But what if it’s not on the rubric?

We’ve all been there, I imagine. There, ya know, that place where things don’t quite fit the form, that place where we meet learners and there’s no other way to adequately describe it other than “messy.”

It doesn’t fit, no matter the scale. Oh, we try, in earnest, to consider and capture all the places where we imagine kids should be, crafting carefully the language of the levels, some times mincing words ad nauseum, finally settling on something. And we enter the arena, positive we have the Rosetta in hand to capture and call the learning we encounter. But then, it happens. We find something outside the neat niches we have carved, and we pause.

And in the pause, one of two things happens. We force the fit. Or we forget the fit. If we force the fit, we just find the level that seems best, we color it with edspeak, and assign a number (honoring the rubric). If we forget the fit, we acknowledge that when we introduce humans into the mix, things get messy and we have to find a way that works, not a way that fits (honoring the learner). So we forget the fit. And then the guilt sets in.

Whether we force it or forget it, we are left wondering and worrying. Not in a debilitating way. We don’t have time for that. But more in a nagging, unsettling way. Something’s not right. And it all comes back, I believe, to the rubric.

So, we should not use rubrics? Maybe. But no, I am not going to say that out loud. Most of us have to use rubrics. It is the mark of good teaching. Just try to get through your yearly observations without presenting a rubric to your evaluator. So, I am not suggesting we abandon rubrics. But I am suggesting that we regard them less reverently.

Do, I use rubrics? No. I present success criteria for our priority standards so we know where we are headed, and when I can, I use the criteria as entry points into the feedback/response process, but when I can’t, I don’t. Criteria are guides, not gospel. In the mess that is learning–and teaching–I have found the need to steer outside the margins. So, I do. But I am not saying that makes me a great teacher. I am saying that if being a good teacher means strict adherence to a rubric, then I don’t want to be a good teacher. I’ve only every wanted to be a better teacher. And I have found being better means being responsive to the learner in front of me, even when–especially when–she doesn’t fit the form.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.