A BELGIAN DANCE PARTY APPEARS!

Jean-Claude-Van-DammeI will do no further grading in 2013.  All is complete.

On teaching (and grading) writing

santababyI found this article on Slate the other day.  All you really need is the title, and maybe an understanding of how Slate works; the article is called “The End of the College Essay” and the page header itself says “College papers: Students hate writing them.  Professors hate grading them.  Let’s stop assigning them.”

In other words, pure Slate-style contrarianism and click bait.  Naturally, I posted it, with the heading “I’ll just leave this here…”  Why did I do that?  Well, mostly just because I’m a jackass, but I enjoy a shitstorm once in a while, and between what was going on in the comments on the article and on the author’s Twitter feed and the higher-than-most-folk number of college professors and middle school/high school teachers I have on my Facebook friends I figured I might be up for something interesting.

And then I got stupid and started thinking about it.

Here is how to learn to read:  put words in front of your face constantly, until you can read.    Babies can do it in a few years.  Most American humans have managed it on some level or another by third or fourth grade; everything else after that is just refinement and leveling up and sooner or later you’re wondering if Finnegan’s Wake is really crap like you think it is or of there are just that many people who are that much smarter than you.(*)

A competent adult can teach himself to read in a foreign language (note that in this case I mean “read” simply as “decoding,” and yes, I’m aware how much I’m oversimplifying) in a couple of days of sustained effort.  It took one class period for my college Hebrew professor to get a roomful of kids reading Genesis out loud, and most of us hadn’t been Bar Mitzvahed.

Here is how to learn to write:  Do everything in “learn to read,” then write constantly until you get it.  Reading is easy; writing well is enormously complicated.  No one can do it well before adulthood regardless of how much practice you’ve had; if you’re told you’re a “good writer” before you are in your mid-twenties at the earliest what the speaker actually means is “…for your age.”  Furthermore, however good you may think you are as a writer now, you almost certainly think that anything you wrote more than a year ago sucks, which means that what you’re writing now sucks too.

You will never, never, never reach a point where your own writing is good enough, if you actually want to be a good writer.  You will never reach a point where that urge to revise and tinker just goes away.  Being a writer is learning to live with good enough, because otherwise you’d never finish anything.

One can easily imagine, I hope, that this makes teaching writing an incredibly difficult challenge, and teaching writing well an even greater one.  Teaching writing well to people who do not want to learn to write?  Just kill me.

So I’m sympathetic to college professors who throw up their hands and say “Fuck it; they’re never going to learn how to do this right; we should just stop trying.”  Because, believe me, I get it.  And I get those essays when they’re twelve, when all I can do is marvel at the fact that the child who has just supposedly tried to write something has been in school— I’ve been there!  I watched!– for several years at the least and can write an entire page of prose without one single comma or period.

Teaching writing is really goddamn hard.  There’s a reason I’m a math teacher, folks.  Grading writing is even harder than teaching it!  Because here’s the thing– if you’re not willing to put in the time with that red pen, painstakingly pulling apart all the mistakes and– and this is so, so tremendously important– showing the writer how to fix them— and preferably with at least one face-to-face actual by-God conference about the piece– you are probably wasting your time and theirs.  The best writing teacher I ever had was a guy named Scott Alexander.  He would write more on our essays than we wrote in the essays.  But I’ll be damned if he didn’t get me thinking preemptively while I was writing for him– and eventually when I was writing for anyone– about what he might have to say, and I found myself fixing issues with my papers before I even gave them to him– which is, of course, exactly what he wanted.  I took at least three different classes with the guy at IU– none, I should point out, that were strictly composition courses– and all of them involved multiple essays, all written in multiple drafts.  I cannot even imagine how much time Dr. Alexander put into grading essays.  But, at least for me, it worked.  The guy beat good writing into my head.

(Was I a good writer when I left his class?  Nope.  But I was better.  Much, much better.  It took a while to get out of the habit of constant parenthetical footnotes that he got me into– by accident, I’m sure– but I was still much better.)

If you don’t have time to do that, you don’t have the time to teach writing.  Which is fine; not everyone does, and it’s not like there aren’t a million different ways to come up with grades for a class.  But I feel like if you’re giving writing work to undergraduates (or high school students, or middle school students, or whatever) then you need to keep in mind that they are not going to be good writers yet, because it is impossible for them to be good writers yet.  So you need to keep that in mind when assigning your work.

If you don’t want to take the time to grade essays properly, then yes, you might think about not assigning essays.

Comp classes have their place, but they’re limited; they teach you basic writing skills precisely so that you can write for a reason when you need to.  They aren’t a substitute, on their own, for writing in the humanities/arts/sciences/technical fields/whatever; we need both.

(Left as an exercise to the reader, or you can just scroll through the archives, is why the hell anyone thinks there’s much of a point to standardized testing of writing, where the writer doesn’t have time to write and the grader sure as shit doesn’t have time to grade.  It’s artificial and broken from the start and it should die.)

(* Both.)

In which: I keep things short and sweet

AvI_0yPCAAII5dDToday: sucked.

Kids: idiots.

Teaching: for morons.

Cat: Clean bill of health.

Thor: The Dark World: Awesome.

Grading: halfway done.

2/3 of my 7th graders: Failing math right now

Not: in the mood

Veterans: Thank you

Grandpa: Miss you

Good: night

In which I find a way to mention sriracha again

20131108-174700.jpgI have, conservatively, and depending on how much I push down on the stack prior to measuring it, between four and six inches of poorly-organized and no doubt deeply depressing grading to wade through this weekend. I am not remotely in the mood for it right now; I think pulling together next week’s lesson plans (and, uh, this week’s lesson plans) is probably about as ambitious as I’m planning on getting tonight. I have a blog post to write, the last 40 pages of a relatively entertaining book to blaze through, and Baldur’s Gate. I think that’s probably enough to get me through a three-hour shift at OtherJob.

Three of my favorite kids (and the sister of one of the three, who I haven’t actually ever had in class due to her age but I’m fond of) all transferred out today. It’s got me in a deeply pessimistic mood about my job during a month that has already seen much, much more than its share of pessimism, and I caught myself looking at job listings at private schools again yesterday. There’s a tiny silver cloud in that one of the two Kids Who are Always Suspended was spreading the word that he was transferring schools on Monday as well, but he apparently has given two different schools out for where he’ll be landing so I’m not holding my damn breath. Naturally, even in that situation, he’s the one of the two who I actually kind of like despite his constant attempts to derail my classroom; the nicest thing I can say about the other one is that the world would be a better place had he been a blowjob.

So, yeah, that’s where my head’s at right now. Also, since I apparently review commercial food items now, I had what Subway is calling their “Sriracha Chicken Melt” for dinner tonight. While it was tasty (and spicy enough that, half an hour later, my nose is still sorta running) there are little advertising placards all over the store that describe the sriracha as “creamy.” Sriracha is a lot of things, but creamy is none of them. Something else sriracha isn’t: orange. So I don’t know what the hell I was eating on that sammitch, but it wasn’t sriracha.

Mmmm, sriracha.

How to piss me off while doing me a favor

headdeskI’m at OtherJob, as I tend to be on Saturday nights, and I’m working on finishing the week’s grading, as I also tend to be on Saturday nights.  I have three assignments left: a workbook assignment for one of my seventh grade classes, a workbook assignment for my honors Algebra class, and a mid-chapter quiz for my Algebra class.  They’re stacked together, slightly overlapping, on the counter next to me.  Our counter is bar-style, sorta; there are two– the one that customers touch is higher, and the one by me with the register on it is about six inches lower, so it’s not like I’ve got my school work all spread out where customers will have to deal with it.

Anyway, a customer orders a couple of large drinks.  I prepare them and put them on the (higher) counter in front of him then go to the register to ring him up.  He slides the drinks down closer to the register and pays me, at which point I notice that there are also some people outside.  I go outside to deal with them.  It’s chilly but a decent night outside, for late October at least, and I chat with the outdoor couple (the girl is cute) for a couple of minutes, then stand out there for no good reason for a few minutes more and then head back inside.

To carnage.

The customer has either accidentally spilled (charitable) or deliberately poured (which is what it looks like, but seems unnecessary) at least one of his large drinks all over the counter and thus all over everything else I have left to grade.  A large drink here is 32 ounces, which means probably 20 ounces of liquid and another 12 ounces of ice which has had a fair amount of time to melt all over the rest of my grading for the evening.  The customer, who managed to do this without any sort of loud exclamation of surprise or anything like that (which may be a sign of deliberateness or may just mean that I have bad ears) has disappeared, not spending any of the tokens that he also bought when he got his drinks.  The lady he was with is also gone.  Nowhere is there any sign that he made any attempt to rescue any of my shit from the pool of spreading apocalypse and it’s managed to migrate its way under the register and is damn close to my computer by the time I get into the room.  Also all over the floor.

Ten minutes of swearing and cleaning later, I decide that rather than trying to sort any of this shit out I’m just going to give any kid who was in class the day the assignments got collected full credit; it probably makes more sense to simply throw them out altogether but screw it, it’s late in the quarter and there are already enough points in play that giving them full credit is only giving them a tiny grade boost.

The punchline:  this is the second time I’ve had to throw out the results of a mid-chapter quiz for my Algebra class, and I’ve only given two of them.  I’m not doing any more of them anymore; they’re bad luck.

In which leave me alone universe

All I actually want from life right now is to have nothing to do.   Unfortunately, these two piles of worksheets here don’t count as nothing and I probably shouldn’t cheat by not actually grading them or throwing them away or summat.  I just want them to be done and to not be my problem any longer so that I can have seven or eight hours of actual relaxation before going to bed tonight.

I may be growing weary of six-day weeks, guys.

That’s all for now. Somebody spent last night trolling through the archives (I SEE YOU) so I don’t even feel like I have to babysit my traffic today.  Screw you, pointless metric-obsession!  Hah!

Making reubens for dinner.  Read a book about a guy named Reuben last night and he made me hungry.  Plus, foodspin.

G’bye.

In which god I’m tired of this (part 3 of 3, sorta)

22913I took yesterday off because I spent all day asleep and then had to go to work; it’s 1:43 as I’m starting to type this and I’ve only been out of bed for about three hours.  This annoying goddamn just-wanna-sleep-all-the-time illness is getting old, folks, and the inexplicable sore throat it decided to throw at me yesterday out of nowhere isn’t fair.  Also, there’s a chance I might have pinkeye again for like the fourth fucking time this year.

I will be the first in line to transfer my consciousness into a machine.  There’s gotta be a mad scientist out there working on that.  Get moving, dammit.

So, that in mind– let’s get this Tony Bennett post out of the way.  Not spending time on my Facebook feed lately?  Okay.  He’s Indiana’s former superintendent of education.  “Former” because he got tossed out on his ass last year, after all of Indiana’s teachers rioted against his lying, crooked ass.  Turns out we have enough friends and relatives that the new Superintendent got three hundred thousand more votes than the new governor did.  He then went to Florida, the worst place on Earth, which is where all of the world’s shit and evil goes to die.  And less than a year later he’s had to resign that job because his evil lying corporatist ass got caught cheating, too.

You didn’t click on the link, I know; I’ll nutshell:  one of the schools that Tony just knew should have been an A school ended up with a C under his new, bullshit school grading system.  That school just happened to be run by an influential Republican donor, who just happened to have donated several hundred thousand dollars to the reelection fund that wasn’t enough to keep Tony from getting tossed out on his ass.  The entire grade system therefore got revised until Tony’s buddy’s school got the A that he’d already predetermined it deserved.  Meanwhile, several Indianapolis public schools in basically the exact same situation got taken over by the state for their poor grades.  Coincidentally, I’m sure, the new system managed to lift the grades of several other charter for-profit schools.  Amazing, innit?

Here’s the thing: honestly?  I ain’t mad.  This entire “school accountability”/charter school thing has nothing to do with educating children.  It is solely and singularly concerned with shoveling taxpayer money into the pockets of corporations and people who are already rich.  The system is already so corrupt and evil to begin with that it’s hard to imagine anything that would make me see it as worse.  I already knew these people were lying scum who were out to get me and enrich their friends.  Additional proof of same isn’t gonna make much of a difference.

Wanna hear a secret, though?

All grades are arbitrary bullshit.

Lemme say that again:  All. Grades. Are. Arbitrary. Bullshit.

We all know this, but we don’t like to talk about it much, because everybody likes to pretend that that grades actually mean something.  But every teacher on Earth has at some point or another adjusted something because somebody who should have gotten some grade got some other grade instead.  And if they haven’t done that, they’ve set their grade system up to prioritize some sort of behavior over some other sort of behavior.  It’s all gamed, one way or another; the only thing is how honest and how transparent you are about it.

Lemme give some examples.  The easiest way to grade is just to make everything worth the same number of points as the number of questions in the assignment.  So if I give you fifteen questions tonight, that’s worth fifteen points, and the 50-question test is worth fifty points.  At the end you divide the total number of points earned by the total number of points possible and then you have a score.  Problems with this:  one, it’s a lot of grading, and two, it leads to weird inequalities like Monday’s homework being worth a lot more than Thursday’s just because Monday’s worksheet had a lot more questions on it.  It also leads to difficulties in quantifying anything that isn’t a worksheet or a textbook assignment, and makes grading things like essays a huge pain in the ass.

So, okay, use rubrics, or something?  And make every paper worth X points, where some percentage of that is grammar, some is “style,” some is awarded for some nebulous idea of how well the essay adheres to whatever the essay was supposed to be about.  You’re still making arbitrary determinations here about how much you prioritize papers over other things.  You’re still gonna give the kid who turns in every single assignment but can’t write to save his life a “C” because his papers weren’t good enough, where Billy who is a decent writer but misses assignments and half-asses everything gets a “B” because papers are worth more than the assignments he skipped.

And you’re gonna make some sort of decision about how to change your grading based on your feeling that Kyle deserves a better grade than Billy because he works harder.

Let’s throw some special ed kids in the mix.  What if Jenny’s got an IQ of 60 and doesn’t have a chance in hell of being able to do the same assignments that Monica can handle?  Should she just automatically fail?  Or do you alter your grading policies somehow to account for the fact that she’s doing the best she can do and that ought to be worth something?  Maybe she on her best day on Earth can’t do better than Billy-the-halfasser can do.  Should Billy get better grades?  Is the sanctity of your precious grading system worth more than convincing Jenny that trying at school is worth something and tossing her a little bit of success once in a while?

What kind of person are you if you determine that not breaking the Rules of Your System is more important than keeping a kid from tuning out school altogether?

What happens if you give an assignment that you plan to grade a certain way and then all your kids bomb it?  What if some of the kids who bomb it are kids who habitually get everything done right?  Is that your fault?  Can you change your grading system to give some kids better grades?  Or just throw the whole thing out?

How do you tell the difference between Amber-the-A-student getting a C on something because your grading system was BS and Amber getting a C because she’s slipping?  And, again, do you care about the difference?

How do you handle missing work?  Do you accept it?  Because you’d better be prepared, in some schools (mine’s one of them) to fail 2/3 of your kids if you don’t take late work and if you record it as a zero.  Or do you have a “floor” beneath which no assignment can fall?  Where do you set that?

For the record, here’s my grading system, for whatever it’s worth:

  • I accept late work up until a formal progress report goes out; this basically divides a quarter in half, so you can turn in late work from the first half of a quarter until halfway through it and then those grades are locked.  I send informal PRs home every couple of weeks.  Late work gets docked two points from a turned-in assignment.
  • Missing work is a 0.  No turned in assignment receives less than 50% as a score unless it’s clearly halfassed or not finished.  It’s incredibly rare for ANY turned-in assignment to receive less than 30%.
  • Assignments from the textbook are worth five points, period, and are graded on completion.  I do not grade them item-by-item and do not correct them.  If they’re turned in and done roughly according to instructions (ie, work is shown, stuff like that) it’s going to get full credit unless I can tell you just wrote some shit down and hoped I didn’t notice it.
  • Assignments from the workbook are worth ten points and are graded on partial correctness:  in other words, I arbitrarily choose ten problems from the two pages and grade those.  Not every problem will count.  I grade the same ten problems for everyone, though.
  • Tests are usually worth fifteen or twenty points and are graded completely.  Occasionally I will give bonus points for spelling your name right if a test happens to have twelve questions or something like that.  Tests are the only exception to the grade-floor rule; if you turn in a test with no correct answers you are going to get a zero for it.
  • Occasionally I will collect morning bell-ringer work and grade that on completion; it’s usually worth a point or two and cannot be made up.
  • Extra credit is crazy-rare and is only given if it’s available to everyone.  I won’t make up an assignment for you specifically.

Here’s what I’m prioritizing:  I put a heavy emphasis on effort, which is why those textbook assignments are pretty much automatic As if you turn them in.  Similarly, the grade floor: if you tryyou’re going to get some points for your effort.  I accept late work because I feel like kids should be able to make up for their mistakes; I don’t accept it after a certain point because those mistakes should cost you something.

And, yeah, I’ve taken a look at my grades, gone “Damn, Chelsea should be getting an A, what happened?” and taken a look at how to fix it.  Not to the degree that Bennett did, obviously; his shit was pretty egregious no matter how you look at it.  But I can’t pretend I don’t get it.  Because grades are arbitrary.  Period.  We shouldn’t pretend otherwise.