Here’s why standardized testing doesn’t work

original-1First things first:  I’m pretty convinced there’s not gonna be school tomorrow.  Again. The prediction for tomorrow morning between five and seven AM has windchill temperatures in between twenty and twenty-five degrees below zero.  It’s supposed to warm up quickly after about nine or ten o’clock, and be almost civilized by the end of the day, but I just don’t see any way that they’re making kids walk to school/wait for buses in that kind of wind chill.  Twenty below has been the trigger for the last several school closings and there’s no good reason to assume tomorrow will be any different.

I had tests planned for today for both of my seventh grade groups but the eighth grade test was scheduled for tomorrow.  I spent most of my time in the gym before school grabbing my algebra kids and saying things like “Hey, remember how I said there was a test tomorrow?  I lied.  It’s today.”  It is either a sign that my kids really like me or that they just don’t care that much about their grades that none of them bothered to gripe about not having time to study.

My seventh graders, though, knew that there was a test today.  We’ve been talking about it for a week and reviewing for a couple of days. And for both of my goddamn groups today they knew what slope was and how it worked during the first class period and then bombed the shit out of what should have been a pretty easy test during the second.  And I have no idea why.  I bet if I give it to them again tomorrow or Monday they’ll do goddamn fine.  But not today, for whatever reason, even though I was getting correct answers to everything I threw at them during the first period of class when we were reviewing.

Lesson is: sometimes kids don’t know shit, even if they knew shit before, and you can’t always predict when those days will happen.  My first and second hour kids got the worst results I have ever seen as a math teacher on their window test today.  And again: it was not a hard test.  That record lasted an hour and forty minutes, until my third and fourth hour kids took the same test and did even worse.  If today had been ISTEP day they’d have fired me already.  And the next test we take they might get the highest scores in the seventh grade.  What happened?  Hell if I know.  They knew it and then they didn’t.  And that’s just the fuck how it works sometimes.

We’ll post-mortem it on Monday, I guess. Er… well, maybe tomorrow.  But I kinda doubt it.

Story problem time!

image028Have a math problem:

A boat travels 60 kilometers upstream against the current in 5 hours.  The boat travels the same distance downstream in 3 hours.  What is the rate of the boat in still water?  What is the rate of the current?

If you are a reasonably educated person, you should be able to make headway with this fairly quickly:  the boat travels 12 km/h upstream (60/5) and 20 km/h downstream (60/3), which means that the boat’s speed in still water is the average of the upstream/downstream speeds, (20 + 12)/2 km/h, or 16 kilometers per hour, and the current is 4 km/h, which is the difference between either of the measured speeds and the average.

I spent about half an hour last night texting back and forth with a former student trying to work her through this problem and becoming more and more bewildered about what it was she didn’t get about it as the conversation went on.  She got the math– the math isn’t really that complicated, right?  Just division and an average.

What she didn’t get?  Rivers.  As it turns out, “downstream” and “upstream” are not terribly salient terms to kids who have lived in cities all their lives– and while, granted, the town I currently live in is actually called South Bend because the river bends south while wending through it, the terms “downstream” and “upstream” hadn’t managed to really ensconce themselves in her vocabulary as of yet.

This young lady is generally one of my brightest kids, mind you.  I’m not mocking her at all here, although maybe she deserves it a little bit– but the entire conversation got me thinking about how incredibly easy it is to write standardized test questions that you think are questions about math but turn out to hinge on some other kind of non-mathematical knowledge.  She could not wrap her head around the idea that the boat wasn’t going at its full speed “downstream” and that the current wasn’t slowing it down by (20-12) 8 km/h going upstream.  Which, of course, was one of the answers, because whenever anyone with half an ounce of sense writes a multiple choice test, one of the horrible tricks you do is thinking “Now, how might the students screw this up?” and then writing answers that match what they might have gotten if they did something predictable wrong.

The math?  She’s got it.  The geography lesson that the writer of the question no doubt didn’t realize was embedded into being able to get the question right?  Not so much.

I’ll talk more about this later; just wanted to get the thought down before it fell out of my head.  This is part of the longer series of posts I alluded to the other day before hell fell on my face and knocked me out for a couple of days, I think; I’ll get back to it soon.

In which I slowly go blind

imagesI’m spending the entire day crunching ISTEP scores and growth numbers and all sorts of other stuff, and alternately cursing myself, the Indiana State Board of Education, my boss, Microsoft Excel, human biology and math itself for the various frauds and iniquities being perpetrated on myself/my school/the state of education in general as I try and track down enough information to make what I’m doing useful to anybody.

I have discovered that the Windows version of Excel does not actually allow you to open two Excel documents in multiple windows.  For system software that is actually called Windows this seems like somewhat of a curious oversight.  Flipping back and forth is vastly annoying and I don’t like it one bit.  I’d prefer to not have to wait until I get home to do this on my Mac– there’s a reason I’m doing it at OtherJob– but it looks as if I might have to, because it’ll take a third of the time if I can just have everything open at once on my wonderful home setup, which features two monitors, one of which is a 27-incher, and not this teensy laptop screen.

Further aggravating me is the fact that the state appears to have made slightly different decisions about who counts and who doesn’t than I did when I put my initial numbers for my own students together back when I actually got the ISTEP data in the first place.  The low-growth kid who came in halfway through the year?  For some reason, counts.  The high-growth kid who I had for all but the first six days of the school year?  Didn’t.  Which shifts my overall numbers in a way I don’t like.

This don’ make no sense, and I’m wondering how exactly they decided who counts and who doesn’t, because length of enrollment doesn’t seem to be it.  Which is a whole ‘nother column I need to worry about if I’m going to keep track of it– and right now I don’t want to.

On the plus side, most of my grading is done.  I’m gonna take a break and read for at least an hour or so to let my eyes recover (from backlit tiny type to tiny type on paper, which… well, hopefully that’s a meaningful difference) and then I’ll see what else I can get done today.

What do people who don’t work two jobs on Saturday do on Saturday?

In which see if you can make me

whuteverFirst things first, because this post is going to be a bit of a downer and you deserve something at least a little funny:  I somehow managed to make it through the entire day with a massive hole in the crotch of my pants that I didn’t notice until I went to the bathroom during my last-hour prep period.  I assume no one else noticed it; I can’t imagine a universe in which I don’t get the hell mocked out of me for it if they did.

I did something I’ve never done today:  got pissed off and stormed out of a faculty meeting.

(Second disclaimer, and lemme put this right up at the top of this post so I’m not misunderstood:  I am manifestly not blaming the people who brought me the information that caused me to storm out of the faculty meeting today; I am not shooting the messengers and they were just doing their jobs.  Nor am I pissed at my boss.  The fact that at least two of the people involved may well read this is in no way related to the early disclaimer.  🙂  )

I’ll try and nutshell the background for those of you who aren’t teachers:  Every three weeks our students get a math test and a language arts test.  The tests are the same across grade levels– in other words, every seventh grader takes the same math test– and are supposed to be the same across the corporation as a whole, although I’ll admit right here and now that the math team at my school has altered individual questions that we thought were unfair or poorly written in some way and we didn’t bother getting permission for it.  We’re required to display the results of these tests on what are called data walls, because us educators like having complicated names for things.  I generated an Excel document for everyone that takes the test results and spits them out into pie charts that are broken down for the test as a whole and each individual math objective (generally, three) that is being tested.  The data is genuinely useful; I can keep track of where my kids are at relative to each other, to the grade as a whole, and I can see where my instruction doesn’t seem to be working– if my kids bomb one objective that the other teachers did well on, that may be an indication that I’m doing something wrong.

The data, again, is displayed on a class level in the classroom.  No individual scores, no names.  Just how each whole class did.

Apparently some lord high muckety-muck downtown has decided that that’s not good enough.  We’re now required to do “student-centered” data walls; the charts aren’t enough.

A “student-centered” data wall is one where the kids are posting their results on the wall– supposedly thinly veiled by using student numbers instead of names or some such shit like that.  The idea is that the kids are “aware of” and “own” their results, which somehow isn’t the case when I give them their tests, discuss them, and then discuss the class results with them, which I do every time I give a test.  We’re supposed to create some sort of bulletin board somewhere in the room where we can have the kids put their little name-tag thing up in the band (red, yellow, green) where their score landed.  In case it’s not obvious, green kids did great, yellow kids passed, red kids… didn’t.

I’ve talked about him before but I can’t find the post: my freshman year Algebra teacher was the worst goddamn teacher I’ve ever had in my entire life, and a large part of what made me hate him as much as I did was his practice of rearranging the seats after each test– by test score.  The kids who did the worst would be in the front row, all the way back to the kids with the highest scores, who ended up in the back.  The very worst score in the room would end up right in front of his desk.  And you’d stay there until the next test, when, more than likely (because he was a shit teacher) you’d get planted back in the front row again.

I spent a lot of time in the front row my freshman year of high school, and over twenty years later I can still feel the humiliation.  Note that I teach freshman algebra now, so this clearly wasn’t a result of my poor math abilities.  I literally teach the same class I flunked when this asshole taught it.  And I do it better than he did.

Anyway.

Here’s what this means:  you fail a math test in my class, not only do you fail a math test in my class, but you are supposed to get up and move a doohickey (that is supposedly, but not really, safely anonymized) so that not only do you get to be reminded that you failed every fucking time you walk in the room but everybody else gets to know about it too.  If you’re the only kid in a class who failed?  You get to be down there in the red zone all by yourgoddamnself and if the class doesn’t already know who the one kid who failed was they’re sure as hell going to do their best to find the fuck out.

I’m not doing this.

No.

Fuck you.  And fuck that.

I put my hand up and said, out loud where everybody could hear me, that I don’t like this goddamn job enough that I’m going to humiliate kids in order to keep it.  And then I left the meeting.

I don’t know what happened after I left; I don’t know if there were further riots or not.  But I’m putting my foot down on this one:  I will not do this.  Not under any fucking circumstances, period.  And if they don’t like it they can fire my two-time Teacher of the Year ass and I’ll go to a district that isn’t fucked in the fucking head.  Or just get the hell out of this demeaning fucking career altogether and leave the public school system to fucking rot like the Indiana public clearly wants it to anyway.  Fuck it.  My job isn’t worth this.  No.

In case you can’t tell, it was a long fucking day.

I had a busy day; here’s a sandwich

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I didn’t get around to making Reubens last night; we went over to my parents’ place for chili instead– so we made them tonight.  This was after another excessively long Monday where the kids spent the whole day doing their best to convince me that they were stupid– only to then turn around and pass the first Acuity test of the year (there are three; it’s primarily used as a measure of growth) by more or less flying colors.  All but two of the kids in my first class passed, 60% of my mostly-special-ed class passed (which is pretty damn good; just trust me on that), and all of my kids in Algebra passed– which they’d bloody well better have if they wanted to live.  This, though, from kids who literally ten minutes before the test were trying to convince me they’d never seen long division before.

Two pounds of corned beef and a pound of Swiss cheese made it a bit better.  Along with some rye bread and some sauerkraut and some homemade Russian dressing.  Mmmm.

This, by the way, is the shit that makes me wonder what the hell we’re doing in education in this country.  Should I be judged if a kid who has been taught long division by four different teachers four straight years tries to act like he’s never seen it before?  Am I just that shitty at my job, along with whichever different teachers these kids had before me?  Or can we actually blame the kids for willfully embracing dumbassery?

I really don’t know the answer.  Maybe we all just suck at this and everything they’re saying about American public schools is true.  I don’t know what to do with a kid who has been told the rules of punctuation by every teacher they’ve ever had in their entire lives and still can’t figure out that sentences begin with capital letters and end with some form of punctuation.  Or who treats apostrophes like they’re an early warning system for the letter S.  After every teacher they’ve ever had showed them the right way to do it.

At some point, it has to be their fault.  Or maybe not!  Maybe I’m just that bad at my job– and I, supposedly, am one of the good ones.  Bad teachers must literally suck knowledge out of the heads of the young scholars in their classrooms.

And then they go and pass the Acuity test, which is either a sign that the Acuity isn’t really measuring anything or that they were fucking with me all morning.

Either way, I’m losing my ability to put up with it.

Anyway, I’m gonna go watch the season premiere of How I Met Your Mother, a show I still watch only because I’m a masochist.  I expect it to annoy me; that’s what it’s for nowadays.

In which I am listening to Nappy Roots

field-of-pretty-flowers-124a

Let’s begin now.

Have some pretty flowers.  At least, this is what Google gives you when you google “pretty flowers.”  (Image credit.)

Okay.  Today was better.  At no point today did I wish to resign, storm out of the building in a high dudgeon, or annihilate any other living being who I work with or am responsible for in any way.  That’s progress!  Days without rage are good, and as you could probably tell from yesterday’s post that day was rather high on rage.  Better is good.  I got things done today!  Things that have been nagging at the back of my brain for weeks, and only emerging into full remembrance when it’s been much too late for me to actually do anything about it!

I have my ISTEP scores, by the way, which is unrelated to yesterday’s issues.  Short version:  I’m happy, personally.  I’m not going into building level stuff right now and may not go into building stuff at all here, as it makes it too easy to locate precisely where I work and I’d prefer not to do that.  I’ll have to figure out how to write the post if I do.  But personally I’m happy.  More details of some kind later.

(Fifteen minutes of staring at the screen later)

I’m apparently lacking in things to say today.  Despite how bad yesterday went, I’m doing a pretty good job of keeping to my “don’t yell at kids” promise this year.  I had that one moment with one kid (I think I talked about it here; if not I’ll come back and edit, because it’s kind of a funny story) but other than that I’ve done really well.  Even the reading of the riot act that occurred this morning (complete with rearranging the desks and new seating charts for my first and second hour classes, which were the main sources of my bad mood yesterday, although by far the only ones) was done largely through tone and without raising my voice.  Today we managed to remember that, hey, we’ve sorta done math before, once or twice at least, and maybe a fraction isn’t some sort of alien life form that no one has ever seen or expected us to convert into a decimal before.

So, yeah.  Point is: better day.  Hopefully yours went okay too.


Ha!  I didn’t tell that story.  I love my homeroom, right?  They’re wonderful kids and I would keep them forever and ever if I could, but sadly they’re only my homeroom and I don’t have them all day like I did last year.  I have duty in the gym in the morning, so often my girls are already waiting at my door for me when I get to homeroom– my unofficial rule is that I don’t care when the bell rings, if you beat me down to my room (which, remember, is out in the sticks) then you’re not tardy to class.  Anyway, one day a week or two ago I’m letting the girls into my classroom when I hear a piercing, blood-freezing scream from one of them– a kid who I like a lot but who could very justifiably be accused of being slightly high-strung.

I spin around.  Note that at this point I’m not even raising my voice.  “Nefertiti, what in the world is wrong?”

She points at the tiniest arachnid ever, which is toddling across the carpet and minding its own damn business.  She’s still shrieking.

“THERE’S A SPIDER!!!!”

At this point I lost my temper a little bit, I admit it– I don’t like horrifying piercing noises first thing in the morning, and drilling my ears for no reason is worse— and I snapped at her– loudly– before I really even realized I was doing it.

“Child, unless that stupid thing has laser beams coming out of its eyes that I need to know about, you’d better leave it alone and get your butt into my classroom before the bell rings.”

And that was it.  I’ve yelled at one kid this year and it referenced spiders shooting laser beams.

I think I can live with it.

Now that it’s over…

Dolphin-Sunset-HD-WallpaperLet’s talk about how the summer went.

In a word? Weird.

As I write this (which isn’t at 8:00 on Wednesday morning, which is when this is going to pop; I’m probably passing out locker numbers to my homeroom girls right now) I still don’t have ISTEP scores for the 2012-13 school year. We can argue– and I have, no link necessary– about how important these tests should be, and how much they actually accurately measure student learning, but the simple fact is that they’re really really important right now even if they should be. In a very real way, I’ve spent all summer unable to close the book on 2012-13 because I never got my ISTEP scores. I have kids who have already transferred or moved who I’m never going to get to be able to tell that they passed for the first time, or that they brought their scores up by more than they ever have before.

That’s kind of a big deal for me. Now, granted, I’ve got a lot of these kids back, so I can have the conversation with them this year, but it’s not the same. Psychologically, I haven’t let go of last year yet. I haven’t been able to process how well they/I did– for better or for worse– and figure out a way to adjust and/or do things better for this year, because I don’t yet know how well the changes I made last year worked out. And that’s a damn weird position to be in. (I’m hoping that by the time this actually publishes I’ll actually have scores in-hand, but I’m not holding my breath.)

Outside of school… well, it was still a weird summer. It started off too wet, transitioned into too hot– expected in northern Indiana in July– but then took a weird detour straight into Octobersville, which is where we’ve lived for the last month or so. Business at OtherJob hasn’t been what I’ve wanted it to be, because the weather never cooperated with us. And it’s made the job less fun in a way that I don’t like at all, because having something fun to get paid for is the whole point of OtherJob. I don’t like it when that doesn’t happen.

I built a deck. That was awesome. I cooked a bunch of stuff; also awesome. Ripped up some carpeting in my hallway and started working on the year’s biggest project, the new bathroom, which I’m hoping will be awesome once it’s done.

I failed at ukulele. That was unfortunate.

And then there was this place. I haven’t been a regular blogger for several years, and I managed to write damn near every day through the summer (when the hell did I start this place up again? Early June?) regardless of what else was going on. I think I only missed two or three days all summer, and while the posts haven’t exactly all been brilliant at least I’ve been writing. I’m hoping to hell I can keep up at least a four- or five-days-a-week pace once school starts; we’ll see. Weirdly, I think my schedule– my prep period is last hour– might help with that; it’ll give me time to get stuff done before school lets out, which will mean I won’t be at school as long, which will mean I’ll theoretically have time at home to write. I don’t want this place to wither, but I can’t pretend there’s not a real risk of it. The plan will be to always try and write for the next day so I can keep posts popping in the morning. We’ll see.

The biggest failure of the summer has been where it always is: writing fiction, which I’ve barely done at all. Which I never do, despite my constant desire to the contrary. But you’ve seen that rant before, multiple times, so I’ll spare you.

And that was that. Here we go again.

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.