I’m no fan of many so-called “equitable” grading reforms. Having seen firsthand their impact on my students and read the relevant research, I just can’t get behind policies like “no zeros,” no late penalties, or unlimited retakes. A new study by my colleagues David Griffith and Adam Tyner confirms that many educators share my concerns. Over three-quarters of the teachers they surveyed rated “no zeros,” for example, as either “harmful” or “very harmful” to academic engagement.
Yet I take no issue with standards-based grading, a system popular among grading reformers. In fact, at one high school where I taught, I witnessed firsthand how standards-based grading can increase transparency, motivate students, and support academic rigor—when done right. And in my experience, doing it right depends on school-level adaptations of grading practices, and not uniform districtwide mandates.
For the uninitiated: In “standards-based grading,” students earn grades based on course-specific “standards” for content knowledge and skill proficiency. (These standards are not necessarily linked to statewide learning standards.) Instead of accumulating points across a certain number of assignments, as is “traditional,” students demonstrate competency within a certain number of standards. The number of assignments is relevant only insofar as students have sufficient opportunity to prove their knowledge and skills. Students don’t receive grade penalties for anything that’s not part of the standards (e.g., handwriting quality), and revisions are encouraged to support additional learning.
How standards-based grading worked in my setting
At the standards-based grading school where I worked, every course was centered on ten learning standards. My English classes had standards such as using evidence to support an argument, analyzing literary devices, and organizing a paragraph. A global history class might reinforce interdisciplinary skills by including some overlapping standards, like using evidence to support an argument. Other history standards focused on course content, such as key events (e.g., the Haitian Revolution) or concepts (e.g., imperialism). An algebra class would have standards like writing algebraic expressions and graphing linear equations.
Every assignment was aligned with one or more standards. For each standard, clear criteria informed whether a student would earn a score of “incomplete,” “not meeting standards,” “meeting standards,” or rarely, “exceeding standards.” Say I tasked students with writing a paragraph about symbolism in August Wilson’s Fences, with grades to be based on two standards: their analysis of the literary device and the organization of the paragraph. A student might earn different grades for each standard if, for instance, her paragraph was well-organized but missed the fact that Troy was building more fences than just the literal one around his yard.
Per schoolwide policy, students’ performance on each standard determined their final grades. No one could pass a course without meeting expectations on at least three tasks for each of seven standards. The final grade was therefore not based on the number of assignments completed, yet without completing a certain number of assignments, students could not adequately demonstrate that they had met standards.
Why standards-based grading worked in my setting
Setting the bar high: A common criticism of standards-based grading is that it’s not rigorous. Like any grading system, however, that depends entirely on where the school sets the bar. After all, the traditional 0–100 system can also fail to challenge students and lead to grade inflation, if assessments are too easy. At my school, because our criteria for “meeting expectations” were appropriately rigorous, students were challenged to try to meet that threshold.
Students couldn’t earn any points without a genuine attempt, and they had to make a reasonably high number of genuine attempts in order to pass. In other words, they weren’t being de facto rewarded for submitting nothing, as is the case with the “50 percent rule.”
Grading participation: One place where we deviated significantly from the “equity grading” party line involved class participation. Many reformers contend that grades for participation are inherently problematic.
It’s possible for schools to deploy participation grades in troubling ways. Grading for Equity author Joe Feldman has highlighted troubling practices like awarding points for not using the bathroom during class, bringing in classroom supplies, and over-rewarding naturally talkative students. No, schools shouldn’t do any of the above—and I never worked at one that did, with traditional grades or otherwise.
Yet discussion and collaboration are crucial skills to develop in school-aged children, for college, career, civic participation, and beyond. As a painfully shy kid myself, I got outside my comfort zone and tried to raise my hand at least once if I knew my contributions were going to be graded—and today I’m grateful. In an era when it’s so easy to hide behind screens, it’s more urgent than ever to foster in-person communication skills.
At the school where I worked, we prioritized students’ engagement with one another via structured lessons and clear expectations. When we had a graded class discussion, for instance, we established clear participation goals. To earn full credit, students might need to cite relevant evidence in at least one response and ask at least one substantive question of a peer. We also structured the lesson to support all students, giving them time to jot down notes beforehand, and sometimes designating one or two students to ensure that everyone would have the opportunity to speak (e.g., if Jayden hadn’t spoken yet, the designated student might ask, “Hey Jayden, did you want to add on?”).
In other words, grading participation doesn’t have to be arbitrary, reward certain personality types, or disproportionately benefit the kids with outside-of-school advantages. If done thoughtfully—as all grading should be done—it can help students build crucial skills and classroom community.
Conversely, if participation is not graded, what incentive do quiet kids have to push themselves to speak up? What incentive do chatty kids have to give someone else a turn? What incentive do any kids have to make sure they know the material well enough to discuss it? Internal motivation is not going to drive all kids all the time, and schools have an obligation to teach young people how to speak to one another.
Balancing guardrails with flexibility for students: Many “equity” grading reformers argue that teachers should accept late work and allow retakes without grade penalty. They reason that grades should reflect knowledge, not behavior, and that late work is no less a reflection of a student’s knowledge than timely work. My school supported some flexibility but within clear bounds.
We were an alternative school on a tight schedule: four sets of two-week “benchmark” periods within a trimester. Teachers had substantial discretion within this framework, but most of us required a certain number of assignments to be submitted before a student took the culminating “benchmark” assessment at the end of the two-week period, and students had to attempt either three or all four benchmarks to pass the course. As a result, although there were few formal deadlines and no point-based late penalties, students couldn’t let the work pile up or attempt endless retakes.
Balancing schoolwide—not districtwide—commitment with teacher discretion: Standards-based grading was baked into school culture and expectations. We had a system that worked well for us: a small, alternative, traditional public school with low teacher turnover.
None of this was mandated at the district level. If teachers and students don’t buy into standards-based grading, it’s not going to work. A school with longstanding teacher retention challenges may not be the best candidate either, since it’s hard to maintain buy-in when there’s little institutional familiarity or expertise. I’m also not convinced it would work at a much larger school; could teachers realistically keep up with, for example, a potential mass influx of slightly-late submissions every two weeks from 150 students? To argue that districtwide conformity is necessary for equity is to misapprehend the reality that every school is unique in its student population and school community.
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Despite Feldman’s claims to the contrary, grading reforms don’t all have to come together as a package deal. I saw standards-based grading work with participation grades included and without lengthy submission windows. At a recent webinar co-hosted by Fordham and TNTP, a Bronx school administrator shared that his school uses “no zeros” without any other “equity” grading practices, and that policy works well for his students. That’s great! Schools shouldn’t be pressured, by either the district or outside advocates, to accept or reject every “equity” grading policy under the sun. Instead, they should be encouraged to take what they feel will work best for their students and enact those policies in their unique context. Giving students what they need, rather than all the same thing—that’s true equity.
