Using traditional grading practices with student work has always felt a bit like assessing the quality of a photograph with a letter grade. Your picket fence photo earns a C because it doesn’t properly utilize the composition tools discussed in class. Receiving this grade and comment does little to move the learning forward. Instead, the instructor could drop the letter grade and comment more specifically: Excellent use of leading lines to draw the viewer in. Consider using the rule of thirds when framing the subject. Widening the aperture would blur the background, allowing for a clearer focal point in the foreground.

If the purpose of assessment is to offer feedback that provides specific guidance to the work of our individual students, letter grades are of little use. Specific oral or written feedback—unique to the individual student—instructs, guides, and opens doors. 

Besides not providing any helpful feedback to students, grades take the joy out of learning. When it comes time to grade my students’ work, to label a complex, unique, and nuanced project with a simple letter grade, my stomach turns. It feels arbitrary and does far more harm than good—to both student and teacher. I find myself moving quickly from a feeling of joy while reading the creativity and originality born from their work to a feeling of dread and tedium. I knew this couldn’t continue, and I needed to rejuvenate the process by making a change.  

For years, I’ve wanted to do away with grades altogether, but our district requires a letter grade at the end of each marking period. I’ve always loved reading my students’ work, sitting beside them in class. Having conversations about their work felt real and productive. When at home, reading their writing gave me insight into their thinking and wondering from afar. Finally, this spring, with the support of my principal, I decided to pilot a gradeless course.

I set up a feedback log to serve as a space for student reflection and teacher comments. At the beginning of the semester, we talked about framing the learning around a few big ideas that were central to the course: reading closely, interrogating text through discussion and written reflection, and speaking our minds even when we are unsure. Beyond these teacher-imposed goals, I wanted students to identify some areas where they’d like to improve. Though some of the students chose goals related to the big ideas for the course, many did not. Some chose to focus on the mechanics of their writing, others wanted to read books they wouldn’t normally choose, while a few wanted to find ways to respond creatively to text. 

My plan was to mark each assignment as complete or incomplete. Next, during our workshop time in class, I’d offer informal feedback as I conferred with each student (I tend to keep my presentations and mini-lessons brief and spend the bulk of class time writing, conferring, and sharing our work). After class, I’d offer summative (written) comments on their projects. The bulk of the assessment, however, would occur in their feedback logs. At the end of each month, students would reflect on their learning in our course. Specifically, I’d asked them to consider the following when they wrote:

Here are some things to think about as you reflect on your progress:

• In general, how are things going for you in this class? 

• What readings have been most interesting/frustrating/inspiring? Why? 

• What specific writing projects & written reflections stretched your thinking? How?

• Write about a specific class conversation that intrigued you. Why? 

• During class conversations have you said what you wanted to say? Are you sharing your thoughts and opinions? 

• What do you hope to improve/change as we move forward?

• *As you write, you may want to create links to specific documents/projects. 

They were not required to write about each question on the list, but I felt it was important to offer some guidelines for those who felt uncomfortable assessing their own progress. We carved out time in class to write these reflections, and when students were finished I wrote back. For my first entry, I made it a point to include a passage from something they’d written, something I call a “golden line” or paragraph exemplifying a strength in their work. I also tried to comment on how I saw them progressing with our big ideas for the course as well as their individual goals. Here is a sample of an initial student and teacher reflection:

Student Entry #1

So far I have really enjoyed this class as a whole. Almost all of the assignments we have been given in this class stretched my thinking and challenged me. Writing the observational essay really pushed me in new ways. As a writer, I’m used to having a set idea and having a map of everything I want to write. However, as I was writing this essay I had no idea where I was going with it, I felt almost blind. I even changed my topic mid-way through, something I don’t think I’ve ever done. This assignment made me take risks, and not plan out everything beforehand, and I’m very proud of how it turned out. 

As far as participating goes, I feel mixed with what I’ve contributed to our class conversations. I am a relatively shy person when it comes to sharing my thoughts to the class, but I’ve tried to push myself, and share more. However, when we discuss in small groups, I feel like I can easily share my thoughts, but when the conversation transitions to the class, I don’t feel as free to share my opinions. My goal moving forward is to take what I say in small groups and share that with the class, and also to push myself and take more risks through my writing and discussions.  

Teacher Entry #1:

I appreciate the way you ask questions to clarify your understanding of assignments. Your writing is clear, organized, and thoughtful. I can hear your voice when I read your work, which makes it more engaging. You write specifically, which is something that good writers do when revealing their thinking. Your analysis of the poem “Nothing Gold Can Stay” shows your ability to zoom in on the particulars of the language: 

“The first three lines of the poem create an image of a golden hue (produced by the sun) over a small leaf in my mind. However, when I read the fifth line I imagine the sun subsiding and the golden hue disappearing, making the leaf just simply a leaf. To me, the poem, especially the last line, almost feels accepting.”

Though you occasionally participate in our discussions, I’d love to hear your voice more frequently. At times, I can see you thinking about raising your hand to share a point, but then you seem to hold back. We would all benefit from hearing your opinions and ideas.

The course began at the end of January and I’d planned to have entries from February, March, April, and May, but due to the pandemic, our plans were derailed. We ended up with three entries (no March entry). Still, I loved reading about their thinking and self-reflection. Some students regularly articulate their thinking during class, but we rarely give them the opportunity to analyze, reflect, and do a deep dive into how they see themselves as learners. It also gave me the opportunity to observe how they were learning and what they wanted to improve. It was comforting to know that at the end of each month, we would all be in reflection mode, looking back and thinking about where we’ve been, what worked, and what didn’t. Everything about the process felt authentic. 

Prior to this semester, the grade or rubric was always on my mind as I read their work. I was never fully able to sink into an essay when I knew I needed to stamp a letter grade on their art. In this ungraded course, I enjoyed reading their work more than I ever had. I knew I’d have plenty to say at the end of the month when I wrote back to them. But, now, here, with this paper in front of me, I could focus solely on their voice, their message, their beautiful mess. During our conferring sessions in class, I could continue to share what specific lines moved me and which ones might need clarification. This was a more organic process; as we moved through the semester, I began to see that I was providing better, more specific feedback—in the form of oral and written support and suggestions. Like so many things in education, letting go of control, of sameness, of convention, of compliance, can lead to a richer, more genuine teaching and learning experience. 

When it came time to record the required end-of-marking period grade, I’d planned to conference with each student and agree on a letter grade. But, again, the pandemic disrupted this idea. Interestingly though, due to our being thrown into a remote learning environment, the district decided that students would either earn an S for satisfactory, or NG for no grade. So, in some ways, I picked the perfect time to pilot an ungraded classroom. We missed out on the face-to-face conferencing I’d envisioned, but the feedback logs allowed me to hear their authentic voices in a way our Zoom meetings did not. While our remote conversations were somewhat stifled and I struggled to facilitate the kind of energetic discussions we had in person, the feedback logs provided a missing piece. These logs served as safe spaces where we could reflect, question, analyze, and think on paper. I smiled many times while reading their entries. It made me miss seeing them in school because I could hear their voices so clearly. Initially I thought that moving to remote learning would ruin our experience with alternative grading, but, in many ways, it was the thread that kept us connected. If our school district continues remote learning this fall, I will be confident in knowing that alternative grading does indeed work in a distanced learning model. 

In their final feedback logs, many wrote about being proud of the fact that they’d leaned into discomfort by participating more in class and taking more risks in their writing. I can say the same about myself: I resisted the ungraded classroom for too long. It was scary venturing into unknown territory, but now, having done so, I can say that this course provided the confirmation and clarity I needed. 

Grades may (sometimes) lead to compliance, but feedback and conversations provide students with the support they need to become confident writers. And I had way more fun reading their work. Typically, I have to take a deep breath and steel myself to get through the grading process. But, this semester, each time I settled in to read their feedback logs, I found myself looking forward to the process. I knew I’d be in for an honest look at what was working and what wasn’t. I’d hear their voices take me through the stories we’d read, the conversations we had in class. There were always happy surprises about moments that had stuck with them and readings that had touched them. Letting go of grades helped me enjoy the assessment process for the first time in my career. My only regret is it took me twenty-two years to jump in.

Take it from me, don’t wait. 

Heinemann Fellow and 2017 NCTE Outstanding Middle-Level Educator, David Rockower teaches English at Delta Middle School in State College, Pennsylvania. Delta is a democratic school governed by students, teachers, and parents. David is also a freelance writer and has published articles in The Washington Post, Education Week, Your Teen for Parents, and is a regular columnist in State College Magazine.