Thursday, March 31, 2022

Passing or failing is ultimately up to the learner

Today is the last day for Metro State students to withdraw from a course and avoid accepting whatever grade they have earned. For CSU students, that day is April 15. The good news for some is that they can "repair" their grades by retaking failed courses, but that adds expense and delays taking other courses (or even graduating on time).

And that gets me thinking about grading more generally and how to assess student work and how to best communicate how well a student is doing. I wrote a bit about class rank and valedictorians last week and both of those issues grow out of our custom of rating and ranking students.

Most early elementary grades avoid grades as much as they can, opting for more holistic assessments of growth and focusing on classroom culture and behavior. School, it turns out, is not very natural, and we all need to be "civilized" into finding how to work and learn and interact with large groups when we transition from "mom and me" or at least one adult and me.

Even later elementary students don't feel the weight of striving for top grades, though educators start the sorting process -- separating achievers from just OK from laggers -- ostensibly so each group can receive the educational challenges that will best help them continue to grow.

By middle school, grades get more emphasis, starting to increase the angst and sorting, ostensibly to get kids ready for high school (we already know the comparisons will be sharply increasing among all grades so we prepare kids for the pain).

High school, at least from afar, is the "final" academic sorting of our children. I say "final" because grades in college are increasingly bunched at the top, with the vast majority of students getting A's and B's. If a student does not earn at least a C or C-, most colleges don't accept that as being proficient. 

But various forms of sorting continue.

I have Metro students, right now, who are not likely to pass, though it has little to do with their intelligence, mastery of grammar and punctuation, logical thinking skills, etc. It has a LOT to do with not having the self-discipline to keep up with the (I admit it) not-all-that-challenging writing assignments. 

Some of this can be blamed on working full-time (often combined with parenting of young children) and some can be blamed on poor preparation in earlier years, and some can be attributed to mental or physical health issues that have plagued some students for years, or are more recent for others.

CSU students are not immune to these factors, though they have already been sorted since they have learned how to "do" school. Metro students often are Metro students at least partially due to not having past success "doing" school. 

The sorting is harsh and irresistible. We sort kids into various levels of post-secondary education, with some choosing junior college, some choosing schools that try to admit as many people as they can, and some taking pride in rejecting a large percentage of applicants. And some sorting takes place when kids opt for, say, the military or entering the work world immediately after high school.

So much sorting.

I heard a woman complaining the other day, within a small group of people who get together once a week, about the poor voices she is surrounded by in the church choir, and how that is a constant source of torment for her. She is likely correct as to her assessment of their musical ability, but maybe they just don't care as much as she does about excellence. Or maybe they joined choir for the community and for the chance to be part of a group that serves their church... or just provides support.

Singing in a church choir might be the one thing a person can contribute directly to a church. Anyone can join the church and anyone can join the choir (though I'm sure a director could nudge truly awful singers into other areas). 

Churches are not immune to sorting, of course, with "big donors" getting more attention and appreciation than non-donors. 

I remember when a nun teaching my fifth grade Catechism group that even in Heaven there was some sorting. Saints would sit in gold chairs (perhaps with plush cushions?), and, depending on your "goodness," the rest of us might find ourselves in the silver or lead or iron chairs. She hinted that a friend and I, constantly wriggling and giggling, might end up in straw chairs.

You won't be surprised to learn that the gold chairs were placed closest to God, while those in the straw chairs were off in the distance. Even in Heaven, status and accomplishment was important. See why I got skeptical about religion?

The bottom line is that this retired woman in the choir is still busily sorting people, at least in her own mind. We never really seem to escape all that categorizing and labeling and ranking and comparing.

I encourage college students to meet their deadlines mostly by subtracting a few points for those who are late with their work. That is not enough for some, of course. As we emerge slowly from the pandemic, my choice is to provide as much grace as a kid needs to succeed. I suppose I would accept late work right up to the deadline to submit grades, though most students have either gotten into the rhythm of the coursework or given up at that point.

In the end, teachers (or anyone who is assessing others) need to settle on what their main purpose for the course is. If it is to follow the rules and get things in on time (and show up to work as scheduled), that is OK. As long as everyone knows those are the rules.

My purpose is to support better thinkers, writers, and citizens, and exactly WHEN that happens is of less concern. If a student uploads an excellent report or discussion post or narrative essay a week -- or a month -- late, I always take it and always grade it.

Maybe I am enabling bad habits and what those students need is a reality check, similar to what fate befalls a kid who consistently shows up late to work. 

For Metro students, they already are well aware of job requirements and how people can be quickly sorted into "winners and losers." They don't need me piling on.

My sort, I suppose, is between those willing to engage in the thinking and writing activities that I devise and those who just aren't interested in engaging.

I long ago decided to accept their decision, either way. 

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