“…since they own the A, they will assume responsibility for it; they will own it; and here–finally–is the catch, they will sign for it.”

Yesterday, I suggested that questions need answers. I also suggested that questions are crucial, an absolutely necessary part of the process. Well, my mom, doing what moms do, grilled me yesterday on “How the heck are you going to determine the A at the end?” I suspect at this point my mom is not the only one wondering about accountability once everyone has an A, so I think it’s time to share my tentative, still-lots-to-consider-and work-through plan to create accountability in 219 next year.

First, I will have given the kids A’s, so there will be no traditional, did-you-earn-the-A step at the end of the semester. The kids from day one will own their A. It’s theirs. However, ownership requires responsibility. It is theirs to take care of, it is theirs to “live into.” They must own it. Feed it. Nurture it. Sustain it. And not for me. For themselves. I no longer own it. I gave it–a gift “to live into.”

Last week I talked about motivation and one of the critical elements in this approach is that kids–and parents–must own it. That is where true motivation begins and ends. As such, since they own the A, they will assume responsibility for it; they will own it; and here–finally–is the catch, they will sign for it. I’ll explain below.

Accountability Plan 1.0 (Fall Semester 2016)

1. Learning Logs (final name TBD). Set on a two-week cycle, kids will log their learning, which will include but not be limited to: learning goals, daily reflection, record of practice, analysis of teacher feedback and performance data with evidence for meeting standard or explanation for why standard is not yet met, self-assessment, etc. Every other Friday will be devoted to final compilation, completion of learning logs, which will then be taken home and shared with parents. There will also be a community circle forum, where we discuss and evaluate as a class how things are going and what we can do to improve the learning in 219. I will collect the learning logs on Monday–if it has both a student and parent signature. It may otherwise be blank, but I will not accept it without the signatures. Kids and parents will have to own it. If they don’t, then they will lose the A, and end up owning an “S” at the end of the semester. A mark on the final report card that gives credit but has no bearing on a student’s GPA. So, there is a small price to pay for the A. This will happen nine times a semester. The final log will be comprehensive.
2. Learning Reports. Every six weeks I will complete and send home a learning report for each kid, reporting not only on his/her academic progress but also his/her work and behavior habits. Parents and kids must sign these, too. Kids will always have an opportunity to challenge my evaluation, but they must offer up evidence against my judgment. This will happen three times a semester. The final report will be comprehensive.
3. Student-led Learning Conferences. At the end of the semester, students will lead a comprehensive learning conference with their parents. This can either be done on a scheduled evening at school or at home. Signatures required.
4. Skyward. I will still utilize Skyward to report on practice and performance. This way parents can take a look between learning logs and reports to see what practice kids are completing and see how they are performing on the assessments. All entries in Skyward will be no count, but parents will have a window into what’s happening day to day.

So, that’s the plan for now. It will no doubt change as we move forward and learn along the way, but I want folks to know that I have thought about this. I am not setting kids adrift, left to list on their own in the ocean of learning. I am merely forcing some freedom, pushing some ownership. I am not going anywhere. The learning guard is on duty, ready to throw kids a lifeline when necessary, but they are going to have to swim.

Happy Thursday, all. Thanks mom for doing what moms do. Love you.

Though the cat is out of the bag, most of my colleagues do not know what my plan is for next year. A few who are closest to me know, and  we have had and continue to have conversations around my two-year plan to turn grading upside down in 219 and maybe beyond. A few others also know because they read my posts, but we have yet to have a conversation. Why? Well, if I had to guess, I would suggest because it’s not going to be an easy conversation. And I understand. This move is not only going to affect that and those in my own little puddle; it is also going to send ripples across the pond that is Cheney High School. Very few will understand, much less accept, what I am doing. The vast majority will see it as an affront to their own practices, taking personally my actions, which will no doubt lead to my isolation, shunned and despised, even by those to whom I am close. And though I will try to reassure them that it is nothing personal, and I will try to explain my journey, they will not care to see my intent, only my actions, actions which will upset the apple cart.

Anticipated Objection #3: You can’t do this. It will make life hard for the rest of us, causing kids to question and challenge our grading practices, devaluing our grading system and all that it stands for. A’s must be earned, not given.

Reasoned Response #3: We should want kids to question and challenge what they do not understand. Shouldn’t we? Yes, I am challenging traditional grading practices as an impediment to learning. What if instead our mantra became learning is earned, not given?

1. Questions don’t hurt. If kids have questions, we should have answers. If we don’t have answers, then we should seek to find them, or at least let kids know that we are trying to find them. I, though people will perceive it differently, do not have the answers. I am seeking answers to help enhance and deepen learning in my classroom. As such, I expect questions, lots of questions over the next two years. I will have to answer for much. I expect and accept that as part of the process. Questions are crucial.
2. Traditional grading practices must be challenged. As I have said time and again, our traditional grading practices are born of little more than chance and convenience. No real rhyme or reason. No checks and balances. Teachers do what they want and how they want. Yes, I, too, am exercising my autonomy, but all eyes will be on me–even those who fail or desire to see. And I will be held to account. Some will want to see me fail. They need me to. And that will be fuel to my fire.
3. Learning is earning. Okay. I get it. I am giving an “A,” giving that which I have uttered over and over in my career must be earned and not handed out. Thus, I am a walking, talking hypocrite, going against my former convictions and sullying conventions that I have long supported. But I am giving an A to open doors, to remove what I believe stands in the way of true learning: grades. I am willing to take a chance for the next two years to learn about learning. My giving an A is a conciliatory move on my part to ensure that I don’t make kids suffer from my crazy quest. In the end, any grade can be given, and in many cases–sadly–they are. Learning cannot be given. It is always earned. If I take grades off the table, learning is all that remains. But it is not mine to give. I can only give one thing: opportunity. The kids have to “earn the learn.”

At the risk of being even more melodramatic than I have already been, this move will ruin some relationships. And that’s too bad. This is not something I am doing to my colleagues. This is something I am doing for my kids. My hope is that it would be perceived as nothing other than.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Former student and aspiring educator, Rachael Hamby, joined the journey by challenging me and pushing me to take it further. Here were her thoughts.

Mr. Syrie,
You really should put together a scientific study and get your results published. Maybe you are already doing this, I am not sure. The blog is great, I read it daily. But all I really see on it is anecdotal evidence. I love your idea so much I almost wrote you an essay on why I loved it. But then I thought, all I have to put in this essay is anecdotal evidence. And as a scientist, that just isn’t enough for me to be truly convinced. As much as I personally believe that guaranteeing every student an A and taking grades out of the equation will promote student success, I can’t really buy it until it’s got research to back it up. Furthermore, having research that is publishable will allow you to reach a wider audience. Your findings will be far more credible and you can present at conferences, etc.

I realize you have all your own ideas, and that I am just a college student with no experience teaching, but this is how I might research how grading practices affect student achievement.

To start, what is your research question? How does removing grades as a motivator effect student success? Something along those lines? And how do you define success? Perhaps as content mastery? I think I’d maybe say…Does removing grades from the classroom improve student content mastery and motivation? Something like that.

Now you need a way of measuring content mastery and motivation that is not a grade, which isn’t too tricky. Various measures throughout the quarter would be most effective. Ways of measuring student engagement during class would be helpful as well, though having observers in the classroom can effect engagement and the way the teacher presents material.

I guess what I would do, would be recruit some other teachers willing to try this. The more classrooms, the more accurate the research results. Start in September and have these teachers grade for the first quarter as they always have previously. However, come up with ways to test student motivation, engagement, and content mastery, throughout the quarter and at the end of the quarter. The second quarter, have the teachers guarantee all their students A’s and repeat whatever tests you used. Compare results, both qualitative and quantitative. What you are doing right now serves as a good pilot study, but I think it makes the results more credible if you do not use your own classroom simply because it makes the study more objective.

I honestly think you are really on to something and I am so excited to see how it works out for your classroom! I look forward to your blog every morning, it makes me so excited to one day be a teacher. I just really think if you can go about this in a scientific way and are able to get your results published in a peer reviewed journal, your findings could reach a larger audience and would be seen as much more credible.

Good luck!
Rachael Hamby

My response…

Hey, Hamby,

So, I hear you, and I am taking your suggestions to heart and will consider them fully and seriously as I move forward. You are right everything is anecdotal at this point. My plan is to pilot and collect data from my classroom, most of which will be qualitative for the next two years. I have a lot of thinking to do on the research end of it before I roll it out next year. I’m going to call phase one “Project 180,” whereupon I am turning education “upside down.” Phase 2 will be “Project 360,” where I bring it full circle, judging the results of my experiment and determining what then will be the next course of action, not only in my classroom but hopefully beyond. So, in terms of credibility and possibly “replicability” much will depend on the design of my study. So, kiddo, point well-made and taken. I love that you are jumping in on the journey. Keep the feedback coming, chica.
-syrie

Dear Teacher,

I know that, as a high school student, I only do the stuff for grades. I do learn a bit, but generally forget it after the test. In high school all kids care about are grades. It seems like our entire future is dependent upon them. It takes away from the purpose of school, which is supposed to be to learn. If we’re just given an A for the semester, then we could focus on the thing that matters, learning.

We need good grades to graduate, to get into a good college, and so our parents don’t kill us. It is a huge stress for us. I think when we go to school, we completely forget that our main reason for being there is learning.

If grades weren’t a factor, then we could focus entirely on our learning. Grades are such a stress that they take away from all of that. It would also be easier for the teachers. They could focus on teaching the content instead of grading papers.

If one of my teachers were to do this, I would be overjoyed. Grades are a huge stress for me, and it would be nice to be in a class where I didn’t have to worry about them, where I could focus on the learning. I think this teacher should strongly consider this, for it would give them and the students a much better classroom experience.

Sincerely,

Isaac 

Dear Mr. Syrie,

I work hard. I have good grades. I make sacrifices. I focus on my learning. So the fact that you’re going to give kids A’s who don’t do those things is wrong. I strongly and firmly believe that.

Although I understand that you want kids to focus on their learning instead of their grades, in reality our motivation for learning is our grades. Grades should be something earned and not given. I know that personally I would not put in as much effort to learn if I knew I already had an A. I work hard because I want an A and because it affects my future.

I also recognize that grades don’t always determine smarts; however, you can’t tell me that I, who has an A, didn’t put in more effort to learn than a student who has a D. Grades separate the kids who will go far in life from the ones who won’t. Please don’t close this separation.

In closing, I would like to ask you to reconsider your decision to give every kid an A. Thank you for listening.

Sincerely,

Megahn 

It was the best of decisions. It was the worst of decisions…

“…it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us…” 

Charles Dickens

Tale of Two Cities

Of course, Dickens was not talking about education here, but he could have been…Either way, it speaks to me now.

Nothing before me…, except a decision. Damn decisions. Of course, it would be disingenuous to claim that my mind was not made up prior to my having the kids write their letters. I knew where I was going. I just wanted to gather some student input along the way. And, even if I had not already made my decision, I would have had to anyway based on the data (see below).

I shared Isaac and Megahn’s letters because they represent the divide that I face, the ends of the spectrum. Both make relevant, valid points. In fact each astutely represents his and her respective camp: “good idea” and “bad idea.” And although I get what each is saying, I lean to Isaac’s side. What’s interesting about Isaac’s letter is that it is the only essay that he has turned in on time–all year. In fact, it may be the only assignment he has turned in on time (though he eventually gets them in). I have to believe that this speaks to motivation on some level. When people are truly motivated, they will contribute. I believe Isaac would be more fully and deeply engaged in my class next year and maybe hate it less, making greater contributions not only to his own learning but also the community’s.  Megahn, on the other hand suggests that she would be less-engaged without grades, but she is so conscientious and such a hard worker that I believe she would fully and deeply engage in my class next year–without the grades. It’s just who she is. In short, I believe the new approach will not harm the Megahns of the world. But–and this is a big but here, folks–I believe with all my heart that the new approach might truly help the Isaacs of the world. In fact, I’m betting the farm on it. And while I had made up my mind prior to seeking input, I did listen to the kids. Always listen to the kids.

The numbers, though still preliminary, are in. Testing complicated my collecting essays yesterday. So here are the data so far. Good Idea = 42%. Bad Idea = 38%. Good and Bad Idea = 20%.  Essentially, then, my initial analysis is that, among the kids, it’s a wash. I expected as much. I also expected, or rather, was not surprised by their reasons, reasons which reflect the rationale in each of the essays above. For the “good idea” kids, they generally pointed to less stress, more emphasis on learning, etc. For the “bad idea” kids, they mostly brought up fairness, kids taking advantage, kids not doing anything, and so on. Again, nothing I didn’t anticipate and things I will certainly consider as I move forward with my decision, a decision that will no doubt seem wise to some and foolish to others. Decisions, indeed.

Happy Tuesday, all.

This is an interesting concept that I think would work well when this idea is placed with a teacher that kids like and enjoy talking to. There are plenty of reasons why this would work and why it wouldn’t. I know that there are kids that won’t do a thing and still earn that A. Probably 20% of each school are these kids. But here is the thing if you have a teacher that is engaging with these students and making learning “Fun” there won’t be those students in that class. It’s taking away from the stress of grading and kids will actually learn something.

In my experience kids are more likely to not learn in a class where the teacher is not encouraging them to learn. For example I have a teacher that doesn’t care at all about what we do at all. That teacher tells us to open the book do the certain pages up on the board and sits back at their desk. And when I look around the classroom in that class no one seems to be engaged at all. Now I have another teacher that really engages in the class making learning “fun“ and I mean ALL the kids in class are actively listening and contributing to the conversation and getting all of their work done anyway. When the grade is the only motivation to do well, kids that fall behind will tend to stay that way. With an A grade from the start like you propose, kids won’t have to worry about that. Students will be engaged in classroom discussions and not having to worry about anything but understanding the concepts and ideas that are being input.

I think this will tremendously impact how kids learn. Kids lose interest when there is not a teacher that is also engaged in the subject matter and actually “wants” to teach them. Students can and will learn this way and not just because they’re chasing a letter grade. There will be those teachers that won’t do this and will disagree with the concept, but I think this idea would work well when taught by a good teacher like yourself. A teacher not engaged in the process of education itself could probably care less.

(Ok, so I know this isn’t really a full blown essay and I may have repeated a few things, but I just wanted to get some of my thoughts across to you and give you a sense of my feelings on what I think is a pretty cool idea.) I just wish I had a teacher like my Uncle Monte.

-Con Man

Okay. Connor Kirkpatrick, Con Man, is not my real nephew.  He is the son of our dearest friends, Monty and Jenn Kirkpatrick, who live in Kingston, Washington. This “essay” was a complete surprise to me, something I never expected to find in my inbox. First, I didn’t know that Connor was following my blog. Second, Connor, a bright, big-hearted, energetic freshman , is not really into school, and as he says, “English isn’t really my thing.” Apparently, my post on giving an “A,” struck a chord because, according to his mom, he wrote this within an hour of reading the post. I found it in my inbox the next morning. Thank you Con Man for joining the conversation. I, too, wish you could be in my class next year.

Tomorrow, I will share the data from my essay of the week prompt. The preliminary data, not surprisingly, reveal that kids think giving an A is either good, bad, or both good and bad. After I collect more essays today, I will crunch the numbers and share them with you. I also plan to share two essays from opposite ends of the spectrum, but I am going to secure permission from the writers first.

Today, we begin state testing. Unfortunately, despite my assurances, the kids will have a stressful week. Have to say, starting to feel differently about standardized testing. I’ve always been a supporter, but now I am reevaluating my stance. Even so, this week, for the kids, I will keep a positive attitude and cheer them through it.

This week, I will continue to share my plan for next year. Thank you for the support last week. I find strength in knowing that you are all following me. We passed the 13,000 views mark this weekend (13, 177). Way to go team! As always, please join the conversation. Shout out to Chris Valeo, Jacob Troyer, Adam Lester, Sherry Syrie, Jan Clark, Anne Ames, Melissa Earl, Marie Tamura, Amarise Lindauer, and of course, Con Man, for jumping in on the journey last week. Thank you.

Happy Monday, all. Sun-coming, silhouetted trees are sure a sight out the window this morn. Life’s pretty dang good, even on Monday.

So, this is a rare Saturday morning post, but yesterday I got an unexpected comment on Facebook in response to my plan for next year, and it inspired me. The comment came from Kyle Schlehuber, a former runner, who was on my cross-country team when I was a coach at Royal HS. He reminded me that I was able to take running–an otherwise despised activity–and make it, if not enjoyable, at least less-despicable, often inspiring kids to do what they believed they could not “…to learn…they must understand it and enjoy it. Teachers must be able to provide in a way that they can learn as a team. I feel you can do this as you did as a coach.”  Kyle then signed off with, “Got guts?”

Each week on Monday, we celebrated with weekly awards before practice. One of the awards was the “gutsiest performance award” for which kids (both a boy and a girl) were given a “got guts?” shirt for their gutsy performance the previous week. And while I believe over the course of four years Kyle earned a shirt more than once, a particular performance stands out for which he gave his gutsiest ever.  At a meet in Zillah, WA with over a mile to go on a rough course, Kyle lost a shoe. It was a tight race, and Kyle was faced with a tough decision: stop and put the shoe back on and lose time and place or keep going with the risk of running slower with only one shoe. Kyle kept going, losing neither time nor place. And though he suffered for it, his performance was critical to our win that day. Truly a “got-guts” performance. So, upon reading his post yesterday, I was both humbled and inspired to keep running for the next two years, even when the road gets rough. Thank you, Kyle. You have helped steel my resolve for what’s to come.

In addition to Kyle’s comments yesterday, another experience conspired against me, pushing me forth through the remnants of doubt lingering in my mind. In yesterday’s post, I referenced the book, The Art of Possibility, a book that I had read nearly ten years ago. The quote I shared yesterday I found online, for I have not cracked the book since. Heck I wasn’t even sure I still had it. So, curious, I dug through my cabinets of books when I got to school yesterday morning, and I found it. And as book lovers will understand, it was an old friend well met. And after a brief embrace, I revisited a memory, the chapter titled, “Giving an A.” This is what I found.

Not sure if you can read it, but I wrote, “I just hope I have the skills and courage to help my kids get there.” Well, ten years later I believe I have found the courage, the “guts;” now, I just hope that I have the skills.

Happy Saturday, all. Find some sunshine today.

“grades become a reward for compliance—but don’t have much to do with learning. Meanwhile, students whose grades don’t measure up often see themselves as failures and give up trying to learn.”
― Daniel H. Pink, Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us

 

“The practice of giving an A transports your relationships from the world of measurement into the universe of possibility… This A is not an expectation to live up to, but a possibility to live into.”
― Benjamin Zander, The Art of Possibility

These two books, Drive and The Art of Possibility, have heavily influenced my present proposal. And though they were revelatory on many levels, my greatest revelation came in the form of a big ol’ bite of humble pie: I don’t really matter when it comes to student motivation. Truly. I am not fishing for compliments here. While I believe I can and do matter on some levels, when it comes to true motivation, I am merely on the periphery; I am not at the center. And I wasted too many years thinking I was. This realization was both humbling and liberating, and while I have known it for some time and made efforts to change how and why kids are motivated in 219, it is only now that I have finally mustered the courage to move forth and found the wisdom to get over myself.

Anticipated Objection #2: If you give all an “A,” they won’t do anything. And if they don’t do anything, they won’t learn.

Reasoned Response #2: Carrots only invite compliance. Choice creates commitment, and learning requires commitment.

1. Daniel Pink, author of Drive, suggests that there three elements to true motivation–autonomy, mastery, and purpose. Education is opportunity, an opportunity to better and build oneself. Sadly, I feel that kids see education as something we do to them rather than for them. That has to change. I simply provide a path for possibility. They have to take the steps, and not because I am dangling the grade carrot in front of them. They have to do it for themselves. My approach will give kids control and choice–autonomy.
2. Own it. Autonomy implies ownership. I believe kids have to own their education, and parents, too, must own their kids’ education. In the end that is what it is: their education. Ultimately, what they get out of it or not, will only benefit or hurt them. Again, the path is there, and I will lead and support them along the way, but I will not, cannot make them walk. That first step is a major commitment on their part, the first sign of taking responsibility, taking ownership. I will have given and they will have eaten the carrot (the grade) on day one. My hope is that they find the carrot doesn’t satisfy their hunger for long and that they venture out onto the path in search more satisfying morsels. I want hungry kids in room 219.
3. My role. Some might perceive that my giving it all away on the first day is my taking the easy route. Anything but. I will now have 180 days without that which I have had to string kids along for 20 years–grades. What am I going to do? And while I have some genuine wonder and worry in this regard, I have thought deeply about my new role. Earlier I suggested that I could not really motivate kids to learn. But I’d like to think that I can inspire them and challenge them to make the most of their opportunity with me, but they have to join me on that path. And that path has to be mapped out in such a way that it remains both interesting and relevant to keep us moving along. Think about the pressure that now puts on me. The kids are no longer going to do the work for the points. They are only going to do it if it is meaningful and relevant to their journey. This is going to be the hardest work of my professional life. But I believe it will be my best work.
4. My commitment. Though I cannot predict how far each kid will make it on our 180 day journey, I will feel a failure if I do not help each kid reach his or her destination on the path of possibility. I am committed to each kid in a way I have never been before. My hope is that my commitment will somehow compel them to be more committed to their own journey, their own “possibility to live into.” I will do this for them.

Happy Friday, all.  More to come.  Thank you for helping me work through this. Have a great weekend.

Consider the following scenario. In an effort to make learning, not grades, the emphasis in his classroom, a teacher is proposing that next year he will give every kid an “A” in his class, no matter what, essentially taking grades off the table. Write a letter to this teacher evaluating and judging his proposal.  In addition, indicate how  you would personally respond to this approach if you were a student in his class next year.

This is this week’s prompt for our essay of the week in 219. My kids think this is just another writing prompt.  And it is. But there’s more at work here.  I am gathering information.  I want to gather some preliminary data in the form of student feedback as I move forward, as I move to make real that which is proposed.  Next year–well, the next two years–all kids will get an “A.”

I know. I can hear the protestations already. But I have thought deeply about this decision and will strive to make the case for my decision in the next several posts as I continue to work through the details of my attempt to transform teaching and learning in my locus of control, my tiny star in the universe: 219. In earnest, I hope you all will pose questions and raise concerns to help me solidify my plan before I venture out into uncharted, perhaps hostile territory.  I think I have anticipated all objections and have formulated answers, but there may well be some things that I have not considered, so fire away. I will not take personally any objections or criticisms; I invite them. I have to. This is not a whim. This is a risk. I am hanging my professional hat on this. I will take a lot of flak for this, but I am ready. My convictions are secured in my strength to see it through.

Anticipated Objection #1: You can’t do this.

Reasoned Response #1: Actually, I can.

I looked into both state and local policies on grading, and I discovered that my approach will settle securely within both sets of guidelines. My initial thinking was to give each kid a “P” for a pass, a pass provides credit but neither hurts nor helps a student’s GPA. My main concern as I move forward is to do no harm to my kids as I experiment and learn over the next two years, so just to be sure that I had made a solid student-centered decision, I ran it by our head counselor at the high school to get her thoughts.  Our discussion led me to understand that a “P” could be problematic for kids on their transcripts, affecting college  and scholarship opportunities, so I decided that I would go with the “A” instead.

So, technically, I can give all students “A’s.” But the bigger question then becomes, “Should I?” I’ll hash it out for you over the next several days, sharing my reasons for taking this step, my reasons for putting an end to the grade game in 219.

Please, if you are so inclined, join the conversation. I want your help.

Happy Thursday, all. Home today. Daughter ended up with pneumonia, too. Been a dinger of a spring.

‘I hate a Roman named Status Quo!’ he said to me. ‘Stuff your eyes with wonder,’ he said, ‘live as if you’d drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It’s more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping its life away. To hell with that,’ he said, ‘shake the tree and knock the great sloth down on his ass.’

~Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

It’s time.  Over the next several weeks I am going to begin revealing my plan for next year, a two-year journey in 219 to shake the foundation and bring down some of the edificial facades of education, challenging the status quo, …shaking the sloth.

So, then, the Morning Minutes will now mostly be devoted to working through–lots to think about--revising, refining, and finalizing the blueprints for my remodeling project in 219. Excited to share the process with you and get your input and feedback along the way.  The journey begins.

Happy Wednesday, all.  May your eyes be stuffed with wonder.

Got a bee in my bonnet this morning.

What? Quarter three grades are due today.  In the semester system, quarter grades are midterm grades, which means they are an update on progress only; they don’t “count.” Semester grades are what matter in the end.  Still, whether they count or not, grades create a great deal of anxiety and frustration for students, parents, and teachers. But they don’t have to. Teachers have and make choices with their grading policies.  As I have intimated in other posts, teachers essentially exercise complete autonomy when it comes to their grading policies. As such, grading policies–for better or worse–literally vary from teacher to teacher.  And that means, in the end, the policy is just that–the teacher’s.  There is no real oversight, no over-arching, universally-binding policy that promotes or protects fairness among grading practices.  They are exclusive and idiosyncratic.

So what? Well, with absolute autonomy comes the precarious potential for abuse, creating circumstances that are perhaps punitive, unfair, or frustrating.  And while I do believe there are some teachers who consistently evaluate their grading practices with students in mind, there are many–too many–who cling to policies that have little or no basis in regards to fairness or actual achievement. In many cases-sadly–practices and policies are punitive, seemingly settled in the philosophy that the only way to teach responsibility is through punishment. If the assignment is late, then they need to learn a lesson, so they have to be punished, and that will teach them the ways of the real world, teach them responsibility. BS. As Tom Schimmer, grading guru, suggests,

The grading rules we create—zeros, late penalties, homework scores, attendance—will undoubtedly frustrate achievement. These are rules we create, and even if these rules are in policy, they can easily be undone. If we wanted to, we could, but we don’t. It’s time to reflect on what rules and routines might be getting in the way of our students being recognized for their true abilities. Our rules can distort achievement levels to the point where it is hard to find thetruth in what a student knows or doesn’t know; can or can’t do.

We need rules, but our rules need to be vehicles for learning, inclusion, and support. We have a choice in how we respond to irresponsibility. We have a choice in how we respond to academic dishonesty. We have a choice in how we respond to the vast array of situations and circumstances that come our way. I’m convinced that the punishment paradigm will not produce the academic epiphany. When our students fall short, they need teaching, not punishment.

Now what? Well, if you–student or parent–find yourself frustrated with a teacher’s rules for grading, ask questions and demand answers.  As you seek to understand a teacher’s practice, here are a few questions that might help.

1. On what do you base your grading philosophy/practice?
2. What is your late-work policy? Why?
3. What do grades reflect in your classroom?
4. Do you allow retakes or corrections on assessments? Why?
5. What is the purpose of homework in your classroom?

Yes, it’s only quarter, but soon enough it will be semester, and by then it might be too late–which really isn’t true either, just another “rule” that we hide behind. Grades can always be changed.  In a system with no real checks or balances, students and parents need to advocate for themselves.  If something seems unreasonable or unfair and you find yourself frustrated, don’t accept that nothing can be done because of an arbitrary rule. Do what you are entitled to do and ask questions. You have a huge stake in this.  Don’t settle.

Okay. I feel better.  Happy Tuesday, all.