(theme music playing)
(audience applauding)
Welcome, welcome, welcome to Last Week Tonight.
I'm John Oliver.
Thank you so much for being with us.
We just have time for a quick recap of the week,
and we begin in Baltimore,
where there have been protests all week
following the death of 25-year-old Freddie Gray
from injuries sustained in police custody.
It has been a delicate situation,
handled by the media with all the deft,
not at all racist touch that they've become known for.
Please watch as Geraldo Rivera
greets someone as Russell Simmons
who is absolutely not Russell Simmons.
Mr. Simmons? Russell?
The hip-hop mogul. Why are you here?
I'm Kevin Liles. Sorry.
You look just like him. I don't know.
So, Kevin, why are you here?
Okay. Geraldo, you do realize
that when African Americans stand together as one,
that doesn't mean they're all literally the same person, right?
Honestly, I have to say, you would think a journalist
like Geraldo Rivera-- oh, I'm sorry.
That's my mistake.
Not all people with mustaches look the same.
You would think a journalist like Geraldo Rivera--
I'm sorry.
That's Hall of Fame pitcher Rollie Fingers.
Do we have a photo of the actual Geraldo Rivera?
Perfect. That's the actual one.
That's the real one.
Geraldo Rivera is supposed to be a journalist.
And I suppose we should all just be thankful
that none of his colleagues made exactly the same mistake.
Okay, you bear a striking resemblance to Russell Simmons.
You tell me you're not him. You tell me you're Kevin Liles.
I'm not sure I believe you.
We think this is Russell Simmons, Wolf.
That's Kevin Liles. This is Kevin Liles?
Why is everyone so insistent
on finding Russell Simmons in the middle of this crowd?
Is there a prize for the first reporter to find him?
Because this guy would not let it go.
He's one of the chief organizers of the march.
Wolf, he brought in NBA star Carmelo Anthony.
He brought in Russell Simmons, who tried to masquerade
as a man named Kevin Liles.
He's not masquerading as someone else.
That's not Russell Simmons.
This isn't an episode of Scooby Doo.
You're not going to pull off his mask
and go, "Look, everyone, it was Russell Simmons all along!"
This week has shone a serious light
on the disparities in Baltimore
between the community and the police force--
disparities that were highlighted
when six officers were arrested on charges in Gray's death,
and were then released on bail.
All of the officers have posted bond.
The amounts range from $250,000 to $350,000.
That sounds like a fair amount for such serious charges.
But juxtapose that with the bail set
for the people involved in the protests,
like this 18-year-old who helped smash the window
of several cars, including one police car.
How much was his bail?
Female reporter: The charges he's facing are all misdemeanors,
yet his bail was set at $500,000.
$500,000 for breaking car windows.
To put that in context,
even Robert Durst had his bail set at just $300,000
after definitely not killing that guy in Galveston, Texas.
That amount of money makes absolutely no sense.
That kid's crimes were misdemeanors,
he turned himself in.
In fact, the only explanation for his bail being set that high
would be that just like Geraldo Rivera
and that guy from CNN,
judges in Baltimore can't look at black people
without seeing millionaire Russell Simmons.
So-- so let's move on to Venezuela,
a country you think about so little,
you didn't even realize that's not Venezuela,
this is Venezuela.
Actually, that's not Venezuela either.
This is Venezuela.
Except it isn't.
Because Venezuela was the first one all along.
But the fact you didn't notice is the point.
Venezuela's leader, Nicolás Maduro,
has been going through a multitude of problems domestically
from food shortages to electricity rationing
to massive inflation, and it all came to a head last week.
In Venezuela, a 54-year-old woman
threw a mango at President Nicolás Maduro's head.
Reporter: You can see the 54-year-old woman tossing a mango
to Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro,
hitting him right in the head.
The mango had a message written on it--
"If you can, call me," the message said.
Well, this-- this sounds like the premise
of an adorable romantic comedy.
I'd love to see Paul Rudd as the president,
Sofía Vergara as the woman,
and Paul Giamatti as the mango.
It turns out--
it's turns out-- it's good casting.
It turns out the woman desperately wanted an apartment.
And the amazing thing is, it worked.
Reporter: Maduro says his government will give Olivo
what she asked for-- an apartment.
Reporter #2: "You will get an apartment,
and it will be given to you in the next few hours."
Wow.
That is a fast government response,
and a pretty dangerous precedent
for the president of Venezuela to send.
Because now everyone knows,
if you want something, write it on a mango
and throw it at his fucking head. And unsurprisingly,
that's exactly what's happened since.
(speaking Spanish)
Translator: I received another mango,
a ripe mango.
Here it is. They wrote down the phone number.
They gave me a mango today, just now.
Mangoes are in. It's the time of the mango.
You see? I have it here.
Mangoes are welcomed, lovingly,
but handed over gently.
Don't throw them. Hand them over to me.
This is fantastic.
The president of a country
basically begging people to stop throwing mangoes at his head.
And to the people of Venezuela, I say this--
Keep doing it. Send him your mango demands,
or "demandgos," as I call them.
In fact, we should all be using fruit
to improve government efficiency as well.
Next time you need an expedited passport renewal,
wouldn't it be nice to be able to say,
"Three weeks is a little long for me.
"Let's see if you can speed it up a bit.
"Yeah, this is a honeydew. That's how angry I am.
"I've written to you on a garbage melon
"that only exists to fill out suspiciously cheap Edible Arrangements.
Let's do this thing!"
Finally-- finally tonight,
Bud Light.
If Budweiser is the King of Beers,
then Bud Light is the feudal peasant
covered in donkey shit of beers.
And this week, Bud Light found itself in trouble.
Hard to understand how this made it past the pitch meeting.
A slogan on bottles of Bud Light
called it "The perfect beer
for removing 'no' from your vocabulary for the night."
Well, well, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Well, clearly, I did not just drink a Bud Light
because, "No, Bud Light! No! No!"
It is pretty obvious
why this slogan was problematic.
Female reporter: Some say the message recalls
alcohol's connection to sexual assault.
Male reporter: Critics saying it invites attacks on women.
I'd say it has a certain rapey feel to it.
Okay. That's true.
But it would be great if you used a slightly
more serious word than "rapey,"
because it's somewhat diminishing.
It's like saying Floyd Mayweather is a smidge "assaulty."
It's-- it's technically correct,
but it would be more appropriate to say
he's a woman-battering human landfill.
That would be more on the money.
He's-- oh, he's a good boxer. He boxes as well, apparently.
The amazing thing was,
this was not just one person's mistake.
Female reporter: The label went through at least five layers of approval
before it landed on the bottle.
Allow me to venture a wild guess
as to what those five layers of approval
at Budweiser's corporate headquarters were.
Layer one-- "Yeah, boy!"
Layer two-- "Sick idea, brah!"
Layer three-- "That's what I'm talkin' about! A'ight!"
Layer four-- "Nah nah nah nah, that's what I'm talkin' about, son!"
And of course, step five-- "Blahhhhhh!
Blahhh! Approved! Blahhhh!"
It's the Bud Light way.
The slogan has since been withdrawn,
but Bud Light's broader "Up For Whatever" campaign remains.
You've probably seen the hidden-camera-based commercials.
What's up, guys? What's your name?
Riley. So if I gave you a Bud Light,
are you up for whatever happens next?
Yeah.
Oh, good. That's great news.
Fantastic. I've got two more questions for you then.
What's your blood type, and how would you like to meet Keith Richards?
In-- in these ads, whenever someone accepts,
they're taken on a spontaneous adventure
which might involve playing table tennis with Arnold Schwarzenegger
or a real-life game of Pac-Man,
which sure, looks like fun,
especially if you're a 10-year-old in 1985.
But if Bud Light really wants to fix the mistakes in its marketing,
then in the interest of accuracy,
they need to fix those ads too.
(pop music playing)
What's up, guys? Hey.
If I gave you this Bud Light,
are you up for whatever happens next?
Yeah, sure.
Wait, do I have to drink the Bud Light?
Yeah. Uh, then no.
What? Why?
Because Bud Light tastes like a beer that someone already threw up.
Yeah, it's like a liquid John Mayer song.
Okay, but the thing is, like, it's all about whatever happens next.
So if you could-- Yeah, but it tastes like
the flat soda that a homeless guy uses to rinse off birds.
Yeah, that's exactly what it tastes like.
Okay, look, I'm not supposed to do this,
but we have hidden cameras inside of this bar.
And when you get outside That's illegal.
there's, like, gonna be this huge thing for you.
If you could just drink this Bud Light.
You mean the beer that tastes like water strained
from a gutter full of dog's teeth?
Bud Light tastes like the scared urine of a rabbit.
It's like Steven Seagal's pre-cum.
Yeah, but we have, like, an epic night planned for you.
Listen to me very carefully, 'cause this is important.
If a nickel could urinate, Uh-huh?
it would taste like Bud Light.
That's exactly right.
Bud Light tastes like the ghost of a dead lemon.
Basically, if water could just go bad.
We have a stretch limo waiting for you guys outside
with Peyton Manning in it, and he's going to take you
to play a game of giant Jenga, okay?
And then after that, you're going to go
on one of those Virgin Galactic missions into space.
That sounds amazing. I'm just not gonna do it.
All right, you know what? Just let me drink it.
What does that taste like? Describe it.
It tastes like if a raccoon ejaculated
carbonated vinegar inside of an old log.
Yes. That is a good one.
Announcer: Bud Light,
the only beer that makes you up for literally anything else.
Our main story tonight
is standardized tests,
the fastest way to terrify any child with five letters,
outside of just whispering the word "clown."
It's currently testing season all over the country.
And with that comes the usual flood
of anxiety and school-produced videos
designed to get kids in the mood.
(children singing to tune of "Poker Face")
(children singing to tune of "Call Me Maybe")
(man singing to tune of "What Does the Fox Say?")
* Get your #2 pencils out
* What the test say?
* Get your #2 pencils out!
Look, standardized tests look like amazing fun.
I wish I could take one right now.
* Bring me a pencil! A #2, please!
But it gets better, because one elementary school in Texas
even held a test-themed pep rally
featuring a monkey mascot.
* Ooh ah ah! Time to get funky! *
* Ooh ah ah, 'cause here comes the monkey *
* Ooh ah ah, time to get funky *
* Ooh-ee, monkey, funky monkey. *
Look, let's all agree
there is no scenario in which the words
"Here comes the monkey" can fail to pump you up.
Just imagine right now I was your surgeon
and I said to you, "I'm about to put you under.
"There's about a 20% chance of survival.
"And I have four important words for you.
Here comes the monkey."
* Ooh ah ah! Time to get funky! *
* Ooh ah ah, 'cause here comes the monkey... *
You're going to be looking forward to that operation.
It's going to be a fun time.
You see? You love it!
The point is-- (audience cheering)
the point is-- you've proved my point.
The point is,
the videos and monkey mascots
would have you think that testing is amazing,
which is why this spate of recent news stories
has been so surprising.
In the Lower Hudson Valley, many districts reported
that more than 25% of their students opted out.
More than 1,700 elementary, middle, and high-school students
opted out of taking the PARCC tests.
There was five kids that I was with.
That took the test? Yeah.
Like, almost the entire auditorium
was filled with kids that didn't take it.
Female reporter: Not a single junior showed up
to take the Common Core Smarter Balance test this week.
Wow.
The entire class boycotted the test.
The only other thing an entire class of juniors
has ever managed to agree on
is that The Scarlet Letter could be told much simpler with emojis.
"Yeah, we get it.
"We get it. red lady, finger-finger,
"devil, baby. We've all read the book.
It's a good story."
But, look, is it any wonder
that American students are sick of tests?
Between benchmarks, diagnostics, pre- and mock tests,
they take a lot of them.
Students are taking between 10 and 20 standardized tests,
depending on the grade. A total average
of 113 different ones by graduation.
113 is a lot of tests.
It's approaching the amount that you'd ask your doctor for
the morning after you woke up from a one night stand with Colin Farrell.
"Just-- just give me all of them twice."
And this amount of testing
can take a toll.
Woman: Teachers have reported kids throwing up,
kids crying-- especially the younger ones.
And it's the pressure.
That's true. In fact, this happens so much
that official instructions for test administrators
specify what to do if a student vomits on his or her test booklet.
And something is wrong with our system
when we just assume a certain number of kids will vomit.
Tests are supposed to be assessments of skills,
not a rap battle on 8 Mile Road.
"Oh, Eminem, why did your mom make you spaghetti?
She knew tonight was rap-battle night."
So how did we get here?
Well, the explosion of testing can be traced back to the '90s,
when you probably remember stories like these
about the state of public education.
Woman: When 40 nations recently took
the International Math and Science Test,
American students scored near the bottom.
That must have hurt,
especially because you knew the French children
weren't even trying.
(French accent) "Go on, play with your silly numbers.
"They tell you nothing of the true nature of the soul.
I weep for you."
In response to statistics like that--
in response to those kind of statistics,
President George W. Bush, on just his third day in office,
announced his No Child Left Behind program.
It passed Congress with bipartisan support,
because of course it did.
Voting against No Child Left Behind
is like voting against No Puppy Left Unsnuggled.
What-- what monster would do that?
His name is Patches and he needs love!
The program was designed to be data-driven
and involved testing children every single year
in order to identify and fix failing schools.
An accountability system must have a consequence.
Otherwise it's not much of an accountability system.
It's hard to argue with any of that.
Unfortunately, accountability is one of those concepts
that everybody's in favor of,
but nobody knows how to make work,
like synergy or maxi dresses.
No matter who wear them, they look like a poncho fucked a waterfall.
You look like the ghost of Gwyneth Paltrow future.
"I only haunt brunch. Goop!"
No Child Left Behind increased the number
of federally-mandated tests from 6 to 17.
And the fixation on testing
was something which our current president
seemed to be against as he ran for office.
Don't tell us that the only way to teach a child
is to spend too much of a year
preparing him to fill out a few bubbles
in a standardized test! We know that's not true!
Wow, that man knew how to pander to teachers.
"And you know what else? There should be pool tables in the teachers' lounge!
"And every year, you should be able to slap one parent!
"Vote for me! I'm outta here. I'm outta here.
Vote-- vote for me."
But once this president took office,
he didn't get rid of tests.
Instead he added his own education initiatives,
like Race to the Top, which encouraged states
to adopt the Common Core, which featured a logo
of snails 69'ing.
And again, the intentions here were good.
Because we do have underperforming schools.
And there are major economic and racial disparities
in the quality of education children receive.
And anything that can help us narrow those gaps
is obviously a good thing.
The problem has been the implementation.
For instance, many states now tie teacher pay
to performance using one particular approach.
Male reporter: It's called "value-added analysis,"
rating teachers based on student test scores.
For instance, if a student who ranked in the 60th percentile
tests higher at the end of the year,
the teacher gets a better rating.
If the student falls, the teacher's rating falls.
Okay, well, that explains why many teachers' classroom decorations
that used to read "Believe in yourself"
now say "Don't fuck me on this!
Don't fuck me!"
And while the idea of tying teacher pay
to student improvement sounds great in theory,
here's how it can work in practice.
I have four students whose predicted scores
were literally impossible.
One of my sixth-grade students
had a predicted score of 286.34.
However, the highest a sixth-grade student can earn is 283.
The student did earn a 283, incidentally.
Despite the fact she earned a perfect score,
she counted negatively towards my evaluation
because she was three points below her predicted score.
That is ridiculous.
The only way she could have hit her predicted score
was if she answered everything right,
wrote a few extra questions of her own,
got those right, and then stapled them to the test.
That teacher lives in Florida,
which uses this formula to assess teachers--
a formula which looks like the kind of thing
that aliens carve into an anti-Semite cornfield.
And many of these formulas
on which teachers' careers depend
were partly inspired by research, and this is true,
that modeled the reproductive trends of livestock.
Basically, we judge the nuance of what happens
in the complicated world of a child's mind
the same way that we judge this.
"Look, I don't know what we did wrong,
"but your child is going to either pass algebra
"or birth a healthy calf. I don't know.
Flip a coin."
With the stakes this high, the tests had better be good.
But there is ample reason to suspect
that that is not the case.
Just look at the Florida Comprehensive Assessment Test, or FCAT.
A Florida school board member was concerned
and a little suspicious when he learned
that only 39% of his state's 10th graders
had performed at or above grade level in reading.
So he had an idea.
I asked the district at that point
to give me the closest thing they could legally
to the FCAT reading and math test, and I took it.
That test labeled me as a poor reader,
and I have a couple of master's degrees
and I've been reelected four times,
and I teach 39 graduate courses
at six universities in this country.
Okay, okay, okay.
We get it. The test sucks.
Anything else you want to brag about there?
"Oh, I also know how to to play 'Mary Had A Little Lamb'
"on the recorder, and guess who can do 60 non-consecutive push-ups?
This fucking guy."
But, look, he does have a point. He does have a point.
If a test fails to reflect ability,
there are human consequences.
Because one shy Florida eighth grader who had a near-perfect score
in her advanced language-arts class
was asked to leave it last year
due to her inexplicably low scores on the FCAT.
And last fall, she told a school board meeting
exactly how that felt.
Every year, I do good in school.
(crying) But I get low test--
but I get low test scores on the FCAT
and it feels like a punch in the stomach.
This is unfair, and I don't want to lose my opportunity
to take my advanced-lit classes
or get a better education because of one test.
That is just awful.
I take back everything I said
about wanting to take a standardized test.
In fact, you know what? Bring out the monkey.
Bring the monkey-- no, no, no! No, no, no!
No, turn off his music!
Turn it-- do not applaud him!
What the fuck is wrong with you?
What is wrong with you? You made that little girl cry!
Think about what you've done.
Go-- no, no, no! Don't you dance it off.
You go and think about what you've done.
Aww! Shame on you.
Shame on you!
Look, at this point,
you have to ask yourself,
if standardized tests are bad for teachers and bad for kids,
who exactly are they good for?
Well, it turns out
they're operated by companies like all these.
And let's just focus on the largest one, Pearson.
As of 2012, they had nearly 40% of the testing market,
almost triple their nearest competitor.
And if you've never heard of them, then congratulations.
But just mention their name to any parent or teacher
in a state they operate in and you see what happens.
Because Pearson are the educational equivalent
of Time Warner Cable.
Either you've never had an interaction with them and don't care,
or they have ruined your fucking life.
Pearson have a shocking amount of influence
over America's schools. So much so, that at this point,
a hypothetical girl could take Pearson tests
from kindergarten through at least eighth grade--
tests, by the way, that she studied for
using Pearson curriculum and textbooks,
taught to her by teachers who were certified
by their own Pearson test.
If at some point, she was tested for a learning disability
like ADHD, that's also a Pearson test.
And if she eventually got sick of Pearson and dropped out,
well, she'd have to take the GED,
which is now-- guess what?-- also a Pearson test.
In fact, the only test they have no hand in
is the HPV test you might take in college,
and I can only assume that they'll get on that
as soon as they see this fucking show.
Pearson has enjoyed spectacular growth and profit,
and yet their track record is littered with complaints
concerning technical glitches, slow grading,
and even the contents of their tests.
Take what happened in New York just a few years ago.
Woman: Almost 30 different test questions
have now been declared invalid because they're confusing
or have outright errors.
They had already pulled six questions from an English exam
related to a bizarre passage about a talking pineapple.
A talking pineapple?
Well, at the risk of sounding like a DreamWorks executive
talking to a CGI animator,
tell me more about this talking pineapple.
Woman: Students had to answer questions about the story,
which they say goes like this.
"A pineapple challenges a hare to a race.
Other animals figure the fruit has a trick up its sleeve,
but the hare wins and the animals eat the pineapple."
It ends with the moral-- pineapples don't have sleeves.
I was really confused
because I expected a lot more from them.
That article about the pineapple and the hare
was stupid and absurd.
Yeah, she's not wrong about that.
Because we looked up that test section
and we couldn't work out all the answers.
That pineapple item doesn't remotely work as a test question.
It barely works as a Doors lyric.
But it's-- it's not just Pearson's questions that are a problem.
It's how they check the answers.
Man: The company posted this ad to Craigslist.
It's to find people to grade the exams.
Craigslist.
They look for scorers on Craigslist.
Pearson chooses test graders
the same way that you'd look for a mattress full of bedbugs
or a no-strings-attached hand job.
And to be clear here-- just to be clear,
this is not just a Pearson problem.
Across the whole testing industry,
you can find former graders
who will tell you horror stories.
Man: We looked at an essay every two minutes,
a short answer every five seconds.
every 10 seconds.
We don't understand your kids.
We don't understand anyone's kids.
That is not an acceptable answer
from a person who may be responsible for the future of your child.
It's barely acceptable from the manufacturers of American Girl dolls.
"Oh, we make dolls for 100 bucks
"that kids can't play with in case they get them dirty.
"We don't understand your kids.
We don't understand anyone's kids."
And as another scorer points out,
sometimes grades are given out not based on merit,
but on quota.
I was told when I was beginning a project
that, "last year, you know, there were a certain amount of twos,
"a certain amount of threes, a certain amount of fours.
"We expect that to be similar this year."
If that's not similar, they will tell you,
"We're scoring too many threes.
We're scoring too many fours."
And they'll say, "You have to learn to see more papers as a three.
You have to learn to see more papers as a four."
But that makes no sense
if the content of what you're looking at has not changed.
That's like telling a baseball umpire,
"Hey, we've got a problem with batting averages.
"You need to see more home runs as strike-outs,
and more strike-outs as doubles. Do it now."
And I would love to show you more questions from these tests,
but unfortunately, that's not only difficult,
it's often illegal.
Because both states and companies
have fought to keep test questions secret
by having teachers and students
sign statements like, "I will not use or discuss
the content of secure test materials."
And while they'll say that this is to protect against cheating,
it does seem odd that even if you see something wrong on a test,
you can't tell anyone.
Standardized tests basically enforce the rule
that all subway riders instinctively obey.
"If you see something, keep it the fuck to yourself.
"We've all seen someone vomit in a purse before.
"Leave it! Focus ahead and leave it.
Bury it!"
Look, we've had more than a decade of standardized testing now,
and maybe it's time to put the test to the test.
The original goal was to narrow the achievement gap
and boost our scores relative to the rest of the world.
Well, a 2013 study found no support for the idea
that No Child Left Behind narrowed the achievement gap.
And our scores on the international tests
have not only failed to rise, they're slightly down.
And I do not want to hear
what that French kid thinks of those results.
(French accent) "Oh, all this time and all this money,
"and your rise to the top has been, how you say?
"A meandering jog on a treadmill.
Buf."
All of this-- all of this calls
for a little of what both presidents asked for
when selling their reforms.
Higher standards are the right goal.
Accountability is the right goal.
An accountability system must have a consequence.
Otherwise it's not much of an accountability system.
Right. So let's look at that.
Because as far as I can see
this is a system which has enriched multiple companies
and that pays and fires teachers
with a cattle-birthing formula,
confuses children with talking pineapples,
and has the same kind of rules regarding transparency
that Brad Pitt had for Fight Club.
So for Pearson, the other companies,
and all the lawmakers who have supported this system,
the true test is going to be either convincing everyone it works,
or accepting it doesn't work and fixing it.
Because at the risk of sounding like a standardized-test scorer,
your numbers are not good.
And if it seems unfair to have your fate riding
on a complicated metric that fails to take
institutional factors into account
and might not even tell the whole story,
well, you're not wrong about that,
but you do not get to complain about it.
And if all this pressure to increase your numbers
is making you feel nauseous, like you might vomit at any second,
then don't worry. I've got four words for you
that'll make you feel better. Here comes the monkey!
(music playing) * Here comes the monkey...
That's our show.
Thank you so much for watching!
We'll see you next week.
* Here comes the monkey...
Bud Light tastes like butter churned by Boko Haram.
It's like someone drank a good Mexican beer
and then pissed in this bottle.
It's like a cloud rained the tears of a sick child.
It's like making a tea
out of dipping Scott Caan's balls in water.
Bud Light tastes like all the used bronzer
in Wildwood, New Jersey.
It tastes like Robert Durst's aquarium.
It's like antifreeze that's been filtered
through a used yoga mat.
It tastes like ISIS attacked your taste buds.
You know the disappointment that your parents feel
for you still working in this job?
Right. That's what Bud Light tastes like.
So...
(crew laughing)