Nobody Cares

 

Once upon a time, an 8-year old me wrote the WISC IQ test to qualify for the district's pull-out SOAR program, a pilot gifted program that required me to attend a different school once a week with other clever kids.  I must have passed with flying colours, because I was accepted into the program (and after I quit, I wrote the WISC again two years later, and was admitted into the program once more). 

The next year, a 9-year old me begged my mom to drill me again and again on my times table until I could recite the whole x7's in one long breath, and answer her questions without a second's hesitation.  No pausing, or else we started over.  I was compelled to be the first one to finish the Mad Minute math sheets in my class, and nothing gave me more satisfaction than knowing I was faster than the other fourth graders there.

And then there was 10-year old me, hoping and praying the night before report cards that I would have earned a full set of H's.  These were the coveted letter grades that ranked above A's at my school.  I wanted all H's, save for in PE (which didn't count anyway, because PE - and I didn't stand a chance in hell of getting above a B in the subject).

There was also 11-year old me, outraged that the hours and hours of hard work I poured into my final project (based on our all-day class trip to a regional park) weren't even acknowledged by my teacher, who clearly assigned me a grade based on his impression of me as a student, and not on the merits of my carefully-crafted project.  Judging by his pithy, brief feedback, I knew he hadn't even read my 1000-word story, which I carefully typed up and double-spaced for his approval.

Seventh grade me started getting anxiety when I got my first 100% on my report card; my desire to keep it at 100% (in French) made me a big ol' bucket of stress the entire year, until I saw that my third term grade in that subject remained 100%, and I had secured the French award for the year.  That happened to also be the year when my dad asked me what happened to the other 8% when I got an 92% on one of my other subjects.  

And by eighth grade, I was learning to memorize science definitions verbatim, just to ensure I would be able to answer written response questions with absolute accuracy.  Any quiz or assignment that yielded less than 90% was disappointing, and anything belong 80% was a failure in my eyes.  

*********

So why am I walking you down neurotic memory lane? 

Because it doesn't matter. Nobody cares.

I was packing up some stuff in anticipation of our move, and stumbled upon my collection of report cards from Gr. 1-6.  Those grades meant everything to me when I was a child, but as an adult, I hadn't even thought about my grade school "achievements" anymore.

And frankly, nobody has ever asked me what mark I got in 5th grade Math, or 7th grade Science.  In fact, nobody has bothered to ask about my high school achievements, either, or been remotely interested in whether or not I took AP or IB courses.

Because it doesn't matter. Nobody cares.

Little L's report card came out two weeks ago.  I only just took a peek at it today, but I haven't bothered to share it with her, and I probably won't, since I really don't need her to turn into the worry-wart learner I had become.  And besides, I want to practise what I preach.  A few weeks prior to the report card release, I had already shared with my students' families this very important message: 

It doesn't matter. Nobody cares.

Because in BC, from preschool to 9th grade, nobody's marks "count." Nothing is "for credit" in those early years, and unless the child is jonesing to enrol in some elite private school in the area, their report card grades are not significant except as roadmaps to help families chart the best course for their kids' learning as they move forward.  Even high school for-credit marks only "count" insofar as post-secondary admissions require a certain GPA (with Ivy League schools perhaps being an exception, but I wouldn't know). 

Once I was admitted into university, however, nobody wanted to see my high school transcripts again, either.  No employer has ever requested to know my Chem 20 or English 30 mark.  No friend has ever asked for my IQ score from the WISCs.

Because it doesn't matter. Nobody cares.

So why do parents teach their kids to chase elusive (and arguably subjective) grades, when these kids should be cultivating a love of learning for the sake of learning, establishing solid conceptual foundations for understanding, and following their interests and natural curiosity? Why is it about *achieving* rather than *learning*?  And why are kids being made to feel anxious about tests, and stressed about some letters and numbers on report cards? Why are kids being *punished* for not getting "suitable" marks through extra homework, tutoring, and the loss of privileges?

Their grades don't matter, at least, not right now.  Nobody cares.

Hubbs recently pointed me in the direction of George Reavis' story, The Animal School.  I appreciated the 80-year old fable as a reminder that our kids aren't all the same, and will not always grow and learn at the same time or in the same way.  So why do we pit them against one another, and demand that they succeed on a specific timeline and in a specific way, evaluating and judging them not on their unique strengths or abilities but on some "standard" or expectation that was arbitrarily set by a group of adults?  Especially where I live, the curriculum is "on steroids," expecting from first graders what other countries and jurisdictions would not ask for another 2-3 years. 

A wise person (who shall not be named) was once asked why they were happy to get "D's" on their report card.  Their response? "D is for done."  They're not wrong, and they are a successful and gainfully employed and educated adult now. 

So perhaps we should take a page from my wise friend, and embrace the reality that when it comes to academic "achievement" in grade school, nobody cares about the marks.  It really doesn't matter.