Making the Grade

"The unexamined life is not worth living." (Socrates).

My high school students are currently completing their big autobiography project, a major part of their grade in the course I teach. Whenever I first introduce the project, I set down the parameters and lay out my expectations and remind them that what they choose to share in their autobiography is their own personal choice. I am always amazed at what these teens choose to share in the confidence of this assignment. Usually, I spend many nights carefully reading the story of their lives as seen through their own eyes while fighting off the tears in mine.

As a teacher, it is my responsibility to help my students have a productive understanding of how the English language works. With red pen in hand, I point out spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, and sentence structure nightmares for them to revise for their final copy. Knowing and using the English language well is, of course, for their benefit, so I labor over the text and provide instructions for correction in the margins. At the bottom, I jot a few notes and provide a point total out of 100 for the quality of the content, standards met, and proper use of the English language.

And I feel like a heartless brute for doing it.

It's difficult for me to concentrate on the dotting of I's and crossing of T's and explaining the difference between their, there, and they're in the same sentence that I am reading about a student's nightmare at having been sitting beside her brother when he was shot between the eyes by a rival gang member, leaving her covered in blood. It's hard to focus on the eternal run-on sentence when reading about the lives of each student who is trying to survive their own unique hell.

Then I total up the points and enter the digits into the gradebook.

While I can be conflicted, I know that they must learn. So I take every opportunity to teach them so that they are able to choose a better life for themselves. Yes, that includes learning English well, among other things. It also includes making choices to live their lives differently, and my pity or allowing them take the easy way out probably won't really help.

I feel a bit legalistic, to be honest with you, when grading their autobiography projects and slapping a percentage on the bottom. I care for my students, and I can't help but feel remorse, grief, and anxiety when I read their stories. Their personalities, behaviors, and attitudes begin to make sense as I decipher the codes encrypted in unintelligible handwriting and mind-boggling sentence structure. It's at this point in my class, that the overflow of my heart becomes most apparent to me.

I can't imagine the love the Father has for his children! He knows us well, and it is his love that becomes his motivation for everything he does. God is love, so I believe everything that comes from God (including his instruction) flows from a place of love and is for our benefit. Knowing what he knows about each life, each story, each person is a burden I am glad I do not share with him, but I do ask that my heart would gain just a sliver of his capacity for love. Without his love, I couldn't make the grade.

Up front, I tell my students that their rough draft will be graded for content and proper grammer and spelling and that I will reserve all other comments and commentary for their final copy. I cannot approach this project -- their lives - as merely academic. It demands something more of me. I am proud of the outcome I see in their lives as they examine themselves.