The Third Point
by Shari Dinkins
“It gives the student a third point,” my full-time colleague says. I nod. “So that you are not the target.” Ah, yes, I nod again.
I am tired of being the target.
At times, students view me as the obstacle to their academic success. When I would open up my grade book and show them their grades-grades that they had earned-they would quibble and squawk. “I was on time that day,” and “No, no, I turned that in.” Somehow my handwriting is a target. It is my handwriting in the columns. That means that they are arguing with me. My grade book is wrong; they are sure of it. And now I am impeding their success. I am the reason they will not be going to State in the fall. It is my fault.
This is two points. The student is one point; I am the second. It is direct conflict. And although I am the one that enters the final grades, I often do not feel like the winner.
This semester I have done what seemed so hard to imagine. I have started using grading software for my classes. I have thought about it for years. Once, I saw a part-timer colleague working with quizzes from her students. But instead of logging the grades into a book, she pulled a chair up to the computer, opened up a software program and started moving the curser from top to bottom. Sensing I was in the room, she said, “Gradekeeper.(r)” I stepped closer, glanced at the rows and columns, the white spaces trapped by thin black lines. “It logs the grades,” she said, looking back over her shoulder. Never, I thought. Nope, not me. I’m not going to get all computerized. This is a human business. I need to be able to log grades at a moment’s notice. On the bus, at my home, late at night, in class. Yes, a software program would never work for me.
Besides, I liked the neat printing in my grade book. It seemed almost spiritual somehow; so human, so hopeful. My handwriting, so childlike, so me, so palpable. Of course, midterm and final grades would be a nightmare. Hours and hours of math, painful worksheets, a ruler, different colored pens. And a day or two later, I would be able to tell my students how they were doing. And there would be the occasion where I would make a mistake. Forget the ten points extra credit, or worse yet, put in someone else’s quiz score… and the grade would be wrong.
Frustrated by a colleague’s use of Excel for a class I was team-teaching, I finally did the undoable. I checked out several grading programs online. I looked at reviews, prices, educational discounts. “Too confusing to use,” I thought, “too expensive.” Finally, I remembered what my colleague had said, “Gradekeeper(r).” I typed it into a metasearch engine and was rewarded with a URL: http://www.gradekeeper.com Simple. I was shocked. This was not a commercial software package, costing a hundred dollars. This was a simple web page, designed by a real person. I immediately started to click my mouse. How to put in students’ names, how to enter assignments, how to customize a course, how to print out missing assignment reports. I was intrigued. I went to a page to purchase the software and found that this was shareware. That meant that a real person had designed the program, put it online for others to use, and asked for a small reward if the buyer decided to keep the program and use it after 30 days. It was twenty dollars. I was dumbfounded. How was this going to make anyone money? Finally, I shrugged, downloaded the program and loaded it on my little Macintosh(r) at home.
Within ten minutes, I was sold. I had students’ names and initial attendance for one class loaded in twenty; by the thirty-minute mark, I went online and used a secure server to pay my twenty dollars.
“I’ll just use this for one class,” I thought “and if I like it, I’ll use it for all my classes next semester.” By 10:00PM that night, I had all four classes loaded and was printing out sheets to carry with me to my classes.
Now I bring my print-outs with me to class. I call out names, hand mark in attendance, log in totals for quizzes and assignments in pen. Then, after a day or two, I get onto my computer and type in the numbers. An extra step? Yes, but the reward? Huge. I can now tell which students have trouble with punctuality; I have a total number of days missed or tardies at my fingertips. I can also tell how my students are doing. Not at midterm or after finals, but at any time. I can see how my whole class is coming along at any time during the semester. This helps me plan the course better, make changes in my syllabus, where necessary, and see my teaching as a fluid, workable thing.
What a wonderful (and practical) teaching tool.
When my developmental-level English student asked to see me in my office, I knew what she was worried about. She had received a 64% on her first paper. Almost crying, she sat down next to my well-worn metal desk. I went over her paper, point-by-point. Then I showed her my computer print-out of her current grade. “You see,” I said, “you are still passing.” Relief filled her eyes as she slowly gathered up her marked-up English paper and tucked it into her backpack. We talked for another minute, and she left my office, less worried than before. Yes, the failing paper had a deep effect on her grade; no she was not failing the course. Yes, she could get help from the tutorial center; no it was not too late. In this case, knowledge was power-for the student and myself.
And I can stop being the bad guy. As my full-time colleague had mentioned, a grading software creates a third point in the conflict. The student is one, I am second; the graded report is the third. Somehow, when a student sees their attendance and grades in black and white type, they do not argue as much. There is some separation between the instructor and the grade. When a student receives an official-looking missing assignment report, they look at content instead of delivery. They usually think, “Oh, God, I missed a quiz. That was the day I was sick.” It is rare that they attack me-they seem to take the print-out more seriously and consider how they contributed to the results. That is a magical thing. They do not pick apart my childlike printing and think about the woman behind it, the terrible, terrible teacher that is in the way of their success in this class. They look at the type, and know that a computer is helping figure out how they are doing. And my students like computers, they trust them-more than a woman with a calculator, sitting in an office without enough light. They consider their part in the percentages. They may connect me with the report, but that is one step away-a step that gives me some breathing room.
I suppose that is why my instructors wanted me to type up assignments when I was in college. They wanted to focus on content-not on handwriting or colored pens, but what I was saying. And taking out the “personality” helped. Today, when I send out materials to be published, I do not embellish my pages with smiley faces or stickers-I let my writing do the talking. I know that this will not be about choice of font or paper. It is simply about content. In the same way, the grading software is about content-not personalities. Not only has this tool freed me from doing math; it has moved me out of the path of direct conflict, leaving me more free to teach.
Yes, it was scary. Yes, I knew about these software programs for years before trying it. Yes, I am cautious about integrating technology with the humanity that is teaching. But the idea of teaching better, of knowing, really knowing, how my students are learning-that is priceless. For that, I will sit at a computer every other day for a half an hour and log in grades, print out another report, and waste a few pages of paper. In a month, when midterms hit, I will be smiling, knowing that my work is done. I can check my syllabus and get on with the business of teaching. More focused, more effective, more on-target. It’s worth it. Besides, I can always brag that I have finally moved into the 21st century-and that can’t look bad on an adjunct’s resume, can it?
