Less is More ...continued from previous post

How do we move our practice to an inch wide and a mile deep?  

Moving to an inch wide will provide the time needed to give deeper, more meaningful and effectual feedback. As educators, it’s our responsibility to create the time to do this good work. In order to create the time to be more thoughtful in feedback and evaluation, we must find a way to trim some of the breadth from our curriculum. We must find the time to use assessment as feedback “of” and “for” learning rather using it to measure a final product. Assessment, whether formative or summative, when left void or lacking of effectual feedback, leaves too much ambiguity and in the end can discourage students from learning.

We need to move past the need to finalize students’ work with a percentage or letter grade. We realize this is a difficult task because the students and their parents want the grades. …or do they?  It could be argued that the true power of a grade is really the affirmation and acknowledgement that comes with getting a good grade.  There's the epiphany - it’s not the grades they crave, but rather the feedback that tells them they’re doing well, that they're ok, that they're fitting in.

The truth of the matter is, a single snapshot view of a student’s progress is convenient and easy to fit into a report card, but it does not encapsulate a measure of what a student is truly capable of. Assigning a letter grade and/or a percentage has lasting effects. We must be cognizant of this before we put mark to paper. The number one most important principle for the use of assessment and data should be to first do no harm. In education today, can we honestly say we’re all doing this?

Food for thought:

In a recent conversation with an elementary student, I was shown a piece of artwork she created at school.  She proudly displayed it and said that she got a "B" on it. Without skipping a beat, she explained that she didn’t colour it with enough shading and the lines were not defined enough to get an "A". She then said, “I’m not that good at art anyway”. Knowing what she needed to do to improve was a good sign, but I suspect the outcome was not supposed to be that she state "I'm not that good at art".  Why assign a letter grade at all? The lesson learned was if she had colored it in more succinctly, she would have gotten an "A". Was that the lesson being taught? What about the self-expression, the symbolism, the deeper meaning that is found in creating art.  This happens all too often in our schools. Far too often, letter grades are assigned with platitudes of reasons for how they were arrived at.

Here’s another example. A senior student hands in a written assignment and the teacher assigns a mark of 8/10 on it. The student then asks the teacher why they got 8 and not 10. The teacher struggles to explain it and concludes that they feel it was worth 80% not 100%. How often does this happen?  Or maybe a better question should be, how often does this happen and the student doesn’t challenge the mark and just accepts the 8/10 at face value.  What recourse do students have if they aren't getting the specific feedback they desire? The issue at hand is, as educators, we must be able to fully explain our assessment practices. When we find ourselves getting defensive, the answer lies within our assessment practices.

As pointed out in the previous post, Peter Drescher argues that we should be moving to an inch wide and a mile deep in our curriculum objectives. Providing the time to offer deeper, richer more meaningful feedback is the basis for learning and ensures we’re mindful of the real effects grades have on our students. A mark left untethered of feedback leaves too many unanswered questions. On its own, what does a letter grade or percentage actually mean? For example, take a grade of say 78%… what does it mean? 

• The student mastered 78% of the curriculum.
• The student only acquired 78% of the whole curriculum.
• The student is missing 22% of what is required to master the course.
• The student is slightly less than one standard deviation above the mean.
• The student got a B
• The student is 8% away from an A
• The student can’t get into university
• The student did exceptionally well…considering…
• Does a 78% mean the same thing for one student as it does for another? Should it?
• If students can demonstrate their abilities in a variety of different ways maybe the way in which the 78% was determined undermined the true ability of the student.
• If student’s strengths don’t rise up within the rigid definition of what 78% represents, then they may not be celebrated for what they can actually do.

As educators, we need to honour the great responsibility we have in assessing our students. Just as other professionals swear an oath to honour and uphold the greatest of good in their work, maybe it's our time we make our own declaration. Here’s a tongue-in-cheek adaptation from the medical profession’s Hippocratic Oath:

I swear to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgment, this covenant:

• I will respect the hard work of those educators in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow.
• I will apply, for the benefit of my students, all measures that are required, avoiding those twin traps of over-assessment and educational nihilism.
• I will remember that there is an art to teaching as well as a science, and that warmth, empathy, and understanding often carries greater weight than the teacher’s final grade or assessment of prescribed learning outcome.
• I will not be ashamed to say, "I know not", nor will I fail to call on my colleagues when the skills of another are needed to ensure my students learn.
• I will tread with care when providing feedback on the mastery of learning outcomes. If it is given to me to promote my pupil, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to grant re-writes and offer explicitly direct feedback; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own shortcomings. Above all, I must not be all knowing and omnipotent.
• I will remember that I do not teach a learning disability or an attention deficit disorder, but a student, whose desire to learn is captivated and cared for by an extended family. My responsibility includes all these related problems, if I am to care adequately for all my students.
• I will offer feedback at all times, whenever I can, for feedback is the key to learning.
• I will remember that I remain a member of society with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those quick of mind as well as those needing extra support.
• If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy life and art, respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter. May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of teaching those who cross my path.

     (Tongue-in-Cheek adaptation from the Medical Profession's Hippocratic Oath)

Well maybe not so tongue-in-cheek… 

Identify the stakeholders… Trust the process… Trust the people… Edu-Bring