Ethical ELA’s monthly Open Write is a community celebration of poetry—an invitation to write, read, and reflect together. You’re welcome to write a poem a day this Friday through Monday or to come and go as you need. Reading and leaving a brief note—a line you loved, an image that stayed, a feeling a poem stirred—is also a meaningful way to participate. This is a generous, low-pressure space. We’re glad you’re here.
Our Host
Anna J. Small Roseboro is a veteran educator, author, editor, and instructional coach whose nearly five decades in education span middle school, high school, college, and teacher mentoring. A National Board-Certified Teacher and National Writing Project Fellow, she co-authored the recent Routledge book Assessing Students with Poetry Writing Across Content Areas: Humanizing Formative Assessment for Grades 6–12. Through her “Tips for Teachers” and “Innovative Leadership” videos and podcasts, Anna shares practical approaches to purposeful planning, formative assessment, teacher growth, and school leadership. Her work encourages educators to honor students’ voices and humanize assessment across
Inspiration
Soon, families will see the first grades of the school year. But what part of a learner’s story cannot fit inside one letter, number, or percentage?
Write a poem from the point of view of a grade being posted. Let the grade speak directly to a parent or caregiver and explain what it cannot show.
Ground the poem in truth.
- One specific moment of struggle
- One sign of effort or change
- One strength the grade cannot measure
- One hope or question for what comes next
The poem may rhyme, but it does not have to. Aim for 12-20 lines.
Process
20 Minute Plan
3 minutes: Recall and list observed moments
10 minutes Draft the poem
5 minutes: Replace general statements with precise images or actions.
2 minutes: Add a title and read it aloud
Perhaps today’s writing will prove to be a sigh of relief as you release and leave some of your worries on the page. Opening line could be “You see me, but you cannot see…”
Anna’s Poem
Help. No Need to Yelp
Yes, Solia got a B this time;
Not because she could not rhyme.
But because too many times her fine work was late
She got started but was slow through the gate.
From what I’ve seen, you can help.
No need about this grade to yelp.
Solia is getting the content, but must learn the skill
And with your help she will
Be turning her assignments in on time
So she can earn full credit and ring her chime.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers.
The Whole Story
By Stephanie Branson
A typical attachment lands on the desk
of a college admissions counselor, one
of thousands- a transcript attached to
an application- telling everyone exactly “who you are,”
through letters, credits, numbers, and course codes.
These grades that lead to GPAs,
that contribute to scholarships, grants,
and entrance into the university programs of
dreams tell a story. But they do not tell
the story.
They’ve said that these grades, letters, percentages,
represent “proficiency” and “mastery,”
but what it doesn’t represent is you.
They know the story the paper tells,
but they cannot know you.
They don’t know how your 3.0 became a 2.7,
when your Mckinney-Vento indicator popped up.
Or how you walk into class each day
handsomely, with a tucked in polo and slacks,
because you door-to-door sales after school
to keep the lights on for your mom since pops passed.
They don’t know that behind the unweighted 4.0
is a little girl, struggling
with crippling anxiety, depression, and an eating disorder
masked because of academic excellence, being the eldest daughter,
and hours on a marching band field
where everything “looks” right.
All they really know is
what is inked on that singular transcript.
How the numbers and letters represent your journey.
But they don’t represent you, or your heart, or your soul-
And they never will.
___________
I am sorry I am late, but I loved this prompt and was able to angrily write for a bit. Thank you, thank you, Anna, for this writing space!
Stephanie, I love how authentically you’ve communicated some of the aspects of students’ lives that grades just don’t reflect. Beautiful!
Stephanie, I loved this! It was full of passion. Thanks for sharing it!
Anna, thank you for this prompt and for your lovely poem!
I wrote a concrete poem, so I’m going to try to post a picture of it.
crepitating leaves
on the forest floor house toads
drowsy with torpor
by Mo Daley 10/16/26
Mo,
Such evocative diction—crepitating, drowsy, and torpor—give me such a specific and vivid image of the leaves and the toad. Fun poem to read aloud.
Love the long and short “o”s in this: musical! And loved “crepitating”
Anna,
Thank you for this relevant prompt and for hosting today. I always love your use of rhyme and marvel at how natural your flow is. Love your poem’s calm and positive tone.
______________________________________________
What If
what if we replaced
grades with metacognition
and portfolios?
what if student-led
conferences replaced mere
lettered report cards?
what if students took
charge of evaluating
charting their goals’ growth?
did my best to make
this happen despite rule to
narrow to number
Sharon,
I agree that this is a better way to grade. I did my best to make it happen, too, and had all kinds of little tricks that took grades off the table.
Sharon, your suggestions seem so reasonable. We are at the college (not even grade school) with mandatory academic checkpoints, when we have to post certain number of grades. Many times as several of us raised an issue of ungrading, the administration doesn’t want to hear us. So sad!
Yes, it is sad. I had good success going “gradeless” with another seventh grade colleague for a few years, but when our whole team joined in, a vocal group of parents pushed back and admin who had been supportive asked us to drop it the following year. The two of us who started it were able to rebrand and continue. There was only so much we could do as the district still required a weekly number grade. Still I do feel like the focus on metacognition, goal setting and reflection provided my students with meaningful skills.
Sharon, thanks for bringing this progress report approach to our attention again! Now that we have such an international team of regulars here on ETHICAL ELA we may be able to gather the data and develop the plan non educators can understand. As time permits, please generate a call to action with a form to which we can contribute. We may, in a generation generate enough weight to swing this through to walls of ignorance!!!
As a team of dedicated classroom teachers who meet regularly here in this space, we may just do this!,
Sharon, if only this could be the norm! Imagine if students, parents, teachers, and admin valued time to think and discuss and shifted focus from grade point averages.
Sharon, when I taught in an IB school, we did student led conferences and portfolios. It was so much better having the eyes of the parent on their chid instead of on me looking for my opinion when the expert on how the student was learning was right there explaining it all! Moving away from that school was a rude awakening to going back light years in time to the more archaic ways. I understand that last stanza for sure!
Sharon, hear, hear! And I loved your use of anaphora and rhetorical questioning in this poem!
Well, I always tried to take grades off the table and used a shared assessment model w/ students, so I took a different approach to the prompt.
ABCD
F
All the grade letters
take their place in time
awaiting their turn
to make a mark
on the score line
A always leads the
way, an awesome
accomplishment &
accolade for the
alphabet queen
Because, besides,
before, beneath,
behind, between—
words based on
B’s basic ability
See C stand in the middle
neither good nor bad
not quite a circle
she’s clipped condensed
curtailed cut short
D is the denizen
of do and don’t
determined to deny
deflect & dispute
disavow-disown
disliked decrees.
Finally, F falls
fast for failing—
forthwith the fickle
final count, forgetaboutit
future fun mark.
Each letter grade
has a task to do—
school symbols sans
scientific methodology.
Glenda Funk
Glenda,
Love your poem’s playfulness and bold truthful conclusion.
The last two stanzas are my favorite. Whole poem is delightful.
Glenda, this is a brilliant description of grading categories! Love alliterations emphasizing significant features of each. D seems particularly vocal in this rendition. Thank you!
Glenda, I love your poem so much, and I am so grateful for the scattering of letters out of line (Stefani played a bit with this, too) and order to reclaim the beautiful complexity of learning and craft with all that alliteration! “forthwith the fickle/final” fabulous
Glenda, your use of alliteration takes out the sting, but not the weight of your message. This poem should be shared with pre-service teachers to generate conversation about formative and summative grading. Will you share it on your social media platforms where you know early career educators may see it? May we share it?
Ah, thanks, Anna. The poem will be on a Canva in my stories (IG and FB) Saturday. Feel free to share it as is, Anna.
Oh, wow – – you did it with alliterative grade letters and it packs a powerful punch of truth. I’m so glad I’m retired and don’t have to think about grading anymore. I never liked measuring kids in pointless ways.
Glenda— love the alliteration and the message!
Glenda, I love how you allowed the letters to have their day! The alliteration is awesome. Does anyone know why E is left out of the grading scale?
Glenda, what fun alliteration that makes this poem just dance off the tongue. I love the word “forgetaboutit.” But that zinger ending is my favorite part. “school symbols sans / scientific methodology.” Amen.
Glenda, this was a linguistic romp! So creative and witty — loved your approach to the prompt.
Thank you, Anna, for hosting and your thoughtful poem today! I had a very busy day on campus–we had our first campus-wide Write Out. It was amazing, but I am exhausted.
This is what I was able to draft within a few minutes this afternoon:
Unwritten Grades
Tonight,the grades blur,
but faces come to life.
Curious, puzzled, doubtful, timid…
I see the effort behind each word,
the late‑night drafting,
the hope of surviving another semester
hidden between lines.
Some work conveys confidence,
some carries fear,
some lugs the weight of a week
that was too much.
But every single one
shows a person trying.
And maybe that’s the part
I grade more carefully,
without ever writing it down.
Leilya, mI saw a reel by a professor yesterday about being grateful and relieved by surface errors in writing because they show a human did the work. That flips the tables, doesn’t it. I love that you emphasize effort, and I love both the image and advocacy in this line: “Tonight, the grades blur,” Keep those grades blurred!
Yes, I, too, am so grateful for students who write, make mistakes, and keep trying. I offered writing responses to novels both ways –typing and handwriting. What brought me joy is that 14 out of 18 students in my YA lit. class, choose to write on paper–it brings me joy every time I read their thoughts.
Ha, Glenda. I have taken to leaving my typos in the feedback to students so they see my humanness.
Isn’t it amazing how being human evokes empathy not sympathy? Your tendency to send what your fingers tap show three things. 1. You’re busy, but you want to get the feedback done in a timely fashion. 2. You care enough to be attentive to that responsibility AND 3. you demonstrate the multiple messages sloppy writing can convey! 🙂
Glenda, yesssss — this is EXACTLY how I feel this year when I read human writing. We’re handwriting this year, btw. But this whole AI deal makes me think about how we’re giving feedback and what the kids see as the purpose of writing — to be mechanically perfect? Naw — too be human.
Leilya,
Oh a campus-wide Write Out sounds amazing.
As always your poem is full of compassion:
Your students are fortunate to have a professor who sees them and their circumstances.
Oh, the trying is for real, Leilya. And so much of that trying is to understand what the teacher or the school or the rubric want and how our responses, how our assigning a grade is another layer of understanding what it means to learn and what it means to do school and what it means to be educated. So grateful for your care!
I love the wisdom throughout this poem, culminating in the last stanza. Thank you for giving effort space to yield accomplishment.
Oh, Leilya, what lucky students you have for you to see the whole person like you do! And a campus-wide Write Out event sounds so awesome!
Leilya, this was just beautiful — so sensitive to your students’ efforts and feelings. Loved it.
Anna, thank you for hosting! I really enjoyed this prompt and your whimsical example (so much fun!). It reminded me of report card days when I was a child, specifically how my grandfather always took such pride in my grades.
Better Than That
On report card day,
we stopped by Papaw’s house
on the way home.
He polished his glasses
on his shirt front,
slid my report card
from its manila sleeve,
opened it carefully,
and studied my grades
for a long moment
“Can’t you do any better than that?”
he always teased,
hiding a grin,
eyes twinkling.
“Straight As again!”
I wonder,
now that I’m a
grandmother,
if he knew
how much he
contributed toward those As…
not just his
hard-working genes;
but all the countless
crosswords
I watched him solve
(with a ball point pen),
the hours of Scrabble
we played after he’d
worked all day
in the hot sun,
phone calls just to tell
me funny jokes.
“Did you hear the one
about the pencil?
Well, there’s no point to it.”
Did he know good grades
resulted from all
the jigsaw puzzles
we worked together
on the kitchen table
(a thousand-pieces of
nothing but strawberries,
took us so long
we had it framed)
and Easter egg
scavenger hunts
for the grown-ups
when Papaw chose
the hiding places
and urged me to write
rhyming hints…
the prize:
a fifty dollar bill
in a plastic egg.
And on the day I
graduated high school,
Papaw put on his
dressiest clothes
and applauded my
Salutatorian’s speech.
Only weeks later,
his giant heart
stopped
and mine broke;
but I still have all
those memories.
I only hope he knew
when it came to
being a grandpa
he couldn’t have done
any better than that.
Oh, Lori! Thank you for sharing. Such a beautiful tribute to your Pawpaw’s efforts! Love every word here, especially the ending:
“I only hope he knew
when it came to
being a grandpa
he couldn’t have done
any better than that.”
This is so fabulous . . . up until the point my heart dropped with Papaw’s death. The MANY ways he helped build your brain speaks to the generational impact that is often missing today. How lucky you were. And are.
Lori,
It sounds as though you had an A+ grandfather.
Lori,
I love this poem. I read it aloud to my husband. I feel like we’ve both now met your grandfather. Thank you for that and for sharing all the love in your poem.
Such a sweet moment captured in verse.
Lori, this is such a beautiful, nostalgic tribute to your grandpa. It seriously brought tears to my eyes.
Hi Anna,
Thank you for hosting us as we launch into Open Write for October. I love the idea of writing about grading in this way. I didn’t quite follow the guidelines but I think you’ll see where the grading lands.
Lessons in Letting Go
He hit publish on a video titled Daddy Issues—
and stepped into the comfort of truth.
What he offered can’t be measured,
except in the focused tone of his voice
willfully telling the story out loud.
How do you measure the weight of a childhood
spent watching a father play savior to the world
while leaving his own son in the dark?
Others wait for a final reckoning,
for an apology that will never arrive.
My son’s strength was in letting go,
learning that a man who points fingers
leaves nothing to reckon with.
In sobriety, in studying, he builds steady ground.
Still healing, but he looks outward now
extending his heart’s light in the dark
to help the next person find their way back to joy.
©Stacey L. Joy, 10/16/26
If anyone is interested in watching my son’s video on this topic, here is the link.
Stacey, what a powerful poem! This question made me stop:
“How do you measure the weight of a childhood
spent watching a father play savior to the world
while leaving his own son in the dark?”
I often ask my students a similar one, but more general: Why do people, especially, men are so quick to help neighbors, community, or “the world” but neglect their own families, especially children?
the ending makes me happy because you son, who is still on the path to recovery, “looks outward now / extending his heart’s light in the dark / to help the next person find their way back to joy.”
Thank you!
Stacey,
I love that you “didn’t quite follow the prompt” because we rebellious types need to stick together. 😉 These lines are a gut punch: “How do you measure the weight of a childhood
spent watching a father play savior to the world
while leaving his own son in the dark?”
And they remind me of my stepmother, also a negative example. She might be the source of my rebellion and my “I’ll show you” attitude. Anyway, I love this poem and will carve out time to watch the video.
Whoa, Stacey. This here.
I was stopped for a few breaths at this point.
And then again here
I am so moved by this poem and grateful for the “back to joy.”
Sarah
Another sad, glad poem Stacey. Sad for the same reason it makes me glad. The tough times are sad, but the recovery is glad. Thanks to the two of you for teaming to,share this message.
The powerful lines are your closing three, but mainly the using of the present progressive verb “healing” and going to show he’s doing so by helping.
Stacey, what a wonderful way to share the love of your son and his overcoming the challenges he had. Healing is a beautiful thing to watch when it arrives and takes root. And especially when it branches out like a vine to extend a healing hand to others. Love your poem, friend!
Thank you for crafting and sharing this poem with us, Stacey! (And for the link, too!) I love the lines, “he looks outward now / extending his heart’s light in the dark / to help the next person find their way back to joy.”
Anna, thank you for hosting today. I am a long-time opponent of grading. I’ve spent the week with my second grandson, who was very different than the first!
B’s ahead on walking
Behind on teeth
Coming up talking
Behind on sleep
M as a babe, though,
early knack of sleep
Talking-walking, no
Yes, to reading deep
Both grandbabies loved
Celebration handclaps
comparison shunned
for classic learning DAP
So, why when they turn five
do we begin grading overdrive?
Denise,
Thank you for this reminder of how we tend to compare children and why we should not. Good job w/ the rhyme.
Denise,
I, too, fought against grades. For the last several years, I went gradeless, but there was always the weekly farce of having to enter a grade. I wrote my poem about that.
Love your label of “grading overdrive” and the sweet portraits of your grandchildren.
Denise, yes, the kids are so different, yet we have that limited, boxed grading system that kills the joy of learning. Thank you for reminding to see each child as unique, lived and celebrated!
Denise, I love the centering of the grandbabies here in this thread of grades, the dehumanizing letters and numbers cannot live in this space where B and M are being loved!
Sarah
Denise, I love how you have called out developmental milestones and how each child blossoms in his own time. Would we ever grade our babies? You raise a great point that people bloom as they are ready, and grading serves no purpose.
It breaks my heart to think about my little granddaughter being “graded” in 4 short years. With my own sons, one loved school and the other did not though he loved to read and draw. I loved your descriptions of your grandsons, growing and learning in their unique ways.
Brava!! Indeed, why do we start to grade at 5? I love how you incorporated your own experience with the natural joy (and differences!) between your grandchildren.
Father, tutor
What doesn’t she understand?
Why can I not get through to her?
I can’t help but think…not my daughter
I am a man of science.
I am a man mathematics.
I am a father to a slow child.
I have yelled.
I have shamed.
I’ve thrown my arms to the air.
She just doesn’t get it.
I turn away,
not my child…
Pam,
Maybe we need to grade the tutor. They seem to be very judgmental and remind me that it takes two to communicate and understand ideas. I love the point of view in your poem. And the pov creates a mirror for the reader.
Thank you Glenda. You’re right it always takes both parties to communicate effectively.
Pamela, thank you for writing and sharing. Those two final lines are heartbreaking–how can a child get over this?
Thank you, Leila. To answer your question–she never did get over this. My father (tutor) passed away a couple of weeks ago and still processing our very difficult relationship.
My heart aches and angers in this movement through stanzas of hurt and harm. I am ready for the turn, one more stanza of the she claiming her voice and way of being, and that is the story, the lines of verse in the margins maybe.
Thank you Sarah…yes, that is a fine suggestion. Still reclaiming her (my) power
Oh, Pam. This breaks my heart.
Thank you, Gayle
Pamela, I missed so many poems yesterday, so I came back today. Wow, this is so powerful. As I read it, I found it difficult to read it from the POV of “Father, tutor” Ouch. Like Sarah, I want to hear HER point of view.
Carrots
I’ve long forgone carrotting
tricks, dangling sweet treats,
three digit aspiration, shiny
first alphabetics to comply,
please, compete. No, I won’t
carry some driver, rider on my
back an inch. For I am not
a stubborn donkey nor horse;
not afraid of the stick
you might crack on my hands
when I refuse to capitalize my
i‘s in verse and
strikethroughwhoms because its not my
register. And my essay will have
first person: me with we in any
line I aim to center us. I’ll chomp
that carrot top for a snack and use
your stick to tickle my as-pirations.
Such beautiful flow
Hahahahaaa!! Brilliant, Sarah! All of it shouts with humor and agency, but I especially love the ending!
So cleverly done, Sarah. I want to read it a few times to better digest it but I couldn’t love your culminating lines more. Such humor!
Sarah,
Love, love, love the sticks and carrots word play and turns of phrase here. Your poem reminds me of Daniel Pink’s book Drive. I’m sure you’ve seen the animation based on the book. I stand w/ you on eschewing the sticks and carrots approach to teaching.
Thank you, Sarah! I am smiling. What a great way to rebel sticks and carrots. The ending lines deliver a perfect finale:
“I’ll chomp
that carrot top for a snack and use
your stick to tickle my as-pirations.”
I love Sassy Sarah with spunk! Oh, the voice is rich here in your poem today!
Anna, thank you for hosting and bringing this topic forth.
Can 26 letters tell you what I know–
or is that Incomplete data?
you’ve earned an F for sarcasm,
your life is ruined by one textual Definer
Maybe only E for equitable, not only E-tempting
I’ll through in an F for fabulous (emphasis on the F-ort)
And because you don’t know how to spell throw
give me a C, Marginally assessing, creating CRedit for what?
raising my hand to Pass, sitting quietly, breathing Satisfactorily
if my body language is Withdrawn, then I
Unsatisfactorily Demonstrate my Brilliance; the alphabet
or grades, as some might call them, Don’t Account
For my joy, kindness, transfer, experience, leadership
or do they show Outstanding Attendance?
the alpha-rating wouldn’t be Biased, would it?
Stefani, I love the play here with all the various grading notions! And these lines are so true: “grades…Don’t Account / For my joy, kindness, transfer, experience, leadership.” Yes! Our current methods are so inadequate.
I want to say it will make you happier
I want to say it will make you wealthier
I want to say it will make you more empathetic
I want to say it will bolster you against oppression
I want to say it will, simply, make you a better person,
all around, full stop, and I’m not exaggerating, your
future self – and all those you come into contact with
later in life – would thank me for it and sing my praises
but I say none of those things because you
are so soundly sleeping (again) during our
Silent Sustained Reading time that I don’t
want to wake you: so I just mark down
five points out of ten for In-Class Reading
and attend to the other 33 kids in class
__________________________________________________
Thank you, Anna, for today’s prompt and your mentor poem! I like the encouragement that is evident in “but [Solia] must learn the skill / And with your help she will”! For my offering, it turned into a “frustration poem” about students choosing not to read (their freely-chosen books) during our free-reading time. I know that this issue is large and complicated and has many moving parts to it, but, but, it just bums me out sometimes when students go, nope, no thanks, I’m just gonna go to sleep (or go to the bathroom or go to the office or their locker or, or, or…the options truly are endless for those who wish to do anything but read during our reading time.)
I taught that kid!🤦🏻♀️ your poem is so relatable, as is your frustration!
Scott, Oh, SSR–sustained sleep and rest time instead? Your opening lines and repetition build upon the frustration of our colonial system and the grading expectations. Thank you for sharing today.
Oh, Scott. SSR nappers is the perfect audience for this poem to unpack the lived realities while using the white space (and your commentary note) to name the complexities in the scene; namely, the years prior when reading was used as punishment instead of joy and exploration; namely, class sizes over 30.
Oh man! I feel the pain here and I wish I could wake that baby up!!! It’s so hard. Are they not sleeping at night, do they work late shifts, or do they hate reading? It’s heavy. I hope your student gets the idea sooner rather than later. ‘
Thank you for sharing your frustrations, Scott. It’s totally understandable.
Tell Jamal to keep up the hard work.
As you know, we started off rough
but we talked today
and he is doing much better.
Ajala told me she likes my class the best.
I told her, this isn’t even a real class
this is just study hall.
I’m not “teaching” her anything.
But I realized in my room she is
learning things anyway, just not things
from the curriculum map.
When Damarious graduates
he may not care what his GPA was
but he’s getting that diploma anyway
and I hope he remembers our talks about
the concruction industry
and top 10 NBA players
in English class.
I saw Amani as a 9th grader and he never gave me any work
but now as an 11th grader
he told me
“I wished I’d locked in earlier”
and I told him, “Hey, I tried to tell you! but you weren’t ready to listen”
and he said “I know. I know. You did try”
and those words were my best teacher evaluation, Marzano or not.
Marzano be da*@ned! Those words are absolutely the evaluation you should care about!
Luke, your poem points out the need for safe, learning communities and reminds us how learning can/should happen everywhere and in different forms. Thank you for sharing today.
That last line, Luke, naming Marzano for the teacher evaluations and the schoolified discourse that teachers and students use to say when they care about each other or don’t feel seen in school until when is the heart I feel beating under these lines about transactions around readiness, and student goals vs school or teacher goals, and the reason we are in school in the first place. So much to unpack in these stanzas, Luke. I found it hard to follow the prompt today and appreciate the reflection your poem has stirred for me.
Entirely relatable, lovely
Luke,
This is why we do what we do!! You are teaching from the heart. No curriculum maps will ever get that right. Well done, Luke! Happy for you and your students.
This final line is so powerful!
Anna–great prompt, especially in this time of test, test, test. So much value is assigned to the grades achieved or not achieved. Before I retired, I taught those toward the bottom of the dreaded bell curve. My goal as a teacher was to help them prove their worth to themselves so they could be proud. Proud students work harder. And they did. I miss those days, but I am not as tired now.
The Bell Curve
“We have achieved the apex of the curve”, taunted the tallest A’s.
“All of you losers, take your places below us.
We have annihilated the curve for the rest of you.
Academics are the king. We have all the advantages.
Enjoy our leftovers, the rest of you.”
“But we could be you if you hadn’t been so greedy,” complained the B’s.
“Your arrogance ruins it for the rest of us! We’re trying our best to be better.
All we need is a chance to be way above average, braggart!
Relax a little. Share the bounty; don’t be so boastful, A’s.”
(Besides, we believe that the B’s do better in the long run.)
The C’s filled the center of the room.
“We care, too. Just not as much as you.
You cee, there are other things in this world besides Academics.
Some of us don’t think the way you A’s and B’s do.
There are so many of us. That should be considered.”
The C’s all cheered.
The D’s shambled in, faces drawn.
Definitely down in the dumps.
Many days, they felt as if they didn’t deserve attention.
Most days, they felt their diligence was doomed.
“Isn’t there a different way of determining our worth?”
The F’s filed in last, the smallest fellowship.
Some fixed their eyes on the floor.
Others flexed their failure as a flag of victory,
“Flaunting our indifference beats facing our fears.
It is easier to believe that I don’t want to than to admit I can’t”
And then, one day, they all graduated
and went out into the world.
And the curve became a series of curves, flattened and wide.
And the bell rang for everyone.
GJ Sands
10-16-26
Gayle, lovely personification and metaphor here. It makes me think of those who peak in high school…it’s hard battle to shift away from. Thank you for sharing today.
Gayle, I am reminded of a poem you wrote a couple years ago to future teachers that I shared with my students. That question of “different way of determining our worth” is the heart of this poem for me. It is the way school know or perpetuate or interfere in how we want to talk to and relate to students. Your poem is ringing a lot of bells for me.
Wow, Gayle! Love how you personified the grades.
These lines stood out because I can hear students saying exactly these words!
I also appreciate your clever use of alliteration:
Very well done, Gayle. I wish the system would change and embrace humanity over scores.
Gayle,
Love the ending. Is that the death knell or the class dismissed or the work bell ringing at the end. Love the ambiguity. This reminds me a bit of Billy Collins’s poem “Schoolsville.” Excellent alliteration in the F verse, and the pov is wonderful w/ the personification enriching the poem.
What a fun prompt, Anna!!
As a retired teacher, I went down the path of bewilderment of what letter grades are!
Beyond the Grade
One arbitrary letter
assigned to a performance
an effort
an outcome
a PERSON
is kind of ludicrous.
It compares to other students
at times,
level of content mastery
at others.
It’s needed to provide insight
to those outside that classroom
What started as a ranking and
a means to communicate
outside the room
evolved into
attempting to quantify
what was actually learned.
And it evolved into often
stripping kids of a desire to learn,
replacing it with grade grubbing
where that one letter
identifies
who that person is,
how creative they are,
what a problem solver they can be . . .
where that one letter
makes or breaks parent respect,
allowance,
college admittance,
scholarships.
Educating the masses
takes some kind of measurement
but it also creates
teacher pleasers and
compliance
and avoidance of
risk-taking and
mistake-making
A grade is a distilled,
funneled-down
composite
of so much
represented
by so little.
What is the story behind the grade?
Who is the person behind the grade?
We may never know.
~Susan Ahlbrand
16 October 2026
Susan, there is so much truth here in the distilling and the grubbing and the stripping and the ranking. All the dehumanizing ways that grades shape our relationship with learning and each other that we never can get to knowing the person when such carrots and sticks stand in our way.
What truth to be found in the last stanza
Ooof! Exactly! I especially love the closing questions.
Susan, you captured in your first two stanzas everything I wanted to write in my poem today – that we tend to bucket and sort kids based on grades, shortchanging who they are as people and classifying them based on accomplishments and academics. Well done, and yes – – the perspectives are more clear in retirement now that we have an arm’s length to think about things more clearly.
I really appreciate and admire this poetic exploration of the harm grades can impart. Your final questions should be on the hearts and minds of all teachers.
100% true, Susan! My favorite moment is “A grade is a distilled, / funneled-down / composite / of so much / represented / by so little.” Spot on!
Anna, thank you for the prompt on what’s in a grade and what’s not! We haven’t changed much since Little House on the Prairie when it comes to report cards, and we needed this reminder today.
What A Grade Can’t Show
a grade can’t show
all that they know
those boxed-in letters
produce learning fretters
we’re labeling and lumping
praising and dumping
and when grades are the game
learning’s not the same
learners and scholars
wear different collars
there’s no motivation
at most learning stations
we’re the ones who need learning
on tides that need turning
….and now, let’s be real:
AI’s at the wheel…..
Kim,
The rhyme here gives a playful cadence to a sobering ending. Ugh! “….and now, let’s be real: / AI’s at the wheel….” In this artificial world grades say less about learning now than they ever have.
What a lovely closing here, Kim. “on tides that need turning” — indeed.
Kim,
Yes, yes, yes! We are definitely the ones who need learning! You did so well with your couplets and rhymes! I’m amazed. I don’t have that skill. 😆
I think we retired teachers see things with a different set of eyes now! I love how you rose to Anna’s challenge to use rhyme. You do so expertly! And your last stanza . . . dead on. The grade will mean less than ever.
I loved the rhyme, and your final line reminded me of yet another reason I’m so glad to be retired!
Kim, you are spot on here–grades don’t show. Your rhyming couplets deliver the message seemingly easy, but carry such an important message: we need to learn on those “tides that need turning.” And then AI is another loaded consideration.
Kim, oh yes, BOXED-IN letters. Such a great description of them. Your rhyming is fun. And that ending is so thought-provoking about all the assignments and grades affected because of AI.