A STUDENT’S VIEW - California can inflate our GPAs and lower expectations. But none of that makes students smarter or better prepared.
I am a California student, and I have a simple request for the adults running our education system: Stop making things easier and calling it progress. I don't want a grade I didn't earn. If my work deserves an A, give me an A. If it deserves a C, give me a C. And if I fail, tell me then help me learn, work harder, and come back stronger.
That is education. What isn't education is pretending students have mastered material when they haven't.
California has a serious academic problem. Too many students still fail to meet state standards in mathematics and English language arts, even as high GPAs have become increasingly common. That raises an uncomfortable question: If achievement isn't keeping pace with grades, what exactly does an A mean anymore?
A report card should measure learning, not protect feelings, or improve statistics. A 4.0 GPA should represent exceptional achievement; not become another credential students need simply to compete for college admission.
The problem becomes more troubling when students reach universities. UC Berkeley mathematics professor Zvezdelina Stankova has publicly described encountering college students who struggled with fractions and basic algebra. If students can earn impressive transcripts, enter one of America's leading public universities and still struggle with mathematics they should have learned years earlier, something has gone terribly wrong.
You can inflate a GPA. You cannot inflate knowledge.
A transcript can say 4.0. Reality can still say unprepared. Grade inflation isn't compassion. It is deception. When adults give students grades that exaggerate their mastery, they aren't protecting us from failure. They are postponing it until the consequences become greater.
Eventually there is a professor who expects us to know algebra or an employer who expects us to write clearly. Eventually someone will depend on our ability to do the work. At that point, nobody cares whether an honest grade might have hurt our feelings. They care whether we are competent.
California also needs to reconsider how it measures academic achievement. The University of California no longer considers SAT or ACT scores in admissions. Standardized tests are imperfect, and no single examination can measure a student's intelligence, character, creativity, or potential. But eliminating an imperfect measurement does not eliminate inequality.
The answer shouldn't be one test deciding someone's future. Admissions should consider multiple measures grades, course difficulty, personal circumstances, accomplishments, and some form of objective academic assessment. When grades become less reliable, removing other measurements makes it harder to determine what students actually know.
Some argue that demanding high standards disadvantages students from poorer communities or struggling schools. I reject that idea. Students facing disadvantages deserve more tutoring, stronger academic intervention, excellent teachers, challenging courses, better resources, and greater opportunities.
But they do not deserve fake achievement. A struggling student doesn't become proficient because somebody changes a C to an A. A child who cannot read at grade level isn't helped when adults pretend otherwise. A student who doesn't understand algebra isn't empowered by being pushed ahead without mastering it.
Real equity means giving every student the resources necessary to meet high standards not lowering standards until everyone appears to have succeeded.
Young people constantly hear that adults believe in us. Then prove it. Give us difficult books and expect us to read them. Give us difficult equations and expect us to solve them. Return our essays with corrections and make us rewrite them. Make us study, think and show up. And when our work isn't good enough, have enough respect for us to say so.
An undeserved A isn't kindness. It is a lie printed on a transcript.
Failure doesn't feel good. It isn't supposed to. But when you struggle, practice and finally succeed, you know you earned it. Hard work teaches more than academics. It teaches discipline, persistence, responsibility, humility, and confidence. Those qualities cannot be handed out with report cards.
My generation will eventually inherit California. We will become its doctors, engineers, teachers, business owners, scientists, journalists, firefighters, and public officials. Someday, the adults setting education policy today will depend on the students sitting in California classrooms right now. They should want us prepared.
So don't tell us we're succeeding when we're falling behind. Don't hide academic problems behind impressive GPAs. Don't confuse lower expectations with compassion. Give struggling students every resource necessary to succeed, but don't give us achievement we haven't earned.
Give us the chance to earn it.
I don't want California to make school easier for my generation. I want California to make my generation stronger. I don't want a participation trophy disguised as a transcript. I want an education.
California can inflate our grades, lower expectations, and change admissions policies. But there is one thing no government, school district, university, or teacher can manufacture for us: what we actually know.
An A should mean excellence. Excellence should require achievement. And achievement should still have to be earned.
There is no shortcut. There is no substitute. There is only the work.
(Shoshannah Kalaydjian is a young Jewish student who writes about education, identity, and the challenges facing the next generation. Growing up in today’s climate, she has witnessed firsthand how rising antisemitism affects young people in classrooms and on college campuses. She is committed to sharing the perspectives of Jewish youth, amplifying student voices, and encouraging leaders to create safer, more inclusive environments for all students.) Photo: Data Science Alumni Mentorship Hub | CDSS at UC Berkeley
