I know it sounds radical, but I believe grades do more harm than good. This is not the first time this thought has crossed my mind but recently my kid, who attends our local public high school, had a writing assignment due. The assignment was met with annoyance and eye rolls. It was something to “just get done.” As someone who enjoys writing, it broke my heart just a bit and started a conversation between me and my husband about our experiences in school. 

My husband remembers feeling frustrated with how he was taught—or not taught—to write. He’d put effort into his papers, only to get a lower grade than expected accompanied by little useful feedback. After a few tries, he began putting in less effort—why bother when no one tells you how to improve? He still did well in school overall, but once he got to college, writing felt like a mystery with higher stakes.

I am lucky to have had more encouraging experiences with writing. I had some amazing teachers who focused on feedback over grades which encouraged me to push myself to write more and take more risks. Most recently, during the pandemic, I had the opportunity to be the teacher. I taught an online writing class to a group of homeschoolers. Thinking back to my own experience, I chose not to offer grades and only focused on feedback. 

We met once a week for an hour and covered different parts of writing—how to structure papers, use sources, and create citations among other things. After each class, I’d assign paragraphs or papers focused on what we had just discussed. No deadlines with penalties, no stress about losing points or receiving a “bad” grade—just a reminder to get it in so I could offer feedback before the next class. My thought at the time was that students were stressed enough and I wanted our writing class to be a small bright spot in their week.

What amazed me was how motivated the students were. Most of them couldn’t wait to receive feedback. They were eager to test out what they’d learned and show me what they could do. Knowing they’d put their hearts into it, I made sure to acknowledge the things they were doing well. I gave useful feedback on what needed work and encouraged them to show me their progress in the next assignment rather than insisting on revision and stressing over perfection. Surprisingly, many of the students did revise their work and emailed it to me requesting feedback.

By the end of the class, every student could write a 3-5 page paper and they knew where to go for help if and when they got stuck (shoutout to Purdue University’s Writing Lab!). The best part? Hearing how confident they felt in their writing afterward. Some have gone on to college, and many still check in to say how much our little class helped. Even those who still don’t love writing feel like they have the tools to succeed—and they’ve gotten good grades on their college papers, too.

Working with the teens at Princeton Learning Cooperative, I have seen much of the same, across many subjects, not just writing. PLC teens take classes, work on projects, and dive into deep learning—free from the burden of grades. This freedom allows them to be more relaxed, engaged, and fearless in exploring new challenges and pursuing their passions. They take ownership of their work, learn from mistakes, and develop mastery through persistence. The feedback they receive highlights their strengths and suggests areas for improvement. Their focus is on learning itself rather than performing for a letter or number.

Grades don’t teach or inspire. When used as motivation, they cut short the opportunity for deeper learning and understanding. Instead of grades, let us simply give space for the passion for learning. We can do this by offering to young people guidance, encouragement, and the freedom to try again.