The Assessment Fiasco
07 Aug 2004I typed an essay on what happened about the assessment fiasco yesterday, but it went and lost a cookie again (I walked away, the total “page open” time would have been about 2-3hours, so that’s understandable), so there goes a few pages of entertainment/grief/boredom, depending on who you are.
Just out of curiosity, who ARE you? I’m looking at the Netscape user/users who have accounted for 60% of my traffic thus far this month. I’m impressed. I thought Netscape was dead, but evidently not. Well. Maybe it is. But then, at least the Un-Dead browser users are coming and visiting my website. The browsers are un-dead, that is, not the users. Although they may be as well. Who knows… write if you’re an un-dead user visiting this website, okay?
An un-dead user running Netscape, especially. You know what’s REALLY interesting? 59.4% of the users are running an OLD OLD OLD ugly version of Netscape. Well, okay, so it’s not that old. But 6.2.1 is getting mildly ancient for many people to be using, I would think. At least it isn’t 4.x – I don’t know how nice that would play with all the CSS in these parts – not that it really matters… If it can’t do it, the website is semantically acceptable when displayed as plain text in linear form. Don’t believe me? Load up your favourite WAP browser, and assuming there isn’t anything particularly quirky on my front page at that point in time, it should display plenty fine.
Yes. So. About that assessment. I’m typing this in a humble text editor, simply so I don’t have to worry about session times, and will just copy and paste in when I’m done, however many hours that may take, heh.
It all began on Monday afternoon this week (it’s only this week for another 3 hours 42 minutes as I type this – okay, okay, enough distractions!), as I arrived (late, due to a certain concerts un-punctuality… or something) to Extension English to be told that our teacher (Mrs. Christie) had marked most of the assessments, but there were a handful remaining; we would not have them returned that day, however we were welcome to collect them when they became available at 8 a.m. the morning following from reception in BBC. That said, she wanted to read out some of them which she had already marked to the class.
The “class combination” thing happened, as it sometimes does, and we were all (at least, I was, and others also made snide remarks to the same effect) anticipating Mrs. Crump launching into a power-trip driven tirade about… whatever it is that lady speaks about (I’ve never quite bothered to ascertain that one). That didn’t happen: both classes were combined so that she (Mrs. Christie, not the cats mother) could comment on the assessments, and read out some of them to the class(I’ll drop the “es” – the plural is implied from here on in, okay?).
Alex McSkimming’s story was read out (title unrecalled, plot was driven by real-world events; apparently, the association between religious symbology, specifically Christian symbols, and Vampires – or at least the repulsion of – came about as a result of the Churches policy with regard to the Black Plague. I really want to read it again, for the contextual explanation and reflection as much as for the story itself), and then another – Andrew Garrett’s composition, reflecting on the necessity of Blood for life – it wasn’t as Renfield-ish as it sounds – it was drawing (not drawing blood!) parallels between the Blood Bank as a necessary component of society for the preservation of life, and Vampires consumption of Blood as necessary for the continuation of THEIR life. Mine was next. At least, the first draft of mine was next.
She lifted the folder, and flipped to the story. The coversheet fell into my view; I asked “Are you sure you want to read that version out? That’s my first draft, judging from the cover sheet…”. She was somewhat confused… “Oh, so it is… I hope I didn’t mark you on that one!” Insert nervous laughter from all parties here. The story was laid down, and she continued to speak about something else. I was assured that she’d look at it, and let me know the following morning – although she was “sure” she hadn’t.
8 a.m. came and went. I didn’t get to school until 8:20, but from talking to other people, I don’t think that many went and even tried to get theirs back in the morning. Mrs. Christie came downstairs (or maybe not… I don’t know where her office lies) when called, and…
Yeah. I can’t remember how she phrased it. My re-telling of the sequence of events has always begun with “Guess what!”. I’d already guessed, of course – the glass is half empty. Do you know what really bites about the whole thing at this point? She’d just told me how much she liked my draft, and what mark I was to get for it. Now, there are certain marks which… aren’t conducive to making students want a remark. This was one of them. ANYWAY. She was to re-examine the final copy, and I was to return at recess.
Done.
I return at recess to be told that Alanna has enquired/complained/tortured small animals about why she got the mark she did, and as such the return of all as-yet-unreleased assessments was on hold as miscellaneous teachers took another look at the assessments.
That’s alright. I can deal with that. I’m not hanging out for a mark or anything here.
Lunch. I return, to be informed by Mrs. Court (the receptionist in BBC) that all the assessments were in a pile here. There was a gesture, too ;). Of course, mine wasn’t. It was in a distinctive red folder, and was at a glance evidently not there. I flipped through the pile anyway, before saying “Could you please call Mrs. Christie again?”
And so, again, she came from ThatPlaceWhereMrs.Christie’sOfficeIs™ to reception. Aaand mine hadn’t been marked, due to a lack of free classes for her that day, or something. I was to return that afternoon, again.
Afternoon came, as did I. I was expelled by the Dean of the Senior College. Seriously! Apparently I’d been loitering in reception too much, or something. Mrs. Earle is great fun ;) Anyway. It is at this point where I begin to tire telling the story, because up until now, the timeframe looked as though the whole thing would be resolved in a day. Nope!
She arrived, and we sat down. Actually, she arrived, said “I haven’t had a chance to read it yet, can you come back in 10”, I made a phone call, walked around mindlessly for a bit, then came back, and THEN we sat down. But I digress (again). In her reading of the weighty tome (where weighty = probably less than 100 grams), she has unveiled a dark and powerful secret. So Un-Dead was my story, that two pages had arisen, and, unaided, made their escape (ess-ka-pey!) from the clutches of the English department! Or maybe I failed to submit it, or she lost it. Hey, one of the above will do – personally, I’m more excited about the first explanation.
Having read the document in its entirety, she decided that my story had regressed in clarity (at least, certainly within the first section) between the first and second drafts. You know what? I could have told you that! Something to do with unfathomable word limits? Nah. But that’s cool. I’ll drop it. I went 700 words over, so I can’t complain too much. I’ll have a further rant about clarity and her/the departments marking schemes in a while – for now, there are other things to address.
Now, the coversheet and first page of the final draft were somewhat AWOL – or with leave, whatever. At this point, she asked a question which I am still getting over – this, ladies and gentlemen, is a full 4 days (or is it 5? Meh, I’m doing extension ENGLISH, not MATHS!) on, and I have yet to START moving on past this question. It was, without a doubt, the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard a teacher say.
“Now, should I give you nineteen, or twenty for this? What do you think you deserve?”
I’m sorry, you just DON’T ask a student that. Regardless as to whether or not you believe they would give an appropriate answer or not. Personally, I don’t think ANYONE should EVER get “full marks” in any subjectively marked subject (because, despite the best efforts of the Board of Studies to destroy literature and define marking as neat, easy, criteria-based “tick-a-box” marking, that isn’t the way it works. That is something I would really struggle with as a teacher, I think…) at the best of times, simply because there is no such thing as a perfect text. There is that, and then there is my desire to achieve – but asking for 20 doesn’t provide a sense of achievement, anyway.
Perhaps that was the motive behind the question? Whether I answered “nineteen” or “twenty”, the result was the same – my mark, as perceived by myself, had decreased. I said “I’m not answering that, I can’t answer that objectively – can I bring in a reprint of those pages tomorrow, so that you can re-mark it?”.
What happened next was nearly as astounding. Having just explained why I had lost the mark, concern was voiced that I may take this opportunity to edit the first page appropriately, in order to regain the mark. “Can I trust you not to change it?”. I don’t remember what I said now. Whether it was “That’s up to you” or “Hang on, you just asked me what I should get for my own work, and yet you don’t trust me to make a reprint, even though my editing, IF ANY would have to be perfect to the point that the sentence which was continued on page two of the text flowed as though no change on the first page had occurred at all? I’m sorry, please, give, me twenty or nineteen right now as you wish.” I honestly couldn’t say. Technically, editing so that the first page flowed into the second seamlessly would have been near impossible. AND, that’s assuming I could be bothered. I’m sorry, but I like to think I have more of a life than that (not to mention morality and a sense of values).
Whatever I said, the outcome was she was willing to let me bring in a reprint the following day.
This is Wednesday:
I come to school, drop the printout at reception asking that it be given to Mrs. Christie as was convenient, and return in the afternoon. It hasn’t been marked.
Thursday comes. I seize Mrs. Christie in the corridor, and am informed I have 19 as a final mark. I am happy. I have closure. I also have a mark of 95% for a work which really doesn’t deserve even that (especially considering my complete violation of any concerns of brevity, with my FINAL coming in at 1700ish, and the first draft sitting at a lovely 2000).
I still haven’t bothered to retrieve my physical copy, that can wait until next Tuesday’s lesson.
Now that the recounting is over, and heads are still spinning, I’m going to launch into a tirade.
CLEAR!!!
Okay. There are a few things. Firstly, the subject of perfect marks. I addressed it before, but since this is where I’m venting about all the things I think are wrong with it, it needs to be mentioned (at least briefly) again.
IT
SHOULD
NEVER
HAPPEN
in subjective subjects.
Literature is not mathematical, it is not scientific. It is abstract, free, more beautiful than mathematics – endless scope for rigid structure or disjointed abstraction is permitted within its bounds, and this is something no institution should even think of trying to break down into simple criterions.
Why? Because, for one, being (potentially) that abstract, there is an incredibly narrow probability of pre-emptively creating criteria to suit the work which shall be submitted. Additionally, the assignment of marks to (especially) creative works is something which is just another part contributing towards the score-obsessed high school culture which exists in NSW (and probably the rest of the world) in the senior years today.
The need for quantification is recognised, however this cannot be broadly applied to things such as it is now!
I’ll leave that where it is, else this post may double in length again.
My second… objection towards this whole thing is about the REASONS my first draft scored perfectly.
It wasn’t perfect! Previous comments aside, I haven’t seen the criteria, so this is all “speculation” (O! Look what they have done to us! The author speculates upon his own work, as the BoS looks over us and gloats!). But there were at least FOUR PRINTED PAGES which WERE INCLUDED with my submitted assessment CLEARLY DOCUMENTING AND OUTLINING THE NEED FOR CHANGES IN the first draft! Comments were included both from myself (which is acceptably discounted, as any comments should be included in reflections, but this was not), Alec Sewell, and Sam Holloway!
Grammar, structure, spelling, clarity, fragmentation, and presentation of concepts was (in my opinion) much better executed in the proceeding edits than in the original. And I’m not the only one to think so.
The implication of this is somewhat disturbing. Either the original edit (1st draft) was not read as the original when the mark was assigned – that is, prior to losing the first two pages of the final copy (yes, that was an accusation – I don’t know if it was me or her, but I’m fairly sure I submitted it), it was marked, and scored 20 – or the original edit was mismarked to the extent that DOCUMENTED errors were overlooked.
Either way, and in both my complaints, a “perfect mark” is clearly of little significance where such errors may abound unseen, undetected, and apparently unimportantly. The more I think about it, the more I want to see this criteria sheet. I have a feeling my suspicions about the ineffectiveness of subjective “tick-a-box” marking may have just been confirmed, or at least strengthened…
as such suspicions are merely subjective, of course. ;)