The Round Rock Independent School District appears to have found a cheap way to improve the test results of its students . . . it eliminated all Ds. That’s right, a D will now be a C. While insisting that it is merely following other schools, the move is a laughable recognition that the district cannot actually improve performance so it will instead artificially improve grading.
The common dig at millennials being raised with artificial senses of achievement (after being given “participation awards” in sports) appears to have taken hold in our schools. Currently, 90-100 is the letter grade “A,” 80-89 is a “B,” 75-79 is a “C” and 70-74 is a “D.” A failing grade is anything below 70. Now, there will be no D students in Round Rock. That is quite an achievement . . . if only it was an achievement.
By the way, it also happens to mean that student athletes will be able to compete and to go for scholarships in college to a greater degree. They may not be able to fully read or write, but they are now officially C students.
Strangely, RRISD executive director of communications Corey Ryan insisted that the change is not about lowering expectations, but leveling playing field. Well, yea, it levels the playing field by wiping out the actual performance results. Problem solved?
“Soon overpaid and underperforming school administrators will take cues from the military. If students reach the goal of making it through elementary, middle and high school without a felony record they will simply be honorably discharged. No grades, no tests, no formal education required.”
Bankster – And how much time did you serve in the military? Like everything in life there will be outliers, but your comment is extremely ignorant and an insult to the men, women and their families that serve so that you can ignorantly insult us.
@David
Hey, I loved your comment! IIRC, the average reading speed is about 300 words or so per minute, and most people here are probably twice that, sooo it was a minute or two well spent!
Back on point, there is another way to look at what the school district did. It’s the equivalent of “criminal justice reform” where the standards are relaxed to help blacks and hispanics not get arrested as much. It makes the numbers look swell from a racial point of view, but the underlying criminal problem goes unaddressed. This kind of silliness will not end well.
Like, the Round Rock Director of Communications above said, they are leveling the playing field. I looked up the racial makeup of Round Rock, and it is about 10% black, and 30% hispanic. Median income seems to be about $30,000+, so this is not a poor community on average. I looked to see how hispanic kids are doing in school, and it is not so good:
Here is another link, just to Texas stats.
http://educationblog.dallasnews.com/2013/11/texas-hispanic-students-lag-in-nations-report-card.html/
So yeah, dumping the “D’s” will certainly improve things as far as statistics go. And on the bright side, the Democratic Party does not really need well educated voters among minorities! Just recognizing the letter “D” is enough!
Squeeky Fromm
Girl Reporter
@just curious
nope – no bubble. It’s just that Texas (and Florida) seem to be the most disturbing states overall. I live in SC where the only time we make news is if another black person has been shot or something does/says something ignorant.
There is a place for T ball. When a kid is five or six years old, he or she gets all the chances to figure it out, in any field, without being graded. The act itself grades the kid. Eventually, however, truth and reality have to be embraced, the sooner the better. Academics and sports are the places where a person confronts reality.
There was a valid reason for lowering the bar to get greater minority representation in the professions. Hopefully that reason will disappear. There is no valid reason for lowering the bar for all. This situation illustrates the dysfunction of the education system, too much fiddling and administering and not enough focus on teachers and teaching. The higher ranked educational systems of the world have much less administration and much more teaching. How humiliating it must be for a teacher to know that a student is failing and should be getting more attention, working harder, whatever and yet be administered into handing out higher grades. The bean counters can always make it sound right.
Thus we get the rule that anytime you say something that does not agree with what I said you have attacked me. And any time I am forced to hear something that I don’t like I am subjected to disabling pain. And it gives us a military where 50% of veterans apply for PTSD disability despite that only 10% have served in a combat environment.
As a child in the 1950s I recall that grades were A: 94-100, B 86-93, C 77-85, D 70-77. Children who failed a grade in grade school were held back. The first grade inflation was in the 1960s; grades became A 90-100, B 80-90, C 70-80, D 60-70. What was formerly a D was now a C. “Social promotion” was invented whereby children were kept with their classmates even if they failed a grade. But even then most high schools were still failing people who had earned that failure.
By 1975 when I was a college instructor I discovered that a significant portion of the incoming freshmen were not educated to any standards. There were freshmen who did not have a clue about reading, writing and arithmetic. Remedial reading, composition, and math became college courses to make up for not having learned in high school.
Grade inflation is, indeed, widening the plate, lowering the basket and widening the goal posts.
That Round Rock eliminated the D (and earlier eliminated the F) is reasonable if the point of school is babysitting, not education. As in Lake Woebegone all the children in Round Rock are above average and will pass each and every grade K-12. No child left behind their class because of failure.
There is no meaning to success if there is no possibility of failure. In my grandfather’s generation there were people who failed to pass 8th grade so an 8th grade education was meaningful. Many students did not pass high school so a diploma was meaningful.
The unaccountable generation has emerged. It is never the individual’s fault. The social justice generation has emerged. It is never the individual’s fault. Parents have no role in teaching children; it takes a village to teach children, and it is never the child’s nor parents’ fault if they fail. Their special needs were not met.
All this because of treating all students the same for social reasons. It hurts the self esteem of their little egos to get a bad grade. Social promotion sucks.
Sports is remarkably ignorant of race today. The plate is 17 inches for everyone. Success is objectively judged. People do not get from the farm team to the major leagues by social promotion.
Social “justice” is the reverse of real justice where individuals are judged individually and not by age group.
Autumn- do you live in a bubble? Look around, please.
Texas is not the only thing that has become a joke, and unfortunately, the joke is on U.S..
Nero fiddles while Rome burns.
Having been a teacher, I can assure you this false sense of self esteem is not lost on kids. Students know who the winners and losers are. You can put in place all these cushions, but kids know it’s crap. It’s more for the insecure parents than the kids.
David, Superb comment. As a broken down baseball coach I loved it.
Texas has become a joke. Don’t they want to secede? We should encourage that!
What passes today for public education is pathetic — creating a nation of unquestioning sheeple. Standardized tests which focus on memorization rather than exploring context should be eradicated.
David: I was 17 inches– by high school. Same in college. In later years it got shorter. I got divorced over the shrinkage. In my old age I am down to 12 inches. I wear a sign: what goes in must come out. The trysts in the cathouse cost me more money than most guys.
@David Schweitzer
Excellent post – illustrates where we are.
@ArtDeco
Free speech and all that…
I went to school many decades ago in New York and the grading system for a “C” was 70-79 and “D” was 60-69. In statistics, which I also took decades ago, you should always try to keep your groupings consistent (ie. 10 point spread). Why Texas ever decided to create such an inconsistent grouping system is beyond me. Maybe they need to go back to school.
David Sweitzer, why not comment on the moderator’s remarks and keep your cut-and-paste 1,200 word text walls to yourself?
Thanks for sharing David. Great read!
Soon overpaid and underperforming school administrators will take cues from the military.
The military during the previous administration did not, as a matter of policy, accept recruits with scores below the 16th percentile (of the general population) on psychometric tests. That pretty much excludes anyone without a diploma or an equivalency and excludes about 1/3 of the people with equivalencies as well.
During the current administration, the military has been folded, spindled, and mutilated to serve as a laboratory for the Administration’s rancid social ideology (while policy has been driven by public relations). That’s the fault of politicians, not career soldiers.
“Don’t Widen The Plate!”
In Nashville, Tennessee, during the first week of January, 1996, more than 4,000 baseball coaches descended upon the Opryland Hotel for the 52nd annual ABCA convention.
While I waited in line to register with the hotel staff, I heard other more veteran coaches rumbling about the lineup of speakers scheduled to present during the weekend. One name, in particular, kept resurfacing, always with the same sentiment — “John Scolinos is here? Oh man, worth every penny of my airfare.”
Who, is John Scolinos, I wondered. No matter, I was just happy to be there.
In 1996, Coach Scolinos was 78 years old and five years retired from a college coaching career that began in 1948. He shuffled to the stage to an impressive standing ovation, wearing dark polyester pants, a light blue shirt, and a string around his neck from which home plate hung — a full-sized, stark-white home plate.
Seriously, I wondered, who in the world is this guy?
After speaking for twenty five minutes, not once mentioning the prop hanging around his neck, Coach Scolinos appeared to notice the snickering among some of the coaches. Even those who knew Coach Scolinos had to wonder exactly where he was going with this, or if he had simply forgotten about home plate since he’d gotten on stage. Then, finally …
“You’re probably all wondering why I’m wearing home plate around my neck. Or maybe you think I escaped from Camarillo State Hospital,” he said, his voice growing irascible. I laughed along with the others, acknowledging the possibility. “No,” he continued, “I may be old, but I’m not crazy. The reason I stand before you today is to share with you baseball people what I’ve learned in my life, what I’ve learned about home plate in my 78 years.”
Several hands went up when Scolinos asked how many Little League coaches were in the room. “Do you know how wide home plate is in Little League?”
After a pause, someone offered, “Seventeen inches?” more of a question than answer.
“That’s right,” he said. “How about in Babe Ruth’s day? Any Babe Ruth coaches in the house?”
Another long pause.
“Seventeen inches?” came a guess from another reluctant coach.
“That’s right,” said Scolinos. “Now, how many high school coaches do we have in the room?” Hundreds of hands shot up, as the pattern began to appear.
“How wide is home plate in high school baseball?”
“Seventeen inches,” they said, sounding more confident.
“You’re right!” Scolinos barked. “And you college coaches, how wide is home plate in college?”
“Seventeen inches!” we said, in unison.
“Any Minor League coaches here? How wide is home plate in pro ball?”
“Seventeen inches!”
“RIGHT! And in the Major Leagues, how wide is home plate in the Major Leagues?”
“Seventeen inches!”
“SEV-EN-TEEN INCHES!” he confirmed, his voice bellowing off the walls. “And what do they do with a Big League pitcher who can’t throw the ball over seventeen inches?” Pause. “They send him to Pocatello !” he hollered, drawing raucous laughter.
“What they don’t do is this: they don’t say, ‘Ah, that’s okay, Jimmy. You can’t hit a seventeen-inch target? We’ll make it eighteen inches, or nineteen inches. We’ll make it twenty inches so you have a better chance of hitting it. If you can’t hit that, let us know so we can make it wider still, say twenty-five inches.’”
Pause.
“Coaches …”
Pause.
” … what do we do when our best player shows up late to practice? When our team rules forbid facial hair and a guy shows up unshaven? What if he gets caught drinking? Do we hold him accountable? Or do we change the rules to fit him. Do we widen home plate?
The chuckles gradually faded as four thousand coaches grew quiet, the fog lifting as the old coach’s message began to unfold. He turned the plate toward himself and, using a Sharpie, began to draw something. When he turned it toward the crowd, point up, a house was revealed, complete with a freshly drawn door and two windows. “This is the problem in our homes today. With our marriages, with the way we parent our kids. With our discipline. We don’t teach accountability to our kids, and there is no consequence for failing to meet standards. We simply, widen the plate!”
Pause.
Then, to the point at the top of the house he added a small American flag.
“This is the problem in our schools today. The quality of our education is going downhill fast and teachers have been stripped of the tools they need to be successful, and to educate and discipline our young people. We are allowing others to widen home plate! Where is that getting us?”
Silence.
He replaced the flag with a Cross.
“And this is the problem in the Church, where powerful people in positions of authority have taken advantage of young children, only to have such an atrocity swept under the rug for years. Our church leaders are widening home plate for themselves! And we allow it.”
“And the same is true with our government. Our so called representatives make rules for us that don’t apply to themselves. They take bribes from lobbyists and foreign countries. They no longer serve us. And we allow them to widen home plate and we see our country falling into a dark abyss while we watch.”
I was amazed. At a baseball convention where I expected to learn something about curveballs and bunting and how to run better practices, I had learned something far more valuable. From an old man with home plate strung around his neck, I had learned something about life, about myself, about my own weaknesses and about my responsibilities as a leader. I had to hold myself and others accountable to that, which I knew to be right, lest our families, our faith, and our society continue down an undesirable path.
“If I am lucky,” Coach Scolinos concluded, “you will remember one thing from this old coach today. It is this: if we fail to hold ourselves to a higher standard, a standard of what we know to be right; if we fail to hold our spouses and our children to the same standards, if we are unwilling or unable to provide a consequence when they do not meet the standard; and if our schools and churches and our government fail to hold themselves accountable to those they serve, there is but one thing to look forward to …”
With that, he held home plate in front of his chest, turned it around, and revealed its dark black backside. “… dark days ahead.”
Coach Scolinos died in 2009 at the age of 91, but not before touching the lives of hundreds of players and coaches, including mine. Meeting him at my first ABCA convention kept me returning year after year, looking for similar wisdom and inspiration from other coaches. He is the best clinic speaker the ABCA has ever known because he was so much more than a baseball coach.
His message was clear: “Coaches, keep your players—no matter how good they are—your own children, your churches, your government, and most of all, keep yourself, ALL, at seventeen inches.
Soon overpaid and underperforming school administrators will take cues from the military. If students reach the goal of making it through elementary, middle and high school without a felony record they will simply be honorably discharged. No grades, no tests, no formal education required.
A good response to those who wish to ‘cheapen’ grades.
“Don’t Widen The Plate!”
In Nashville, Tennessee, during the first week of January, 1996, more than 4,000 baseball coaches descended upon the Opryland Hotel for the 52nd annual ABCA convention.
While I waited in line to register with the hotel staff, I heard other more veteran coaches rumbling about the lineup of speakers scheduled to present during the weekend. One name, in particular, kept resurfacing, always with the same sentiment — “John Scolinos is here? Oh man, worth every penny of my airfare.”
Who, is John Scolinos, I wondered. No matter, I was just happy to be there.
In 1996, Coach Scolinos was 78 years old and five years retired from a college coaching career that began in 1948. He shuffled to the stage to an impressive standing ovation, wearing dark polyester pants, a light blue shirt, and a string around his neck from which home plate hung — a full-sized, stark-white home plate.
Seriously, I wondered, who in the world is this guy?
After speaking for twenty five minutes, not once mentioning the prop hanging around his neck, Coach Scolinos appeared to notice the snickering among some of the coaches. Even those who knew Coach Scolinos had to wonder exactly where he was going with this, or if he had simply forgotten about home plate since he’d gotten on stage. Then, finally …
“You’re probably all wondering why I’m wearing home plate around my neck. Or maybe you think I escaped from Camarillo State Hospital,” he said, his voice growing irascible. I laughed along with the others, acknowledging the possibility. “No,” he continued, “I may be old, but I’m not crazy. The reason I stand before you today is to share with you baseball people what I’ve learned in my life, what I’ve learned about home plate in my 78 years.”
Several hands went up when Scolinos asked how many Little League coaches were in the room. “Do you know how wide home plate is in Little League?”
After a pause, someone offered, “Seventeen inches?” more of a question than answer.
“That’s right,” he said. “How about in Babe Ruth’s day? Any Babe Ruth coaches in the house?”
Another long pause.
“Seventeen inches?” came a guess from another reluctant coach.
“That’s right,” said Scolinos. “Now, how many high school coaches do we have in the room?” Hundreds of hands shot up, as the pattern began to appear.
“How wide is home plate in high school baseball?”
“Seventeen inches,” they said, sounding more confident.
“You’re right!” Scolinos barked. “And you college coaches, how wide is home plate in college?”
“Seventeen inches!” we said, in unison.
“Any Minor League coaches here? How wide is home plate in pro ball?”
“Seventeen inches!”
“RIGHT! And in the Major Leagues, how wide is home plate in the Major Leagues?”
“Seventeen inches!”
“SEV-EN-TEEN INCHES!” he confirmed, his voice bellowing off the walls. “And what do they do with a Big League pitcher who can’t throw the ball over seventeen inches?” Pause. “They send him to Pocatello !” he hollered, drawing raucous laughter.
“What they don’t do is this: they don’t say, ‘Ah, that’s okay, Jimmy. You can’t hit a seventeen-inch target? We’ll make it eighteen inches, or nineteen inches. We’ll make it twenty inches so you have a better chance of hitting it. If you can’t hit that, let us know so we can make it wider still, say twenty-five inches.’”
Pause.
“Coaches …”
Pause.
” … what do we do when our best player shows up late to practice? When our team rules forbid facial hair and a guy shows up unshaven? What if he gets caught drinking? Do we hold him accountable? Or do we change the rules to fit him. Do we widen home plate?
The chuckles gradually faded as four thousand coaches grew quiet, the fog lifting as the old coach’s message began to unfold. He turned the plate toward himself and, using a Sharpie, began to draw something. When he turned it toward the crowd, point up, a house was revealed, complete with a freshly drawn door and two windows. “This is the problem in our homes today. With our marriages, with the way we parent our kids. With our discipline. We don’t teach accountability to our kids, and there is no consequence for failing to meet standards. We simply, widen the plate!”
Pause.
Then, to the point at the top of the house he added a small American flag.
“This is the problem in our schools today. The quality of our education is going downhill fast and teachers have been stripped of the tools they need to be successful, and to educate and discipline our young people. We are allowing others to widen home plate! Where is that getting us?”
Silence.
He replaced the flag with a Cross.
“And this is the problem in the Church, where powerful people in positions of authority have taken advantage of young children, only to have such an atrocity swept under the rug for years. Our church leaders are widening home plate for themselves! And we allow it.”
“And the same is true with our government. Our so called representatives make rules for us that don’t apply to themselves. They take bribes from lobbyists and foreign countries. They no longer serve us. And we allow them to widen home plate and we see our country falling into a dark abyss while we watch.”
I was amazed. At a baseball convention where I expected to learn something about curveballs and bunting and how to run better practices, I had learned something far more valuable. From an old man with home plate strung around his neck, I had learned something about life, about myself, about my own weaknesses and about my responsibilities as a leader. I had to hold myself and others accountable to that, which I knew to be right, lest our families, our faith, and our society continue down an undesirable path.
“If I am lucky,” Coach Scolinos concluded, “you will remember one thing from this old coach today. It is this: if we fail to hold ourselves to a higher standard, a standard of what we know to be right; if we fail to hold our spouses and our children to the same standards, if we are unwilling or unable to provide a consequence when they do not meet the standard; and if our schools and churches and our government fail to hold themselves accountable to those they serve, there is but one thing to look forward to …”
With that, he held home plate in front of his chest, turned it around, and revealed its dark black backside. “… dark days ahead.”
Coach Scolinos died in 2009 at the age of 91, but not before touching the lives of hundreds of players and coaches, including mine. Meeting him at my first ABCA convention kept me returning year after year, looking for similar wisdom and inspiration from other coaches. He is the best clinic speaker the ABCA has ever known because he was so much more than a baseball coach.
His message was clear: “Coaches, keep your players—no matter how good they are—your own children, your churches, your government, and most of all, keep yourself, ALL, at seventeen inches.
Texass! Nuf sed.