November, 2012

Grades Aren’t Given—They’re Earned

“Ugh, Mr. Peabody gave me a D-plus.”

“Miss Lewis, you should just give me an A.”

These are among the more annoying statements I hear in my classroom, and it’s a particular word that sets me off.

GIVE.

A lot of students have this attitude of teachers giving grades. One student said a teacher ruined their sibling’s high school graduation because of the bad grade a teacher gave that sibling in ninth grade. (It meant not qualifying to wear the fancy gold cord with the graduation regalia.)

What? Really?

Okay, I’m sure there are teachers out there who are spiteful and mean and evil. I’m even more sure there are teachers who are really difficult to learn from.

But by and large (and certainly in my case, I hope), teachers don’t give grades. Students earn them. I just do the accounting, verifying what they’ve earned.

Part of me hates that I have to grade at all. I like looking over student work to see what they understand, but I hate assigning a numerical value to it, figuring out what all those numerical values together mean and assigning a letter to that.

The students who think I give grades are part of the reason we have to use them. They only care about that letter on the report card, and in their minds (much of the time), it’s arbitrary. If I could rely on every student to learn for the sake of learning, and to commit to doing the work necessary, there’d be no need for grades.

In a perfect world … maybe someday.

For now, I’ll keep with the response I’ve been using.

“Miss Lewis, you should just give me an A.”

“Okay, I will … as soon as you earn it.”

Speak up:

I Need a New Category for Myself

I’m not particularly girly. While I wear makeup and the occasional skirt and high heels, I’ve never had a manicure. I don’t get excited over things like shopping sprees and spa getaways. I’m not crafty, and I don’t knit. If people are coming over (I can’t say I’m having a party, because I can’t think of the last time that happened), the last thing that occurs to me is decorating or making a cute centerpiece.

But I’m not a tomboy, either. I played soccer when I was a kid, and I don’t mind watching football games with my mom now and then. Like I said, though, skirts and heels and makeup aren’t foreign to me. I never had that comfortable buddy-buddy relationship with guys that goes along with the tomboy stereotype.

Yes, I just answered my own question. These ideas of “girly” and “tomboy” that I’m working off of are stereotypes. That doesn’t change the fact that I see/meet people who seem to fit in with one or the other, and I don’t quite identify.

What do I identify with? Seems to depend on what group I’m with at the time.

When I’m hanging out with authors, I often feel like the math-geek. At least, that’s the role I seem to play. And that definitely plays into my author side, with the whole science fiction angle and everything.

When I’m with other math teachers, I feel like the weirdo who actually knows how to spell and talk about things like “tightening prose” and whatnot. (Doesn’t mean there aren’t others who know, too … but they tend to keep it to themselves.)

Am I normal in this? Is that what we do? Feel like the trait that most defines us is the one least like those around us at that moment?

What does all this rumination imply for the characters I write? Hopefully that even when a character has some traits that fall solidly within a stereotype, they also have other layers adding nuance and complexity.

That’s what people are, right? Complicated and hard to categorize.

In other words … I’m normal and can stop worrying now.

Speak up:

A Primer on Critique Partners … and Maybe Dating

Last Monday, we had one of our weekly chats on AgentQuery Connect (9pm Eastern, come for great writerly conversations). The topic was critique partners—choosing and using them—which seems to have been popular around the blogosphere in the last week. Nevertheless, because some AQCers missed the chat, I’m going to go ahead with a revamped recap.

Being critique partners is a lot like establishing and maintaining other relationships. In fact, it’s a lot like dating, when you think about it. Here are some Dos and Don’ts.

• Don’t commit to marriage before the first date. Swapping full manuscripts when you hardly know someone? Maybe it’ll be a match made in heaven … or maybe you’ll be stuck in a 300-page pickle. It’s not a bad idea to get to know someone and their writing before making a big commitment. Try swapping a chapter or two. See how it goes.

• Do communicate your needs/expectations. Chances are, your new critique partner isn’t a mind-reader. If you don’t mention that you don’t want grammar nits pointed out, you can’t really complain if that’s all your partner focuses on. Worried about plot holes and consistency? Character development? Historical authenticity? Say so.

• Don’t tear your partner down. This can be a tricky one, especially in conjunction with the next. The point of a critique partner is to help us improve our work. But if it’s all, “Fix this, fix that,” we can get discouraged to the point of not moving forward. When something works well, be sure to let your partner know.

• Do be honest. In my opinion (well, all of this is my opinion), if all we want is cheerleading, there are other ways to get that. Critique partners need to do more for each other. That means pointing out when we feel there may be issues in the manuscript. Pretending problems aren’t there won’t make them go away.

• Don’t feel locked in. If the relationship isn’t working, you can walk away. There’s nothing saying that great writer-friends will necessarily make great critique partners. Amicable break-ups are possible. It’s okay to play the field until you find the right match.

• Do have an open relationship. Er, I guess I could mean this in a couple of ways. It can be good to have more than one critique partner—long- or short-term. Some might be more suited to certain manuscripts. Some you might rely on for their particular strengths (which likely match up with your weaknesses). But also, within a single relationship, be open and receptive to what your partner says. If a critique is a little hard to hear, step away for a bit, then come back to it. Your partner may be right or wrong … or their feedback might trigger something entirely different in your mind that’ll make your story better.

Speak up:

If You Need Help, THEN TAKE IT!

I started something new last week. After I finish the lesson portion of class and it’s time to start on the homework, I have the kids move around. Those who feel like they’ve totally got it, ready to rock head to the back and work quietly. Those who are still feeling a little (or a lot) fuzzy come to the front, and I work with that smaller group on a few select problems from the homework.

The first day I did it was interesting. My A1 class had several takers who were like, “Dude, yes, help!” Most other classes, I had to twist some arms to get anyone to join in.

Second time around, though, more people joined in. I think some kids were like, “Uh, yeah, that actually looks helpful. Might be a good idea.”

It’s nice, because in those smaller groups, the struggling kids are more likely to ask questions, stop me when they don’t understand. I’m liking it. I think I’ll stick with it.

Still, some kids who I know really ought to join in are heading to the back and working with their friends instead. That’d be fine if their friends were helping them understand, but based on the daily quiz results and homework scores, it’s more likely their friends are breezing through the assignment and distracting them with random chatter instead.

It makes me mad at the struggling kids for not prioritizing. It makes me mad at their friends for not recognizing how much harder they’re making it.

I mean, I get it. Social pressure and all … not wanting to “look stupid.” I wish they’d notice that several popular kids are joining the extra-help group. Then again, an outward self-confidence often coincides with teen popularity. (Comes with its own problems, often under the surface, but that’s another post.)

I’ve only been through it two times with each class so far. I could force it, telling specific kids they have to come to the front. I’d rather not. For now, I give a strongly worded suggestion that if they didn’t get the homework done, struggled on the daily quiz, or got a bad grade last quarter, they really ought to join us.

Hopefully the more we do it, the less stigmatized kids will feel.

Speak up: