by Gideon Burton
I'm measuring the measuring today,
and find it falling short; it doesn't pass.
For grades are monuments of brittle clay,
and yet, a sacred idol for my class.
A sign, a sign, some certainty I'm good
or right or done with what one needs to do.
For once I know I've done all that I could,
I'm positive that I can say I'm through.
A teacher must give feedback, true enough,
must gather data that he can report.
But grades are weak; true learning is more tough,
yet students seem to prize the lesser sport.
How much I wish to give far more than grades.
As they grow great, too often learning fades.
Photo: flickr - Dread Pirate Jeff