Checking their Pulse: Consequences of Comparative Grading

John and I jogged around the track at Conard High School, dew tipping the long blades of grass that covered the football field.  We moved at an easy pace, talking about the game we would play later that day on the same field.  Lacrosse season was at its peak intensity, and we weren’t going to waste energy on the mile run we were completing in gym class.  

Even at our pace, we would finish under 10 minutes, and we chugged slowly by some of our less-athletic classmates, breathing heavily, or slowing their feet to a walk, beads of sweat dripping down their faces, like more blades of swaying grass.

I crossed the finish line as my gym teacher began walking towards me.  He was a small guy, more of a coach than an athlete, so it took me completely off guard when he reached for my throat.

I knocked his hand away out of instinct.

“Relax, Daly,” he said, “I’m just checking your pulse.”

He placed his index and middle fingers against my Carotid artery, and started counting while he looked at his watch.

“I thought so,” he exclaimed in disgust, moving his fingers away from my neck. “You’re an athlete, you’re supposed to be an example! And you’re not even trying!”

I turned back to the track, noticing the substantial number of my classmates that were still running.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked, pretty annoyed. “I finished before almost everyone! We have a game today, I’m not spending all my energy here!”

He shook his head, looking down at the track. “I understand that you guys have a game today, but this class isn’t about how you do against others, it’s about how you do against yourself.”

***

I used to tell that story for a different reason.  Usually it was to ridicule the teacher, and explain how crazy he was for grabbing my neck.  He was a bit of a clown, and it was easy to dismiss his opinions because I was young, and headstrong.

Now, however, I see the wisdom in the lesson.

Imagine the same scenario inside a non-physical education setting. Students are given a standard task, such as writing a 5-paragraph essay. A group of students that are already writing at grade-level toil appropriately at the task.  The students that are above grade-level are capable of breezing through the assignment, and the students that struggle are forced to work much harder to complete the task, if at all.

Now think about the way these students will be graded.  In general, the higher level students will receive the higher grades, and the lower level students will be assigned the lower grades.

We typically rationalize this behavior for one of two reasons.

1. Fairness
2. Getting them ready for “The Real World”

Let’s approach these rationales, and explore why they represent gross fallacies that may actually border on student oppression.

Fairness

Often, when dealing with less progressive teachers, the subject of grades and fairness arises. At the middle and secondary level in most American schools, the A through F approach is still both a requirement and reality.

In theory, there is nothing wrong with this.

It is perfectly acceptable to assess a student’s work, and assign a number or letter to that work.

The problem arises in the way we are assessing, and the role that Personalization and Individualization, along with proficiency and growth, play in reaching that letter or number grade.

Dweck’s work on Mindset plays a key role here, as the importance of factoring a student’s effort into their grade, and how that effort is perceived by the rest of the class, is integral to developing grit and perseverance in our students.  To put it plainly, our grading and assessment systems need to promote the idea that EFFORT EQUALS ACHIEVEMENT. Anything that gets in the way of this is short term or arbitrary at best.

In order to be truly fair, we need to individualize student work, using standard acquisition and effort as the formula for grading.

The Real World

This fallacy is tied to the previous section as well.

We are often in positions as teachers where we are receiving pressure from some other entity above us, bemoaning the lack of student readiness.  In the public school system, this is always true, as the influence and anxiety that the college acceptance process creates looms large over all decisions in a trickle-down manner.

Proponents of this type of thinking see college as a hard deadline, one where their students must be up to proficiency at the end of the 12th grade.

This assertion is sloppy, lazy, and used to create excuses against innovation.

The real world exists, but we cannot use a child’s experience as a student in our system to pretend that what happens prior to their eventual high school and college graduation is a preamble to some “Real” life that exists.

I have been working now for around 20 years.  What makes me a good employee, and an effective worker, have been my ability to be resilient, to understand how important a work ethic is, to see myself as a learner, to know how to ask questions, to cultivate healthy relationships and communication with my colleagues, to be empathetic towards my students or customers, to care about what I do, and to show up day in and day out.

None of those skills are related to my ability to determine the points on a parabola, or name the capitals of 50 states.  The grades I received through my education, and the tasks i was required to complete were rarely things I have used in my adult life.

Imagine now that you are entering high school reading below grade-level.  You desperately want to improve, but none of the classes are built to specifically address your literacy deficiencies.  You are asked to read Shakespeare, or Salinger, Steinbeck if you are lucky. You are going to learn one thing very quickly: that you are unable to do. That you are stupid. That hard work is a waste of time.

Imagine instead that we reward resilience, learning as a process, grit, hard work, pushing yourself. These qualities couldn’t be more needed in a workforce and economy.  

We do need to get students ready for the “Real World”, but I would argue that comparative grading is getting in the way of that.

***

Moving away from static ways of assessment, and comparative grading, is the only way to ensure that all of our students are being treated fairly.  This can be accomplished through the adoption of grading platforms and structures that take into account growth, standard acquisition, and effort.  In order for this to occur however, we must move toward a policy of personalization and individualization of curriculum as well.

These days, I don’t run as much as I should. With my two children (with one on the way), work requirements, tutoring sessions, coaching, and the never-ending joys of homeownership, exercise has too often taken a back seat.

When I do get out for a run or walk, I find myself putting my two fingers to my neck, making sure that I am pushing myself, measuring whether I’m making the most out of the time that I have. 

Are we doing this for our students? 

Can we do better?

Nitty-Gritty

Grit. It's a word that is thrown around quite often in the world of education. It's the word of the moment. Despite its recent pop culture explosion, grit is a concept I buy into wholeheartedly. Here's why.

Grit is the single most predictive factor of success, as told by Angela Duckworth and her research with the University of Pennsylvania. Despite this, Grit is something typically overlooked in the American public school system.  From what I've observed, the bulk of what we value as educators, is "accuracy, correctness." This mindset not only shortchanges students, but also reduces the educational process. Students who frequently get the answers right are often missing this essential life skill. There will be a time when these students don't know the answer and don't know how to find it.

I've often heard this tale in Algebra 1. Students sailed through elementary and middle school math with A's, then by midyear in Algebra 1, they are lost. They don't know how to study for math, because they never had to. Frequently, this snowballs into lower math grades, feelings of frustration,  and most significantly, a lack of willingness to put in the time and effort needed to learn the material.  

"The other behavior that seems to explain why grit is a marker of future success is deliberate practice. Deliberate practice is the sort of practice experts to do improve...In the National Spelling Bee, for example, gritty finalists log more hours of deliberate practice, and this time uniquely predicts final ranking whereas less effortful and more pleasurable forms of practice do not" (Duckworth). It is obvious, for long-term goals which demand a continued practice and attention to skill, grittier individuals will exceed their peers. The question becomes, how do we instill grit in our students? Is it inborn or is it something that can be cultivated over time? In my classroom, there are small adjustments I've made in an effort to promote grit. 

First, an assignment is never truly considered "done." I put a grade in the system, return work to my classes, but students can revise and rewrite to their hearts' content.  I see no problem with allowing a student multiple opportunities to improve his/her work. As long as this continued effort doesn't interfere with the class period at hand, there are no problems. Second, in a question and answer session, I try not to move on when I hear the answer I want;  I probe, inquire further, and encourage students to challenge each other's thoughts.  There is often a "right answer," but why not push the student to think further?  The word "elaborate" works wonders in a class discussion. Lastly, a major project that requires precision and time is a unique approach to promoting grit. Last year, my students completed a large mural based on the work of Sol Lewitt.  Although it was "easy" work, it was evident that most honors students did not have the grit to master the product. They were impatient, hasty, and made simple mistakes because of their lack of sustained effort and precision. Large-scale projects like this are messy and ambitious to implement and manage, but the student perspective that can be gained is unparalleled. In any classroom, designing assignments that require slow work and precision is a great way to harness grit.

The willingness to struggle through a seemingly impossible task is not only an academic skill, it is a life skill. Character is built in moments of frustration, anger, and failure...moments which often evade our brightest students until they reach high school, or for some, college. It's not to say that there is no merit in positive reinforcement, there absolutely is, but the stamina that comes from sustained effort and the momentum it builds has a decisively more substantial impact on a student's life. Motivation is often what eludes so many of our students and promoting gritty activities can help build true, intrinsic motivation which lasts and extends beyond the classroom walls. Whether through a job application process, a difficult time with family, or a time-consuming project, grit makes navigating demanding tasks much easier. 

The idea may seem trendy, but the heart of this dogma is at the core of American culture. As LaBoeuf said in True Grit, "You'll find I go ahead with what I start."

"The Duckworth Lab." Research Statement. University of Pennsylvania, n.d. Web. 12 Dec. 2014.

"True Grit" (1969). IMDb. IMDb.com, n.d. Web. 12 Dec. 2014.

"Equal" Doesn't Equal Fair

A mounting frustration for any teacher is a concern for failing students.  "He didn't complete this, so he got an F." "She didn't turn in the last project, so it's a zero."  It seems very logical, a student who fails to do the work, gets a zero, fails the assignment, and with enough zeroes will fail the marking period or the year.

In my personal experience, I never understood why "not completing an assignment" was an acceptable reason to fail a child.  Of course, in theory, I understand it very well-there was something assigned, he or she didn't do it, so he/she receives a zero.  In practice, though, it is not that simple.  There are a plethora of reasons why a student may fail to complete an assignment.  Sometimes, those reasons deserve an F, such as laziness, insubordination, or pure apathy (although, even these are often not the fault of the child).  Other times, however, there is an abusive parent at home, a lack of internet access, or a myriad of other issues that lead to that zero.  As teachers, a core issue we face is dissecting those reasons.

First, due to confidentiality laws, we are not always privy to personal information about a student.  Second, even if we are, we have to decode whether a student is exaggerating, lying, or is too shy to tell us the real story.  There is a great deal of detective work that goes into figuring out why a student failed to complete an assignment.  There is no a-ha moment to this paragraph, just an honest explication of a challenge that teachers face everyday.

Next, we have the students who do the assignment, but fail it. Either they were inaccurate, got things wrong, wrote poorly, or have some other deficiency which in our minds warrants an F.  In speaking with another teacher recently, I asked why a student had a D, his response was, "he failed the last two quizzes."  In my mind, I thought, "Okay, he failed.  If that content was important enough for you to quiz him on, shouldn't you insist that retakes it, or completes another assignment showing that he has some knowledge of what you felt was quiz-worthy?"  I don't mean to say I offer extensions, retakes, and alternate assignments everyday, however on major grade-determining assignments, it seems that if the content or skill is TRULY important, you would want the student to master it, despite what may be "equal" or what options the other students received.

It seems that we get caught up in "equity."  There is no equity in education, and there never will be, what we should be aiming for is what's fair.  Fair is equitable with Just, as the above cartoon illustrates. The world is a harsh place, that does not care about someone's circumstances, however, school is not the real world.  I do believe a twelfth grader should be held to a standard of equality more rigorous than say, a ninth grader.  What may be fair for "Sue" who has a ride to and from school, a nice house, internet access, and doesn't worry about from where her next meal is coming, probably isn't fair for "Jane" who is between two residences, has social anxiety issues due to her parents' divorce, and walks herself to and from school.  It's obvious that in the real world, these circumstances become irrelevant, but for a fourteen year old, they shouldn't be.  Equal doesn't equal fair.  

This brings me to the age old debate, does an F mean "incompetent in this skill or content, unable to master the work" or does it mean "failure to be compliant?"  The negative connotations work both ways; we have students who are VERY skilled, but refuse to do the work, so they receive F's.  On the other hand, we have students who can get by, but truly have not mastered the skills, so they pass.  Therefore, in looking at a gradebook, you frequently can be mislead.  The students with the A's are not always the smartest, of course, sometimes they are, in fact I would say usually they are, but almost every class has some exception.  Similarly, all the students who fail aren't "below level."  In an English class, where 20/25 students are reading below a 9th grade level and have not mastered the skills, one would assume they should fail.  Seems fair.  On the other hand, if they try, put in effort, and improve, then maybe they should pass.

These are my nagging thoughts day in and day out.  Grades and numbers fail to capture the student's whole story.  The story of an academic year is complex: a student who begins with an F, and ends the year with an A, will end up with a C on his or her report card.  A student who went from an A to an F, will end up with that same grade.  It essentially tells us nothing about the student's story.  The grades are equal, but they are not fair.

There's no major point to be made, except that grades and "equality" are serving us poorly in today's schools.  Data can make extraordinary things possible, but still fails to make "possible" a reality for many students.