Like an exhausted child straining on a pull-up bar, the Presidential Physical Fitness Test is losing its grip on public schools.
School officials say the 44-year-old test, once the gold standard for measuring fitness, embarrasses and discourages out-of-shape children while doing little to motivate students to become healthy.
Schools increasingly are replacing it with the FitnessGram, tests that measure individual progress toward health goals rather than how a child ranks against his peers nationally. It also gives kids a range of fitness targets to hit.
To qualify for the Presidential Fitness Award, for example, a 10-year-old boy needs to do 22 push-ups. To hit his “healthy fitness zone” under the FitnessGram program, he has to do between 7 and 20 push-ups.
“It strikes a different chord about bringing up the average child instead of having kids compete against other kids to be the top,” said Iowa State University assistant professor Gregory Welk, FitnessGram's scientific director.
Tens of thousands of schools nationwide have adopted the program, developed in 1982 by the Cooper Institute of Dallas, a nonprofit health research center. The shift is part of a national trend to refocus physical education classes from teaching sports skills to promoting healthy lifestyles, especially as childhood obesity rates increase.
But not everyone is eager to dump the Presidential Fitness Test, which challenges students to place in the top 15 percent of the nation for their age and gender in pull-ups, sit-ups and other exercises.
Students at Chase County Elementary School in Imperial, Neb., earn more Presidential Fitness Test awards each year than any other Nebraska school of comparable size. They have brought home the Presidential State Champion Award 30 of the past 35 years.
Physical education teacher Jodie Schuller is trying to keep the tradition alive.
Schuller, 39, is a fan of in-your-face personal trainer Jillian Michaels, who goads obese contestants to get into shape on NBC's “The Biggest Loser.” In this age of “biggie”-size meals and video games that don't involve much activity, she said, putting a little pressure on kids can be a good thing.
Kids sometimes don't know what they're capable of until they're challenged, Schuller said.
“To me, life is sometimes made too easy on kids nowadays,” she said. “We hand them things. I guess I'm old-fashioned.”
If you're between 20 and 50 years old, you probably took the Presidential Fitness Test. President Lyndon Johnson established the national test in 1966 amid rising concerns that U.S. kids, softened by industrialization and affluence, were not as fit as European children. Thousands of schools employed the test, and millions of children tried to push, pull and run their way to earn a handsome blue patch and a certificate bearing the president's signature.
Gretna Public Schools physical education teachers abandoned the program five or 10 years ago when they “found over and over again that it wasn't motivating kids,” said Superintendent Kevin Riley.
“Conceptually, it's very good,” Riley said. “However, if you've got a heavyset kid who can't do a pull-up, it doesn't do anything to motivate them to get better.”
Julane Hill, coordinated school health director for the Nebraska Department of Education, foresees a day when the Presidential Fitness Test will be gone.
Eighteen Nebraska school districts, including the five largest, have switched to FitnessGram. The Lincoln and Millard school districts adopted it a decade ago, the Omaha Public Schools in 2008.
In Iowa, FitnessGram and the Presidential Fitness Test are believed to be about equally used, said Elaine Watkins-Miller, spokeswoman for the Iowa Department of Education.
With the Presidential Fitness Test, districts typically test upper elementary and middle school students each fall and spring in five events: curl-ups or partial curl-ups (sit-ups), shuttle run, endurance run/walk, pull-ups or right angle push-ups, and V-sit or sit and reach.
Boys and girls who score at or above the 85th percentile of U.S. youths on all five events, based on standards established in a 1985 study of youth fitness, are eligible for the award.
With FitnessGram, students also test twice a year, or sometimes more often. They try to keep their scores within the health fitness zones for three areas: aerobic capacity; body composition; and muscular strength, endurance and flexibility. The zones are established by research to reflect levels of fitness necessary for good health, the company says.
It's the bottom number that's most important, because it's the threshold for fitness. Scoring below that puts a child in the “needs improvement” zone.
Children periodically get a colorful FitnessGram report highlighting their successes, reminding them to lead a healthy lifestyle and offering tips for improvement. A child who scores low in pull-ups might receive a message to increase arm exercises or climbing.
The switch to FitnessGram may be driven by the national alarm over childhood obesity, as school districts search for physical education programs that work, said Annette Eyman, spokeswoman for the Papillion-La Vista Schools, which switched this year.
Between 1976 and 2006, childhood obesity in children ages 6 to 11 increased from 6.5 percent to 17 percent, raising the risk of diabetes, asthma and sleep apnea, according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
“The ultimate goal of the FitnessGram is to give kids a lifelong measurement tool that can help encourage and promote that physical activity,” Eyman said. “That's the goal, versus a one-time recognition.”
In Chase County, however, recognition is a part of the winning formula. Patches, certificates and a tradition of winning help motivate kids, Schuller said. “It's mainly the tradition,” she said. “The kids want to be like big brother or big sister.”
Robert and Robyn Forsyth of Papillion have raised four Presidential Fitness Award-winning kids. Their children even practiced the exercises at home.
Beth, 12, earned the award twice and prefers the Presidential Fitness Award to the FitnessGram because it's more challenging. “It's important to challenge kids because then they'll work harder in other things,” she said.
Beth sees some good in the FitnessGram. When the girls in her sixth-grade class ran a FitnessGram aerobic test, nearly all of them reached their healthy fitness zones. That was good for the girls who were not able to earn the Presidential Fitness Award, she said.
The Presidential Fitness Test is still used in the David City Schools, where Tom Jahde taught PE for 20 years. He encouraged kids to try to at least pass one or two of the exercise tests. During the mile run, he grouped kids by ability to minimize embarrassment. He looked for improvement.
His district passes out the patches during a parents awards night.
“We try to promote it and make a big deal about it so kids really feel proud of what they accomplished,” he said.
The only thing he didn't like about it was that kids had to pass all the tests to get the award.
Pull-ups were Megan Adkins' Achilles heel. Now 30 and president of the Nebraska Association for Health, Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, she is a fan of FitnessGram.
“When adults go to the gym, it's not ‘Well, we're going to compete against the person next to us on the other treadmill to see who can run faster.' We're trying to improve our own self and our own bodies,” she said.
Adkins, now a physical education lecturer at the University of Nebraska at Kearney, never earned the Presidential Fitness Award because of what she calls those “stinkin'” pull-ups.
“I tried and tried and tried,” she said, “and never could get that pull-up and never could get that Presidential Award.”
“When adults go to the gym, it's not ‘Well, we're going to compete against the person next to us on the other treadmill to see who can run faster.' We're trying to improve our own self and our own bodies,” she said.
Sounds like she's butthurt cause she could never do the pull ups. And I agree that pull ups are hard to do when you're a kid. Kid's don't have quite the upper body strength to do that many, but I think the Presidential fitness test requires like 1 to pass for boys and a 'good effort' for the girls.Pull-ups were Megan Adkins' Achilles heel. Now 30 and president of the Nebraska Association for Health, Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, she is a fan of FitnessGram.
And I totally KNOW this thread is going to devolve into the kids that could actually DO the award, and the kids who couldn't.
Calling me a fatty weakling in 5 4 3 2
I see this thread going there, too. But it needs to be said that this lessening of competition HURTS kids for the future. Yes, some kids will do better. Some kids will suck. Some adults will be great at life, some will suck. The stratification of people based on arbitrary social classifications is not only natural, but beneficial to society as a whole. Kids who suck at the physical stuff who are forced to try and improve their social standing in this area are doomed to failure. Which is why they naturally gravitate towards the less physical pursuits such as computers, games, etc.And I totally KNOW this thread is going to devolve into the kids that could actually DO the award, and the kids who couldn't.
Calling me a fatty weakling in 5 4 3 2
You're not a weakling
As to Chaz, Varsity X-country and track BOOYAH!
I'm with Dave here a bit, in that I think we do need to encourage our kids to actually compete instead of telling them to go at thier own pace. having a hard deadline in place tends to motivate people rather than having a soft one that is continually pushed back because little Johnny didn't feel like trying today due to cartoons.
However, it would more than likely be in the best interest of the people who run the program to re-tool it to work better with modern kids.
I was able to get the award when I was a kid, and I think it's crap. Shaming kids into losing weight obviously isn't working. It seems to me if you can help them make progress, it's a lot better than laughing at them and saying you lose. Does the loss of the competitive nature of the Presidential fitness award really hurt more than the rising obesity of kids?
I was able to get the award when I was a kid, and I think it's crap. Shaming kids into losing weight obviously isn't working. It seems to me if you can help them make progress, it's a lot better than laughing at them and saying you lose. Does the loss of the competitive nature of the Presidential fitness award really hurt more than the rising obesity of kids?
I was able to get the award when I was a kid, and I think it's crap. Shaming kids into losing weight obviously isn't working. It seems to me if you can help them make progress, it's a lot better than laughing at them and saying you lose. Does the loss of the competitive nature of the Presidential fitness award really hurt more than the rising obesity of kids?
Exactly. From what I can remember of it, it was basically those that could do it did it and those that couldn't did as little as possible to get their turn done. It was rare to find someone that was actually training for it.EDIT: What I'm trying to say is that removing this program isn't necessarily coddling. It's just removing a system that doesn't seem to effectively promote health fitness anyway, except to give the athletic kids a piece of paper mom and dad will gloat on their fridge for a month.
My life was influenced around an insanely active need to be the best at what I'm doing. Growing up with a very close in age sibling tends to make you very competitive....mainly for food.
Fat kids aren't gonna loose weight because of some award or because of some competition against others they have no chance against...
Having personalized goals can easily be turned into a competition too, but one where the fats kids actually have a chance at winning...
I don't know, but that's a solid question. If the test itself is simple, and people are complaining, then we need to revamp the gym class system overall. Which should probably get worked on anyway. My gym classes were fucking dire.
I could never get the mile in time or the required amount of pull-ups... or even girl-style push-ups. I'm very slow and weak in the arms, but I'm good at other things. I can lift a lot and walk at a fast pace, but no one cares about that.I don't mean to sound like a jerk--this is genuine--but wasn't that award like insanely easy to get?
I don't know, but that's a solid question. If the test itself is simple, and people are complaining, then we need to revamp the gym class system overall. Which should probably get worked on anyway. My gym classes were fucking dire.
Fat kids aren't gonna loose weight because of some award or because of some competition against others they have no chance against...
Having personalized goals can easily be turned into a competition too, but one where the fats kids actually have a chance at winning...
I thought the tiny Asian women were best at putting away food.
. . . or is that just with my sausage.
Because most people who were gym teachers in those days were the jocks and failed athletes who had nothing else going for them but their past glories and insecurities to sustain them. They look at the weak kids and are reminded that it is kids like these who are now their bosses, movers and shakers. The same kids they gave wedgies to and pantsed in front of the girls because they are smaller and weaker are the same ones who now control their lives. Gym teachers of yore were bitter ex-jocks who couldn't cope with no longer being the popular and fear-inducing figures they once were. They take out their failings on those whom they used to torment for fear that traits like compassion and pity would be misconstrued as fruity or gay. Then they dragged their sorry, balding, overweight bodies back to the trailers where their high school sweethearts (usually the prom queen) smoked their Marlboros and cooked spaghetti over a dimly lit fire while four unplanned children run around her feet in various stages of cleanliness and disrobing. Her girth and stained teeth are constant reminders that they are no longer the two they used to be as they settle into the uncomfortable evening of bland food, blander conversation and American Idol. After the kids are put to bed she goes to sleep watching E! while he surfs child porn on his computer, trying in vain to recapture his youth.wow, and segregating the fatties from the fit kids would probably be good for them. I remember the losers getting teased in gym class, making it hell for them. I look back on that and feel like I was an asshole just for not trying to stop it.
I also wonder why the fuck the teachers were so blind.
Because most people who were gym teachers in those days were the jocks and failed athletes who had nothing else going for them but their past glories and insecurities to sustain them. They look at the weak kids and are reminded that it is kids like these who are now their bosses, movers and shakers. The same kids they gave wedgies to and pantsed in front of the girls because they are smaller and weaker are the same ones who now control their lives. Gym teachers of yore were bitter ex-jocks who couldn't cope with no longer being the popular and fear-inducing figures they once were. They take out their failings on those whom they used to torment for fear that traits like compassion and pity would be misconstrued as fruity or gay. Then they dragged their sorry, balding, overweight bodies back to the trailers where their high school sweethearts (usually the prom queen) smoked their Marlboros and cooked spaghetti over a dimly lit fire while four unplanned children run around her feet in various stages of cleanliness and disrobing. Her girth and stained teeth are constant reminders that they are no longer the two they used to be as they settle into the uncomfortable evening of bland food, blander conversation and American Idol. After the kids are put to bed she goes to sleep watching E! while he surfs child porn on his computer, trying in vain to recapture his youth.[/QUOTE]wow, and segregating the fatties from the fit kids would probably be good for them. I remember the losers getting teased in gym class, making it hell for them. I look back on that and feel like I was an asshole just for not trying to stop it.
I also wonder why the fuck the teachers were so blind.
You know--Facebook has done one thing for me. It's proven to me that the jocks still do all right after high school despite all those pep talks the teachers used to give the nerds. "Oh, Melvin. One day you'll be Bif's boss!". Bullcrap. Bif's charismatic ability to sweet-talk means that he's still making more money than me, and is still the boss of Melvin and the other nerds who have 15 degrees.
Because most people who were gym teachers in those days were the jocks and failed athletes who had nothing else going for them but their past glories and insecurities to sustain them. They look at the weak kids and are reminded that it is kids like these who are now their bosses, movers and shakers. The same kids they gave wedgies to and pantsed in front of the girls because they are smaller and weaker are the same ones who now control their lives. Gym teachers of yore were bitter ex-jocks who couldn't cope with no longer being the popular and fear-inducing figures they once were. They take out their failings on those whom they used to torment for fear that traits like compassion and pity would be misconstrued as fruity or gay. Then they dragged their sorry, balding, overweight bodies back to the trailers where their high school sweethearts (usually the prom queen) smoked their Marlboros and cooked spaghetti over a dimly lit fire while four unplanned children run around her feet in various stages of cleanliness and disrobing. Her girth and stained teeth are constant reminders that they are no longer the two they used to be as they settle into the uncomfortable evening of bland food, blander conversation and American Idol. After the kids are put to bed she goes to sleep watching E! while he surfs child porn on his computer, trying in vain to recapture his youth.[/QUOTE]wow, and segregating the fatties from the fit kids would probably be good for them. I remember the losers getting teased in gym class, making it hell for them. I look back on that and feel like I was an asshole just for not trying to stop it.
I also wonder why the fuck the teachers were so blind.
The reason this stereotype exists is because those who go to college on a sports scholarship FOR THE MOST PART pick majors that are easy to get by in. Physical sciences is one of these majors. So they get used up by the college, can't make it pro in whatever sport and come back to their home depresses, disillusioned and with no discernible skills other than their former physical prowess and UG Phys Ed degree. In Nebraska the players come back and sell real estate.In my teaching classes, the gym teachers are usually the chubby sports buffs with nothing better to do, or lazy frat boy ass bags who don't have the brains or the family connections to join gym class. Obviously a stereotype, but you can totally tell whose here training for that job, and why.
In a way you're right. A lot of kids CAN, they just haven't had been properly prepared or don't want to. It's the same in academics. They're not receiving proper instruction, they're apathetic, or they just need it explained in a different way. This test is a good way of recognizing another type of skill, and it promotes a well-rounded lifestyle in that way. I wasn't a fan of the test, partially because we never really prepared for it. They just sprung it on us. But if some kids dedicate themselves to that level of fitness and maintain it even when they're not in a P.E. class, then hell yes, recognize them.So instead of needing to do 22 pushups to be told good job, you can do 7-20 and get the same results.
Yea I'm all for adapting the program to work better, but that's just lowering the standard.
Dude, if you played football as an offensive guard, you would have been king of the school. Everyone loves the football fat guys.Ahh... high school sports, how I loathed thee.
I'm a fat guy. When I was a kid, I was a fat kid. worse, aside from being fat, I'm also very big. 6 foot even and very wide at the shoulders, even without the fat I'd be a big guy.
I actually liked PE, because we'd mostly just play basketball, and I liked basketball. But whenever these fitness things would come up, I always hated them. There was no way I'd be able to do a pullup, sit-ups I was done with at the 10 count, and running? Yeah, more like a brisk walk.
But none of this humiliated me. I did my thing, did what I could do, and was done. What did humiliate me, though, was during some week long physical fitness thing.
I don't know if it's standard, or a Florida only thing, or just unique to the school I went to, but there was a week of physical events that we had to compete in. You'd sign up for different olympic-style events (shot put, relay, different length races, etc) and compete in the ones you signed up for. You had to sign up for at least two in order to get a passing grade.
The coach, an older woman, then informed the class that some students who weren't physically able wouldn't be required to do more than the shot put. She gave a kid with muscular dystrophy as an example, explaining that she wouldn't force someone with a disability to compete. She then called on each kid, so they would announce what they were signing up for, and she'd write it down. When she got to me, she announced that I was one of those special cases, and I didn't have to compete in anything other than the shot put if I didn't want to.
wtf lady? I'm not disabled!
I signed up for everything. Oh god I hated it. That was a terrible week.
Everyone always told me I should play football, because I was built like a football player. But I just didn't like football.Ravenpoe;331054 snippity snip[/QUOTE said:Dude, if you played football as an offensive guard, you would have been king of the school. Everyone loves the football fat guys.
Instead, I was part of a backyard wrestling league.
... don't laugh, I was great at it.