One of Curmie’s friends and former students (we’ll call him L for the purposes of this post) teaches theatre in a public school. He recently posted on Facebook about a confrontation he’d had with the father of one of his students. The boy had failed to do three significant assignments, and, curiously enough, his grade reflected that fact.
Ah, but you see, the lad is an athlete, and a failing grade made him academically ineligible. So Dad screams for “about 15 minutes.” My friend responded like this: “I want him to be able to play […], too. I understand how important it is for him to have that outlet. But if I want lights on in my house, I gotta pay bills. If I wanna drive a car, I gotta pay to put gas in the car. So, if _______ wants to play […] then he’s gonna need to stop being lazy and do what is required in this class. Not to mention the other three classes he is failing.”
L got literally dozens of positive responses: “likes,” “loves,” and comments, including from Curmie. Indeed, although he’d done some great work as an actor for me, and had subsequently had no little success in the professional world, I’ve never been prouder of him.
What he described, of course, is a familiar situation to anyone who has taught for even a short while. Some students—especially but by no means exclusively athletes—not only want, but expect, special treatment. Their parents do, too. Sometimes their coaches get into the act. I once had a “student-athlete” bring his position coach along to whine about his grade. The latter demanded that I change the grade of his star player. Yes, demanded. Not “asked if there was anything that could be done,” demanded. I told him to get out of my office, that I wouldn’t discuss grades with anyone but the student himself. He went stomping down to the department chair’s office while I told the student that there was no way I’d change his grade.
The student had a D on one hour-exam and failed the other two. He routinely failed the reading quizzes. He didn’t write either of the two required papers. He got something like a 21 (yes, out of 100) on the final exam. Plus, we had a departmental policy that no one with seven or more absences—including excused absences—would pass the course. I can’t remember exactly how many he had… eleven, maybe? Ah, but he seized on that: one of those absences should have been excused, you see. Note that the policy doesn’t differentiate between excused and unexcused absences, that he’d still be over the limit, and that with those other scores he’d have failed even with a perfect attendance record. Oh, and the reason he missed class on that one occasion was that he was in court, being convicted of a violent crime.
The school administration—as is too often the case, a perfect storm of cowardice (a.k.a. weeniedom), sloth, and stupidity—made my friend change the kid’s grade. Apparently, they exerted similar pressure on the other three teachers, as well, as the lad miraculously became eligible again. I’m not sure of the exact circumstances, and the Facebook post that reveals that sports (or maybe just parental bellicosity?) will always trump classwork at that particular school has been taken down. Maybe my friend capitulated to pressure; maybe the administrators just changed the grades themselves.
Anyway, I apparently saw the post in question only after it had been up for a while. I was about to tell my friend to get the hell out of that school, but then I looked at the other comments. At least a dozen other teachers, some of whom had also been my students, chimed in the they had endured similar situations at their schools, often several times. It didn’t matter where they taught, or what they taught, or how long they’d taught: same story. Students were not allowed to fail, no matter what they did…, or, more likely, didn’t do. And any attempt to apply any academic standards whatsoever must be quashed.
On the one hand, it was heartening to see my friend get support, or at least commiseration, from so many fellow travelers. On the other hand, it was chilling to see the ubiquity of the problem. It’s bad enough at the college level, where I taught. Certainly the fact that I doubted not merely the competence, but the integrity, of people up the food chain from me was a factor in my decision to retire when I did. It’s even worse in the secondary schools.
Still, the comment that most caught my eye wasn’t one of solidarity. I can’t quote it directly, but the substance was that since my friend can’t do anything about the current situation, he should just document it and move on, because one of his students might need similar… erm… “assistance” in the future: if the administration can change grades so X can play his sport, they can change grades so Y can be in the musical.
I can certainly understand that argument as a survival tactic. It is, in some ways, equitable, but it is also an option unavailable to someone who teaches history or biology. Plus, of course, it serves to legitimize an irresponsible, anti-intellectual, and unethical process. Still, it is a metaphorical arrow in L’s quiver, whether he would ever use it or not, and he would probably be wise to let the administration know it’s there. I’m enough of a Confucian to believe that every situation is different, and it’s not difficult to imagine a scenario in which such a strategy might be at least ethically neutral.
Ultimately, all I can do is to hope that L finds a responsible way to move forward. The professions (both theatre and teaching) need people like him. He’s a good man and apparently a good teacher, too. But I couldn’t blame him if he decided that quitting would be the only ethical choice.
This is another piece originally posted on Ethics Alarms. There are some comments there if you’re interested. They’re also there if you’re not interested.
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