Grades in Schools
What we don't talk about
I remember the first time I realised school had a hierarchy.
Even before grades.
It was around Year 3. Jasmine was cool. Alana was good at sport. Evie was smart. Everyone seemed to have a place.
Then the grades came.
I was an A and B student. On paper that sounded good, but it meant I knew exactly where I sat. If I’m honest, grades didn’t grow my love of learning.
Over time I’ve realised school has a quiet way of teaching children where they belong.
Recently, with my own children now in Years 11, 9 and 7, I’ve watched the familiar conversations about grades appear again. The pressure, the comparisons, the stress that sometimes comes with it.
And it’s made me think again about something I’ve wondered for a long time:
What is education really for?
When I think back to school, some of the strongest memories aren’t about what I learned. They’re about how I felt about myself.
I remember the first time my art went up on the classroom wall in Year 4. It was a self-portrait. I remember scanning the wall to see where it had been placed.
Not in the centre. Not near the pieces that were clearly very good.
Somehow I understood.
I wasn’t good at art.
Then the grade came in the report: C. It felt like confirmation.
It was a small moment, but I still remember the feeling. A quiet wave of shame and the hope that the artwork might be taken down sooner rather than later.
Schools talk a lot about helping young people develop a growth mindset. About learning from mistakes and building resilience.
But school is also full of constant signals about performance. Tests. Grades. Rankings. Due dates. Comparisons.
Children are told to embrace failure, while at the same time being regularly measured against each other.
It can be confusing.
This isn’t an argument for lowering expectations. Rigorous learning matters deeply. Helping young people develop strong skills in reading, writing, mathematics and critical thinking is essential.
But perhaps the real work of education is something deeper too.
Helping young people develop confidence in who they are. Learning self-compassion when things are difficult. Noticing their strengths and the strengths in others. Feeling curious enough to explore ideas and questions without their sense of worth resting entirely on a grade.
When parents, teachers and young people are asked what they hope for in the future, the answers are rarely about grades.
They talk about confidence. Kindness. Curiosity. Strong friendships. Purpose. The desire to contribute to something bigger than themselves.
So I’m curious.
If education truly aimed to help young people live with purpose, curiosity and a belief in their own strengths…
how might school look different?
#Education #StudentWellbeing #PositiveEducation
Inspiration from:
Bott, D. & Cooney‑Horvath, J. (2021) 10 Things Schools Get Wrong: And How to Fix Them. Sydney: Pan Macmillan.
Stone, L. (2021) Own Your Story: Strengths‑Centered Teaching and Learning. Melbourne: ACER Press.
Many kids say what your daughter says. If there weren’t grades, I wouldn’t try. I’ve also heard I’m not going to do my best, because then you will give me harder work and I won’t get a 100. This is so counterproductive to the growth mindset. As an adult I’m unlearning the grading mindset because somewhere along the line I developed the belief that if the outcome isn’t tangible it’s not worth doing. Which makes doing something “just for fun” hard for me, ie. painting or crafting.
We need schools to be project based learning and tangible for their real lives. Build something you want to use and have all the subjects revolve around that. Science can be centered around astrology, human design, moon cycles, energy. If the learning was more relatable and real world, we would see a different level of engagement.
I agree that this isn’t about removing grades or lowering expectations. High standards matter. But the tension is real: we ask students to take risks, embrace failure, and think deeply… while constantly measuring and comparing them. For some, that works as motivation. For others, it narrows their sense of what they’re capable of. Working in different school systems internationally, I’ve noticed how differently this balance can be struck. Some systems hold onto academic rigour while giving more space for identity, voice, and a broader sense of success. Others feel more tightly defined by performance, where it’s easier for students to internalise a fixed “place.”