For the record…30% is not usually good.

In baseball, batting .300 is only so-so.

In basketball, hitting 3 out of 10 free throws is not impressive.

In a classroom, 30% is an F.  Large-scale F.  Like, If the grades went any lower than “F,” you’d get that lower grade kind of failure.

So why, when recording a stack of student-graded quizzes, did I come across a paper with “6/20=30%—Good Job!!” written on it?

I don’t think it was meant to be sarcastic.  I think that there are two possibilities.  One, some kid was trying to be encouraging by full-out lying to her classmate (I know it was a girl because there were hearts and smiley faces encircling the bright pink “30%.”)  Possibility Two is, perhaps, more disturbing—the girl grading the quiz did not realize that 30% was not a good score.

The classroom is a microcosm of society.  Look in a public school classroom and you will see the values of our culture played out in miniature.  I’m sure you’ve read about kids sports leagues in which every player gets a trophy—even on the teams that went 0-10.  We laugh about it, but think about what that’s teaching them.

In my school, we give out almost 40 Student O’ the Month awards every month.

Every

Month

That bothers me, because that translates into a society in which people want to be rewarded for mastering the mediocre.

Look, I know that you’ve heard all this before.  Lots of us complain about the problem.  My issue is this: I have a pair of teens at home, and I don’t want them to settle for mediocre.

My first year in college, I did more playing than studying.  I was 1000 miles from home, and experiencing serious freedom overload.  I kept my grades up, but I certainly wasn’t putting out much effort.  I had school in cruise control, and I was having fun.  In June, the faculty announced scholarships for the next school year.  These were small scholarships of a few hundred dollars, designed to help with books and petty expenses.  I was one of the leaders in my classes, and my grades were pretty good.  In short, I already had my scholarship spent before they announced.

That I got bupkis.

I was the picture of righteous indignation.  Other students, who had poorer grades than I, had received cashola…what about me?  I made an appointment with the head of the Music department (yes, I was a music major at the time…long story) to discuss what was obviously a gross oversight on the part of the esteemed faculty.  I went in expecting money for my schooling.

Instead, I got schooled.

When I think of my own gall, it’s pretty embarrassing.  I, punk freshman that I was, marched into the Chair’s office and demanded to know why they hadn’t given me any money.

Do you remember my last post, on confidence vs. arrogance?  Me too.

Anyway, the Chairman had the grace not to throw me out of his office.  Instead, he led me through a conversation that is seared into my character:

Chair: Michael, what was your grade in Music Theory this semester?

Michael: Uh…a “B.”

Chair: Do you think you could have earned an “A”?

Michael: Uh…yeah…I guess. (I was so articulate in those days)

Chair: How much effort would you say you put into your classes this year?

Michael: Uh…about 80%?

Chair: What do you think would happen if you gave 100%?

Michael: Uh…I’d probably get “A’s.”

The Chair went on to explain that I had been the cause of much debate in their discussion over the granting of scholarships.  Their final decision regarding me was not to award a scholarship to someone who wasn’t giving his best effort.

I was humbled…and challenged.

Today’s student would probably have sued.

So, how do I teach my young’uns to excel…to give 100%?

Good question.  Let me think about it, and I’ll get back to you next time.

In the meantime…what are you doing to push your kids—and yourself—beyond mediocre?