In case you hadn't heard, interim Seattle Schools Superintendent Raj Manhas announced last week that three counselors at Franklin High School have been placed on leave for tampering with student transcripts. There were numerous examples, the school district alleged, of grades and course titles being altered to the benefit of about 50 of the 339 graduates in the class of 2003, many of whom were apparently either carrying grade point averages hovering just below the Mendoza Line or whose transcripts were strong but not quite muscular enough to leave the folks with worries about meeting Ivy League tuition.
That would be cheating, of course. And, like any kind of cheating, it cheapens actual accomplishment and injures people who deserve better treatment. As Jennifer Wiley, the new Franklin principal, put it, "Every time you water down one diploma, you've watered down all of them."
But let's not call up the firing squad until we hear a few more details, which ongoing investigations should be disclosing soon enough.
The obvious question is to what extent all that went down on Mount Baker Boulevard differs from what has undoubtedly happened countless other times in countless other places. Testing and grading have always been among the more imperfect sciences, and have always, in practice, allowed for a bit of wiggle room.
This is not to excuse out-and-out academic fraud. But if it turns out that what happened was that grades were adjusted enough to turn 1.9 grade point averages into 2.0s, or that a few regular old classes were suddenly turned into honors courses, well, that would be dishonest, but hardly a mortal sin. And this also seems the likeliest explanation-that the counselors were fudging just enough to get some kids out of high school with their diplomas, and others with a better shot at gaining admission to their preferred colleges. Don't need no fancy Ph.D. to suspect that.
We would hope that among the lessons kids learn, and come to peace with, long before they know the first thing about grade point averages and college admissions, is that life is often not fair. Some kids vacation at Disneyland (or Aspen or Paris) and others are lucky to travel as far as Tukwila. Some kids come from better-educated families. Some were read to, starting at an early age, and some weren't. Some were actively encouraged to do well in school, and were rewarded for their academic achievements, and some weren't. Some teachers have higher expectations of some kids (and categories of kids) than others. And some kids work harder than others.
The education reforms coming from the other Washington offer plenty of incentive for finagling. The new testing requirements are indeed high-stakes, for the students and the schools. Should it turn out that unacceptably high numbers of youngsters fail to meet the new standards, despite the efforts of all concerned, we'll have perpetrated upon us a fraud of a different sort. This will involve a much grander sleight of hand than altering a few transcripts; it will mean cleverly devised new tests, ones even the commander in chief would stand a chance of passing. And then the proponents of testing our way out of our education problems will point to the steadily improving scores and proclaim that they were right all along.
One sure sign that you're dealing with more rhetoric than substance is the proliferation of slogans. We expect this when we're being sold soft drinks or disposable razors, but it is not the best way to make public policy. The federal education reforms go by the name "No Child Left Behind." In our town the school district's PR department touts "Delivering on the Dream" and "Academic Achievement for Every Student in Every School." Laudable aims all, but unattainable ones nonetheless, for if they were attainable we would, within a dozen years, see a steady stream of scholars pouring from the schoolhouse doors. We'd see an end to illiteracy and juvenile detention facilities. Our world would look like those watercolor visions of paradise found in the pages of vintage Watchtower magazines.
I'm inclined to believe that the Franklin High School counselors were motivated by nothing more sinister than a desire to undo some of the world's unfairness. (Of course, the school's higher-than-average graduation rates leave the staff and faculty there looking a little better than they really are.) What's been disclosed so far suggests that these people have at least a dollop of compassion, and a solid grip on reality. That's more than can be said for the W Crew in D.C.
