I made a student cry today.

The class was Life Skills math. I had a series of numbers for the boy (we'll call him "Orville") to add. He stood up.

"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To get a calculator." he replied.
"You don't need a calculator for this."
"Yes I do!" he shouted.

He sat, put his down and started to cry.

"I can show you how to add." I said.
"But in my middle school they let me use a calculator, always!"

By now, pools of tears and runny nose were forming on the desk.

"You're in high school now."

He lifted his head from his desk and yelled, "I CAN'T DO IT!"

"Look me in the eye." I said. "One of my classroom rules is students are not allowed to say, 'I can't'. You may say either 'I can' or 'I need help.'"

He stood and told me he was getting a tissue.

When he came back, he wiped off his face, then dried off the table.
I sat with him, showing him how to add. Before the class ended, he added all of his columns accurately.

He smiled, with the look of dignity on his face, the look of being empowered to do something for the first time.

"I want you to do something for me." I said. "Just go along with it."

I went to the front of the room and said, "Class, Orville said he couldn't do something. My rule is you may not say, 'I can't.' You may only say, 'I can' or 'I need help.' Orville, what do you say about adding columns of numbers?"

With a voice that carried halfway across the school, he shouted, "I CAN DO IT!!!"

The final edition of my high school’s newspaper my graduating year listed the post-high school intentions of every senior. It was stated that the Universities of Illinois, Wisconsin, and Iowa were the “top three colleges” of the LHS Class of 1992.

Really?

Being the nerd that I was (and still am), I counted the responses. The number one college, by far, with over one-third of graduates, was the College of Lake County, our local community college.

I knew what they meant. They meant “the top three colleges that we’re not embarrassed about”.  But it still bothered me. By merely wording it as the “top three universities” they could have avoided the falsehood. It was as if they intentionally used the pool of colleges that included the College of Lake County just so they could ignore it.

You probably surmised that I attended the College of Lake County.

The College of Lake County, CLC, was the perfect environment for me. I was just starting to mature as a student. I did not yet have the academic wherewithal to thrive in a competitive environment. I didn’t have the organizational skills to both live independently and be a successful student.  

These were developed while attending CLC. 

Additionally, the financial burden of sending two kids to universities at the same time would have been onerous for my parents. I still remember the cost of my first semester at CLC: $33.10 per credit.

Kids in my high school had names for CLC: College of Last Chance. College Lost in a Cornfield.

I created my own: College of Leftover Cash.

During the second semester, I noticed people at CLC from my high school graduating class. I remember running into one in the men’s room.

“How’s it going?”

“Good, Bob. Nice to see you.”

“I thought you went to Indiana.”

Sheepish smile. “I partied out.”

CLC gave me both confidence and humility. By giving me the skills I needed, I developed the confidence I needed to earn my bachelor’s, and then three advanced degrees. By starting at a “lowly” community college, I’ve felt the need to prove myself over and over.

When a student attends a community college, and subsequently earns a bachelor’s degree from a four-year institution, there is no asterisk on the diploma saying where they started. Their degree is the same as the student who spent all four years (or more) at the four-year college. But when people ask me where I went to college, I say, “I started at the College of Lake County…” I typically get one of two reactions. One is, “I also started at a community college.” The other is, “I wish I had gone to a community college. I would’ve saved a lot of money.”

Starting at a four year college makes sense for some people. Some students are so academically advanced, there are few classes at a community college that would fit their needs. Others are offered such an excellent financial package as an incoming freshman that it would be foolish to take a chance on getting a similar deal two years down the road. There are many reasons for choosing one college over another, but it’s folly to shame a college because of its lack of competitive admissions.

I once read a quote that said, “College is a match to be made, not a prize to be won.” So true. As a kid, 18 looked like the finish line. At 42, I see it was the starting gate.

My wife and I have a daughter who is a freshman in high school. From a very early age, she demonstrated exceptional intellectual abilities. It’s tempting to think of your kid as an elite and have Ivy League dreams. But I’m reminded: College is a match to be made, not a prize to be won. Our community college has so much to offer: an honors program for accelerated students and an excellent pre-engineering program that, if completed, guarantees admission to the College of Engineering at the University of Illinois. I will be proud if my daughter starts at a community college. When I speak with her, she has her mind firmly set on community college, followed by “wherever life may take me”.  By starting at a community college, she will have more financial resources to allow her to go wherever life may take her.

Twenty years after graduating, I was in my old high school to use the pool. I walked by the guidance office and saw a display. It stated the top three colleges for LHS graduates were the University of Illinois, Wisconsin, and Missouri.

Argh!

In the school where I teach, I noticed at commencement, in addition to mentioning how many graduates are going to college, they sometimes make a special announcement of how many plan to go to elite colleges. After an exhaustive Internet search, I haven’t learned what defines an “elite” college. Ten percent acceptance rate? Tuition above $50,000 per year? Professors with leather elbow patches on tweed jackets?  

How about we make a special announcement of students who plan to graduate from college debt-free?

Recently, my district published an annual report. It was beautiful. It listed many of the accomplishments our students, staff, and community are proud of.

Pages six and seven told about the new, innovative programs we now offer.

Pages eight and nine told about students who excelled in academics, athletics, and the arts.

Pages ten and eleven told about employees who had been recognized as distinguished educators.

Page 13 stated, “Illinois State University, Iowa State University, and the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign are the top three schools the class of 2016 is attending.”

Argh again!

After 24 years, I had enough. I e-mailed the person who put the report together. I asked if we really had more students attending those three schools than our community college.

Gotcha!

She acknowledged that it wasn’t worded correctly, that, in the future, it should be identified as “four-year schools” to avoid confusion. Factually, that would be an improvement. But it would still be a slight to community colleges.

I’ll take what I can get, but I would prefer that we would be just as proud of every student who takes the next step of their life journey at their best possible match.

My eighth grade daughter said she got "yelled at" in study hall for drawing.

I realize the definition of "yell" has changed since I was her age, but I understood.

"Why can't you draw?"

"It's against the rules. I can do homework, read, or write, but I'm not allowed to draw."

"Didn't you have any homework to do?"

"I had math, but study hall's not enough time to focus on it. I need to have a long period of time to get into the mindset for math."

This took me back to ninth grade. I sat in a large study hall and had no homework. I had already read all of the interesting-looking short stories in my English book and had nothing to do. I took out a piece of paper and drew the face of an adolescent. With a pencil, I harshly dotted it over and over, to make pimples on his face.

The study hall monitor appeared and told me to stop or he'd give me a detention.

I realized my mistake. The dotting was making noises that were disturbing my classmates. I apologized and continued my drawing in silence.

He returned a minute later with a detention.

"What's this for?"

"I told you to stop drawing."

"I thought you meant to stop making noise. I stopped that."

"See you after school tomorrow."

Back to my daughter.

I told her she needs to follow the rules, but that I agree with her.

Why is is acceptable to improve your math and reading skills, but it's not acceptable to work on your drawing skills?

Drawing is her interest. It is how she expresses herself. She has the desire to convey her thoughts and emotions in pictorial form. She's not great yet, but she's working on it.

I wake up before her every day. In my place at the table, I'll sometimes find her drawings. The drawings are puzzles that make phrases. The one on my place today has "~" and a grave. The answer is "Till death" (tilde + death - it also shows how she loves her Spanish class). My response was a plate with a mound of food, followed by #. It was "corned beef hashtag", like a Wheel of Fortune before and after puzzle. Between an adolescent and her dad, art is one of the few ways we can communicate and comfortably say we love each other.

I suppose I could make a stink about the no drawing policy, but I won't. I try to be as hands-off as possible and allow her to take control of her life (as well as not being "that parent"). If she wants to fight it, I'll support her and give her guidance, but it'll be her battle to wage. I know next year she'll be in a less draconian environment at her high school. But it's a shame that a little harmless drawing isn't tolerated, or even encouraged.

By the way, I never served that detention. I uncharacteristically blew it off and then worried that I'd get in bigger trouble for having done so. But, miraculously, nobody ever followed-up with it.

12 Days of Christmas Cheapskate Special

Every year on the last day before spring break I do an activity with my math students called The 12 Days of Christmas, Cheapskate Special.

We first found the costs of the 12 Days of Christmas, courtesy of the PNC Christmas Price Index. Then we totaled them to see what it would cost. This year it’s a whopping $34,130.99!

While I adore my true love, that’s a lot of money to spend on gifts. So we found out how much each item costs. The breakdown is as follows:

Partridge and pear tree: $214.99

Turtle dove: $145

French Hen: $60.50

Calling bird: $149.99

Gold ring: $150

Goose: $60

Swan: $1,875

Milking Maid: $7.25

Dancing Lady: $839.20

Leaping Lord: $550.87

Piper: $239.56

Drummer: $237.90

We then rearranged the gifts, with the most expensive one going first.

1 swan: $1,875

2 ladies dancing: $1,678.40

3 lords: $1,652.61

4 pipers: $958.24

5 drummers: $1189.50

6 partridges/pear trees: $1,289.94

7 golden rings: $1,050

8 calling birds: $1,199.92

9 turtle doves: $1,305

10 French Hens: $605

11 Geese: $660

12 Maids: $87

The new total is $13,550.61, a savings of $20,580.38!!!

Then I played an instrumental version of the song and we sang the entire thing with the new – and improved – lyrics. The final verse was:

On the 12th Day of Christmas my true love gave to me 12 maids a milking, 11 geese a laying, 10 French hens, 9 turtle doves, 8 calling birds, 7 golden rings, 6 partridges in pear trees, *5 drummers drumming!* (ba-da-da-da), 4 pipers piping, 3 lords a leaping, 2 ladies dancing, and a swan a swimming.

Part 1. The Journey.

I first became interested in the concept of eliminating class rank during a tour of my old high school at my 20 year reunion in 2012. The guide, a guidance counselor, had us note the series of valedictorian photos in a hallway. After a certain year, those photos stopped. He said at one point the school stopped ranking students and naming a valedictorian. “But what about college applications?” I thought, “And what about the commencement speaker?” He answered the second question without being asked, like he’d been over it a million times. “Back when we had valedictorians, the graduation speeches weren’t always very good. Oftentimes a kid who’s a top student isn’t always the best speaker. So now we hold auditions and anyone can apply. Since then, the quality has gone way up.”

I still didn’t have an answer to my first question.

The next day I looked into it and learned that many high schools, including those in the Chicago suburbs, where I live, were eliminating class rank. I also learned that it is not required for a college application. 

Always curious, I spoke with a guidance counselor at my school. She told me tales of students:

• Taking this AP class because it boosted the GPA but not that one until after college applications were submitted because it a) looked like an impressive class to have on their schedule but b) it was a tougher class and they didn’t want the lower grade reflected on their transcripts. 
• Taking driver’s education through a private placement because it’s not weighted and, therefore, could potentially bring down a GPA. 
• Not taking art, choir, or business because, even if they got an A, it could bring their weighted GPA down. Instead, they were choosing to take study hall, which is grade neutral.  

In addition to teaching, I also coach the speech team. These are some of the highest-achieving kids I’ve met and I am truly amazed by their advanced maturity. Sometimes they quit, not because they dislike speech, but because they’re overwhelmed with the demands of AP classes and they feel, correctly, that in order to stay near the front of the pack, they need to stuff their schedule with AP classes. The irony is, the benefits of improved confidence, critical thinking skills, and presentation abilities from the speech team are likely more valuable than anything from their AP classes. But speech team is extracurricular and doesn’t count towards GPA.

I submitted the proposal to my district administration and was granted an audience. This was when I ramped up my research.

Through a survey of school districts in the Chicago suburbs, I learned that rank elimination:

• Led to a reduction in academic stress and created an environment of collaboration
• Led to more students attempting advanced classes
• Led to a higher percentage of college admission and scholarship offers

I learned how the class rank system could be manipulated:

• Some students are able to accumulate high level high school credits while in middle school. 
• English language learners and students with special needs are hampered by rank, as their language proficiency or disability, not their effort, often precludes them from accessing weighted classes.

But wait, there’s more:

• In one district, a GPA difference of .38 meant the difference between a student who was in the top quarter of their class and one who was in the bottom half (third quarter). 
• Most colleges said the majority of applicants come from schools that do not rank.
• In 1993, class rank was #2 on the list of four factors colleges deemed important in admission. As of a 2011 survey, it’s now #5 out of five, and used only as a “down the list” factor.
• The guiding principles of the National Association of Secondary School Principals include strong language against practices such as class rank, opting instead for electives, collaboration, and practices not designed to “sort” students.

I presented my proposal to the district leadership team, where I was put through the wringer. I was asked some tough questions, most of which I could answer. To their credit, the team was very open to my proposal and we moved forward with it.

The next round involved meeting with parents in each of our four high schools. At the first meeting, the group was very receptive. I heard comments like:

• My son had a great report card after his first semester. He was so proud that he started high school on a good note. Then he learned what class rank was and realized he was 100th in his class. I could just see the disappointment in him.
• My kid has been #1 in her class since freshman year and it’s been nothing but a burden. 
• One of my kids was valedictorian and another was salutatorian. It caused so many headaches in our house. Get rid of it!
• Why are you waiting to grandfather this in? Do it now. 

But at the second meeting a few charged parents (of high performers, of course) attended. I heard comments like (with my thought rebuttals in parentheses – I’m far too polite to argue with people):

• Once you get rid of rewarding students for high grades, they’ll have no motivation! You’re just leading them into mediocrity! (Funny that a teacher would support a plan to make his students less engaged in class. “Yeah, I was getting tired of those interesting classes. I was hoping to create more slackers. I figured it would make the school year seem longer”.)
• Sure, just give everybody a trophy, even if they didn’t deserve it! (What I’m proposing is actually to take a “trophy” away. Besides, the back-up punter on a Super Bowl winning team gets a ring. Why not pick on him instead?)
• When I was a kid we had rank and it was a motivator for me. I was salutatorian! (Aren’t schools supposed to motivate all students? Do you think the kid who’s near last in his class is really positively motivated by knowing he’s terrible?)
• Kids need to know how the real world works! (I’ve been working for 25 years. I’ve yet to be ranked in comparison to my colleagues. I’ve learned that the “real world” works best when people collaborate.)
• Further evidence of the “dumbing down” of America! (I’m not sure what conservative talk radio hosts say, but National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP) data shows current students are doing better than ever. Well, at least better at taking tests. Our district alone has gone from fewer than 10 AP courses to more than 25, and some AP courses are being taken by freshmen! These students are expected to do more than ever and are exceeding an imaginary standard that never existed.)
• Next thing you know, you’re going to try and get rid of grades! (Actually…in graduate school I did receive all A’s, but there wasn’t any motivation to do so. I was a tenured teacher in a hard to staff field, so I was pretty much set. I was far more concerned with the feedback I got from my professors. I still keep in contact with them to let them know of my progress because of the relationships we built.)

After these parent meetings we had a committee meeting, where the proposal temporarily died. We had some good discussions, though. One administrator was, at one time, valedictorian. He was asked his opinion on the matter. Surprisingly, he said he thought GPA itself should be eliminated. He felt that it’s not our duty to do colleges’ jobs for them. As with hearing about class rank elimination for the first time, I was dumbstruck that such a thing could be undertaken. But when we talked later, it made sense. Colleges need students far more than the other way around. If we don’t have rank, GPA, or whatever, they will find a way to see if a student is a good match for their school. Without students, and their tuition dollars, they wouldn’t exist.

Then it was resurrected and, after a few more meetings, it passed 7-0.

I’m now hearing from administrators, teachers, and parents, who are coming out of the woodwork to find out if class rank elimination can be done at their district. Within weeks of our policy change, a bordering school district also moved to eliminate class rank.

My school district represents a traditional and conservative population. So for the members of the school board to study and support it really says something about their willingness to be open-minded. 

To be clear, not all recognition of high grades will be eliminated. In fact, one caveat of rank elimination was to create a different way to honor students who had high grades. The difference is, students will no longer need to force another student down if they want to go up. And that alone is one big step for our district.

Part 2. What is a grade?

I’ve really changed my outlook over the past few years. Whereas I used to look at grades as prizes, I now look at them as information. Small bits of incomplete information. One solitary letter, such as an A, can have many interpretations. It could mean:

• The student has mastered the material.
• The student is in a class that is far too easy for them (my daughter knows of a classmate who is paid big bucks per A. While a little more advanced than her peers, the student refuses to take advanced classes. And why should she?)
• The student is adept at doing exactly what is expected of them. No more, no less. (This kind of training is great for lab rats.)
• The student knows how to play the teacher. (When I was in high school, a classmate got a B. Crying, he went to the teacher, saying his parents did not accept Bs. The teacher found a way to change his grade to an A).
• The teacher is generous.

Likewise, an F could mean:

• The student is far from mastering the material.
• The student has been inappropriately placed.
• The student does not care about the subject and sees little relevance to their own life. (I know of a child who is a rock music virtuoso at 13 – and has been for years – but struggles with algebra. He was harangued by his teacher because schools value one and not the other.)
• The student has been shown, through years of experience, that he is not a “good student” and has accepted his fate. 
• The student has not conformed to the learning style that is demanded in a traditional classroom.
• The student spends class daydreaming about other, more interesting things. (That was me!)
• The student has issues outside of class that are impacting their performance. (That was me, too!)
• The teacher is a jerk. (I hope that’s not me!)

Yet we still cling to antiquated measures to determine a student’s worth.

One of the latest trends in motivational speaking is about how failure can be good. We hear Edison’s quote, "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work” and we are regaled with stories about athletes like Michael Jordan who was apocryphally cut from his high school team. Yet we still insist on having a large and punitive scale of “failure” in our schools (59% of the scale, with no bands to indicate what kind of failure). Is failure in the traditional sense really celebrated? Is limiting access to future educational opportunities really best for growth?

For these reasons, I believe it’s inappropriate for grades to be used as a system of punishments and rewards. But I also understand that change often comes slowly, and sometimes all at once.

Part 3. Concluding thoughts.

In order for this initiative to pass, we had to assure the board that we were not the first ones to do this. We were in very good company, along with many other highly-regarded school districts. I had to prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that not only would this not be detrimental, but that it would be positive, and I needed reams of data from other districts that had already made the change to prove this. It takes a forward-thinking school district to be the first and implement change. While we didn’t invent this, I’m proud to say we’re the first in our area to make this change.