The grading system of America. 5 special letters that superficially determine who you are, how smart you are, and where you will end up in life. I love to hate them, but it is undeniable how much I’m forced to respect them.
Personally, I think grades are useless in the long run. They demonstrate that you have managed to memorize dates and facts in core and extracurricular studies (some more useful than others, but that’s a different post) and they show that you could regurgitate them on command in a testing environment. But really, who needs to remember most of these things? I think that certain skills are needed for the everyday, like: basic math, economics, history’s causes and effects—not dates—and how to write a basic report. Properties of aeronautic flights as functions on a graph, when exactly King Charlemagne took over for x amount of years, and other fluffy facts; I think those are the short term pieces of knowledge that are wastefully graded. Yet, all of this combines on a piece of paper that ranks you by how well you managed to retain the fluff and is then sent to colleges. Colleges then do not see you as who you really are and what you can really accomplish. They see you as a number with a letter attached. They decide who they want in their hallways based on whether I am 499-D, or 2-A. What grades don’t show is how that person is going to be in the grand scheme of life. While the former earns a PhD in psychology, the other may earn their masters in survival with a minor in common sense. America does not have a class for those, and if they did it would be graded on a biased scale anyway. If I had it my way, the grading system would be based on what I got out of that class; did I realize how important this was going to be in my future job? Will I actually use this well in the context of my specific situation? Yet I do not think even that can be graded, because even teachers would grade to their standards, or those regulations given by a higher ranking person in high-waisted pants and educational print t-shirts. I also realize that if I wish to be more than the girl who takes your order and makes sure, “you got fries with that,” I have to play by the rules, and become a number-letter.