Rethinking Grades, Tests, and Rewards

Essay 5.1

Homework: Reconsidering Its Purpose, Amount, and Weight

Original date unconfirmed · July 9, 2018 (Medium archive) · Medium

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To get a clearer understanding of the purpose and value of homework, I recently read Dr. Cathy Vatterott’s engaging book, Rethinking Homework: Best Practices That Support Diverse Needs. She addresses my concern about the utility of homework directly. “The attempts of researchers to answer that basic question have led to conclusions that are inconsistent at best and contradictory at worst,” she writes. “Instead of being apologetic, teachers who don’t give homework should simply explain that they do such a good job of teaching that homework is not necessary,” she later states.

In the class described here, I heeded Vatterott’s advice. I assign nightly homework only when it’s most necessary, instead having students work in class on larger writing and research projects, or study for upcoming assessments. On occasion, I also encourage students to think up their own assignments to convey deeper, more meaningful understanding. I’m a big proponent of self-directed learning, and I look forward to continuing these efforts in the near future.

I spoke with Vatterott and discovered that we think even more alike than I had realized, especially with respect to limiting the amount of homework students receive. Vatterott tells me she had appeared on Minnesota Public Radio, discussing school with a “pro homework” advocate:

She was saying, well, it’s good for kids to learn to delay gratification, and it’s good for them to do boring tasks. I was like, are you kidding me? Don’t you think there’s going to be enough boring tasks in their life that they have to do? Do you think that we have to give them boring tasks? I guess I don’t look at that as the job of childhood. I worry more about what we’re doing to kids’ natural inclination for learning.

In trying to make learning relevant, I also strive to make it enjoyable. My students learn to ask critical questions and form coherent thoughts not only through essays, quizzes, and tests, but also by learning and showing an interest in mastering emerging Web 2.0 tools and 21st-century technologies.

In an earlier course, my American government students learned basic video editing software to film a debate on the constitutionality of the Affordable Care Act. While technologically impressive, their performance impressed me all the more in its substance and civility. Watch the student debate.

Another group of students built their own website, Making a Difference: Give a Hoot about Learning, which featured their thoughts on an array of education topics.

Vatterott reaffirms my convictions: “I’m more interested in helping kids stay excited about learning and creating a task that they want to do, that makes them feel smarter and that makes them excited about the topic that they’re learning,” she says.

Vatterott and I also discuss the purpose of homework, and whether it should count: “Why would we grade homework? If you’re sending it home to check for understanding and they don’t understand it, then we shouldn’t penalize them,” she says. “If it’s for practice, and we’re just checking to see that they’re practicing correctly, why would we put that as part of their grade?”

This makes a lot of sense. After all, not all coaches record a player’s statistics during practice, nor do they always penalize individuals for making mistakes. Instead, the most effective coaches encourage athletes to recover from failure so that these individuals can excel during competition. Increasingly, I believe the same should hold true for the classroom. Teachers should treat homework as practice, which boosts student confidence to excel on formal assessments.

“There has to be a way for it to be okay for a kid to not complete or not understand an assignment,” Vatterott tells me, as I nod my head in agreement. “I think there’s not enough communication going on between the teachers and the kids about the assignments, about what didn’t you understand, why didn’t you complete it. I think we have this rigid rule that says you need to complete this, and if you didn’t, there’s going to be a penalty.”

More schools are doing away with grading homework, Vatterott says, noting that she’s seen an upward trend in the last few years. I’m equally interested to hear Vatterott’s take on why many students don’t complete their homework, and if motivation, or a lack thereof, really plays that huge of a role in those instances.

“I think sometimes kids don’t do it because they’re burned out, because they’ve got homework in four different subjects, and they’ve already worked a six-hour day by the time they come home, and they’re ready to give up,” Vatterott says. “But when you look at the concept of motivation, let’s get real here. Motivation — who wants to do something that makes them feel stupid?”

If teachers must assign homework, Vatterott suggests that tasks should be time-based, not task-based.

“People who work at a slower pace, they’re coming home and they’re looking at the work in front of them, and they’re seeing no end in sight, and it’s really depressing to them,” she says. “They’re saying, ‘Oh, my God, I’m going to be working on this all night.’ If they knew they only had to work on a particular piece for ‘x amount of time,’ I think you would see a lot more compliance from kids with what they’re doing.”

Moving forward, I encourage all teachers to contemplate what homework they assign and what purpose it serves. I know I am thinking hard about those things.

Essay 5.2

The Differentiated Classroom: Doing What’s Fair

Original date unconfirmed · July 10, 2018 (Medium archive) · Medium

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It was my first year of teaching, and I had assigned my 11th-grade history students their first take-home essay. After two weeks and several check-ins, one student (let’s call him John) failed to submit anything. I gave John a “0,” which plummeted his grade along with any sense of hope that he could recover in my class, much less excel.

I had made the real mistake, as Rick Wormeli, one of America’s first National Board Certified Teachers, makes clear in one of the most impactful education books I’ve ever read: Fair Isn’t Always Equal: Assessing & Grading in the Differentiated Classroom.

“Differentiated instruction teachers do what’s fair and developmentally appropriate for the students they teach, and those students change every year,” he writes. “They respond to the students in front of them rather than generic middle or high school students. Because instruction is inseparable from assessment, differentiating teachers’ grading policies are also responsive to the individuals they teach.”

I failed John. I should have investigated why he didn’t complete the assignment. Was it because he didn’t understand the material? Was it because life got in the way? Whatever the reason, six years later, I refuse to imagine that “laziness” had anything to do with it. I firmly believe that all students want to do well. By giving John no way out, I deprived him of the real learning experience. This is made even clearer when I speak with Wormeli, among our nation’s most revered and accomplished educators:

A kid doesn’t do any assignment, no matter how large, and I just give him a zero? One, he doesn’t get competent. He remains incompetent. Is that really the legacy I want to carry forward? Incompetence, but be able to tell all my colleagues in the larger society, “Oh, I caught him. He couldn’t get past me with missing a deadline, let me tell you.”

Or is it, “Hey, you screwed up, child. Let me walk side by side with you and develop the competence and the wisdom that comes from doing something a second and third time around, where you’ll get your act together.” Both of those are greater gifts in the long run, than simply labeling a child for a failed deadline.

I also failed John by allowing a 16-year-old’s lack of emotional or mature development to hold his learning hostage. Certainly, teachers should always treat students like adults — and grant them equally deserved respect. At the same time, students are still kids, and it’s sometimes illogical and impractical to hold them to adult standards when they lack adult life experience.

As a younger teacher, I would frequently have these discussions with Adrianna Truby, a close friend and colleague in the English department. I couldn’t ask for a better mentor than Truby, one of the most talented, effective and beloved teachers I’ve ever known. She would often caution me against holding students to unrealistic expectations, while always challenging them and striving to help all pupils reach their full potential. Wormeli would no doubt love to observe Truby, a masterful teacher, who epitomizes the ideal of differentiated instruction.

But Truby and I are lucky to work at Palmer Trinity, a wonderful independent school where most teachers teach four sections, and everybody has an average class size of 14. I ask Wormeli how public school teachers, with significantly more students, could possibly manage to practice differentiated instruction.

“I think it’s preposterous to think that you can differentiate all the time with every kid,” Wormeli says. “You really can’t because most schools are set up to be the factory model, but [can you do it] 51 percent of the time or more? The majority of the time, yes . . . . When people say they don’t have time to differentiate or it’s impractical, they’re really saying, ‘I don’t have time to teach well.’ You probably wouldn’t say that, but you would say, ‘You know what? I’ll do the best we can within the parameters, and once in a while I’ll deviate from the schemata we set up for ourselves, so I can live up to the promise to really teach everyone. Not just the easiest ones, but everyone who is in our democratic society.’”

In my short career as an education reporter, I have never spoken with somebody as practical and impactful as Wormeli. I can’t recommend his work highly enough, and I wish his books were essential reading for all teachers.

Essay 5.3

Creativity: What the SAT Doesn’t Assess

Original date unconfirmed · July 10, 2018 (Medium archive) · Medium

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When I was a high school junior, like any well-intentioned mother, mine enrolled me in a Kaplan SAT preparation course. To this day, I can think of no greater scam or bigger waste of money. I took a mock exam on the first day while the “instructor” read the New York Times and placed his feet on the desk.

“You’re guaranteed to score better before the end of the course,” he said, as I submitted my answer sheet.

For the next several weeks, under the guise of valuable educational development, I learned to trick the exam. In many instances, I could find correct answers without ever understanding why they were correct. On the last day, my instructor gave us a final pep talk before distributing the final mock exam — the same exact one we took on the first day.

Well, I want my money back. I scored horribly on the exam, barely breaking 1,000. All the same, I managed to graduate summa cum laude from Brandeis University, among the finest places of higher learning in the entire country. Because of my developing reporting skills, I also managed a coveted freelancing gig with The Boston Globe. Oh, and I earned a master’s degree in comparative history, also from Brandeis, while studying under Antony Polonsky.

I embraced three qualities that no standardized test can ever hope to measure: creativity, adaptability and good old-fashioned work ethic. I’m dismayed at how many others aren’t afforded a better higher learning experience because of poor test scores. I’m hugely appreciative that Brandeis took a big risk on me, but I fear that I’m the kind of student that too many colleges pass over.

I spoke with Andrew Ferguson, author of Crazy U: One Dad’s Crash Course in Getting His Kid into College. I respect Ferguson to high-heaven, even though he holds a different view:

“I don’t know if I’d say I’m pro-SAT, I’m anti anti-SAT,” Ferguson says. “There is pretty good, established data now that the SAT is one fairly good predictor of how kids are going to do in the first year of college. The predictive capacity fades as the kid goes through school, but it is something that actually tells you something about how the kid is going to do. It’s simply a fact.”

I am always cautious of invoking anecdotal evidence, fearing that readers may perceive my own experiences as indicative of a larger truth. All the same, I imagine that people reading this article know of others, or perhaps themselves who support my assessment.

Ferguson and I disagree, but I find solace from education researcher Tony Wagner, author of Creating Innovators: The Making of Young People Who Will Change The World, and among our nation’s most eminent education reformers. I ask him if America has gone test crazy:

“I think that we sometimes talk about No Child Left Behind as being No Child Left Untested,” Wagner tells me.

Instead of testing kids on “who-cares” content-based knowledge, let’s test them on something that truly matters — creativity. As we prepare kids to succeed in the 21st century, I can think of no more coveted skill.

I search the Web and look for creativity tests. I stumble upon a fun but non-comprehensive quiz by Mind Tools, a nifty website.

I dig deeper and discover the Torrance Center for Creativity and Talent Development at the University of Georgia, which, according to its website, seeks to “investigate, implement, and evaluate techniques for enhancing creative thinking and to facilitate national and international systems that support creative development.”

I’m intrigued to learn of the Torrance Test of Creative Thinking, a test typically given to “gifted” individuals. I find a few sample questions from The Daily Beast.

I’m glad that at least some students are being assessed on something that truly matters. I don’t know much about the Torrance test, including how it’s administered and evaluated, but it appears extremely subjective.

I enjoy listening to “More than 50 Years Of Putting Kids’ Creativity To The Test,” an insightful NPR podcast :

Listen: More Than 50 Years of Putting Kids’ Creativity to the Test

In comparison to the SAT, this certainly seems like a more worthwhile exam — but alas, it’s still an exam.

Still, I’m thankful that students aren’t going to Kaplan, paying huge amounts of money to fake being creative.

Essay 5.4

Rethinking Student Award Ceremonies

Original date unconfirmed · June 22, 2018 (Medium archive) · Medium

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Editorial date note: The author had not yet become a parent when he wrote this essay.

We live in a trophy-obsessed culture, constantly seeking public recognition for what we should be doing well in the first place — whether that’s our jobs or home life. All of this is just as true in the school setting, and at the end of each year — sometimes, more often — I read or hear about students honored in lavish, over-the-top athletic and academic award ceremonies.

Here is why, for the most part, I don’t support award ceremonies:

1. Most schools already use grades, and thereby function on an incentive-based platform. I don’t like that system, but I do my best to work with it — as well as to find some redeeming rationale for its existence. Whatever your thoughts, I urge you to consider whether the line gets crossed when schools also champion academic and athletic awards — or any other additional external motivator. As it stands, too many students care too much about the grade, and far too little about engaging in the learning process.
2. Most people (parents, teachers, administrators, students, and even athletic coaches) know who excels at what. With each announcement, ceremony-goers sarcastically say to themselves, or those sitting nearby, “Wow, that’s another surprise!” There is merit in public recognition, but if the public already recognizes the merits of the person being recognized, what’s the point? I don’t believe that students are so insecure that they require a ceremony to affirm their accomplishments and contributions. I grant the need for rare exceptions, but only if a student has accomplished something unbelievably fantastic, original, and moving. In that vein, I think of Jack Andraka, who at 16 made significant contributions to cancer research.
3. Too often, award ceremonies celebrate straight-A students for “going above and beyond,” “inspiring others to improve,” “constantly demonstrating expert-level mastery,” or something similarly impressive and affectionate. But what if a subject comes effortlessly to the bright-eyed student walking to the stage to receive her award, to the sound of thunderous applause from a crowded auditorium? In such a scenario, it’s important to know what one is really celebrating: hard work, perhaps, but to an equal or greater extent, also an innate intellect, granted to the recipient at the moment of her conception. To be blunt, why stop at celebrating only the child?
4. Along those lines, I’m nearly as convinced that award ceremonies are more for parents than anybody else. Let me say that I’m not a parent, and that I couldn’t understand the pride that comes with bragging (in the best sense of the term) about one’s child. All the same, when parents arrive with an array of recording devices, more concerned with documenting the event than truly being present in it, I wonder certain things. Will this be the only time that their child wins something, so that for posterity, they must keep the camera flashing? Or do the parents simply want more photos to covet, to help them live vicariously through their child’s accomplishments?
5. Conversely, what does the student think of her family’s making such a big deal of her awards? What if next year she doesn’t win an award? Will her parents be angry or disappointed? Will that student consider taking steps, honest or dishonest, to ensure continued success? Will this affect how she goes about learning? Will this student feel equally safe in taking risks, and learning from failure? Or will she do whatever she can to play it safe, all to win some award?
6. What about the vast majority of students who never win anything? Do they feel reconciled to their inadequacies? How does never winning impact how they approach learning? Thirsty for an award, are they more likely to cut corners or take fewer risks? What long-term effects will this have? What about that student who, after working harder than anybody else, still can’t get it? Will he give up? What if he can’t afford a tutor? What if he works after school to help support his family, and he can’t stay late to receive extra help?

I don’t mean to argue that award ceremonies are never warranted. However, they shouldn’t be reserved for only the brightest students and most talented athletes — with a few awards sprinkled throughout for kids who, lacking such praiseworthy attributes, still try hard.

Essay 5.5

Newsflash: Punishment Doesn’t Change Student Behavior

Original date unconfirmed · July 9, 2018 (Medium archive) · Medium

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I’m a new teacher, and while reading my first batch of research papers, I’m struck by one student (let’s call her Jane) who uses unusually high-register prose and analysis. Jane is a different student from the one whose plagiarism I did not report in Essay 3.4.

I copy a few of Jane’s sentences into a Google search, hoping nothing suspicious will appear. Unfortunately, I’m directed to a word-for-word match from a Wikipedia article on America’s Revolutionary War. The next day, I confront Jane after class and ask her to come clean. Contrary to all logic, as well as incriminating evidence against her, she professes her innocence.

Jane goes before the dean, and eventually the honor council. She receives an “F” on the assignment, and she’s also placed on academic probation for whatever remains of the semester.

For a short while, Jane shows renewed determination. But before too long, I hear word that she’s involved in another cheating incident — this time on a science lab.

It’s seven years later, and it takes Alan E. Kazdin, the John M. Musser Professor of Psychology and Child Psychiatry at Yale University, to make me rethink whether punishment is an effective deterrent.

“When it comes to parenting, the first thing to bear in mind is that most of us rely too heavily on consequences — punishments, especially, but also rewards — when trying to change a child’s behavior or mindset,” writes Kazdin in his brilliant and accessible new book, The Everyday Parenting Toolkit: The Kazdin Method for Easy, Step-by-Step Lasting Change for You and Your Child.

I recently spoke with Kazdin, who also serves as director of the Yale Parenting Center, to learn about behavior modification. It’s not long before I realize that even though Kazdin writes about small children, his reasoning holds as much water for teens or adults.

In fact, his work should be required reading for teachers, coaches, administrators, and disciplinarians. He tells me that there exists a natural tendency to react to the negative, all in an effort to stop a certain behavior in its immediacy.

“You scream at your child, you reprimand your child, you hit your child, you shake your child — whatever you do to punish, leads to an instantaneous stopping of that behavior,” says Kazdin. “Whatever it is, they just stop. What the research shows, is that after that stops, it doesn’t change the rate of that behavior for the week, for the month, for the year. It has no really enduring effect beyond that moment.”

I still think it’s critically important to hold students responsible for their misdeeds and to penalize accordingly — especially to maintain a sense of academic fairness. I am far less certain, however, that any consequences deemed appropriate by deans or honor councils have a lasting impact on changing offenders’ behavior. I think of Jane, my former history student. Even after facing disciplinary action, she continued to demonstrate academic dishonesty.

It’s foolish to think that punishment will ever induce enduring change in one’s behavior. As Kazdin shows in his book, there exists a much more effective way to help not just children, but students of all ages to embrace genuine transformations.

As one example, Kazdin and I chat about antecedents and challenges — especially with respect to encouraging kids to try new things.

You say, “You’re a little too young to brush. Actually, I bet you can’t brush your teeth because you’re so young.” What the child does then is he smiles and says, “I can brush my teeth. I can…” “No, no, you don’t have to. Wait until you’re bigger. When you’re bigger child, when you’re bigger, a little more grownup, you’ll be able to.” “No, no, I can do it. I can do it.” “OK, let’s just try it once, but I don’t think so.”

I also coach cross country, and Kazdin’s example reminds me of how I sometimes use negative suggestions to empower my runners. Three years ago, I told a talented athlete, Luis Asensio, that he wasn’t developed enough to sustain a 5:40-per-mile pace. Of course, we both knew that this wasn’t the case. I had every confidence in him. But all the same, he needed an edge to prove to me that I was wrong, that he could indeed compete with the best.

Guess what? It worked. He finished at States with an impressive 5K time of 17:30.

I return to Jane’s experience. Certainly, she committed a serious offense, but I wonder if I’m also to blame, at least partially, for not offering a clearer antecedent. Prior to the paper’s due date, I should have explained what constitutes plagiarism, as well as encouraged students to avoid it. Instead, I falsely assumed that Jane’s behavior would change after the fact, and that immediate consequences would definitely set her straight. Put simply, I thought that she would get the message.

But as Kazdin tells me, getting messages does not change behavior. “There are a bunch of myths. One of these is the teaching moment — it’s a myth. Three strikes and you’re out — the effectiveness is a myth. All these things don’t change behavior. I wish they did. I would love it if they did,” Kazdin says.

Teachers can learn plenty more from Kazdin, including how modeling and pointing out effective behavior has a positive impact on others.

“Parents have this very effective tool that they’re not using as well as they could, and that is modeling,” Kazdin says. “We know that when you model things, it changes the child’s brain. . . . It’s a very powerful tool parents have, and they kind of carry a hammer around not realizing it’s a hammer.”

This psychology is supported by “massive research,” Kazdin says, and I can’t help but wonder if enough schools are trying to adapt this scientifically proven way of instilling real, deep change in student behavior.

This academic year, I aim to make a more concerted effort to highlight effective student work. If a student composes an especially strong essay, I hope that my sharing it will motivate others to reach similar mastery — and encourage more students to seek my help.

Of course, it’s important to realize that behavior modification takes time. It’s impractical to think that one’s mindset will change overnight. As educators, we should rethink how disciplinary action helps students learn and become better people.