Hello Everyone,

Thought I’d share: Adrian Pumphrey has started a neat little podcast called MathEd Out where he’s been interviewing lots of awesome people in Math Education. I’m on his most recent episode talking about all sorts of things – first-year teaching, Standards Based Grading, what my classroom looks like, Standards of Mathematical Practice, PARCC implementation, an amazing Math joke in the last few minutes, etc. It’s 40 minutes! Holy crap – how did that happen?

Anyway – if you’re interested, you can listen to that here: Mathy McMatherson on MathEd Out.

And, if you’re *really* interested, I talk a lot about first-year teaching and preservice teaching and feedback and SBG and lots of other things in the first episode of Infinite Tangents, a podcast by Ashli Black that started strong but has since petered out (which I think is because Ashli is now a big deal facilitator for Common Core Professional Development as part of the Illustrative Mathematics team). This was recorded in the Spring of my second year teaching as I was just beginning to seriously reflect on my implementation of SBG, leading to a whole series of posts that people seem to find useful.

Anyway – if you’re interested, you can listen to that here: Mathy McMatherson on Infinite Tangents.

Cheers – Mathy

See Previously: Some Thoughts on Interventions & Answer-Getting

So here’s another thing I did a few times in my class this year with dramatic effect: **Mastery Quizzes**

**A Mastery Quiz Is:** A collection of skill-based questions designed to be completed in 10-15 minutes. The types of problems on the quiz should be very similar to the ones they’ve done in class – no surprises. For full effect, some problems should be procedurally difficult in the sense that they are multi-step and require you to be careful with all the little details of the problem. Think along the lines of “Perseveres in Solving Problems” for the remedial student. It is *not* multiple choice.

**A Mastery Quiz Works Well With**: Skills that have some kind of concrete or procedural foundation that, if students just relied on this foundation, they would get it right. Examples include:

- Integers for students who know how to use the number line but try to take shortcuts and make little mistakes
- Multiplication for students who can use the box model but get stuck with the standard algorithm and make little mistakes
- Exponent Rules for students who understand the individual rules but try to do too many steps at once and make little mistakes
- (Procedural Skill) for students who understand (the foundation grounded in a process or scaffold) but (do this bad thing) and make little mistakes

Here’s my Mastery Quiz for Integers:

Here comes the important one:

**You Grade a Mastery Quiz By: Everyone Either Gets a 0% or 100%**

See previously: Some Thoughts on Interventions & Answer Getting

So here’s something I started doing in an effort to keep students more engaged in problems and less focused on the most direct route to getting to the answer: **I started having them analyze their own mistakes**. This isn’t new – Kelly O’Shea’s idea for The Mistake Game has been around for a long time and it was a definite inspiration for my explicit focus on mistakes. But, I didn’t think I could jump right into having my students create their own mistakes – here’s why:

- Generating mistakes requires you to be confident enough that you could solve the problem
*without*a mistake in the first place. My students don’t start out having this confidence – I needed to work on building it first. - Generating mistakes requires you to care about
*how*you got your answer, not*what*the final answer ends up being. Its possible to generate two mistakes which, as the problem progresses, cancel each other out and give the final answer. As a teacher, I see this as an incorrect problem even though the final answer is correct. Students with the Answer-Getting Mindset will see this as correct because the final answer is correct – learning to see the problem as an entire body of work is something that I need to train them to do before purposefully making mistakes has any meaning to them. - Generating mistakes requires me to ask a “
*how*/*why*” question rather than a “*what*” question. Answer-Getting is all about*what*: “What is the answer?”, “What is the next step?”.*How*and*Why*questions focus on process: “How did you get from this step to this step?”, “Why are you allowed to do this?”, “Why can’t I do*this*instead?”, “How would you explain this process in words rather than numbers or symbols?”. In general, I want to be asking more*how/why*questions rather than*what*questions.

**Analyzing Mistakes**

At the start of the year, all of my students took a pretest that covered basic arithmetic, solving basic equations, and basic graphing skills. As the year progressed and I had begun to explicitly teach these skills and build confidence, I would eventually come to a lesson where we revisited these tests. To do this, I took lots and lots of pictures of these initial tests (without any student names showing):

Students would walk into class and see a single picture on the board. They wonder whose mistake it is, which gives some social buy-in. Each person wants to be the first person to find the mistake, which gives some competitive buy-in. As class starts, I ask them: **Where is the mistake?** At first, students tell me the answer is wrong (which is true). Then they try to work it out themselves and give me the right answer – but, since we’re still in the middle of mastering these skills, these answers still aren’t very reliable. Usually there are multiple answers, so I let them debate for a while. Then I interrupt:

**“You’re not answering my question. I asked ‘Where is the Mistake?’, not ‘What is the Answer?’. I don’t care what the answer is. I care where they made a mistake”**

I let that sink in for a minute because, for someone with an Answer-Getting mindset, this stops them cold. A teacher just told them that they don’t care about an answer. This either makes this class *new and intriguing *or *new and terrifying*. Either way, we’re gonna work through this.

**“I want to get to the point where I can circle the part of the problem where this student made a mistake. This means I need to look at each line of their work and ask myself ‘Do I understand what they did?’ and then ‘Was it the right step? Did they get the right number?'”**

And we’re off. I guide them through looking at each step of the work. I ask them to describe that this person did from one line to the next, ask if this was an okay thing to do, then verify that they got the right numbers. We talk about how not showing our work can make it harder to find mistakes. I show them how to circle the individual step of the problem that is incorrect. We look at the next mistake, which is the same starting problem but with a different mistake somewhere in there. Isn’t it interesting how one problem can have so many different mistakes? Is this a mistake you might have made? Are there multiple mistakes?

For students who’ve built up walls around these problems in the form of dismissal and anger and solve-as-fast-as-I-can, they tend to give these problems a second-chance because they’re not actually being asked to solve the problem. This slight change in what I’m asking them to do is enough for them to engage with the work even if working out the problem itself would have been a motivational challenge. For students who’ve built up walls around these problems in the form of apathy and not-trying and fear of failure, I found that they start to quietly participate in these discussions because this type of question is new and doesn’t have any past stigmas of failure associated with it. Either way, I have students genuinely engaging with a set of problems and, hopefully, feeling successful as they do it.

**Full Disclosure**: I’m leaving out all the important work that happens in the classroom as we discuss these – the graceful handling of student pushback; the subtle encouraging and guiding of students thoughts; the questioning strategies and No Opt-Out mentality that I have; etc etc. There’s lots of other explicit and implicit things that need to happen, but they’re the things that differ from teacher to teacher.

After doing this as a class, I would give students a problem set in two-columns. The left-column had a problem and a hand-written solution that intentionally had a mistake. The right-column had the same problem and a space for work. Students needed to find the mistake and circle it in the left column, then solve the problem correctly in the right column.

**Push-Back Against Answer-Getting**

- Part of the Answer-Getting mindset is avoiding mistakes because they’re
**bad**. Explicitly analyzing mistakes and getting exciting about them starts to remove a lot of that stigma and fear. This is all over Math & Science Education research – the idea of normalizing mistakes and internalizing it as*growth*versus*verification*– and this is how I managed to do that in my classroom. - Students get practice explaining their steps and discussing
*how*to get to answers versus*what*is the answer. There are lots of students who make little mistakes leading up to answers, but are actually very capable of explaining their thinking out loud. For some students, this oral explanation needs to become part of their problem-solving toolkit. For these students, they start to realize that all their steps may be correct even if their final answer isn’t, which is an easier problem to fix and helps to build confidence. - When students get a problem incorrect, it starts to become normal for me to ask them to find their mistake. In doing this,
**students begin to see value in showing their work**. And not just because the teacher said so – because it makes it easier to retrace their thought process and identify their mistakes. This is one of the first times in the class that I say to students “I think you should do this because it’s helpful to*you*, not because I’m being mean and want you to do extra work”, and they begin to believe me. - This is one of the first times where I’ve made it explicit that
**there’s more to math than just getting the right answer**. Which, in terms of motivation and attitude towards math, may be something my students need to hear.

**A Few Other Things**

Here are all the Integer Mistakes.

Here are all the Algebra Mistakes.

Here is Michael Pershan’s Math Mistakes website, which has tons of other mistakes to peruse.

The same day I published these thoughts, Michael Pershan publishes his thoughts on How He Gives Back Quizzes. Embedded in this post is his method of displaying mistakes as a way to generate discussions as part of quiz feedback – if you enjoyed reading this, try reading his ideas too.

Even with all of these resources, I highly recommend finding a way to naturally generate your own student mistakes to analyze. The buy-in this creates from students – “Who’s is that? Is it mine? Is it _______ from 4th period?” is important, and the fact that we’re normalizing *our own* mistakes is important.

A long while ago, Andrew Stadel posted a call for ideas on Intervention Strategies and the only person I could see who valiantly answered was Michael Pershan. Then, more recently, this topic showed up again here and here. If there’s one thing I’m good at, its noticing trends in the blogosphere.

In looking at these posts, I found myself wanting to write something about interventions because I *live* in the world of intervention. For the last year, I’ve *only* been teaching an intervention class called ‘Math Lab’ to a group of sophomores who have (literally) failed math most of their life. I’m part of a brand new school-wide math intervention process designed to increase math fluency and confidence. I’ve been helping to develop the curriculum and identify effective strategies for my particular demographic. My students have built up mental walls and self-handicapping strategies and a slew of negative coping mechanisms to deal with their distaste and distrust of mathematics. Their issues aren’t only their skill deficits and cognitive issues – it’s their underlying behavior and mindset that causes the most issues. These are my students.

I want to contribute somehow to this discussion of intervention, but this post has been in the ‘draft’ status for *months* because I’m not sure who my intended audience is. Teaching in a class designated as strictly intervention with a 15-student cap is *not* the typical classroom setting, which makes some of my best strategies less feasible to the typical classroom teacher (which may be you). At the same time, in talking to teachers in town and across the twitterverse, some kind of school-wide intervention model seems to be the new attractive thing for schools and districts looking to respond to low test scores and the incoming PARCC assessments, which might make these thoughts attractive to someone who may be facing an intervention class next year (which may also be you).

In trying to find the overlap between these two audiences, I realized what I’d like to do is share my experience combating something I’ve started calling the **Answer-Getting** mindset. Hopefully this is something the typical classroom-teacher can relate to, and it’s definitely something that an intervention teacher will face head-first in their own classroom. In thinking of all the things I consider intervention strategies – from affective techniques to teaching strategies to grading systems – the underlying theme is how all of these are designed to defeat this Answer-Getting mindset that is developed in the students with the most need.

We’re doing a mini-unit on Probability in my Math Lab class this week. Probability is a tricky thing because it’s hard to predict how much a student has seen in their previous math classes and it’s hard to predict how ‘intuitive’ some students will find it. Today was our first day, so I wanted to take it slow: **I wanted to explore how to find the probability of an event by examining the probability space**. This breaks down into two separate sub-topics: situations where you already know all possible combinations, and situations where you first have to generate all possible combinations.

I designed the lesson so that we started by performing an experiment – I had every student write down the following on an index card: their name, their age, and their favorite number between 1 and 10. I collected everything, then asked questions around “If I pick a card at random, what’s the probability that the person I pick is…. a boy; a girl; is under 21; wears glasses”. These are all things students can answer from observation. Then I asked “Whats the probability that the card has a favorite number of 5?”, which they *can’t* answer by observation alone: I have to actually go through the cards and say what everyone wrote down. As I do this, students make a frequency chart – using the chart, we answer the question, then talk about what it means for something to be ‘more probable’ vs ‘least probable’. The whole time, I’m emphasizing the context behind the numerator and denominator of a probability fraction – what we care about / total possibilities (sidenote: I still haven’t found a good catch-all for how to think about the numerator. I shuffle between “What we care about”, “the event happening”, “number of ways to win”, and a few other things depending on the context).

After a bunch of explicit full-group and small-group practice based around this experiment, I give them this problem:

These answers looked familiar – they were fractions just like what we had been doing the last 10-15 minutes as a class. They followed the ‘What we care about/total possibilities’ model. Most worked through this with ease. If there was a mistake, most students forgot to also change the total number of students in problems 14, 15, and 16 (more concretely: before the new student, there are 11 students in the class, so the denominator for #s 1-13 should be 11. After the new student, there are 12 students in the class, so the denominator for #s 14-16 should be 12. Most students left it at 11, even though they correctly changed the numerator)

After we checked this problem, I had them flip their paper over, where they saw this problem:

The goal of this problem is to introduce a situation where students must *first* generate the probability space (ie: find all possible combinations), and only *then* can they start thinking about probability. I wanted this problem to be the catalyst that forced them to think about systematic ways of listing things. My plan was to model a few possibilities, give them some ambiguous clues as to how to think systematically, let them explore independently and privately acknowledge the students who seemed to have found a system for counting, and then have those students share their strategies with the class. I didn’t tell them how many total possibilities there were, but I did tell them there were more than 16 and less than 30.

**Here’s where I had this strange reflective moment that inspired this post**

As I found myself describing this second task – listing all possible combinations – I found myself *also* clarifying my expectations for the purpose of their work. I found myself saying “I’m not expecting you to know the answer right away or to be able to see this immediately. I expect you to start listing possibilities in whatever way you can, but then I hope you find yourself looking for patterns or trying to organize things so that you’re sure you don’t miss any and you’re sure you don’t repeat any”. By the time I was teaching this lesson for the third time today, this speech evolved into something like this: “**This task isn’t like the questions on the other side of your sheet where we had practiced and I was expecting you to know the answers right away. This isn’t something we’ve done before, and I’m purposefully letting you explore a little bit before I offer some more guidance.** **I’m not expecting you to see the answer right away **because I want you to give this a try and see if you can find patterns or some clever way to organize your work. But again – the goal is to try something so we can talk about it, not to get the definite right answer right away”

Explicit practice is something we do a lot of in class. Problems for the purpose of exploration and discussion are also something we do a lot of in class. This isn’t the first time I’ve layered both in the same lesson: problems for practice and clarification, then problems for investigation and discussion. **BUT** – this is the first time I can remember being aware of the difference *as class was happening* **and** this is the first time I can remember explicitly describing this difference in expectation to my students. And, as I think about it now, this is also the first time I’ve realized *how much of an impact this could have on how my students approach this task*. In the past, I’ve probably glided seamlessly from one type of problem to another – “Alright, you guys feel confident about those ones? Let’s try these” without even realizing that my purpose behind the two sets of problems may be fundamentally different.

Being aware of my own expectations and communicating them to students is something I’ve been doing to help with classroom management and class culture, but I think today’s the first time I was aware enough to realize that I also have expectations of *how students will react to problems or questions* (“They should be able to do this on their own”, “They should do fine up to this step, then we’ll have to regroup”, “We’ll use these to frame our class discussion”), that those expectations can change *rapidly mid-lesson*, and that these expectations are important for the mindset my students have as they approach these problems. I wonder how many lessons I’ve given where I’ve had this transition and *never mentioned* the shift in expectation to my students. I wonder if it made a difference in the past – if students struggled with these investigative questions purely because I didn’t make clear that I was no longer expecting an immediate answer. If they shut down quicker because they weren’t sure how to solve it – or, even worse, if *I* was more impatient because I transitioned from practice questions to investigation questions *without even realizing it myself*.

Anyway – in this particular lesson, students took risks and started to write down possibilities even if they weren’t sure that they were on the right track; they were receptive when I had a fellow student explain one of their methods for counting; and they participated in the ‘how…? why…?’ discussion that happened afterwards. I wonder if the same thing would have happened if I had just given them the task without clarifying that this was a different *type* of problem with a different expected outcome. I wonder if students would have begun the task thinking it was just more practice and more familiar, only to become frustrated and shut down more easily. I wonder how many times I’ve accidentally done this in the past too.

**Update 1/22**: Added another Problem Generator link to the bottom of the post. Original post is below:

Short Version of this Post: Watch This Video of me using Geogebra & Javascript to make my life easier

Full Version of this Post:

So here’s something I found annoying as a geometry teacher: it’s a pain in the butt to create my own geometry problems that incorporate solving an algebra problem. Some examples:

The difficulty in generating these problems is:

- Any algebra expression you create usually has to involve positive variables or a positive evaluated result (since it wouldn’t make sense for x = 7, but when you plug it in, the length of AB = -4)
- The algebra expressions depend on each other (for example: if you have two parallel lines and one of the angles is 47, then any algebra problem students need to solve must end up being equal to 47)
- There usually aren’t enough of these types of problems in textbooks to make them worth your time, but they’re
**really valuable**for reinforcing algebra skills while also teaching geometry.

Right now I teach an intervention class for sophomores who are in geometry, so I would *love it* if I could find a ton of these problems because they let me talk about both geometry *and* algebra at the same time (which is great!)

Luckily for me, I created a Geogebra program that lets me generate as many of these as I want. It uses Javascript to randomly generate problems and put them on the screen, then I use Geogebra to make it look pretty and save it as a picture, which I can paste into a word document. With this, I can generate 20 problems in 20 minutes – pictures, algebra, and answers in all.

So – if you’re interested in how I do this, I made a video and put it on Youtube. All you need is a copy of Geogebra and to be somewhat familiar with how Geogebra works. You don’t really need to know any programming, if you want to make more complicated problems, you’ll want to play around with what I have below.

Here is the link to the video where I demonstrate how to make your own problems

Here is the link to the Geogebra Javascript code that you will need

Here is a link to a more sophisticated program using the features I talk about in the video

Here is a link to a program that will generate Similarity problems

I’ve been in something of a blogging rut lately, so I thought I’d try to find something small to share and hope it sparks more posts. So here we go:

I’ve been trying to find more ways to create positive reinforcement in my classroom. The response to the Wall of Champions in terms of attitude and motivation was more than I could have imagined, so I’ve been experimenting with other ways for students to receive positive feedback for their behaviors. This is also a manifestation of one of my core classroom beliefs: my students will care about the things that I care about. If I show them that certain types of behaviors are important, they will also think that these types of behaviors are important. So, I decided at the beginning of the year to create little ‘award’ cards to give to students when I see them doing something I like. Here they are:

These awards are meant to reward students who are doing things that I value in a student without the student necessarily realizing it or intentionally behaving this way. They’re not always the students who are incredibly eager to volunteer themselves in front of the whole class, which means its hard to find those moments when they open themselves up for positive reinforcement. I could find time to compliment them individually, but sometimes I forget or the moment has passed. These are the hard-working students who tend to fade into the background. And these awards are my quiet ways of saying “Hey – I notice you. And you’re doing a good job. Keep it up”.

Here’s how they work: I printed them on colored cardstock, cut them out, and carry a few in my back pocket throughout class. When I see a student doing something that fits in these categories, I find a moment to write their name on the award, and then quietly slip it in front of them. I try not to make a big deal about it and purposely ignore them when they ask “What’s this?” – they need to read it first. I don’t make a big deal about it, but my nonchalant attitude is sometimes more enticing and mysterious than the most elaborate performance I could create. Once a few of these start circulating, students pick up on it and start noticing it. The students who receive them feel validated that their hard work is noticed – that they’re doing something right – and the students who don’t receive them now know that these are the behaviors I’m looking for. And, hopefully, they’ll start imitating them.

**A Fun Anecdote:** These cards and this presentation is partly inspired by a story that a former colleague told me. Different organizations at my school sell candy bars in the hallways as a fundraising opportunity. My friend would always buy a Snickers in the morning, then put the candy bar on top of his smartboard. Throughout the day, he’d be on the lookout for a reason to give the Snickers away – something positive, worthwhile, and non-academic that one of his students would do. It was usually something different every day, in a different class period, to a different student – but he always gave it away.

One day, during a break in his lesson, one of his top students – without any prompting or explicit motivation – got up, changed seats so he was sitting next to a struggling student, and started helping him with the problem they were working on. After a few minutes, my friend grabbed the Snickers and handed it to the top student. Another top student saw this and asked the teacher “Wait, what just happened? Why did he get the Snickers?”. My friend responded, “I don’t know. He decided to help someone else out. It was a good thing to do”.

The next day, during a break in the lesson – without any prompting or explicit motivation – *both* students got up and went around and tried to help struggling students.

I’m doing something new this year: I’m teaching four sections of a math intervention course. I have all sophomores who’ve had a history of doing poorly in their past math classes. I’m loving it.

One thing I did on the first day with these students was give a survey. The purpose of this was for students to reflect on their past experiences and how their time in this class would work.

Their responses were honest and heartbreaking and sobering and important. Its amazing for me to see and interact with these students in my classroom, but then read about the experiences and self-perceptions that brought them here.

I’ve curated some choice quotes from their responses and I want to present them with a minimal amount of comment. I’m putting them here because they definitely made me reflect on some of my assumptions about this demographic of student, so maybe they’ll do the same to you.

**Prompt 1:** **What is it that makes math classes hard?** Is it the way that its taught? Did you have a bad class when you were really young? Is there something about Math itself that you just don’t like?

Over the summer, I changed schools and just finished my first two days in my new classroom with my new students. This means I had the chance to set up my classroom from scratch (again – this is actually the third time I’ve done it). One thing I’ve learned over the years is the value of using the physical space of the classroom to my advantage (see here and here). With that in mind, here are some of the things I’ve done with my physical classroom space this year.

## 1) Posters of Things I Say a Lot

I don’t know if there’s any scientific research backing this up, but I find there’s a huge difference between me *saying* something to a student 100 times, versus me writing that *same thing* on a poster and then pointing to it once or twice for them to reference. This is how my Rules of Math poster came into being:

I got tired of saying those phrases to students as encouragement, so I put them on a poster. Now I hear students saying it to each other. This year, I also added a How to Solve Problems poster and a Habits of Mind poster:

The ‘How to Solve Problems’ is heavily inspired by Polya’s problem-solving method. The Habits of Mind posters were made by stealing some of Bryan Meyer’s words and some phrases from the Park School of Mathematics. The posters themselves can be found here.

I also want to get this Growth Mindset poster, which I stole from Bowman Dickson’s post on Teacher Beliefs in Poster Form.

Hi Everyone,

I present, for your planning pleasure, portions of my Geometry Standards and around 30 Geometry Assessments that I used last year:

There are comments at the end of each document detailing bits and pieces about how I made them and adjustments I would make if I had it to do all over again.

I’m not posting these because I’m especially proud or to brag or for feedback. In fact, I think most of it is pretty subpar. But, I’m posting them because someone emailed me asking what I did last year so they could have a place to jump-off from, so that’s what these are. I think they could be better. Maybe with these as a starting point, you won’t make the mistakes I made and your own standards and assessments become better. I hope they do, and that you post them, so someone *else* can jump off of *those* and we keep getting *better and better*.

I think there are better Standards documents out there on the web and a good place to find them is here: http://sbgbeginners.wikispaces.com/Skills+Lists

I think there is an ongoing effort to make assessments **better** and I know mine certainly could be. But, that effort is happening here: http://betterassessments.wordpress.com/

**Update:** This post was inspired by a teacher who emailed me asking about my assessments and standards and such. She also asked me about grading, which was a whole ‘nother long and complex email. I’ve copied it below in case you’d like to see even more into how I think about assessing and grading:

First, there’s the philosophy behind ‘grades’ and my desire for it to be more like feedback than like a grade. Most of that is well-documented on my blog (although if any of that is unclear, let me know and I’ll fill in the gaps). Then there’s my actual grading rubric – the 0-5.

Each page of an assessment is graded separately and entered into the gradebook separately. Each page receives a score of 1-5. The scores translate into the gradebook without any altering – a 1 on a test translates to 20%. A 4 translates to 80%. A 3 translates to 60%. This means, for a student to pass my class, they need mostly 3’s and 4’s on assessments, and a 2 represents a failing grade that necessitates remediation. I keep this in mind when I assign grades, and I’ll come back to this point later.

If a student left most of the assessment blank, I leave their score blank (not a 0, just blank) and tell them to come in and retake this. I think there’s something psychological about having a blank score vs a 0 score, and I find the blank score easier to motivate remediation with rather than the 0 score. Students are used to grades being final, so once *any* grade is given (even a 0), students tend to accept it. Blank scores, on the other hand, beg the question “Can I make that up?”. So, if I want a student to re-do something, I tend to leave it blank rather than give it a 0, even if the student already completed it but did a really poor job.

If a student gets 100% on a page, they get a 5. It *has* to be 100%. This is mostly for *me* so I don’t get too subjective with my grading and so I can be consistent. This is also why my 5’s are a big deal and why I started the Wall of Champions to help motivate students to get 5’s on my assessments.

Beyond that, a 4 is meant to represent “Understanding with 1 or 2 Small Mistakes”, a 3 is meant to represent “Strong Understanding, but inconsistent performance / one big glaring mistake that is straightforward to fix”, and a 2 is meant to represent “Little understanding – major mistakes, work does not convince me that you understand the material, we need to talk’. In my mind, 2 is failing, 3 is barely passing, and 4 is passing but not perfect. Here’s the handout I give to my students and I have posted in my classroom: https://app.box.com/s/36zaj5t1w6zmtjnsx6zo. Whenever I’m in doubt, I look at this to remind me. A few major influences for this rubric was Sam Shah’s rubric/explanation of his SBG system (there’s a link to this post somewhere on my blog), but also this grading rubric from a few teachers I know here in Tucson: http://edweb.tusd.k12.az.us/dmcdonald/documents/Rubric%20Math%20General.pdf

**Update 2/21/14:** In my next incarnation of how I describe what the different levels of understanding mean, I’m going to include some of the language from Evan Weinberg’s post of his own SBG Reflections. In particular, how he relates levels 1-3 around how independent a student is, as well as how he explicitly states “You won’t advance past here if you keep making this type of mistake”. I think his descriptions are spot-on and highly recommend reading his post.

How I assign 2’s, 3’s, and 4’s depends on what type of skill I’m grading and how specific their knowledge needs to be. For example, things like integer operations / linear equations / geometric definitions / coordinate geometry formulas (slope, distance, midpoint) / other foundational skills: I design the assessments to be **very straightforward** so that there is very little gray area in terms of the grade. This usually means those foundational skills are graded **very harshly**, but are also **reassessed** throughout the semester. This is me setting the bar high: everyone should be able to add and subtract signed numbers, and if you miss more than 2 questions on that assessment, you haven’t proven to me that you know it and you won’t earn higher than a 2. When I design these assessments, I *want* students to get a 5 on them, which is why some of my assessments look extremely straightfoward and simple – there’s no tricky or complex questions which means I can grade clearly and directly. It also makes it apparent when a student has a superficial understanding of a concept or skill, which makes it easier for me to remediate and fix.

For more conceptual skills – ones that are better measured with ‘explain’/’justify’/’sketch’ question – I usually think about the handout I give the students (linked above) and what that looks like for the specific skill I’m assessing. This is where separating the questions into “Level 2″, “Level 3″, and “Level 5″ questions helps make it easier for me to grade. If a student can answer the Level 2 questions correctly, they’ve earned at least a 2. If they can answer 2 and 3 correctly, they have at least a 3. If they make a mistake during the level 5, they earn a 4. This post was really influential in the way I think about these conceptual skills: http://itsallmath.wordpress.com/2012/08/23/tiered-assessment-for-geometry/. The rest is all subjective and based on the context of the assessment. In these situations, I think of their assessment as an argument to me – they’re saying “I know how to do this and here’s my proof!”. Which means if there are nonsensical statements, or a lack of work shown, or inconsistent mistakes (they get one question right but another question of the same type wrong), then I tend to mark down. If I’m debating between two grades and it takes me longer than 10 seconds to decide, I go with the lower one, since my internal debate must mean that they haven’t convinced me that they deserve the higher grade (if they did, my decision would be faster). The nice thing about SBG and offering reassessments is that if a student disagrees and talks to you about it, they can come in the next day and take another version of the test to prove they were right.

At the end of the day, the score on an assessment is both feedback *and* a grade. In the past, my final gradebook has looked like a reverse bellcurve – several scores below 40, several scores above 80, and a range of scores in between. When I was thinking about how I wanted my scores to translate into grades, I knew I wanted my grades to be more granular – I don’t really need the entire 0-100 range for student grades. I need extremely failing (20%), almost passing but still failing (45-55%), doing fine (65-75%), and exceeding (85-100%). This is why the scores translate exactly – a 1 is 20%, a 2 is 40%, a 3 is 60%, a 4 is 80% and a 5 is 100%. As a result, I found my gradebook looked like a true bell curve – a few scores in the low 20’s, most of them between 65-75, and a few A’s in each class. I found that it wasn’t until near the end of the semester that everyone’s grades leveled off where they should be. I found that giving assessments at the right time became extremely important – if my students aren’t ready, I don’t give the assessment. Having positive reinforcement for earning high scores is really important. Reassessing often is essential. Emphasizing a growth mindset is essential. Making it clear that I *want* students to ace my tests is important.

So…. there’s a lot of thoughts on grading. If something is unclear, definitely ask me about it and I’ll try to illuminate it.

Cheers,

Daniel Schneider

aka: Mathy McMatherson