P. L. Thomas, Professor of Education (Furman University, Greenville SC), taught high school English in rural South Carolina before moving to teacher education. He is a former column editor for English Journal (National Council of Teachers of English), current series editor for Critical Literacy Teaching Series: Challenging Authors and Genres (Brill), and author of Teaching Writing as Journey, Not Destination: Essays Exploring What ‘Teaching Writing’ Means (IAP, 2019) and How to End the Reading War and Serve the Literacy Needs of All Students: A Primer for Parents, Policy Makers, and People Who Care (IAP, in press). NCTE named Thomas the 2013 George Orwell Award winner. He co-edited the award-winning (Divergent Book Award for Excellence in 21st Century Literacies Research) volume Critical Media Literacy and Fake News in Post-Truth America (Brill, 2018). Follow his work @plthomasEdD and the becoming radical (https://radicalscholarship.wordpress.com/).
On the first day of spring classes, I mentioned to one of my first-year writing seminar classes that I now live just a few minutes from my first college, Spartanburg Methodist College (SMC).
I currently live in a converted mill, one among many empty mills or mills transformed into apartments in the area around SMC, which began as a mill college.
It was in the beautiful rock building, the first-year dorm for young men, on the third floor where I recall vividly writing my first real poem; it was prompted by a combination of having read e.e. cummings in my speech class with Mr. Brannon and watching students throw a Frisbee on the lawn in front of my dorm.
That was spring of 1980, some 46 years ago. I have been a poet and writer since.
At SMC, also, I was invited by a literature professor, Dean Carter, to tutor for the course, and so, there I also discovered that I am a teacher.
Teacher and writer have been wonderful twin avocations for a redneck who grew up in the South, lived through the 1960s and 1970s as a child and teen.
College saved my life, or more specifically, saved my soul.
It is in college where I started becoming a better person. Shedding the racism and other bigotries I was raised in, both my home and my community.
I have not ventured very far physically, but I have traveled a great distance in my mind and my heart.
I recently saw a post on social media asking teacher if students should be allowed to redo assignments. This question has always bothered me since I have spent 42 years grounding my teaching in requiring and allowing students to revise their work.
My courses are structured as workshop environments and the assignments (including the major assignments that are always essays) are designed as teaching/learning experiences and not as assessments.
I have also spent the great majority of my career not grading assignments and not giving tests.
These commitments seek to increase student engagement with learning and to reduce the stress often associated with students completing assignments.
Those goals, however, have remained elusive.
In the last few years, I have begun experimenting with grade contracts to help students better navigate the atypical aspects of my courses and grading approach. Here are some sample contracts:
Of course, I still must assign students grades in the courses, but I continue not to grade the assignments.
Especially in the context of the current renewed cycle of concern about grade inflation, notably in higher education and at selective universities, I have always been confronted with having too many As, or the assumption that students being allowed to revise work increases (inflates?) the likelihood of As.
Critics of revision also argue students will not try when submitting assignments the first time (and thus, I have a strict minimum requirement policy that allows me not to accept inferior or incomplete work).
To be blunt, students earn grades; teachers do not give grades.
Further, if and when my students earn As, I see that as success; when students fail or earn lowers grades, I typically feel as if I have also underachieved.
This past fall, I taught 3 courses with 53 students receiving grades; as you suspect, almost all of them contracted for an A. However, as the semester drew to a close, many students were on the precipice of failing (not meeting the minimum requirements of the course), and as a result, I offered two extensions during the week of exams (the contract specifies that students must meet the grade contract/course minimum requirements by the last day of the course in order to be allowed to submit their final portfolio/exam).
Here is the grade distribution from fall (please note that I teach in a selective university and these students were high achieving in high school):
A = 30
B = 8
C = 13
F = 2
Notable is that the first-year students were outliers in terms of being able to achieve As:
A = 4
B = 1
C = 7
The grades for fall were particularly frustrating for me since I think the most recent iterations of my contracts and assignments are far superior to earlier versions, and since I am in years 42 as a teacher, I do think I am a better teacher.
Here are a few thoughts about grades and contracts as well as how current students are struggling as a result of having been in school during the Covid era.
First, I must stress that not grading assignments and using grade contracts asks more of students, not less. The key is that I have minimum expectations for submitted work and then minimum expectations for the additional work required to meet the A-range.
For example, I had a student submit their major essay in one course without any citations in the essay. I responded that the work could not be accepted and provided support material for resubmitting the work.
That submission, in effect, did not count. Students tend to recognize that making their best effort upfront benefits them. [Note the minimum requirements in this discourse analysis assignment used in two courses.]
In a traditional graded course, the student could have just received an F (and never really engage in the learning experience), had success on the other assignments and tests, and then maybe received a B or C in the course.
What is lost in that traditional scenario is learning.
Requiring and allowing revised work is an individualized teaching/learning process.
Although students often become frustrated by the expectations and my strictness, here is one student’s response to a course this fall (a student who had several submissions not accepted):
I just wanted to reach out and thank you for all of your help and keen attention with my paper. I think I learned more from that assignment than I did in my FYW. But, I know it took a lot of time and effort on the back end and I just wanted to reach out and thank you for all of your edits and feedback! I don’t think I have a paper from my college experience that is so technically detailed and I cannot even begin to express how much I learned when it came to APA. I see it everywhere now and am very grateful for the APA skills this assignment pushed me to gain.
A few semesters ago, a former student from my upper-level writing/research course (see the assignment here) contacted me and thanked me, expressing their frustration during the course but noting that they realized the value then because they were in a doctoral program where the experience was bearing fruit (my course required annotated bibliographies and APA citation).
Using assignments as teaching/learning experiences and not assessments in the context of grade contracts allows me to be more rigorous while also raising expectations for student engagement.
However, Covid-era students have been taught in traditional courses and by traditional grading that any work submitted must receive some credit, and because of the many disruptions to schooling, they have also been taught that their perception of trying hard also deserves credit (in the form of grades).
I believe these dynamics are particularly true for high-achieving students.
Students have directly told me that traditional tests and grades are easier for them to navigate and easier for them to achieve the grades they want (even when they admit that the learning is increased in the expectations I implement).
Frankly, the struggles I witness represent one of the most ignored flaws with education in the US—the tension between grades and learning.
Grading doesn’t reflects well learning and grading often inhibits learning.
My commitment to ungrading, requiring/allowing students to revise, and grade contracts is a commitment to learning (and teaching).
It remains discouraging that this commitment, however, often creates stress and even failure for some students who are the product of grade-centered traditional schooling.
Starring Charlton Heston, Soylent Green was released in 1973 and set in 2022. Heston, in fact, starred in several classic science fiction films and is the face on some of the most memorable scenes and lines in cinema, including the Big Reveal in Soylent Green:
This film perfectly demonstrates the cross-genre power of blending science fiction and horror, usually a sort of slow boil horror pervading everything else in the film.
Heston starred in Planet of the Apes, but also Omega Man, released a couple years before Soylent Green. Omega Man is very much a slow boil film that emphasizes being terrifyingly alone as a human (also a key motif of Planet of the Apes).
Watching the first season of Pluribus, I was reminded of these classic science fiction films because of the motifs shared as well as some disturbing direct connections (more of that below). The main character, Carol, plays the role of “last human” similar to the Heston films above.
The horror here is not only losing her own humanity but also the end of all humanity.
Pluribus has been criticized by some as being too slow, but for me, that pace is essential for the dread that Carol feels, the existential angst that is her character even though for much of the first season she feels relatively safe because of the strict moral code exhibited by the infected (all but about a dozen are infected or dead).
I find that lens compelling and see the show as an allegory of religion, a dark satire of black-and-white moral codes and missionary zeal.
Season 1 builds to a Big Reveal in the final episode; that reveal depends strongly on the core elements of the show as an allegory of religion:
The infected view all life as sacred, likely speaking into the extreme “pro-life” movement that has successfully banned and even criminalized abortion.
That view of all life as sacred creates for the infected a paradox about their own survival, resulting in one of the most horrifying elements of the show; they consume HDP (human-derived protein) created from deceased humans.
And the infected are both happy and certain that everyone must join them in that happiness; their relentless niceness and efforts to convert the few remaining uninfected (their moral code requires the remaining humans must consent to the conversion) often feels like some parts Jehovah’s Witnesses and some parts Hare Krishnas.
One of the most well crafted aspects of the show, I think, is Carol proves again and again that she is a miserable human, and possibly a not very endearing person (even before the infection).
The obvious tension of the show, then, is that the infected are eerily and resolutely happy in contrast with Carol’s not-so-subtle perpetual state of misery and anger.
Carol’s seething rage, in fact, threatens the infected in dramatic ways that seem far worse than the power the infected have to convert her (again, she is ostensibly safe due to the moral code of their needing her consent).
This happy motif is far more complex than a clever element to create plot and tension.
Like the religious happiness running through major religions (being religious, the argument goes, brings happiness and contentment to the believers), however, I see the infected as miserable people unable to acknowledge or confront that their happiness is a veneer.
Concurrent with the release of Pluribus, the year 2025 has demonstrated the misery and even hate lurking beneath those most vocal about being religious.
The Trump agenda has knocked down the wall separating church and state with the consequences being anything except happiness for all.
The infected’s moral code seems naive and even a bit silly at first, but there is a Stepford Wives vibe lurking throughout, with both the HDP and final episodes exposing that, yes, this is an alien invasion of the horror kind.
The infected seem the product of some distant higher power, and they, like fundamentalists, have fixed moral codes and an insatiable missionary zeal.
The infected know what is best for everyone.
Few things are more horrifying than their certainty always offered with a smile.
Pluribus isn’t a show about happiness; it is an allegory summarized in a cliche—misery loves company.
If trending matters on social media, a consensus is building that Bari Weiss has ushered in the death of CBS, a nail in the coffin of mainstream media:
Farewell to CBS News and "60 Minutes." It just went the way of the Washington Post's editorial page
Once you begin surrendering to Trump, he always wants more. You can’t appease a tyrant. Some thoughts… pic.twitter.com/g8JBxfkCHk
Many things can be true at once even when they seem to be somewhat contradictory, and here is such a case.
First, Weiss being hired by and then allowed to shape one of the original major networks in the US—associated with Walter Cronkite and Dan Rather—does deserve the criticism being leveled at both Weiss and CBS.
However, lurking beneath this hand wringing about the death of the mainstream media are interrelated realities—media and journalists have a long tradition of seeking to remain unbiased and nonpartisan, but they are both perceived by the public as liberal.
Over my 40+-year career, I have worked in two professions that share reputations for being liberal (education and journalism) even though both professions demand that teachers and journalists remain unbiased and nonpartisan, essentially not political.
Here is what many people miss about the Weiss/CBS controversy: Journalists/media represent a body of workers who are often disproportionately progressives or moderates but who have historically in the US (mostly because of standards around remaining unbiased and not political) perpetuated conservative and traditional values, often to the exclusion of pursuing truth and accuracy.
Yes, Weiss pulling (or delaying) the 60 Minutes episode is a grossly extreme example, but this action isn’t substantially different than how mainstream media has always worked. And that includes the nostalgia often associated with Cronkite and the Golden Era of broadcast television.
Journalists and media performing their work in unbiased and objective ways is not possible (all human endeavors are biased) but that standard also works as a veneer for maintaining social and political norms—which is a conservative bias.
Mainstream media has never really disrupted the political and economic status quo of the US; media has mostly served that status quo and those profiting from it.
My work as a public scholar keeps me in constant contact with mainstream media. This past summer, I had a commentary in The Washington Post, and while I found the journalists and experience very professional and supportive, the very long process tended toward softening my analysis of the reading crisis and shifting the discourse toward normative beliefs instead of critical evidence.
But I also had an experience with 60 Minutes in the spring of 2024.
A producer at 60 Minutes had read some of my public work on the current reading crisis movement, the “science of reading,” and he found my perspective unique, surprising. He emailed, and we set up a phone conversation.
We talked for over an hour and a half, and while the producer was engaged and interested, the discussion was mostly punctuated with him asking me to repeat key points that contradicted the norms of what people believe about reading and teaching reading.
He seemed most disoriented by my explaining what NAEP reading scores and achievement levels mean and how that tends to distort how reading proficiency and reading at grade level are understood.
By the end of the conversation, the producer concluded that everything I shared was important and even fascinating, but as he explained, there was no story there for a 60 Minutes segment.
Not long after this, however, 60 Minutes ran a segment on Moms for Liberty, an extremist right-wing group that also happens to perpetuate the exact reading misinformation that does provide the sort of story that media loves (compelling even though it is misleading or even false).
Frustrated and angry, I emailed the producer who responded by stating he had not been aware of the M4L segment, but that producers didn’t interfere in each other’s projects. You see, a compelling story trumps an accurate story.
Again, the Weiss/CBS controversy is a valid concern, but David Brooks—often considered not just a credibly journalist but an elite one—was a lower-key version of Weiss’s nonsense well before anyone knew her name. And Brooks enjoys a mostly uncritical acceptance and even celebration of his conservative ideology thinly wrapped in astute public commentary.
And The New York Times as well as Education Week have long been viewed as high-quality journalism that the public believes to be liberal while routinely producing conservative journalism and traditional stories.
Yes, many journalists (and educators, especially in higher ed) self-identify as progressives and moderates. But mainstream media is ultimately a business, and as the Trump era has shown, the public can be self-defeating in its retreat from anything critical, accurate, or counter to what most people believe.
Before Weiss, CBS was not liberal mainstream media or a Gold Standard of journalism; it was corporate media, often negligent while maintaining a veneer of being unbiased.
After Weiss, who has completely perverted the already problematic both-sides approach to journalism, CBS seems to believe that dropping the mask of objectivity will be the sort of story that sells—even when brazenly eradicating truth and accuracy.
You see, Weiss didn’t murder a robust and mature media; she just nudged it into the grave from Hospice.
Having just re-watched 28 Days Later last night, I am prone to suggest that while we mourn the death of CBS, let’s not rush to raise the dead.
In corporate America, there has never been either a liberal or unbiased mainstream media.
The Weiss dumpster fire is razing the garbage that most Americans pretended not to smell rotting right under their noses.