Balancing Grace and Expectations: Grading in the Time of COVID

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We're coming to the end of a quarter in my school district, so time for the first of four grade panics we'll see this year. Some of my students did not perform well this past nine weeks, and have low grades to reflect that. 

This isn't a surprise. In 26 years of teaching, I've never had a year without some students who failed to perform. 

The tricky thing right now is ascertaining the reasons. Even trickier than in other years.

Some kids simply didn't do the work. There were no particular obstacles in the way. 

They have the necessary supplies and the teacher provided guidance and opportunities to pursue clarification, but they still didn't turn in the work. They lacked motivation, maybe, or were testing boundaries to see what the penalties might turn out to be, or the siren call of the X-box was louder than anything else they were hearing from their adults. 

Other kids didn't do the work, but there are mitigating circumstances that I am aware of: limited access to the internet, language barriers, instability at home, mental health concerns, non-functioning computers (our district's computers were due to be replaced in August, but we're still waiting on our new ones to arrive, so we're making do with dying and failing machines), or any number of other factors that have been communicated to me by families, students, or other staff at school. 

My students are 12-14 years-old, for the most part. In the best of circumstances, they are in their first years of learning to navigate multiple teachers with disparate ways of doing things, and there will be confusion and mistakes. So, even when things are at their best, there's still an argument for grace, forgiveness, patience, and second chances. 

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We're not in the best of circumstances right now. Even the lucky ones among us are still in the middle of a pandemic, which affects each of us differently. 

The students and their families vary in their comfort with and skill at communicating with the teachers and school. Admitting you are confused and need help requires trust and faith that your admission will meet with kindness and offers of help. Too many families have had negative experiences that have taught them to be wary--rigid teachers, inflexible policies, systemic ignorance of equity issues.

Sometimes school creates trauma, usually unintentionally . . .but intention doesn't matter when a person has already been hurt. And that trauma makes building trust harder for each subsequent educator. 

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So, how do I assign grades fairly?  I ask myself that *all* the time . . .but this year, it's a wider spread consideration. How do I tell if it's fair to give a kid a zero and when I need to offer grace instead because they really are doing the best they can with what they've got right now? 

What I do is have as many conversations as I can. I reach out to children and their families, expressing concern and offering support. 

I've purchased chargers out of my own pocket, helped navigate our district's systems for things like hotspots and replacement equipment, exempted kids from assignments to streamline the work flow, sat in zoom meetings to walk parents and kids through and show them exactly where to go to find resources and how to turn in work. 

I want all my kids to "get there," so I've tried to offer multiple paths that will let kids experience success and build trust in me and in the process so they can keep moving forward, building positive momentum. 

But there are families who don't respond to my queries. Or whose responses are less than forthcoming.

 So, I'll do my best to judge them fairly. I'll look at all the data I have. I'll ask the other adults who work with the child--teachers, the nurse, the office staff--and see if anyone has insight they can share with me. I give the benefit of the doubt and assume good intentions as much as possible. But, in the end, I will assign a grade. That number won't represent the full picture, but it's the system I have to work within. 

If it were up to me, I wouldn't give grades. I'd write a narrative for each kid, summarizing strengths and weaknesses, work ethic and obstacles, and pass that information along to the next educator to help them meet this child where they are and move them forward. But, I've yet to teach anywhere that offered me that option. 

Schooling in America is fond of trying to take a messy, subjective and personal process and boil it down to a number that we claim is objective. Foolish, at least in my opinion, but not something I have the power to change. 

So, fellow teachers, what do you take into account when you're trying to assign a number to a child's progress? How do you try to make it fair and representative of effort and progress? 

And students and families? What purpose do grades serve for you? How do you use that feedback to grow and further your goals? 

Principles for Principals

I've been a teacher for 26 years now. During that time, I've worked in 4 states, 8 school districts, and under 10 principals in schools ranging from 100 students (K-12) to 150,000 (9-12) coming from a range of demographics. So, I've had some variety across my career.

I've had principals I never saw at all or even heard from, except in moments of crisis. Laissez faire to the extreme. I've had principals whose micromanagement bordered on Orwellian fascism. 

The best principals found a balance: providing guidance and support without forcing me into taking on a second job of managing them. They encouraged more often then they disheartened, and built up more often than they undermined. 

Part of what drew me to teaching as a field is the autonomy: the power to make decisions within my domain about what will serve my students best. Underestimating me and insulting my intelligence/professionalism/capability is sure to get you on my bad side. 

 So, some thoughts on what makes a good principal, at least for this teacher:

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1. Show that you trust your staff.

The sub-textual message that screams out from behind the mask of every micro-manager I've ever worked with is: I don't trust you. 

If you ask them, of course, micro-managers will deny that is the case and talk about how talented and resourceful their staff is. But, what a person says matters far less than what they prove with their actions and you DON'T trust your staff if you can't step back and let them do their jobs without reporting in to you at each baby step along the way. 

Education talks a good game about differentiation and multiple paths to learning, but the same flexibility is not afforded to teachers. Too often we get top-down restrictions that hamstring us and impede our ability to help our students. 

Pacing guides, lesson plan formats, and structural demands are well and good in their place: on the side, available as resources, not hanging from our necks as collars to keep us in line. 

The same goes for onerous demands for documentation. I've had principals demand I spend as much time documenting my work as I spend doing it, as if teachers would just watch soap operas and eat bon-bons all day if we don't have an overseer standing over us with a whip. That shows a fundamental lack of faith in the workers. 

I can do only half as much work if I have to effectively do each task twice: once to complete it and once to prove to someone else that I did. (I could argue that this is what standardized testing has become: the pinnacle of lack of faith in teachers). 

I took on this work because I wanted it and I love it, and when I get burnt out, it's usually not from the work itself but from all the demands that I prove myself over and over and over and over again. 

So, leaders, you want us to have faith in you? Give some first. Trust is a two-way street.

2. Listen at least as much as you talk.

Most of us didn't wander in here without any vision of what we think education is or how we want our classroom to be. It's a highly demanding job without much in the way of external benefits, so people who teach are not in it because they think they can get away with something. If you're looking for a career where goldbricking and slacking off are likely to go unnoticed, teaching is a poor choice. 

Principals have visions, too, of course. Often that's part of why they became administrators: hoping to influence the system more broadly from that angle. But you can't force buy-in to your vision. You have to earn it by demonstration of value, and persuasion of stake-holders. Few things in this world are more intransigent than a teacher being forced into a mode that she doesn't feel serves her students. 

Just as teachers work in service to their students, which means listening to their needs and seeking ways to serve them, the best principals work in service of their teachers, removing obstacles, providing resources and support, and making the work easier in any way they can. 

How do you find out what your constituents need? You pay attention. You notice. You ask. And you listen to the answers, open-mindedly and without rebuttal. You consider that someone else's idea might hold merit--maybe even more merit than your own idea. 

3. Be transparent. 

All of us do better when the expectations are clear. Don't make us try to guess what you think, whether

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you are pleased or not. 

Consider implications, but have the backbone to claim your own ideas as your own. A committee decision that is really just the boss railroading their own ideas through and squashing any dissenting viewpoints is not a committee decision: it's a coward standing behind a committee instead of admitting ownership of a view. The height of CYA culture. 

Given that time is the single most valuable resource of teachers, and it's always in high demand, we resent having it wasted. So, be direct, forthright, clear, and efficient. My energy should be spent on the kids, not on figuring out my mysterious boss. 

4. Have tough conversations with the people involved. 

My number one pet peeve of administrator behavior: blanket passive-aggressive criticism. Even worse if it's disguised as thanks or praise for one group as a way to highlight the failure of another group. In-fighting and resentment among staff members will eventually bleed into the school culture and poison the waters our kids are trying to swim in. 

So, if you have a problem with how a staff member is doing something, take it up with that staff member and leave the rest of us out of it. Some of those conversations are going to be awkward, maybe even painful, but they are part of what you signed on for when you took the job. So, reach for grace, and move forward with a heart to help, and take on the tough stuff head on. 

Whether or not you're a teacher, we all value being treated well and helped to succeed as employees. What qualities do you look for in a boss? 

Life or Livelihood: The Devil's Choice

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So, we're in mass panic in my school district right now. A couple of days ago, the school board came out with a plan to move us off of "Plan C" (fully remote teaching/learning) into "Plan B" (a mixture of remote and in-person teaching/learning). 

"Plan" is an exaggeration if by plan you mean an organized approach with contingencies and backups, and evidence of consideration of the ripples of these decisions.

Here's what I've been told:

• By November 16th all staff must return in the building even if we are 100% virtual
• By October 12th self-contained teachers and needed personnel must report in the building.
• Students in self-contained settings will have the option to report back on October 27th.
• Students will be given the choice of 100% remote or hybrid with a staggered entry starting second semester.
• Teachers may bring their school-aged children into their classrooms while they are in the building but must follow all of the same protocols. They are discussing learning labs as well.

I'm not going to detail all my concerns and objections here now, though they are legion.

I've sent my comments to the school board and within the appropriate channels within my school and district. 

But I will say that's its disheartening how little teachers have been invited to virtual tables where the conversations are being held and decisions are being made. 

I am not cannon fodder or an acceptable loss and if you force me into it, I choose life over livelihood. That might mean I'm done teaching.