Lessons Worth Learning

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Last weekend a student e-mailed me to ask me to explain to her why she lost 29 points on a paper she’d written. With all the grading I’ve been doing lately, I had two immediate reactions. The first was defensiveness, and the second, almost immediately on its heels was, "Oh my gosh, did I make a mistake?"

Sweeping those thoughts away with an internal promise to re-check the paper, I had another thought as I processed her question. This student was, by asking me how she lost 29 points, assuming that she wrote a 100 point paper. She didn’t lose 29 points. She earned 71. 

I know this sounds like semantics or half-empty glasses vs. half-full glasses, and maybe it is. But, when you think of it from the perspective of starting with a blank page, every word, thought, concept, defense and bit of prose adds up to something. The objective is for it to add up to a cohesive argument that addresses the question that was asked.

I hadn't actually thought about it before but that's exactly how I grade papers. Exams, admittedly, are another story, particularly those of the multiple choice variety. But for a paper, I'm looking for completeness of content (did you answer the question fully?), understanding of the same (is the information you put on the page accurate?), depth of insight (are you making new connections or parroting back what you read in the text/heard in class?) and, of course, whether or not the whole thing makes sense. The more of this students give me, the higher a grade they earn. And, in this case, the problem was one of completion. The paper, though well-written and interesting, simply didn't have enough content to earn a higher grade.

Of course, from her perspective, the real question behind the email is what happens from here. She wasn't expecting the grade she got. She's worried it will impact her final grade, and she's worried about what that means in the scheme of things. So, when I responded, I didn't address the addition or subtraction of points or the struggle (with which I identify) to put the just right number of just right words on the page but, rather, what was missing. I guess, in the end, it was about addition and subtraction after all.

For her part, she thanked me for responding, and we set about discussing upcoming assignments and how she could avoid earning another disappointing grade. We emailed about options for meeting, communicating and making sure she was clear on expectations as she approached the remainder of the semester's assignments. 

I'd like to say I won't feel so defensive next time I get an email asking me to explain myself, but I know that's not true. We're at the point in the semester where grading consumes more time than teaching, which makes spending time and energy on explaining myself frustrating. 

But my exercise in semantics and addition and subtraction of words led me to realize something I knew but hadn't fully formulated. Maybe you noticed it in your reading of the previous paragraph. 

I need to subtract myself from the equation. 

Despite how it may feel, I'm not explaining myself, I'm helping a student take her work to the next level. It's only in those explanations and conversations that the work gets better. When students conference with me about their papers, it's often in that process that they realize not only how to convince me of what they know, but how much they know as well. 

And that is a lesson worth learning.