Through the Looking Glass: No geades, no peoblem
By Sarah Delia, staff writer
Posted on April 24, 2006

We hate, loathe and curse their very being; but where would we be without the letters and numbers that accumulate to represent our grades? Especially with finals week looming its ugly head around the corner (this is the last week of class, folks), I have danced with the possibility of running away to a Utopian society were grades are nonexistent, a world in which we are measured by our actual ability, not what a number or letter says we are capable of. College, a time of supposed rebellion, self discovery, and adventure, is in some ways just an accepted extension of high school. How many times have you said to yourself, “I knew that material, but I didn’t understand the format of the test,” or “I do so much better on the essay portion and fail the multiple choice?” Now, after you moan over the suppressing constraint of the letter or number, what do you do next? More than likely, the name of the professor is cursed, but order is maintained and the grading system lives on to size up another victim using the ABC, 123, method. 

But grades for all of us, myself included, measure the way that we not only judge ourselves, but compare our abilities to others. How do I feel good about the material I’ve learned, if I can’t compare myself to how poorly Johnny did next to me? Getting a 90 beats getting an 80. Rock beats scissors and paper covers rock; sorry, Johnny, but 90 is bigger than 80, ergo, I know more than you.

I dream bigger than that, though, for the likes of Johnny and myself. Believe it or not, there are actually establishments of higher education that do not use grades to evaluate their students. Stereotypical hippie schools such as Antioch and Evergreen are notorious for their no-grading policies, small populations and generous scholarship opportunities. However, if you know anything about these schools, violent protests, drug problems and bankruptcy are costs these liberal schools have to endure.

Having friends that went to Antioch and Evergreen who experienced riots and dismantlement of buildings first-hand after the Republican victory in the 2004 election, made me hesitant when I heard word of the New College of Florida, a school that also abstains from grades.

Instead of grades, professors measure how the student learned by a written evaluation given at the end of the course. The answers do not receive a letter grade but rather in-depth written critiques from the professor. With a 10-to-one student-to-teacher ratio, this is actually possible. Students make an actual contract with the professor at the beginning of the semester which sets goals for the individual’s performance. If the contract is not met, the student does not pass.

Princeton Review, a company that forcefully fed SAT and ACT prep book propaganda down our throats, name New College as the “#1 best value in public higher education.” If Princeton Review, a monopoly that we all bought into at one point in our life deems it worthy, then who are we to downgrade?

Perhaps you’re unconvinced. Maybe I’m just delirious from lack of sleep and a ridiculous amount of prepping for finals. Or maybe that crazy chad-counting state is on to something. Only 750 students attend New College and all of them had an average high school GPA of 3.8 or higher — these kids don’t go there to waste money or for a good time. The school is serious and dedicated to producing productive and competitive people that we graded kids will have to go up against in the work force.

It’s hard to picture a world with out a branding symbol, number or point average to define who we are and how we’re ranked. But as you see the small light at the end of the tunnel start to shine through the last 14 days of campus life, I encourage you to think: isn’t it time we escaped from this prison of questionable accurately and slip into the looking glass? Perhaps the concept appears distorted, frightening, and different, but nonetheless could have unless possibilities.

Sarah Delia is a freshman English and art history major who hopes that eyes may be opened before angry letters are written.