In the 1995 comedy classic “Clueless,” Alicia Silverstone plays the role of Cher Horowitz, a beautiful, spoiled, entitled-yet-well-intentioned high school student. When Cher receives a disappointing report card, she argues, schemes and manipulates her way to better results. Her father, a lawyer, looks at the revised report card and declares, “I couldn't be happier if they were based on real grades.
” Later on, however, Cher takes the road test to get her driver's license. She can't park, she can't change lanes, she sideswipes a parked car and nearly kills a bicyclist. When the instructor informs her that she has failed, Cher tries to plead her case.
“I failed? Can't we just start over? ...
Isn't there somebody else I can talk to, a supervisor or something?” Nope. She hadn't practiced driving, and for the first time in her life, an authority figure was holding her accountable. No one, not even her father, could “fix” her failure, and thus began Cher's journey toward some level of maturity and self-awareness.
Failure hurts, but it can be instructive. ADVERTISEMENT That's why we agree with the Rochester Public Schools' decision to bring back the “F” grade for students who fail to meet minimum course requirements and performance standards. When the pandemic hit, schools were thrust into uncharted territory.
Few students had experience with remote learning, and few teachers had led virtual classrooms. It didn't always work well, and to give students the benefit of the doubt, the district replaced “F” grades with “No credit,” which essentially gave struggling students a penalty-free do-over. While this policy was well-intended – and perhaps, at the time, necessary – it also sent an unintended message; namely, that if a class became difficult, students could just give up.
They wouldn't fail. It would be like the class never really happened. They could take it again, or if it was an elective, they could just walk away, with no impact on their grade-point average.
Why persevere when you can quit? If the goal of high school is to prepare teenagers for adulthood, then the continuation of this “no failure” policy after the pandemic waned did them a disservice. Actions – and lack of action – have consequences, and one of the most important lessons high school students can learn is accountability. If their work doesn't meet minimum standards, they must be told the truth.
Better to get that dose of reality as a 16-year-old chemistry student than as a 21-year-old employee who has bills to pay. This new grading policy isn't meant to punish students, nor to make teachers' jobs easier. Quite the opposite is true.
Grading is one of the most difficult aspects of teaching, and putting an “F” on a grade report can set off an unpleasant chain of events for teachers. Some parents get angry. Principals get nasty emails and/or phone calls.
Teachers can be required to “document” a student's poor performance, to justify the failing grade. And really, the last thing a teacher wants to do is give an “F.” They want their students to learn, to succeed.
An “F” can feel like a failing grade for the teacher, too. That's why we are glad that one year ago, the district returned to a grading system that allows teachers to consider classroom participation and homework assignments when assigning final grades. Some students will struggle on exams and quizzes.
Some are solid at math but can't put two sentences together for an essay. When teachers have more flexibility in how they assign grades, they can create multiple avenues for student success. ADVERTISEMENT We're not suggesting that students who turn in all of their homework on time should get an "A" or "B" despite failing every exam; rather, we're saying that some students need an incentive to do their homework – and if they do homework, they'll do better on exams, too.
Students who earn bonus points for perfect attendance, or for intangibles like classroom participation, almost certainly will earn higher marks on their quizzes. The mere act of being in class and paying attention will improve learning. Students need to know that assigned tasks count for something.
They need to understand that deadlines are real, and that there are penalties for failing to meet them. Exams matter, and they can't always be retaken. Grades appear on official transcripts, which are seen by colleges.
To help convey these messages, RPS teachers and administrators must communicate grading policies clearly to students and parents at the beginning of every semester – and then adhere to those policies. The underlying purpose of those policies should be the same in every school: to bring out the best in every student. When a student is at risk of failing a class, his/her parents must be informed.
While not all parents have the time and/or ability to help with algebra or chemistry homework, or to correct grammar in an essay, they need to know when their children are struggling and what resources are available to help them. If those resources are not utilized, then an “F” on a report card never should surprise a student or parents. But what then? What happens after a student fails? The “F” doesn't stand for “finished.
” Some students will fail, but that doesn't make them failures. These are kids, and we give kids second chances. And third chances.
RPS must encourage struggling students to try again. Parents should have students evaluated for learning disabilities, to determine whether they need tutoring and/or extra time for exams. An “F” isn't a scarlet letter of shame; rather, it's a stern message that all is not well – and an invitation to try again.
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