply–but truly, I understand the spirit of their self-assessment.
What our students need to understand, fundamentally, is that proficiency-based assessments, especially those aligned with ACTFL guidelines, aren’t built to deliver verdicts. They’re designed to capture a moment in time—a sample of how a student can interpret, interact, and present using the language they currently have. Showing them a range of proficiency levels can help them understand that language ability fluctuates the way our sense of being physically ‘in shape’ does: when we train regularly, we are quicker to achieve a flow state, make microdecisions with less apprehension, and ultimately perform better with less stress. When we fail to make the distinction between judgment and clear benchmarks, students fill in the gap themselves, and they rarely do so in a generous way.
Control Obsession
Another hidden driver of anxiety is control. Traditional assessments reward a familiar formula: study the material, memorize the content, and reproduce it accurately. Students know how to succeed in that system. They memorize formulas, acronyms, and mnemonic devices, and then write them on the top of your exam. But proficiency assessments feel different. You can’t predict exactly what you’ll hear. You can’t script your response in advance. You can’t rely on having “the right answer” waiting for you. And formulas, patterns, and cute sayings don’t really come in handy as much in these sort of ‘random’ situations.
For many students, that lack of control feels like a lack of preparedness—even when they are, in fact, prepared. And when students don’t feel in control of the task, they try to regain control emotionally. That’s when the panic sets in.
So, what can we do? Here are five approaches to consider:
First, we can change the way we talk about assessment. If every evaluation is framed as a “test,” students will continue to approach it as a pass/fail event. Instead, we can start calling these moments what they are: snapshots, checkpoints, opportunities to show what they can do. It’s a small shift in language, but it reframes the entire experience.
In the world of curriculum and lesson plan, this approach can take the form of ‘graded assignments’ instead of quizzes, and ‘practice tests’ that allow the students to utilize their notes and materials in a simulation of the more formal assessment.
Second, we need to normalize imperfection—explicitly and often. Students assume they’re supposed to be flawless unless we tell them otherwise. Show them sample responses that are messy but effective. Point out communication over correctness. Say it out loud: making mistakes is not only acceptable, it’s expected. Proficiency isn’t built through perfection; it’s built through use.
In your classes, this could be producing assessment criteria, such as rubrics, that are more qualitative and holistic. Phrases such as ‘student answers question with few mistakes, or where errors don’t detract from the comprehensibility of the response’ can help ease the stress of perfectionism.
Third, we can give students repeated exposure to the experience of proficiency tasks before the stakes are high. Short, low-pressure interpersonal prompts. Listening activities where the questions aren’t predictable. Timed speaking tasks that prioritize getting ideas across rather than getting everything right. Familiarity doesn’t reduce rigor—it removes unnecessary fear. When the format isn’t new, the anxiety drops.
Fourth, and perhaps most importantly, we can teach students what to do when they don’t know what to do. Because that’s the exact moment when anxiety peaks. When a student hits an unfamiliar word or idea, their instinct is often to freeze. But that moment can be trained. Circumlocution, rephrasing, stalling strategies—these aren’t backup plans; they are core communication skills. When students have a plan for uncertainty, uncertainty becomes manageable.
In my early level classes, I’ll answer the “how do you say _______” questions because students just don’t have the aggregate vocabulary. But, as soon as we reach intermediate levels, I turn the question back around on them and ask them, “how else can you say that?” or tell them to “use the vocabulary you know and/or remember!” We all have brain short-circuits in our primary languages, too, and we still manage to explain ourselves; so, it should be no different in a language we’re learning!
Finally, we can help students see their own growth before they ever sit down for a major assessment. Portfolios, recorded speaking samples, reflection activities—anything that allows them to recognize progress over time. Confidence grounded in evidence is far more powerful than reassurance. When students can say, “I couldn’t do this two months ago, but I can do it now,” they walk into assessments differently.
I use our school’s platform to collect speaking assessments and practices because the system does exactly that–it allows students to easily upload sound files, and then makes them available to me while still being accessible to the students. This way, it’s very easy to show progress by simply flipping through the recordings.
And right before the assessment itself, the best thing we can do is resist the urge to cram. Last-minute review often reinforces the very mindset we’re trying to move away from—that success is about knowing everything. Instead, remind your students what the assessment actually measures, what success really looks like, and what to do when they inevitably encounter something unfamiliar.
Communication Day vs Judgment Day
I think it all comes down to mentality and perception. If students walk into an assessment believing it’s a judgment, they’ll perform like they’re being judged. If they walk in believing it’s an opportunity to communicate, they’ll perform like language users. And that difference doesn’t come from the assessment itself. It comes from how we prepare them to understand it.
In the end, we’re not just assessing proficiency; we’re shaping whether students believe they are capable of using the language at all. That’s a tough sell, no doubt, but you’re the first line of defense against their own self-destructive anxiety.
If you’re not testing with the AAPPL, the Gold Standard assessments for students in Grades 3-12, implementation is easy. Contact us for more information.
