A few hours later, my daughter was diagnosed with a stress-induced ailment—something I had never encountered before but was apparently common among overwhelmed teenagers. Our family dentist performed a minor surgical procedure to address it. While waiting for her appointment, she turned to me and asked, “Did you get the email about the PupilPath colors?”
“What’s PupilPath?” I replied, having misunderstood her.
“Not PupilPath. PupilPath,” she chuckled. “I can’t believe you still don’t know what it is after four years at this school! You’re such a weirdo, you know that? Even my math teacher thinks so.”
“Is that the online platform where you can check grades?” I inquired.
“Yes! Oh my God,” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes at my ignorance.
“In that case, I’m not weird; I just don’t care,” I countered.
PupilPath, which I had to look up for this article, is the digital realm where my daughter’s grades reside. I’m unfamiliar with how to log in, and frankly, I have no intention of finding out. Parents and students can access this site constantly to check their grades, down to the hundredths of a decimal point. I vaguely remember receiving an email about it when she was a freshman but dismissed it immediately. Why would I want a constant update on her performance when I could simply look at her report card? School isn’t a sports match; it’s education.
Honestly, I wouldn’t want to track my daughter’s grades as closely as I wouldn’t care about my daily Amazon ranking or the shifting balance of my retirement account. It fluctuates; who cares?
Parents might argue that monitoring grades helps guide children toward better academic performance. But I argue that by doing so, you deprive them of the opportunity to succeed or fail based on their efforts. My generation navigated high school without hourly updates on grades, and I assure you, it was less stressful. Increasing stress levels are detrimental to both physical and mental health.
During the economic downturn of 2008, I urged my father, who was battling pancreatic cancer, to stop obsessively checking his online stock portfolio. “It’s not good for your health!” I would insist. I wasn’t a doctor, but it was evident that every time he checked, his health seemed to deteriorate further. Ultimately, none of that would matter in the grand scheme of things.
He grasped my point: continually monitoring those numbers was not only causing him distress but also preventing him from enjoying the remaining time he had. I can relate; when my first book was released during the early days of online data access, I found myself fixated on my Amazon ranking. I visited twelve cities on my book tour but remember none of them—just the relentless rise and fall of that number.
I feel a sense of shame for this obsession, and I share that sentiment with other parents. How did we reach a point where we spend more time analyzing our children’s grades than discussing the literature they’ve read? Because of our fixation, our children are so consumed by individual rankings that they can’t appreciate the broader landscape of learning.
Take the PupilPath situation, for instance. Just weeks before her exams, my daughter informed me that grades of 90 or above were displayed in blue, complete with gold stars (I had to borrow her login to verify this detail, which I now regret). Grades between 80 and 90 were green; 65 to 80 were yellow. Then, an administrator inexplicably altered the color-coding so that only grades of 98 and above appeared in blue, relegating all scores from 80 to 97.99 to green.
The uproar among parents was intense, as they pushed their children to elevate their grades from green to blue. The grades hadn’t changed—only the color did! Students even took to an anonymous Facebook confessions page, where one remarked, “Everyone thinks changing the PupilPath colors is pointless, but those stars are the only thing that validates my efforts. I know it sounds silly, but even the smallest change can have a significant impact.”
Reading that confession was heartbreaking. We have misplaced our priorities to such an extent that over 1,700 students—nearly half the school—spent time advocating for the reinstatement of the blue color for scores of 90 and above. Just imagine if that energy had been channeled into reading classic literature or tackling complex math problems. Wouldn’t that have been a more productive use of their time?
The implications of this constant emphasis on color-coding, star ratings, and grade tracking extend far beyond the $260 I spent to address my daughter’s oral issue. We have sacrificed our sanity and our children’s mental well-being for the false sense of control provided by real-time data.
So go ahead, label me the outlier. I’ll be in my space reading a book, creating art, or hiking in nature, contemplating the wonders of existence. That is the true reward I have earned by recognizing what truly matters.
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Summary:
This article emphasizes the importance of stepping back from excessive monitoring of children’s online grades. It argues that such behavior can create unnecessary stress and distract from the broader goal of education. By focusing on learning rather than grades, parents can foster healthier attitudes in their children, ultimately leading to more meaningful educational experiences.