Rethinking Academics in Christian Schools: Part VI - Grading and Assessment
Grading and Assessment: What Are We Really Measuring?
Before we can talk about grading practices, policies, or reform, we must ask a more basic question:
What is the purpose of grading and assessment?
Is a grade meant to represent what a student knows and can demonstrate relative to a specific learning target?
Or is it a blended score, a melting pot of academic understanding, behavior, compliance, homework, effort, timeliness, participation, and accumulated points?
In many classrooms, grades attempt to communicate everything at once. As a result, they often communicate very little clearly.
If we are unsure what our grades truly represent, there is a simple litmus test:
What would students say a grade means?
What would parents say they believe a grade represents?
Those answers are often more revealing than any grading policy document.
Until we clarify the purpose of grading, conversations about rigor, assessment, and accountability will remain incomplete.
Every School Needs a Clear Philosophy of Grading
Before debating grading scales, report cards, or percentages, every Christian school should be able to answer a foundational question:
What do we believe grades are meant to communicate?
There is nothing magical about a 10-point grading scale, rubric-scale, standards-based grading, or narrative report cards. Each approach has strengths and limitations. The real issue is not which system a school adopts, but whether the system is grounded in a clear philosophy and applied consistently across classrooms.
Consistency matters because it builds trust. Students and parents should not have to decode a different grading logic in every class. When grading philosophies vary widely within the same school, grades lose clarity and credibility.
A shared philosophy allows instructional teams to ask better questions:
What are we measuring?
What are we valuing?
What evidence best represents student learning?
Without this clarity, grading becomes a collection of inherited practices rather than an intentional system.
The Problem with Traditional Grading Systems
What I’ll call traditional grading typically emphasizes some combination of homework scores, quizzes, pop quizzes, and unit tests. On the surface, this seems reasonable. Students complete work, earn points, and the points add up to a grade.
The problem is not that these components exist. The problem is how heavily they are weighted and what they actually measure.
In many systems, homework accounts for 20 to 40 percent of a student’s grade. Homework often measures compliance, organization, access to support at home, and time management more than it measures mastery of a learning target.
As a result, grades can become inflated representations of learning.
I once had a former student return years later after move to a school out of state. He told me, “High school is so easy. I can get low Cs or high Ds on my tests, but as long as I turn in my homework, I end up with a B or higher.”
He was not being dishonest. He was describing how the system worked. It’s called “playing the game.” We’ve all been there.
The Peanut Butter Problem and Moving Students Along
Traditional grading systems also tend to push students forward even when they cannot demonstrate competency on a particular skill.
The unit ends. The test is given. The class moves on.
Learning gaps are carried forward and often compound over time.
In addition, traditional grading often uses what could be called a “peanut butter” approach. Multiple skills are spread together and averaged into a single score. A unit test covering three or four learning targets results in one number in the gradebook, for example, an 84.
But what does that actually tell us?
It does not tell us which skills were mastered.
It does not tell us which skills were partially understood.
It does not tell us where instruction should adjust next.
An 84 is not descriptive. It is not actionable. And it is not especially helpful to students, parents, or teachers.
Another Way to Think About Assessment: Coach and Player
A more helpful way to think about grading and assessment is through the lens of coach and player, and the emphasis of ongoing feedback.
Imagine a basketball coach assessing an elementary player’s ability to dribble.
One player demonstrates mastery, dribbling fluidly without looking at the ball.
Another is close to mastery but makes occasional technical errors.
A third can manage only two or three dribbles before losing control.
A fourth struggles significantly and cannot maintain control at all.
With this simple observation, the coach has created a scoring guide. More importantly, the coach knows exactly how to train each player.
This is how assessment should function in classrooms.
Rather than relying on arbitrary cut scores like 71, 84, or 92, assessment should be grounded in what a student can actually demonstrate relative to a learning target.
Can the student explain the concept?
Apply the skill accurately?
Evaluate and create?
Demonstrate it consistently and independently?
These indicators are far more meaningful than a single averaged score.
Learning as the Constant, Time as the Variable
This brings us back to a key idea introduced earlier in this series.
In traditional grading systems, time is constant and learning is variable. The calendar moves forward regardless of whether students understand the material.
But what if we reversed that assumption?
What if learning were the constant and time became the variable?
That shift forces us to rethink how we plan instruction and name assessments.
This begins with identifying specific learning targets based on standards or adopted outcomes. It also means using skill-based language instead of vague labels.
Instead of “Chapter 4 Quiz,” consider:
Solving one-step equations in word problems
Analyzing character motivation using textual evidence
When assessments are labeled this way, we communicate that learning is about progress toward a defined outcome, not simply completing a chapter or lesson.
If a student cannot demonstrate competency on the first attempt, the appropriate response is not final judgment. It is a revision cycle.
The student practices further, receives feedback, and demonstrates learning again.
This is where instructional systems like small-group rotation become essential. They create space for practice, feedback, re-teaching, and reassessment without overwhelming teachers.
It’s not playing a game. You want a high grade? Demonstrate your learning and your teacher will help you get there.
The Purpose of Homework
This leads to an important question:
What is the purpose of homework, and how should it factor into a final grade?
Homework is practice toward an intended learning target.
Returning again to the coaching analogy, some athletes need more practice than others to become proficient at dribbling. Practice matters. But practice alone does not demonstrate mastery.
For this reason, whether or not a school encourages homework, it is wise to consider limiting homework to 0–10 percent of the overall grade.
Homework shows effort and engagement. It supports learning. But it does not, by itself, demonstrate competency. (And as a side bar, there is little to no empirical evidence that regular homework elevates student achievement, especially for younger students.)
Competency should be determined using meaningful evidence such as quizzes, tests, projects, or performance tasks aligned to specific skills.
When grading unit tests and projects, it is essential to assess by skill rather than assigning a single overall score. Skill-based grading provides far more precision and clarity about where a student needs to improve.
Final Word
Grading and assessment are not neutral systems. They shape how students understand learning, effort, failure, and growth.
Christian schools must ensure that grades do more than reward compliance. They should clearly communicate learning, guide instruction, and support growth over time.
When learning becomes the constant and time the variable, grading becomes less about sorting students and more about coaching them toward mastery.