This is a lightly edited repost of instructional material from May of 2017. It has a little more universality and a little less class-specific feedback.
Shrapnel
The focuses of this instructional post are in-class focus and feedback. The impetus is that it is never too early to warn you against straying from the path. We shouldn’t wait until the spring to discuss poor decisions; we should talk about it now, at the end of the first week, before any bad habits metastasize. The worst habits, like wasting class time and ignoring instruction, will slowly poison you.
There’s something in that warning that should scare you, and I’ll tell you what it’s not.
It’s not what happens when you ignore instruction. That decision is insubordinate and disrespectful and breaking all kinds of rules, and our classroom can only tolerate that for so long. Then you face some kind of punishment. Parents are called, Guidance meetings are arranged, etc. But that should embarrass you, not scare you.
It’s not your grade. As the rest of this post will explain, for those of you who actually read it, GAP scores suffer most when there isn’t evidence of in-class focus and feedback. The margin for error is less these days, too, but that’s obvious. It shouldn’t scare you, except in the way that you are scared of
It’s not even what bad decisions truly do to you. You are, right now, becoming a permanent version of yourself, and that self, for some of you, is going to be uninteresting, unskilled, and undisciplined. Believing otherwise is the “grain through the body of a bird” error explained many years ago in the first guide to this stuff. But that is more depressing than it is scary1.
What you ought to fear is missing out. Everyone who invests in this course and its philosophy, who works hard and pays careful attention, unlocks something special. In essence, there are two courses taught in Room 210. The first one exists to force you to do your work, pay attention, and develop basic skills and traits. It attempts to make you a half-decent citizen of the world. It’ll cover a few ELA staples, get you ready for any exams, and help you feel less stressed about grades.
The second course exists to transform you. Its students are smarter, more interesting, and more engaged. On their worst days, they have a space that understands and supports them. On their best days, they find real freedom and true inspiration.
Yes, you should be afraid of low grades, making disrespect a habit, upsetting the teacher enough that he decapitates you in the middle of class2. But much more existentially terrifying is the risk that you’ve wasted such an opportunity.
To be in a room with people who have unlocked that deeper level is a constant reminder that you could have done it, too. You have the freedom to become a better person, to study what you want, to do what you want — and instead you’ve wasted it all to scroll through Instagram or play a video game3.
The Keys to Life vs. 15 Minutes of Fame
The purpose of a GAP score is to tell the story of your learning. The number unpacks to a profile, which unpacks to the work you’ve done in the course over (in our case) three weeks or so. To figure out that GAP score, you really only need the profiles, probably with the tiered annotations attached. You could use the step-by-step guide, which is plenty effective, or the embedded content in an old triptych post. You could use any of the original, updated, or expanded guides from the Assessment and Feedback page. But the original set of profiles and scores really is enough.
Every three weeks or so, you will self-assess and indicate which GAP score you believe fits you. The two most important contributors to your success, even before you get to the logic of the profiles themselves, are in-class focus and your use of feedback.
Here is a document that explains further:
That is a 2021 update. Here is an older version:
Starting at the top of these handouts, you see again these two most basic requirements of this course, which are also the two keys that unlock upper-tier success:
- You must make the most of the class period.
- You must invest in feedback.
Feedback is also the focus of this instructional post, which links to an updated Medium essay on feedback here. These deconstruct a lot of long-standing rumors while reiterating the importance of our time together during the school day — see this essay or this one for older takes on working face-to-face during the period.
Part 1 of the SCORE REPORTING BASICS handout (“The Keys”) asks you to self-assess your in-class focus and the level of feedback you’ve generated. Depending on your browser, the graphics may not translate into what was originally intended. The line of emojis should look like this:
In other browsers, the faces may look like this:
This will seem unimportant at first, but there was a reason to use faces instead of numbers, at least originally4. It’s about relative self-assessment. In our case, there are two perspectives. The first is the imagined perspective of an objective observer. What would someone notice about your in-class focus and feedback over the course of several weeks? That observer doesn’t care about why you were playing video games or mindlessly reloading Snapchat; he just makes a note that you were.
The second perspective is relative, and it’s inspired a bit by the Wong-Baker pain scale:
Ah, but what if mine goes up to 11?
There is a lot of subjectivity in this sort of self-assessment. What you consider to be a 10 — the worst pain you’ve ever experienced — might be only a 4 or 6 for a much less fortunate person. It’s still a 10 for you, though, because you can only base it on your experience. That’s the second perspective in our classroom: To a small extent, your best version of focusing might be different from that of others, and we might adjust — to a small extent — the standards to which you are held. You might be capable only of a certain level of feedback. That’s okay, if it’s true.
Again, the first perspective on your body of work is ultimately more important: What would an objective observer write down, if he was asked to describe your habits and behavioral patterns? That observer is not interested in the reasons you were compelled to play on your phone for 35 minutes while your essay prompt gathered dust in front of you. It isn’t always important to take into consideration why you were playing video games instead of working.
And, in fact, advocacy is such an integral part of the course that if you did need to space out for 35 minutes, you could probably ask for that, reflect on it later, and end up learning quite a bit about yourself5.
Part 2 of the handout (“The Engine”) clarifies these two perspectives through some close reading. The selections you see come from grade abatement profiles of 2, 4, 6, and 8, which give us final scores of 60, 70, 85, and 95, respectively. By any heuristic, these are the profiles that serve as benchmarks for failure and success. These small excerpts should help you arrive at a more accurate and helpful GAP score.
GAP 2 | A 2 {may indicate} [a deliberate and systemic disengagement]…
This is a question of repeated, conscious choice. How many times does a student need to disengage, miss work, lose focus, etc, before it is “deliberate and systemic”? How many mistakes are permissible? No one expects perfection, even at the level of a 9, but we have to start the discussion with some sort of threshold. You have agency and self-control, and very few students goof off out of malice. You do it without thinking. At a certain point, however, a lack of adjustment or a lack of thinking is a choice.
GAP 4 | These students {do not meet} [the basic requirements of the course]…
The GAP 2 has modal language, which is language suggesting possibility. The student “may” meet those criteria, but there are other ways to slip to that tier. For a GAP 4 and its surrounding scores, the language is direct: If you do not meet the basic requirements of the course, you really shouldn’t be scored any higher than a 4 (70).
The question, then, is what the course defines as its basic requirements. Right now, as always, the course values in-class focus and student-driven feedback more than anything else. This new handout also lists the obvious stuff, like getting work in on time and being amenable to redirection, as basic requirements. As the handout says, it’s about doing the job on the days you would rather be watching Netflix, instead of, you know, actually watching Netflix in class6.
So the question is, again, how lenient we ought to be. Where is the line between human error and apathy or indulgence? It isn’t a hypothetical question. To illustrate what I mean, here is a set of data gathered around 9:00 AM on 5/17/17:
Those are self-reported GAP scores from about a dozen students for a three-week assessment period. See how high the scores are? Maybe you can spot the issue when you read the original directions from the Google Classroom assignment:
That clearly states that completing the form before May 19 would lower a student’s profile score. So about a dozen students, some of them otherwise excellent, didn’t read the directions before jumping in. They also didn’t read the calendar, and they seem to have forgotten what we discussed in class. Yet they self-reported scores in Tier 4. Should those students have received lower GAP scores? Should we have shrugged away their mistake, even though it was mid-May? Where do we draw the line?
And that’s an innocuous example. The point might be that these are complicated problems, and we need to talk early and often about them.
GAP 6 | Students earning a 6 {are consistent and reliable} [in performance]…
My theory is that you consider “performance” to be only a particular set of things you do in school. Tests are performances. Essays are performances. Exams are definitely performances. The formative steps aren’t performative in the same way, so you cut corners and cheat the system if/when you need to. That’s not a finger-wagging accusation: Over the years, hundreds of students have admitted to copying homework, using Schmoop before a class discussion, zoning out during lectures, etc.
This course rests on the opposite principle: The process is what matters, and the products should never be the primary focus of our learning. That means that “consistent and reliable” work happens every day. I encourage you to read about that philosophy in this article about preschool crafts, and then to skim this:
GAP 8 | An 8 {reflects} [a systemic investment in the course]…
In many of the notes on earning a GAP 8, you’ll see “galvanize” identified as the key verb. That’s true, but another important verb is “reflects,” in no small part because of what it does for us metaphorically.
Most of your self-assessment looks at quantifiable stuff. You could, for instance, count the number of minutes you’re off-task when determining that a GAP 4 is your fate. If you believe you’ve been “consistent and reliable,” you can add up the assignments you’ve handed in, collate the formative and process-based work you did, and stack up your feedback-driven metacognition. It’s sortable, stackable, quantifiable data.
When you invest in the entire system, however, your evidence moves beyond the quantifiable and into something more reflective. Which is not to get too existential7. Think about how else we can use “reflect” in a classroom: It’s the other part of the self-monitoring you do, alongside metacognitive writing and discussion. You reflect your investment through self-monitoring. Once you observe the true purpose of the work, you can set the course accordingly. You’re in control of the learning, because you are involved in all parts of the system — not just the daily class periods and formal writing assignments, but everything.
Which is why Part 3 of this new handout, “The Vehicle,” is a list of the universal skills and traits we value. They are streamlined and edited a bit, but they aren’t changed fundamentally from the other guides to grade abatement, collaboration, and so on. Every iteration helps a bit. When you are invested enough, in fact, and when your focus becomes honing these skills, you will see them reflected in everything you do.
That’s why it matters less which books we read, which essays you write, and which discussions we have. We do what we have to do in those regards, from Regents Exam prep to school-wide summer reading. It’s all meaningful and interesting and worthwhile. More important, however, is for you to memorize this list of skills and traits, and then for us to work together to determine what you need to do to hone your strengths and eliminate your weaknesses. This becomes the blueprint for your growth:
Reflections
At this point, your brain should be churning as it begins to process this. You may need to write down your understanding for me to read and comment on. You may want to write about your previous experiences with grades. You may need to ask questions in the comment section below8. Regardless, you absolutely must write something in response to all this feedback — not just because that is a formal assignment, but because it’s the whole point.
First, I want to add that I still believe that it is nearly impossible to fake in-class focus and feedback. You can fake a certain level of curiosity and empathy, but it’s nearly impossible to reframe a period spent off-task as anything but what it was. You can rush through a few pages of perfunctory reflection, but it’s nearly impossible to turn a real lack of feedback and investment into something else.
Since “nearly” impossible is not the same as “totally” impossible, I usually try to pitch faking it in here as a good idea, theoretically speaking. That was the theory as early on as the tenth section of this essay:
If you force yourself through the motions in here, those motions will inculcate the skills and traits we want. A misanthrope who forces himself to take collegial and galvanizing actions will incrementally learn empathy. A narcissist who forces herself to reflect and metacogitate every week will incrementally find new self-awareness and insight. An apathetic student who grinds through assignments just to get them done will incrementally gain a real appreciation for the value of the work.
That’s idealistic, but it seems to be true for most students: If you fake it, at least you’re doing some good. Learning doesn’t have to be a zero-sum game.
I think there’s something else to add, though: If you decided that this “nearly impossible” claim was a challenge, you might figure out how to fake it. You might fool me. Or you might just slip through the cracks, earning credit when credit is definitely not due. Then the hard-working students become frustrated, seeing a kind of injustice. No one wants to feel cheated, to have a peer succeed dishonestly, or to see a good system subverted.
So here’s the thing: Did that person succeed? Did he really? When a student “cheats” in here, all he’s done is get worse at everything that the world actually values. That vehicle for learning — the list of universal skills and traits — might as well be a car rusting on cinder blocks in the front yard. The student, having gotten away with wasting class time and ignoring feedback, has made himself more distracted and more disrespectful. He knows less now and can do less with the little he knows than his peers. He’s grown dishonest and cynical and selfish.
That’s… not really a victory. How do you imagine you would celebrate that? “Boy, I tricked him! I’m a terrible student! My life is going to be much harder now!”
I mean, yes, I’m upset about that, but not in a mustache-twirling kind of way9. I would like the world to be filled with respectful, creative people who take advantage of extraordinary opportunities to learn about themselves and the world around them. I hope you will make that world a better place through your intelligence and compassion. I believe in your potential, and I hate to see it wasted.
That’s all.
From that first full guide: The ugly parts of us don’t operate on a switch. Apathy, disrespect, entitlement—these aren’t sweaters or jackets you can shrug off and cast aside when you’re tired of wearing them. That stuff will stick to you, stay with you, for a long time. When you choose not to work, you are breeding future selves, developing right now the habits that will poison or empower you in every aspect of your life. Your daily life is inculcation in its purest form: the linking together of a chain of decisions that will protect you or drag you down. ↩
“Metaphorically!” he shouted quickly, glancing at administration and laughing nervously. “Metaphorically decapitates you in the middle of class.” ↩
Both of which you could legitimately do, if it was part of a unit of study you’d designed. You could write about these things, study them, read excellent ETA essays on them. You’d get more out of it. Why not do that? ↩
The current version in 2021 uses circles, but as a teaching moment, these faces are important. ↩
The best kind of metacognition is uncomfortable, so this would be perfect: Why do you need to waste class time? Is it really that you’re wasting it, or is something more significant going on? What is your brain up to? ↩
Again, you could probably write and read about this, if you were invested enough in the course to see how it connects to our work. Binge-watching culture is fascinating, and I’d want to help you unpack the reasons why that show had so transfixed you that it couldn’t wait another few hours. ↩
Says the Camus-inspired website that has pitched Regents Exam prep in the past with a Kafka reference. ↩
Try that out. Scroll down and ask a question. It’s never too late to engage with the interstitial elements of the course, and it is the easiest and fastest way to get feedback. ↩
Although I wonder… In that scenario, who is Dudley Do-Right? ↩
This post truly made it clear to me how responsible we are for our own learning- how it is up to us to use our interstitial and class time to grow and contribute to the class community. Honestly, reading about our accountability for our actions in class (in terms of their role in shaping who we become) were a little unsettling for me. Mostly, I was thinking about the shift that is coming, the shift that takes us away from getting the right answer to being involved at the highest level in the process, where the process of learning is the learning. Because which of us has experienced that before, right? Sidenote: anyone else have thoughts on the emojis instead of the numbers on those scales? Thinking about the idea of relative experiences just brought this whole intense inner debate to a peak- like how could the traditional grading system possibly account for all of this (different kinds of learners, extensive collaboration, working at different times, teaching about a process, everyone’s different standards for themselves and others…)? I think we have a great opportunity here- as soon as we figure out how it all works.
I found using emojis instead of numbers to be interesting as well! I have never seen a class look at a student and cater to their specific needs. As long as this opportunity isn’t abused, I believe that this could change the meaning of school for those who feel as though they can’t be successful. Generally speaking, I feel as though grade abatement (when approached the right way) will change the meaning of school for everyone.
I definitely agree with you Jane, I think that the transition from getting the correct answer to seeing how much we’ve learned is going to be a big one. It seems to me that many of the AP classes are shifting to this type of paradigm. Last year in physics, if you remember, Dr. Kozlenko was always telling us not to memorize, derive the equation. This reading made a connection to these experiences and I think that is very helpful to shift towards the learning side of the spectrum. The physics class was built on collaboration and learning with each other. It wasn’t meant to be a, turn paper in, get grade back class. Hopefully, that experience will allow for a smoother transition.