Grading for Equity: Reflection Questions (Ch 3)

As part of a summer professional reading group, some colleagues and I elected to read Grading for Equity, by Joe Feldman. It's a big topic, so I wanted an excuse to do some reflective writing on it, so I can try to understand it more deeply. Fortunately, Feldman wrote some "Questions to Consider" at the end of each chapter, and so I hope to use those to guide regular reflections.

Chapter 3: How Traditional Grading Stifles Risk-Taking and Supports the "Commodity of Grades"

Initial Reactions. It really is amazing how every teacher, every school, every district, is so very different, but we all seem to land on some of a handful of the same conflicts. At one point, when describing (in very thorough detail) the "commodity of grades," Feldman quoted the student who asked, "Can I erase the board for 10 points?" It was easy to see the student in my mind's eye, in my classroom, asking that question. And it was easy because that experience is sooooooooo real. It's disturbing, really.

This whole chapter was filled with disturbing moments like that. One particularly uncomfortable passage detailed the negative impact of counting every single assignment towards grades. I thought this was an effective practice, because I figured that a student demonstrated proficiency with the standard at any point in the arc of learning, they should get some kind of "credit" for it. Also, given that it was the middle of full-year remote learning, it was arguably the worst school year ever (citation *not* needed). I knew how much it meant that students were still logging into class, and I wanted them to feel like they were getting something out of it.

I won't review all the reasons why grading every single assignment generally harms student learning (even if you are able to make it a feasible undertaking). Nor will I self-flagellate for anything I tried last year. But I am definitely clearer than ever on the degree to which I as a teacher can harm student learning by over-applying grading. Which isn't even surprising to me, but important to be reminded of. The degree to which things are graded is almost perfectly negatively correlated with the amount of joy, healthy teacher-student relationships, and general positive vibes of the classroom. And that is as both a teacher, and a student.

Any time I do a math or teaching course as professional development, and the instructor starts to talk about passing grades, weights, and all that, my trust in the course and instructor immediately starts to decay. It makes me feel like they care more about the products I'm creating (the assignments) than my learning. And I wonder--did I always feel like that? Or is this an attitude I've developed as a result of just getting older? Or because of my work as a teacher? I certainly don't remember caring as a student.

Another thing that Feldman discussed was how it is the teacher's "burden of proof" to show that they, and their class, can be trusted as a safe, supportive, and worthwhile space. As a student, I don't think I believed that, but as a teacher now, I think I do. And this is because I see schools, more and more, as services created to serve. More or less, a community gets together, pools resources, and invests time, money, and faith in the school, expecting that their (typically, but not exclusively) children are going to be nurtured and educated.

So imagine being a child, forced to go to this school that your community has paid so dearly for...and some random adult says that you have to "prove" that you care about your learning? That your family cares? Asking you to "meet them halfway," after everything that had to happen to lead to you being there in class that day?

I think that teachers often feel this pressure to ask students to "meet them halfway," implying that students and families aren't working hard enough. But I don't think that pressure actually comes from teachers believing that students and families don't care (at least not most of the time). I think it comes from the teachers feeling exploited by the exploitive capitalistic conditions of their employment and positioning in society. But capitalism, somehow always able to position itself as the hero, pushes us to direct blame in the wrong directions, toward students and families.

Questions to Consider

1) How have different supervisors (or those whose opinions you care about) responded to your mistakes? How have helpful responses impacted you and your effectiveness? How have unhelpful responses impacted you and your effectiveness?

• I rowed in college, and at one point there was a part of my technique that was ineffective. My coach basically stopped practice, and took the opportunity to provide me direct, explicit feedback on what I was doing that wasn't productive. I won't go into the details, but he basically said, "Look Bear, this is what you're doing. I know X about you, so this is probably why. Now that we *both* understand what you're doing and why, this is what you should do instead, and why."
• I definitely still had to keep working to break that bad habit in my technique, but there was a intellectual switch from that point on. Instead of him fighting me to make a change I didn't understand, I was able to own that development myself, because I knew what I needed to work on and why.
• Moreover, he didn't present my mistake as a character flaw. I wasn't just lazy or stupid because I had a bad habit. I felt seen and understood, because he was able to help me better understand a part of myself that I hadn't before. And that built my trust in him as a coach and a leader--trust that he actually understood what I needed, that he wanted to help, and that he knew how to help.
• That's something I've been thinking about all year--the importance of us, as feedback providers, to make clear that we understand why students make certain mistakes, have certain misconceptions, or have problematic behaviors. Instead of just problematizing a behavior, if we can make clear we understand why that happens, I expect that *alone* will lead to an improvement. Sometimes all students need is support in understanding themselves better. The danger here is that it's important for the teacher to be accurate in their assessment, instead of just assuming. An inaccurate assumption will betray a lack of mutual understanding, and reduce trust that students have in the teacher (with reason). And so truly listening and understanding students and their thought process is again highlighted as an essential practice in all assessment. And this is so hard to do.

2) Recall something you learned to do outside of the school context. What motivated you to learn and to continue learning when you struggled?

• My go-to example here is spreadsheets. I have never done any formal training in spreadsheets, but at this point I would say I have pretty advanced proficiency (at least for my field). When I think about being in a "flow state," where I'm just cruising through problems, fully absorbed, right in the heart of my Zone of Proximal Development...I imagine myself doing spreadsheet projects. I was motivated to learn because the only time I ever learned spreadsheet techniques was when I needed them for a project I already wanted to do.
• All of the best projects I've had started with me not knowing how to do it, but believing deep in my heart that it was possible. Throw in a dash of some useful background math ideas, and increasingly capable Googling skills, and I really do feel unstoppable when I'm spreadsheeting. This is also, incidentally, my go-to example for thinking about what "problem-based learning" can be.
• Over time, my motivation to learn has extended further and further beyond the immediate practical motive of needing this spreadsheet to do something for me in my work. More and more, I want to dive into spreadsheet challenges just because...it's fun! Each new project is like solving a puzzle every time. What do I want to do? What do I already know how to do? What else do I wish I could do? Where can I figure out how to do that? Is this the best way to do it? Yes, there is often some extrinsic motivation from my job, but it can really be paper-thin. Because once that intrinsic passion kicks in...love it.

3) Some teachers think, "If I motivate students to learn with points now, they'll realize success and become internally motivated." If you believe this, how could you test this theory?

• If that's true, then we should be able to "wean" students off of points and grades...right? So over the course of the year, have fewer and fewer assignments worth points, and we should see performance remain at least level, if not improve. But it never feels that way (to me, at least). It always feels like we get trapped, and once you start giving points, you have to keep doing it.
• On the contrary, I actually think it's easier to start by *not* assuming things are graded. At the beginning of the year, students arrive eager to do well for the most part. That's when we can establish policies based on trust, on faith, and on mutual understanding (and the expectation that those three things will grow over the course of the year).

4) How effective are the use of points for students who are the least motivated and engaged? How might the use of points--the addition and subtraction throughout a student's day--affect those students' relationships with adults and their self-concept about whether school is "for" them?

• Imagine if your boss walked around and overtly deducted and attributed wages for individual tasks. It'd be demoralizing. Dehumanizing. It shows that you can't be trusted to "get the job done" on your own. Then, imagine you go look at your grades salaries posted on the wall in the back of the room...and you see that you're making the least. Would *you* be motivated by that? And even if they don't post grades salaries in the back of the room, your peers still talk about them. They still give out awards, and you and everyone knows that you're nowhere close to getting one of them.
• Maybe you're just at the wrong school job. So maybe you try another school. And imagine how terrible it must feel to see that they do the same thing. Makes you wonder what you're even going to work school for?