Ungrading: Another Iteration
In a piece I wrote in August of 2020, Pedagogy for End Times: Ungrading and the Importance of Arson, I described two of my most open approaches to Ungrading. I was feeling a bit “all-or-nothing” in these End Times; perhaps throwing the baby out with the bathwater, if you will. As those of us involved in Ungrading understand so well, there is always more to know and do with it—to refine our applications of its principles. I’ve been developing my own approaches to Ungrading since 2017; its philosophies resulting in various methods as I apply them to different courses (see: studio-based and classroom-based) and different contexts (see: pandemic-era higher ed; late-stage capitalism).
My learning curve continues, so this post is an update of sorts. A little less arson this time, and a little more listening—a little more humility.
Ungrading’s philosophical underpinnings guide its design—the pedagogy drives the methodology; and vice versa: the methodology, ideally, would make the pedagogy apparent, visible, able to be felt and made real in an embodied way. Sometimes we have to do something pedagogic first, before we can fully understand what it means: we have to put something into practice to see its effects when students participate in it. We can try innovative course designs that excite us—that we think prioritize student learning—but if they don’t support students in the way they need to be supported, what good are we doing, unless we’re open to change?
I’ve always considered Ungrading to be based on power-sharing. It’s a collaborative approach in which I hand over the keys to the kingdom in an effort to flatten the teacher-student hierarchy and embark on a journey of “working with,” rather than “doing to.” I’ve leaned, lately, into complete student self-evaluation, where the one final letter grade they choose, goes. Period. Perhaps controversially, I don’t reserve the right to change that grade. I know other educators do, and I respect their reasons. From my perspective, it seems to defeat the purpose; it feels anathema to the student-driven philosophy I’m working with as an educator. They’ve had enough rugs pulled out from under them, and I’m not always right, if I could even identify what “right” is when it comes to grades. Rather, I see my role as an advisor/coach/facilitator and a contributor of knowledge, whose job it is to help students see themselves in context. Do I always agree with their choice of final letter? It doesn’t matter. That’s not my purpose here.
Ungrading isn’t inherently pro- or anti-structure, but it does tend to blow up our structures when we first implement it: due dates and late work, for example, become unenforceable, so they might disappear entirely or take a looser shape. Instructors’ boundaries on time and energy, given their degree of contingency or privilege, can be quickly eroded (if they were ever permitted to exist at all…), and students can get backlogged with unfinished work at the end of the semester. I’ve designed courses built on Ungrading with extreme flexibility, for example, and a whole semester’s worth of assignments landed on my desk during the last week of classes. It was ineffective for everyone. The ungrader’s learning curve is significant, and it takes time. Structures—however you feel about them—are tools we can use to support those doing the work. How we use them? That’s entirely contextual. There’s no one way. Just like there’s no one way a person—student or teacher—exists in the world.
I’ve been following the online dialogues around the importance of pairing structure with flexibility in courses that use Ungrading. In her recent piece that addresses Ungrading for neurodivergent students, Karen Costa says: “…structure and openness can coexist. The latter can be built atop the former.” To Costa’s point—and here’s where that dash of humility comes in—I’ve started noticing that there simply are some students who bristle at the pressures involved with looser structures; who seem to be more at ease when I offer a more detailed set of expectations; even when I’m ready to let them lead the charge and burn the place down. Regardless of why they bristle—whether they’re neurodivergent or not—I’d like to support them more, while continuing to draw from the research and philosophies that enable student metacognition and process-based learning. I know it’s possible. I’ll keep at it.
Like so many folx dedicated to Critical and Feminist pedagogies, I thought I was doing the right thing by eliminating structures that seemed oppressive. I’ve since learned that the effects of burning the place down can present problems for students who need anti-oppressive structures, as opposed to no structures at all. I need to find a better balance, and you’re currently reading my attempt. It’s flawed—I know. It’s a process. I’m in process. There’s something to say here about giving ourselves grace, right?
Next semester, I’ll be adding options for what I hope become more humanistic structures that students can lean on and find space in simultaneously. Costa’s term “loving systems” has been sitting with me. I’ve also done some retooling of my syllabus language; I used to decry grades at length, which I stopped doing this past year after discovering that my strong perspective, despite being informed by the research, tends to push some students back (the quietest ones) until they have a chance to experience the learning curve that I’ve been on for years now. I can tell them that grades are bad all day long, but I have to give them time to feel the difference. So, we talk about their experiences with grades on the first day of class (including my disclosure of my B in ballet class as a second-year undergraduate—cue gasp), which has always been part of my process. I’m just less adamant about it now: I point to the difference between learning and grading so they can begin to develop that awareness, and I try to open the door for them to participate with less fear (and maybe even trust) in our course that de-emphasizes grades completely.
Before I share my latest rendition of my Ungrading policy language, it seems important to pre-emptively address some of the standard, legitimate criticisms of this kind of work. I am neither the first, nor the only. This kind of pedagogic work has a history and a lineage; W.E.B. DuBois, John and Evelyn Dewey, bell hooks, Paulo Freire, and Gloria Ladson-Billings among the most notable whose work provides a foundation for Ungrading. I’ve learned and keep learning from a long list of philosophers, writers, teachers, instructional designers, and the good education folx on all kinds of online platforms. Ungrading is only mine inasmuch as I’ve shaped it to fit my circumstances and the needs (as I perceive them) of the students I work with—from whom I’ve learned the most.
Ungrading works to varying degrees for me in my teaching context, and hopefully continues to work better and better for more students each time I revise it. I don’t expect my specific approach, or Ungrading as a larger praxis, even, to work for anyone else. It is, and must be thought of, as inherently contextual.
To state my positionality: I am a white, cis-hetero woman and tenured associate professor at a private R2 institution working with undergraduate majors in <20-person classes. I get to know these same students in multiple courses over their four years. I am a relatively well-known entity to them—they may hear or know about me before ever working with me directly, as professor lore (for good or ill) trickles down among the students in the major. Many follow me on Instagram, have met my dog, and refer to me as JZ (in writing and out loud). My teaching spans both studio settings that prioritize physical learning and classroom settings that prioritize intellectual learning; though physical and intellectual work in my courses are intimately intertwined because mindbodies are real. I have extraordinary privilege in these spaces.
I don’t know if or how my approach would work in large classes, or for contingent faculty, or for faculty who identify with historically excluded groups by way of race, class, sexuality, ability, or age. I don’t think it should be written off because it doesn’t apply wholesale, as has sometimes happened with Ungrading approaches. My approach to Ungrading is no more or less valuable than that of any other educator. I’m always interested in how faculty in different fields, with different identities, and different institutional contexts from mine adopt approaches to alternative grading; their work informs mine even if it doesn’t serve me directly. We are all doing our damnedest—I believe that. I am not suggesting that this is an approach anyone should do anything with at all, frankly. I offer it here as one example that is very much in process and will likely change in future iterations as my learning curve continues; and I contribute it here as one part of the dialogues around Ungrading through which we share tools, practices, knowledges.
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The next iteration of my course grading policy will (most likely) read as follows:
Grading
In this course, you have complete autonomy over your grade. You will engage in trajectory-building (open-ended) and/or goal-setting (outcome-oriented), self-reflection, and qualitative/quantitative self-evaluation for each of three Units. I will support you in these processes. I will provide feedback and coaching based on your work, your trajectories/goals, and anything you would like to share with me about your learning process. At the end of the course, you will assign yourself a final grade as part of Unit 4: Reflection and Self-Evaluation (see below). You and I will then meet to discuss that grade and conclude our work together in this course.
This self-evaluation process may be uncomfortable, since it challenges the traditional paradigm in which you receive regular quantitative updates from the professor about your work that indicate “how you’re doing.” My hope is that this self-reflection and self-evaluation process allows you some space to try new things, fail and learn from it, or laugh at yourself and try again, without pressure or recourse. We’ll do the work of the course for its own sake—for the sake of learning something new. I trust you. I trust your work ethic, and I trust your integrity.
My hope is that this approach mirrors a professional environment in which you are responsible for self-directing and evaluating your own work. If you find, however, that you would like some my assistance in the process of reflection and self-evaluation (because causing you distress is NOT my intention), please contact me as soon as possible so we can make sure this experience addresses your learning needs. I’m here to support you. I can meet with you individually to discuss this unit before you complete it; provide time in class to discuss this assignment as a group; and/or help you outline the specific trajectories or goals for each of the units. Do not hesitate to ask.
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In addition, I’ve designed three content-based units for the semester, with the last unit specifically attending to processes of reflection and evaluation. It reads:
Unit 4 – Reflection and Self-Evaluation
Unit 4 has three parts: The Learning Narrative, the Letter Grade, and the Final Meeting.
Part 1: Learning Narrative
Use the following prompts to guide a written Learning Narrative that supports your grade and describes the outcomes of this course as you experienced them. You may wish to do some freewriting or journaling in preparation for this assignment. This assignment can be written as an essay (in the standard academic style), or more informally in a format of your choosing. Remember: I’m here to help.
Discuss your process as a learner: evaluate your engagement with course content by reflecting on how you handled all aspects of this course. What specific parts of your process worked and what parts would benefit from some adjustments? Why?
Discuss the products you generated as demonstrations of your learning, specifically as they relate to the goals and/or trajectories you outlined for yourself. Evaluate how your work has changed across the semester. Did certain elements become easier or more challenging? Describe.
What will you do with this knowledge? How will it manifest in your world?
What have you learned about yourself—as a learner, a teacher, and a member of a learning community—in this course?
Part 2: Letter Grade
Based on the goals you set for yourself in each unit, and taking into consideration your whole human context from this semester, select a letter grade from the following: A, A-, B+, B, B-, C+, C, C-. Remember: I’m here to help.
Part 3: Final Meeting
Schedule a Final Meeting with JZ by [date] to discuss your grade, using this [scheduling link]. Remember: Your choice of grade stands.
Unit 4 Due Dates
Recommended window by which to complete all parts of this unit: [last week of classes]
Last possible day to complete this unit: [last day of classes]
Meetings will take place during Exam Week at the time you select using the link above.
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We’ll see how this goes—I’ll await student responses before I make a judgment on it. While the course design and policy seem more broadly supportive and philosophically sound to me now, I fully acknowledge that the on-paper elements aren’t it—it doesn’t end there. Ungrading is aligned-situated-enacted with-in-through the behaviors, expectations, and cultures that teachers and students develop together. It’s based on us, at a time in our individual lives, in a given course, in a given socio-historical moment. Ungrading is at its most effective when we center humanity in each moment of teaching and learning. It’s about us, together. We’re it.
Photo Credit: Hello I'm Nik on Unsplash