Thirty years ago, when I was a hippy midwife, the idea of holism began to slip into the counter-culture. A few years later, this much misunderstood notion was all the rage on college campuses. By the time I was in graduate school in the nineties there was a impassable division between the trendy postmodern holists and the rigidly old fashioned modernists. You may detect a slight mocking tone, and rightly so. People with good ideas on both sides made themselves look pretty silly by refusing, for example, to use any of the tools associated with the other side. One of the more tragic outcomes of this silliness was the emergence of the holistic assessment.
Simply put, the holistic assessment is a multidimensional assessment that is designed to take a more nuanced, textured, or rich approach to assessment. Great idea. Love it.
It’s the next part that’s silly. Having collected rich information on multiple dimensions, the test designers sum up a person’s performance with a single number. Why is this silly? Because the so-called holistic score becomes pretty-much meaningless. Two people with the same score can have very little in common. For example, let’s imagine that a holistic assessment examines emotional maturity, perspective taking, and leadership thinking. Two people receive a score of 10 that may be accompanied by boilerplate descriptions of what emotional maturity, perspective taking, and leadership attitudes look like at level 10. However, person one was actually weak in perspective-taking and strongest in leadership, and person two was weak in emotional maturity and strongest in perspective taking. The score of 10, it turns out, means something quite different for these two people. I would argue that it is relatively meaningless because there is no way to know, based on the single “holistic” score, how best to support the development of these distinct individuals.
Holism has its roots in system dynamics, where measurements are used to build rich models of systems. All of the measurements are unidimensional. They are never lumped together into “holistic” measures. That would be equivalent to talking about the temperaturelength of a day or the lengthweight of an object*. It’s essential to measure time, weight, and length with appropriate metrics and then to describe their interrelationships and the outcomes of these interrelationships. The language used to describe these is the language of probability, which is sensitive to differences in the measurement of different properties.
In psychological assessment, dimensionality is a challenging issue. What constitutes a single dimension is a matter for debate. For DTS, the primary consideration is how useful an assessment will be in helping people learn and grow. So, we tend to construct individual assessments, each of which represents a fairly tightly defined content space, and we use only one metric to determine the level of a performance. The meaning of a given score is both universal (it is an order of hierarchical complexity and phase on the skill scale) and contextual (it is provided to a performance in a particular domain in a particular context, and is associated with particular content.) We independently analyze the content of the performance to determine its strengths and weaknesses—relative to its level and the known range of content associated with that level—and provide feedback about these strengths and weaknesses as well as targeted learning suggestions. We use the level score to help us tell a useful story about a particular performance, without claiming to measure “lenghtweight”. This is accomplished by the rigorous separation of structure (level) and content.
*If we described objects in terms of their lengthweight, an object that was 10 inches long and 2 lbs could have a lengthweight of 12, but so could an object that was 2 inches long and 10 lbs.
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