That funny feeling

So I'm reading another professional book now about grading. This one, Charting a Course to Standards-Based Grading: What to stop, what to start, and why it matters" by Tim R. Westerberg kind of combines some of Thomas Guskey's sentiments but also talks about the actual process of reforming the grading practices that we have such problems with.

I just read a line that struck me and I needed to stop and reflect on it for just a second.  So here goes:

     "Why do we insist on using an assessment and grading system that yields results that fly in the face of teacher judgement?" (p 31)

About 20 things flew through my mind as that question settled in, and some of my questions are below:

• Why and how do we insist?
• Which of the myriad of grading systems and assessment types yield these results?
• Have we stopped to consider whether we are consistent or not in these face-flying systems we insist upon?

This topic of grading is so...personal for teachers, and it can be hard to even broach the subject. To pose concerns about our assessment systems not only potentially calls into question our professional knowledge base, but it also makes us wonder whether we were even educated the "right" way. I mean, what if all those assumptions we made about how we "turned out" were actually not totally correct? What if we could have done something while pursuing our education that made us even better?

Nope, nope... not even going to go there. And here's where you usually see the conversation end.

But let's go back to that question for a second... the idea of using something that "flies in the face of our judgement"? What judgement is it talking about? This is where my light bulb hit, and I want to share what I think that judgement may be.

So think back to a time where you were calculating final grades. You enter in the missing assignments, save your progress and take look at the numbers. And then you spot that kid... yea that kid. Here are some of the students I'm talking about.

Samantha Student, has 19 absences for the quarter and at one point had about 7 missing assignments. Your team called home so she showed up the last few days and churned out assignments, now passing, but barely.

Timothy Teenager is the most hardworking student you've seen in at least the last 10 years easily. He knows that his reading and writing are a little behind his peers, so he puts in extra time each night to complete assignments. His notebook for class is meticulous, and he's so well behaved but he doesn't really ask questions. Now you've realized that he apparently had some trouble this quarter, and the B that he held last quarter has fallen to a C based on his assessment data.

Lindsey Learner is at school every day, but she never talks to anyone. You worry that something is wrong, and have inquired some but never really gotten any answers. You think back to that one time where you worked with her on a math assignment, and you know she is utterly brilliant. She easily aces assessments most of the time, but occasionally, usually correlated to a bad day, she doesn't even finish a quiz, and those Fs factor in to her average, which is now a C for a mind that probably excels far above her peers.

Stephen Struggler is a student with an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) where he receives support for as many subjects as possible. He is so sweet but his difficulty is absolutely genuine. School doesn't come easily to him. He may improve in his ability to do algebra over the course of a class, but you very seriously doubt that its a skill he will carry with him into a four year university. Stephen is much more suited to a career in a trade. He is so detail oriented that there are a ton of options for him, and with his work ethic and personality you know he'll excel once he begins. But at this moment you are preparing to give him his most recent D- for the quarter.

You may have had one of these, or maybe even all of them at some point. You encounter their grades, think about them as a student, and then you get this feeling of something that just isn't "sitting right" with the grade they receive. Maybe you feel like it's unfair for them to receive such a low grade when they have cognitive deficits. Maybe you feel like it's too fair for them to pass even though they were missing assignments. Or maybe you just feel sad, because you know that even though you're technically "teaching" you aren't really helping them learn, or even be more well-rounded people.

That feeling, the "something isn't right feeling" is 

the part where our teacher judgement flags us. That's where our unspoken "help all children learn" mission is in question due to our own practices, and that feeling of frustration, malaise or concern is our response to it. For those who do not enjoy the approaching grading reform conversation, please understand you are already addressing the issue when you have those responses. It doesn't tell us what we need to do to *fix* these problems, but it does show us that we really do recognize a need to change assessment of our students. The practices and the results don't match, and they don't address what we are really measuring anyway, which is student learning. Maybe we are all a little closer to change than we realized, and we can help each other brace the rocky path towards reform.

The "L-Word" Challenge

This time of year is rough. A lot of us are in the middle of a long stretch of time with no break in sight. We've been at school for a month with no break. And we have another month to go. That's hard, y'all. Plus the spring semester is just so busy, and we know the summer is in sight, but not before we have our end of year tests. The pressure's mounting, and we all feel it. Things that we may have been handling all year now seem so "touchy." A comment we hear from a student all year long suddenly frustrates us beyond measure. I've been there, and I'm sure you have too.

During this time period and other stressful times for that matter, we tend to be a bit blameless and a bit more careless with our thoughts and opinions. This is most often when the "L-Word" rears its ugly head.

"I can't believe these research papers. They are terrible. Why are students so lazy these days?"

"Another Friday, another 12 students who did not turn in their work this week. How do we combat such laziness?"

And the worst... an actual classroom accusation:

"There is no excuse for lazy in this room. You don't have to like it, but you have to do it, so let's get to it."

We throw the "L-Word" around like it means nothing. But it does. If you were, as an adult, called lazy in your job, how would you feel about it? Incensed? Disheartened? Defeated? All of the above, possibly? Being called lazy is not an uplifting experience for anyone, but it's especially detrimental if it is used to describe a child in a classroom who doesn't necessarily have the capacity to use it in a motivational way. So today, I'm issuing a challenge for us all. Let's outlaw the "L-Word" in our schools.

Before I continue, let me say that I am just as guilty of using this in the past as anyone. I also completely understand the need to vent about frustrations that happen with our students and our jobs. But even when we feel we are only casually voicing our frustrations, our comments cannot be unspoken, and we may be delivering more of a message about ourselves as educators than about our students.

Instead of questioning why our students aren't working to their potential, what if we ask ourselves a few questions:

-Are we sure what we are asking is reasonable for our students' current entry points?
-Are we wielding grades as weapons for motivation, or using them to communicate to students where they are and where they are headed?
-What are the possible reasons (besides what we perceive) as to why our students aren't meeting their expectations?
-What have we done to show students the importance and relevance of what they are doing?
-What have we done to show our students how important they and their learning are to us teachers?

If the answers to these don't come easily, then we may need to reassess our approach. We may be creating the circumstances that we are labeling as lethargic. No student wants to be lazy. Even if they call themselves that, they don't mean it. (Think about a time where you've called yourself that in jest. It happens.) Students generally are not as apathetic as we deem them to be. If we haven't reached them, there's more we can try, but we don't get to assume things about their work ethic based on our past experiences. We are inadvertently perpetuating the problem, and that's not fair to them or us.

So back to my challenge.  Can you help me ban the "L-Word" in education? Can we work together to eradicate it from our conversations? From our classrooms? From our school culture?