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Copyright © Louis Schmier and Atwood Publishing.
Date: Sat 7/19/2003 5:12 AM
Random Thought: Shelf Talkers
Like an opened good bottle of aged champagne, there's a lot of
stuff bubbling inside me. Maybe it's just that the beginnings of the fall
semester is only a few weeks away (I'm never wild about those
going-through-the-motions meetings), I'm starting to put this challenging
summer behind me, I miss the classroom, I miss being with the students,
I'm looking forward to the inevitably challenging coming semester, and I'm
starting to gear up emotionally, spiritually, physically, and
intellectually for that very exciting first day.
Anyway, there's a little madness in anyone who goes out power
walking before dawn at five in the morning. There's even more madness if
he is blending together reflections on a recent trip through the Napa
Valley, a recent conversation with a colleague about the validity of
grades, and a recent NPR (National Public Radio) show on "shelf talkers."
Do you know what a "shelf talker" is? Don't feel bad if you
don't. I didn't know until I was driving along on the highway several
weeks ago listening to the Morning Edition on NPR. John McChesney was
doing a piece on wine ratings. That's how I learned about shelf talkers.
Next time you go to buy a bottle of wine, notice that little piece of
paper neatly hanging on the shelf beneath the bottle. That's the shelf
talker. On it, in microscopic print, is a description of the wine. It
might read: "While the appearance says youth the bouquet says
development. Deep, thick, opaque ruby in color with spicy scents on the
nose with plummy fruit aromas. On the palate the impression continues
with ripe, integrated, full body oak and fruit flavors interlaced with
supple tanins dripping with typically, earthy, gamy character. For
serious wine lovers." Above that description is the emboldened numerical
evaluation of the wine on a 100 point scale used by the tasters of the two
leading wine magazines, WINE SPECTATOR and WINE ADVOCATE. That numerical
rating has become a convenient and easy wine merchandiser. The higher the
point value of the wine, supposedly the finer is the wine, the "more
serious wine lover" would be the buyer, the more the wine is touted, and,
of course, the more it usually costs.
And yet, there is trouble in Napa Valley that has been fermenting
for the past decade. As wine drinking has become "democratized" and the
ranks of the novices to wine swell, the ratings have become more and more
important. Most people think the ratings are as scientifically accurate as
taking someone's temperature with a thermometer. The ratings suggest
precision; they suggest objectivity; they suggest a common standard; they
suggest a particular quality of taste; they suggest that the art of
wine-making can be reduce to quantification.
Most buyers do not know that the numerical ratings are far more
subjective than they think or want to think. And so, many of us,
especially those new to this nectar of the gods, allow ourselves to be
seduced to buy wine by the numbers, allowing the numerical indicators to
become our absolute dictators, and treat wine as if it is as mysterious as
Coke. Why not. The rating creates the impression of a quick and easy and
infallible way to make a quick and easy "good" selection of wine for that
special dinner that night. After all, why hang around to waste your time
reading the description under the rating number when it often reads like
the gibberish winespeak of the connoisseur and expert vintner that reminds
you of the wine amateur you are.
The ratings, on the other hand, offer a pseudo-expertise, maybe
even a snob appeal. They certainly have become a security blanket for the
"lazy" and insecure wine buyer who doesn't know or want to know very much
about bouquet, merlot, vintage, reserve, zinfindal, estate, full body,
legs, shiraz, thin body, character, grenache, aroma, terroir, earthy,
attractive, assertive, pinot noir, balanced, crisp, closed, chardonnay,
etc, etc, etc.
A lot of people in the wine industry are uncomfortable with this
suggested objectivity and precision. That there is a real difference
between a wine rating of 89.6 and 90.4 they charitably say is a joke. They
argue that the ratings do not talk of the taster's preferences, that they
don't indicate his likes and dislikes, that the wine ratings are little
more than the opinion of a very few people, that the ratings are totally
subjective, that ratings don't say a thing about the character of the
wine, and that the ratings don't say a thing about the taste of the wine.
Now before you moan and groan, keep in mind that for whatever reason
everyone has jumped on the short-hand ratings bandwagon: vintners,
wholesalers, retailers, buyers.
I had a taste of that rating game when I was out in the Napa
Valley last month on a touristy wine-tasting trip with my family. The
numbers were thrown in our faces at every "move 'em in, sell 'em, and move
'em out wine-tasting room (my son, Michael, was the designated driver).
When I ask about the bouquet or aroma or body, there was a slight jerk of
surprise across the counter. Too many sellers in the cellars didn't want
to take the time to discuss such matters; they preferred the short-hand
approach as if the ratings said it all. And yet, there was more than one
very high rated wine that neither Susan nor I were high on. They just did
not suit our palates. And, when I told one person at a winery that her
high rated, reserve wine just didn't have the right "mouthfeel," she gave
me a "how dare you" look as if I was some Neanderthal.
Now, a lot of you are already asking, "what does this have to do
with what we do in academia, with teaching, with administering, with
advising, with whatever?" Good question. My quick answer is, "A lot.
Just substitute 'grade' for 'wine rating.'" You see, the more I listened
to McChesney's interview, the more I realized he could have been talking
about education and grades. Grades and test scores and GPA's are academic
shelf talkers. Think about it. People want to believe grades are
scientifically precise when they are not. They want to believe that there
is some exact difference between an 89.6 and a 90.4 when there isn't. They
want to believe grades are void of subjective preference of the graders
when they are not. They want to believe there is a common standard in
grades when there is not. They want to believe they know how the grade
was arrived at when they don't. They want to believe that grades indicate
what a student has learned when they don't. They want to believe grades
predict what a student will do with what he or she knows when they do not.
They want to believe that there isn't anything particularly mysterious in
the process of teaching and learning when there is.
I do not have any sympathy for teachers or advisers or
administrators or students or anyone else anymore than I have for vintners
and wine retailers and wine buyers. For all the cries and moanings and
groanings about the inadequacies of grades, the first thing anyone does is
to pull out and wildly wave SAT and ACT scores, other standardized scores,
grades and GPAs, and rate students--and themselves--accordingly.
Now if a grade is an indicator, a place to begin to understand a
student, a place to begin to understand the extent of and nature of
learning, a place to begin to understand the quality of teaching, one of
many indicators, that's fine. But, too often, most often, like the wine
ratings, it is the place where most begin and where most end. It has
become the absolute dictator. It has become the whole story. We are
enthralled with a simpleton's version of education. And, we have become
simplistic bean counters. We believe the grade is the window into the
student's intelligence and ability and potential. We believe that the
grade doth make the person. We don't have to get to know the student
because the grade says it all. We believe that all we have to do is open
our roll/grade book and we have a complete biography of the student.
Consequently, all we ask is "how is that graded" ("assessed" in
modern jargon) or "how will this affect my grade" or "how much does this
count towards the grade" or "what is this or that worth" or "what grade
did you get" or "what is your GPA." We allow the grade to so influence
our assumptions and presumptions and preconceptions about a particular
student that we don't feel it necessary to get to get to know the student
for the person he or she is. Acceptance, honors, probation, awards,
suspension, class ranking are almost always a quick and easy numbers game.
And, it will remain so as long as the producers and retailers and buyers
of an education want a quick and easy buy and sell, as long as they want
to drink rather than savor an education, as long as they are unsure about
the purpose of an education, as long as they are insecure about the
mysterious nexi of nuances called the individual person, and as long as
they don't quite have a handle on the complex and complicated--and often
mysterious--processes of meaningful teaching and learning.
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