Expectations, Integrity, and Grading

This page sets out what I expect of you, how your work is graded, and how the two are connected. Read it as more than housekeeping. A classroom is a small political community, and like any community it runs on shared commitments that no one polices closely but everyone relies upon. What follows states those commitments plainly, so that we can hold one another to them.

Classroom Expectations

For the sake of our shared work, come to class having done the reading and ready to discuss it; arrive dressed within the code; place your phone in the lockbox before the bell; take your seat with your materials out; and wear your ID. Take notes on what is said in class, and if you are absent, reach out to a colleague for them rather than waiting to be caught up. Listen to your colleagues attentively, respond to their contributions courteously and substantively, and keep our discussion free of academic “trash talk.” Submit only your own work, and take and submit assessments on time.

Honorable Freedom

I extend you what I think of as honorable freedom. I trust that you can decide for yourself when you need water or the restroom without asking permission; a quiet signal as you step out is all I need. The one exception is illness: if you feel unwell, tell me before you go, so that I can be sure you are able to reach the nurse safely on your own. This freedom rests entirely on the assumption that you will not abuse it — it exists so that I need not manage your ordinary needs, not so that class time can be spent elsewhere. Used as intended, it is a small daily expression of the trust this community depends on. If that trust proves misplaced, the freedom is simply withdrawn.

A Word About Breaks

Our classes run seventy minutes. Midway through, I offer a five-minute break — to get food, use the restroom, reset. The offer depends on your respecting it. I will tell you exactly when to return, and I expect you back at that time. If the return time is not respected, I will say so once; if it continues, I will stop offering breaks. Use the break for its purpose, so that you are not asking to step out again ten minutes later.

Communication and Privacy

Communities function best when their members communicate clearly and with a measure of formality. If you will be absent, email me. If you need to reschedule an assessment, tell me in advance. If you know you will come to class unprepared, a short note saying so is welcome, not a problem. A relatively formal tone between us protects everyone and is good practice for the working world.

Our classroom is neither fully public nor fully private. The school records video in public spaces but not in classrooms, and for good reason: a classroom is where we take intellectual risks and occasionally say things inartfully. We should therefore assume that no one is recording our words or images without consent. When we do need audio or video, ask your subject first. I will pursue disciplinary action against anyone who records without obtaining consent.

Academic Integrity

I am less anxious about AI than many of my colleagues, because I think these tools have real value. You are welcome to consult AI for holistic advice on your work — to think through an argument, test your understanding, or find a weakness in your reasoning. What you may not do is substitute AI-generated writing for your own. Most of our assessments happen in class; any writing you submit outside of class must be yours.

Beyond the mechanics, my best advice is to be totally, relentlessly honest with me about what is happening. If you performed badly, say so; once you own it, I can help you do better. If you feel emotional or out of control, tell me, and I will help you find the space you need before we talk. If you are frustrated and feel you cannot succeed, tell me that too — it is a hard place to be, and I will work to help you past it.

How do I view lying? As a low-skill response to a low-risk situation. It will not earn my respect or trust; it does the opposite. When a student lies to me, I assume they may lie again, and that assumption shapes everything that follows. Trust, once broken, is slow to rebuild, and the damage compounds. I go out of my way for students who deal with me honestly — I will spend time, energy, and social capital on their behalf. I will not take personal or professional risks for a student I cannot trust. Integrity shapes the opportunities I can offer you, the grace I can extend, and the confidence I place in your word.

Grading

I use a straightforward points system. Major assessments (tests and the like) are worth 100 points. Intermediate assessments (drafts and similar work) are generally worth 20, 30, 40, or 50 points, depending on what the assignment demands. Minor assignments (homework and the like) are worth 1 to 10 points. These weightings reflect three judgments: how much of your grade should be at stake at this point in the year, how central the material is to our larger goals, and how much work the assignment actually involves. If you think I have misjudged the first or second of these, you are welcome to say so by email.

It is the policy of this course that the grade you see in MyNA is the grade you will receive at the midterm and at the end of the year. If it appears wrong, come talk to me and I will correct it. So that the mechanics are entirely transparent, here is how a grade is computed.

The table below shows how Newark Academy letter grades correspond to IB markbands and to raw scores on the mark scales you will meet on IB assessments.

Grades in this course measure two things: your mastery of the material and your skill in demonstrating it. Every assignment is built to measure a particular kind of performance — writing, reasoning, recall, presentation. Extra credit, examined plainly, means awarding points for performances the course does not formally assess, which looks a great deal like awarding points for something other than the work itself. Newark Academy’s Faculty Handbook sets a firm, official policy against it, and I follow that policy. Please do not ask me to make an exception; I am not in a position to.

When You Have a Question About a Grade

From time to time a student believes a grade is wrong. Sometimes that belief is well founded; often it is not. Here is how to tell the difference and how to proceed. (This is separate from asking how to study better or how to strengthen your work — those questions are always welcome.)

Some errors are simple, and I will fix them at once. If I have added your points incorrectly, entered a grade wrong in MyNA, or if MyNA is behaving strangely, tell me and I will correct it immediately. Such mistakes are rare, but I am grateful when you catch them.

Other cases call for more care. If you were unwell or distressed during an assessment, understand that everyone has bad days and that this usually cannot be undone after the fact; if you believe there is a genuine case, see the school counselor, with whom I work cooperatively on such matters. If you feel that what you wrote does not capture what you meant, remember that you are graded on what you wrote — though if your intended meaning can be fairly read from the surrounding work, I will sometimes return a point. If you believe I misapplied the rubric, bring me the rubric and your work and make the case in the rubric’s own language; it helps to bring a course specimen paper showing how the IB has evaluated similar work.

And some arguments will not move me, because they are not about the work. That you “need” a higher grade is not a claim I can act on — what you need is to grow more knowledgeable and skilled. That “we didn’t learn this” is almost never true: I write the assessments first and design each unit to teach toward them. And invoking a parent’s or tutor’s judgment tends to end a conversation rather than advance it, because I can evaluate only your performance, not the quality of someone else’s feedback. If a third party has become involved, the right path is to escalate — first to your advisor, then to the Humanities Department Chair, Tim McCall (tmccall@newarka.edu).

On Grades, Generally

A closing word on grades themselves. You are embedded in a system that uses them as external feedback on your performance. We could debate at length whether such a system is wise; the debate would not change the fact that you are in it. The useful question is how to hold a healthy relationship to it.

The most clarifying frame is to treat it as a kind of performance — and here it is worth borrowing from the sociologist Erving Goffman, whose work we will meet again when we study how authority and legitimacy are sustained. Goffman argued that social life is dramaturgical: we are continually presenting a self to others, working to accredit ourselves — to appear competent, serious, worth taking seriously — and to avoid discrediting ourselves. A grade is one audience’s reading of one such performance. Knowing that, the move is not to take it as a verdict on your worth (it is not), but to identify the behaviors the performance rewards and to rehearse them deliberately. If timed writing is the skill, rehearse under time. If recall is the skill, build it. The course is designed to help you here: every year a few students are surprised to find the practice questions reappearing on the test, when that was the point all along.

And when you fall short — as everyone does — keep the longer view. In twenty years no one will recall your grade on the first test of this course. What will remain are the relationships you built and the person you showed yourself to be. The students who do best afterward, in work and in life, are generally those who kept their attention on that larger performance rather than on any single setback. Which returns us to where we began: do the reading, take your work seriously, deal honestly with me and with your colleagues, and trust that the rest follows.