Editor’s Note: This article was written in response to an opinion article, Distance Learning at IHS: A Clear-Eyed Assessment and a Call to Action, featured in the March issue of The Tattler.
In March, an opinion article entitled, “Distance Learning at IHS: A Clear-Eyed Assessment and a Call to Action,” was published in The Tattler. It offered a scathing critique of the structure of this school year, particularly the format of distance learning and new IHS policies. Above all, the article was informed by a limited perspective representing only the most high-achieving, well-equipped, college-minded students not nearly the majority of the student population of the school. To this end, the authors’ critique was apt: the pandemic-era model does fall short of academically challenging the most high-achieving students in some areas. But the purpose of the public education system, ICSD’s Culture of Love, and the reforms that the pandemic has prompted is not to solely provide for these students, not even to place their academic needs above others’. To hear the authors define the goal of secondary education in general as “preparing students for fulfilling future employment” is frankly disappointing.
As a student who has been on an accelerated track since middle school, I know the consequences of being underchallenged and under-engaged. However, these concerns, which most often affect students from affluent, highly-educated families, should not take precedence over the very real equity issues that prevent students from lower-income backgrounds from achieving the same kind of success. The district’s pandemic policies are in line with this perspective and hope to affect the academic survival and overall well-being of disadvantaged students to the extent a school district can. With this pressing need at the forefront, the students who come from advantaged backgrounds, whether they acknowledge this or not, should not expect ICSD to prioritize their need for more demanding classes and advanced tracks.
In this article, I will address the points argued by the authors of “Distance Learning at IHS: A Clear-Eyed Assessment and a Call to Action” and voice my concerns about their implications for the development of pandemic-era education policies, as well as for students’ attitudes toward those policies. In my view, any piece reacting to policies made specifically to further equity must take an approach that examines how these new policies, in addition to traditional outlooks on education, affect each demographic at IHS.
Cameras are not required.
It is true that the lack of visual engagement in online classes is unfortunate. However, as long as in-person faces cannot be seen, and the issues of body image, self-esteem, socio-economic disparity, and ever-present comparison to one’s peers plague teenagers, student choice in this matter must be the deciding factor. It is necessary that school policies reflect respect for students’ unique circumstances in all areas. Requiring cameras to be turned on in online classes would be an unnecessary, punitive measure that shows no such respect. Instead, teachers could recommend students change their profile picture to something that represents their interests, which may even spark conversations and create social connections during class.
Class participation is not required.
In most, if not all, classes at IHS, participation is both an expectation and a criterion for grading. Although participation takes different forms when school is online, it is a component of each class. The levels to which teachers enforce it, mainly by way of subtracting points, vary. Anyone, but particularly high school students, would be naive to suggest that the act of declaring something “mandatory” or “weighted” makes students more likely to fulfil their end of the bargain. Classroom engagement does not come from the inclusion of participation as a deciding factor in whether a student succeeds or struggles. Instead, it is a continued process that results from both teachers and students, and it is certainly more difficult to produce now than ever. Nevertheless, many of the students who do not participate will not feel compelled to participate once it holds greater weight in their grade. They will simply see their grades drop.
Late assignments are not penalized.
A student may hand in assignments late (or not at all) for a myriad of reasons. Some of these reasons stem from inequity, such as poor internet or the responsibility to work to support the family, but others are just as valid. A student who is unengaged or simply does not know how to complete the assignment should not be punished for these shortcomings. Penalizing students for their mistakes, including handing in work late or incomplete, does not achieve the goal of creating higher achievement. It is a common misconception that students will be motivated to improve when they receive a poor grade. Instead, grades injure students’ confidence and reinforce an already common view that achieving high grades is extremely difficult or impossible. This is not the way we should be awarding grades if we want to see growth. Instead of numerical grades, the focus must be on written and verbal feedback, opportunities for support, and classroom engagement that goes beyond strictly graded assignments.
Failing grades and incomplete assignments are masked by “safety net” measures.
There is no blame to be had in observing a decline in the rigor of one’s schoolwork and seeking to find a solution. In fact, it is the mark of a driven, inquisitive student. However, approaching this problem with the end goal of getting grades up is misguided. Grades are not a foolproof indication of learning or of progress. Meeting students’ needs goes beyond showing them failing grades that unnecessarily range from zero to 65. In fact, providing opportunities for students to fall further and further behind in terms of numerical grades is antithetical to the district’s goal for this school year: to get everyone back on track, regardless of inequities that the pandemic has exposed.
Books have been replaced with “manageable” short articles; thoughtful analysis has been replaced with students’ immediate, emotional reactions and impressions; long-term research and writing projects have been replaced with extemporaneous discussion.
I conducted a small-scale poll on my Instagram story to find out if my classmates had the same experience as me. 51 out of the 55 IHS students who responded to the question, “How has the pandemic/online school affected your focus?” answered, “It’s harder for me to focus.” Two students stated that they can focus better now, and another two stated that the pandemic has had no impact on their ability to focus. Despite the small sample size, it can be reasonably inferred that the overwhelming majority of students have seen their focus wane. Thus, reading long chapters of thick books has become a more difficult task, one that a student who knows they will not be able to focus long enough to complete may not even attempt.
Apart from the difficulty of transporting books from the school library to students’ houses, the motive behind the receding use of physical books is clear, and it is in line with students’ realities. What may have already been a difficult task before screens dominated our lives has become even more grueling. As fun as reading books is for those of us who engage in it as a hobby, it can feel labored, extraneous, and hopeless. The words swim before one’s eyes, all blending together, forming a whirlpool of boredom. It is not ICSD’s job to force this upon students in hopes of transferring to them a valuable skill simply by exposure. Assigning long readings in print books does not teach students to enjoy reading. Short articles are much more likely to be engaging in topic and style, and they give students the satisfaction of focusing long enough to absorb the takeaways of the reading, a feeling that is hard to come by as of late.
Teachers are obliged to carry out ICSD Board of Education policies that hamper teachers’ own expertise, experience, and efficacy in the classroom.
“Experienced teachers who are forced to abandon their own best teaching practices are left unable to help students, especially students in crisis.” The last sentence of this subsection concerns me. The article, up to this point, has addressed the policies that were designed to aid “students in crisis” from a standpoint of academic achievement. Here, the authors pivot to an unclear definition of what it means to be in crisis as an IHS student. Are they referring to failing students? Students who are earning low grades because of late work or missing assignments? Or has the perspective of the article suddenly shifted to express a concern for the out-of-school mental, physical, and social well-being of students, who, during the pandemic and accompanying recession, may be experiencing housing and food insecurity and lack a safety net or the aid their families ordinarily receive?
The subsection refers to teachers’ obligation to comply with new district policies, such as lenient grading for late work and relaxed participation requirements. The authors seem to suggest that teachers would be better prepared to help students in crisis if they reverted to their original, most likely stricter, teaching practices. This does not make sense. Although teachers may struggle to adjust to new district-wide guidelines, these guidelines are all intended to assist struggling students. Teachers should prioritize student success and well-being over their own preferred teaching practices. Reverting to the vast array of varying grading policies, requirements, and criteria that teachers employ would make classes much more confusing for all students, especially those already struggling to keep up with schoolwork.
The rest of this article has displayed a reverence for the traditional methods of measuring student achievement: grades, test scores, and the abstract idea of being well-equipped for the academic and professional worlds. Human crisis, and certainly student crisis, goes beyond failure to earn a grade above 65. Making deadlines stricter, participation mandatory, and reading assignments long and heavy is not the way to relieve student stress and boost student trust in their education. Neither is leaving learning entirely up to the students. A healthy middle ground that does not threaten students with failing grades, nor encourage high-achieving students to value their ‘A’s as indications of personal worth, is necessary to empower students to engage fully with their education.
“Distance Learning at IHS: A Clear-Eyed Assessment and a Call to Action” presents a particular type of standpoint on education. It is one that emphasizes a traditional definition of success—one that encompasses numerical grades, advanced classes, familiarity with classic literature, and preparedness to enter the workforce as a well-educated person. Even in a normal year, these are not values that should take priority over physical and mental well-being. Nor should the perceived intellectual needs of high-achieving students reared in affluent households (classic literature, an advanced track, rewarding grades) come before the material needs of underserved students. Equity must be the primary concern of the school district, as equity in education produces the need for more advanced options and high-level learning, not the other way around. The path to equity begins with the system that ICSD has been working to set up: a system that offers support to every student and does not rely on grades to encourage or discourage behavior.