- Whatever you do, work at it wholeheartedly as though you were doing it for the Lord and not merely for people. — Colossians 3:23
- For there is no partiality with God. — Romans 2:11
- My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. — 2 Corinthians 12:9
Itâ€™s that time of year again: grading time. Iâ€™m sure youâ€™re familiar with the saying â€œI teach for free, but I get paid to grade.â€ You may be procrastinating right now, avoiding those last 27 papers you have to grade. Maybe youâ€™re enjoying the clever memes posted by colleagues about student complaints, entertaining typos, or plagiarism. . . .
What is it about grading that is often so miserable?
Grading confronts us with our own identity issues.
For many of us, teaching is part of our identity. We take pride in our instruction and we are convinced of the worth of our investment in students. When we grade mediocre (or worse) work, it can lead to self-doubt. Did I fail to teach well? Was I not engaging enough? Is my lifeâ€™s work important? Why do students not value my course (or me)?
Itâ€™s easy to take rotten work personally, especially if it seems like effortless work. It can feel like an affront when we are trying to help students and they donâ€™t seem to care.
Grading confronts us with our own partiality.
Itâ€™s easy to say that weâ€™re objective and we value all students the same. But weâ€™re all biased. Even if the students submit work without names attached, after an assignment or two, we can narrow down the excellent work to a few students. And frankly, itâ€™s more fun to grade excellent work! Itâ€™s not only a boost to our pride, but itâ€™s rewarding to see how students have grown and learned to research, write, or think more carefully over a term.
On the other hand, I have students who consistently underperform and I dread grading their papers. Before I even start, I steel myself for the grammar mistakes, run-on sentences, and muddy thinking.
I want to say that each time I come to a set of papers, I have no expectations and no partiality. But thatâ€™s a stretch. Knowing my bias and my preference for more accomplished students is also guilt-inducing. I should value all students the same! Whatâ€™s wrong with me?
Grading requires judgment.
Grading can feel harsh. I often worry about how students will react to their grades. I over-empathize with my students when it comes to grading. The truth is, each student is different. Many are just trying to check my course off of their requirements so they can move on to coursework that better fits their passions. Others have so many commitments in their lives that a passing grade is all they really want. Theyâ€™ve made a calculation and decided the bare minimum will get them what they need.
I canâ€™t relate to this. Iâ€™ve never been satisfied with the bare minimum, no matter what my other commitments. And thatâ€™s true for most of us. If weâ€™re in positions of teaching and grading, chances are good that we were the students engaging with the professors and the material, putting forth our best effort. We were the students our professors loved to grade.
Grading would be fun if we could please everyone. If all of our students cared about the course and did their best work, weâ€™d enjoy giving them feedback, even if they needed to improve. If students considered grades an assessment to let them know where they needed to improve and where they were excelling, it might be easier to hand down grades. But grading sometimes brings out relational junk. Students may not respect the authority of the professor and may fight back for the grades they want. And no one really wants conflict over grading. So itâ€™s easy to put off doing that hard job of handing out less-than-excellent grades.
What would happen if we viewed grading as a spiritual practice?
Knowing that grading brings out some unpleasant emotions in me, Iâ€™m learning to start my sessions differently. Instead of gritting my teeth and rewarding myself with chocolate after each paragraph graded, I will try to take a step back.
When I sit down to grade, I want to pause and ask God to help me reflect on what Iâ€™m bringing with me, asking for confidence in my calling to teach (and to grade) and requesting insight into my students and their work. I pray for freedom from bias and wisdom in my judgment.
When I take a break, I pause again and pay attention to my own thoughts and emotions. Am I feeling discouraged? Frustrated? Prideful? God can help me see the dignity and value of each student wholly apart from their work.
Would you join me in this experiment to treat grading as a spiritual practice?
May we grow in spiritual maturity each time we grade a batch of papers, no matter whether they meet our expectations (of ourselves) or not. May we trust that God is working in us, helping us to find our identity in him and not in the performance or opinions of our students. May we grade with honesty, integrity, and impartiality, not favoring the brightest nor worrying about pleasing students. May we give God the glory in our work.
Questions for reflection
- How do you prepare for grading sessions?
- What brings you joy in grading? Where do you struggle?
- How might you be more aware of Godâ€™s presence with you as you grade?
- What does grading teach you about God?
As I grade, remind me that my value is in my identity as a child of God. Remind me of your call on my life, which includes teaching. Remind me of the ways you are at work in my life, growing me in my understanding of students and my self-understanding.
As I work, teach me to invest in each student and to recognize that each one is an image-bearer. Give me wisdom as I evaluate their work, and teach me to separate their grades from their value as students. May my work be for your glory.
About the author:
Anna Moseley Gissing is an associate editor at InterVarsity Press and senior writing instructor for Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary. Her writing has been published in Let Us Keep the Feast: Living the Church Year at Home and Not Alone: A Literary and Spiritual Companion for those Confronted with Infertility and Miscarriage. She lives near Chicago with her husband and two children.