All My Care

I remember the first time I received a C. In fact, it was the only C I ever earned on a report card, and it was in 3^rd grade for handwriting. I recall feeling disappointed and vowing to never allow that to happen again. As a teacher, I dwell in a different space. While I was completely invested in what grade I earned, I do not have that level of investment in my students’ grades. Do not mistake this for apathy. I care beyond measure. However, I could care less if Suzy gets an A while Veronica gets a B. My care lies in the understanding of what those letters convey to first to the student then to those vested in the student outside the classroom. Beyond the letter, I care about the level of happiness, engagement, curiosity, and thought that every student experiences in my room. But, the powers at be mandate that I must rate, score, and judge learning and assign a value. Those grades are supposed to represent something, but do they really?

Most schools utilize scores on a scale of 0 to 100. One might argue that if a student scores one of these, the message is clear. But I would argue not even scores that represent all or nothing actually represent that. I will begin with 0. Does that score mean Julie knows nothing about which I’m assessing? Or does this mean she did nothing? Did she learn nothing, or did she simply show nothing? On the opposite side, does 100 represent knowing everything about something? I teach language arts, so if I score a paper at 100 (which is infrequent), does that mean everyone will see it as perfect? Of course there is the matter of context. In order to properly understand what a score is trying to convey, one must understand the learning objectives that were being assessed. As a parent, I must confess that I don’t often look at my child’s score and then inquire of the teachers about the learning objectives. Instead, I simply assume they know 87% of something. That’s my judgment. I’m guessing my students’ parents do same thing. But is the percent score actually a percent of something? Most of the time it’s not a % complete- that’s definitely frowned upon, but if a student leaves a question blank- for whatever reason- then it sort of is. For as much as we try to quantify student learning, I think we just don’t. 

For this reason, I am skeptical of grades. Also, I do not and will not give zeros. Yep. I said it. Slavin (2012) breaks down why zeros are essentially the death penalty of grades; they are black holes that suck the potential out of typically already struggling students. That’s the opposite of my job! I’m in this to cultivate, grow, foster, mentor not tear down, punish, or belittle. I get it. If a student does nothing, how can I ethically assign any credit? I can and do because the scale system is fundamentally flawed, and thus I have more ethical problems with participating in breaking down the morale of kids than giving credit where none was earned. Moreover, I give assignments because I believe something in the task will make them a better thinker. So I figure out a way to get the student to do the tasks. Rarely do I enter a “student never turned in.” Instead, I track them down at lunch and give them the work until it’s done. I contact parents. I consult colleagues. I conference with the student. And I give them a why. I care about that.

About grades, I could care less. As long as my students know where they stand, I’m good. Recently, a parent approached me in the community and told me, “Mrs. Drake, my daughter was just talking last night about how she has never thought so hard in a class before.” Now that, I care about. I want to push these kids to think wildly- to ponder- and discover the wonder of thought. My mom will tell you that when I was first learning to speak, my favorite word was why. Funny, it still is. If you write something, and your reader is left wondering why, you weren’t done explaining. If your child tells you they want to be a truck driver, don’t judge, ask why. Getting kids engaged in metacognitive activities opens their cognitive processes and allows possibility. As a nation, we need that. We need thinkers who see possibility in complex problems. Scoring them won’t help that, but teaching them will. And that’s definitely all I care  about. 

Slavin, R. E. (2012). Educational psychology: Theory and practice (10th ed.). Boston, MA: Pearson Education.