writing is improved - if a little robotic

Mr C responds creatively and imaginatively to a variety of texts and a range of stimuli. He writes showing reasonable development with basic accuracy. Mr C has the potential to do well in this subject but he must learn to make sensible, relevant contributions to class discussion. Mr C must improve his standard of presentation. Mr C hates, with a passion normally reserved for avocado based salads, this new system for writing end of year school reports.

Any of you who are teachers will know the joy that is writing annual reports for a few thousand pupils. The numbing effect it has on your brain, the ebbing of your will to breathe, and the inevitable repetitive strain injuries are surely some of the reasons we became teachers in the first place. Those of you who aren’t teachers will undoubtedly remember reports written about you. Pride, shame, amusement, despair, anger… They, love them or not, affected a little bit of who you were to become.

“The stick and carrot must be very much in evidence before this particular donkey decides to exert itself.”

"When the workers of the world unite it would be presumptuous of Dewhurst to include himself among their number."

“The improvement in his handwriting has revealed his inability to spell.”

I have been teaching long enough to (just) predate the influence of digital technology on reports. At the end of my first year a huge book was sent around the staff for each class. The reports were hand written and every mistake, no matter how tiny, became catastrophes. If you made one you had to reject the whole sheet for that pupil and all the teachers would have to rewrite their comments. The trick was either to be the first to comment (thus fewer teachers would be affected by any incompetence on your part) or to invest in an erasable ink pen. I did neither. I wasn’t liked that year.

“He has given me a new definition of stoicism: he grins and I bear it.”

“This boy does not need a Scripture teacher. He needs a missionary.”

“Would be lazy but for absence.”

Of course all of this was no longer a problem with the introduction of computers and such. Mistakes could be corrected easily and the copy and paste functions were a Godsend.

But, perhaps like so many aspects of the modern world, it’s all gone too far now. The system we use in this school now simply requires us to select five sentences from a preformed comment bank. We don’t write comments – we click buttons.

“He has an overdeveloped unawareness.”

“At least his education hasn’t gone to his head.”

“Your son sets low personal standards and then consistently fails to achieve them.”

And I can’t help but feel we’ve lost something special in the process. The quotes I’ve included here are genuine comments sent in to the letters page of the Daily Telegraph. They may seem harsh – but then I only close the ones I thought would raise a smile. Sure they show a concerning level of derision and sarcasm – but they also show individualism, and wit. We can no longer show our individualism it seems – we can no longer possess wit. But it’s not just that.
Gone is the ability to qualify statements with personal disclaimers; gone is the ability to encode hidden meanings and the art of the backhanded compliment. Maybe that’s the whole point of this new system – maybe by controlling what comments can be used we remove all risk of ‘misunderstandings.’

But it’s all so robotic and impersonal. Will parents/pupils really find “________ lacks confidence when speaking but can listen actively and respond with understanding. _______ can read numerous types of texts, including fiction, non fiction and media with a high level of understanding, attempting to use evidence, and he writes confidently in a range of forms that suit different audiences with good levels of accuracy. If he is to improve he must show a more positive attitude to his work” more useful than a couple of sentences written specifically for that pupil with some personal points for improvement? Somehow I doubt it.