From the General Secretary: Bs Are Rare

By Roger W. Bowen

A recent op-ed in the Chronicle of Higher Education by Michael Gordon, a professor of management and global business at Rutgers—“When Bs Are Better”—faults the AAUP in general and me in particular for failing to address the problem of rising grades, adding that our failure is evidence that the Association is not interested in making the profession more “accountable.”

A confession: when I served as a university president, I led a failed campaign on my campus to address grade inflation. I say “failed,” because, despite my efforts, no discernible reduction occurred in the average grade awarded.

That grade inflation was a problem on our campus was evident. Early in my tenure, I asked the institutional research office for grade distributions by department and school. I was shocked to see that in some departments an A- was the standard grade. On the face of it, this seemed clear proof of grade inflation, which, I more than once averred, diminished the value of a degree from our university.

I assembled the provost and deans and shared with them my findings and concerns. Barely an eyebrow was raised—they had been living and enduring this problem, it appeared, for some time. I heard from one dean that higher grades were used to buttress the confidence of insecure students; another said the problem—to the extent it was perceived as a problem—was limited to a handful of faculty members who traditionally pandered to students in exchange for better teaching evaluations, one item upon which contract renewals, salary increases, and promotions were based. Another dean told me that our success in recruiting very bright students, including highly motivated international students, explained the higher grades. Conversation followed about how higher education had become more “consumer oriented,” and it was politely pointed out that my own emphasis on building a “student-centered” culture was interpreted by some faculty as an excuse to pander to the students. In brief, an uncomfortable consensus formed, suggesting that all we could do was monitor the “problem” and hope that grade inflation did not spin out of control—and hope that the data I collected would not be widely shared.

My approach, not universally applauded, was the opposite of hiding the data. I insisted that each semester’s grades from every course be shared with all faculty members, by department and school, thereby using education—teaching the numbers, I called it—to influence grading behavior by instructors. I suspected that some faculty members would be embarrassed by how their grading patterns compared with those of their colleagues. I also asked that each time a faculty dossier was considered, whether for contract renewal, tenure, or promotion, that the grade distribution for all courses taught by the faculty member under review be included along with other relevant materials.

In this way, a more informed judgment could be rendered: if a faculty member’s student evaluations of instruction were stellar, the grades he or she conferred were high, and the individual’s syllabus requirements were not demanding, we could conclude that the faculty member was pandering to students. Rigorous grading, I proudly declared, would henceforth be the mark of a degree from our university.

Too little time and too few resources proved to be our greatest enemy. An understaffed office of institutional research, overburdened deans and department heads, and a president who traveled too often resulted in compromises being reached on this “bold” new program to bring grade inflation under control. I eventually settled for seeing syllabi along with student evaluations when reviewing faculty dossiers. In my third year as president, I stopped asking for reports on grade distribution by course and school.

The president—me—dropped the ball, clearly. But it was also plain that neither my administration colleagues nor most of the faculty wanted me to pick up the ball in the first place. Few faculty I have known enjoy grading—many will admit it is the least enjoyable aspect of the profession—so they get it done as painlessly as possible and then forget about the results. And few administrators are willing to make grade inflation a “front-burner” item in their endless lists of priorities. I concluded that grade inflation is similar to deferred maintenance: make changes only if you can afford the time and political capital to tackle this nettlesome issue. ¨

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