To Pass or Not to Pass

Reading and writing about the incident involving the player from the girls lacrosse team at Yarmouth High School (if you didn't catch yesterday's post, click here), got me thinking back to my days in the classroom. I remember once when I had a star from the school's hockey team in my class, whom I'll call Jack. (In truth, I don't remember his name, it was many years ago!)

Jack wasn't a very motivated student. He lived pretty much for hockey and not much more. He was sliding along, just barely passing his classes; not because he didn't have the ability, but because he couldn't be bothered to do homework or study for tests. He was the star of the hockey team, after all. The school did have a policy, however, that to be eligible to play a sport, a student had to have passing grades in all classes.

Eventually, the predictable happened. Jack found himself failing my class. He needed an average of 70 to pass, and he only managed to achieve a 66. I was called on the carpet by the principal; how could this happen to the star hockey player. I produced my gradebook, and the principal, after seeing the number of times he failed to pass in homework assignments, the test grades he had earned, and a final exam grade of 45 (on a test where the class average had been 81), agreed with me that I had no choice but to issue a failing grade for the semester.

I should mention also that Jack had never once come in for extra help, nor prior to the end of the semester made any effort to question the grades he had been seeing on his test papers. Finally, one day I was informed that Jack's father wanted to meet with me in the guidance counselor's office after school. I knew that I probably was going to be pressured to pass Jack, so that he could finish out the season on the hockey team.

After a three-way discussion between the guidance counselor, Jack's Dad, and me, which included showing them Jack's grades, his father was silent for a few minutes. Finally, he turned to me and sad, "Couldn't you just give Jack 4 points this semester, and take them back next semester?"

I looked the man in the eye and answered, "Would you go to the official in a hockey game and ask him to give Jack 3 goals this game and take them back the next?"

The counselor bit back a smile, and gave me a congratulatory look. Jack's Dad had no response. He sat there for a moment, and then he got up and left. The counselor thanked me for putting the problem into perspective and presenting it in a manner that Jack's hockey-fanatic Dad could understand.

It was time for some tough love.