Business School Girl Graders Deny Claims of Injustice

This was Grouser's fifth managerial report--one low pass and three unsatisfactories so far. As he walked along the Grey corridor in the basement of Morgan Hall, he knew that this time was going to be different. He could anticipate the thrill of achievement as he opened his report and saw "Distinction" written in a bold feminine hand: The cage of Morgan 3 loomed up before him. "3255" he whispered, to one of the girls who always seemed as if she were handing out death notices instead of reports and exams.

He grasped it and turned back the cover. It just couldn't be true. There, in the familiar hand was scrawled "unsatisfactory." In a minute he was up on the front steps of the library building, his mind still an utter blank. Then a feeling of rebellion began to swell up within him. "What do those damn college girls know about grading business reports?" he roared.

He remembered overhearing some of the boys in the dorm explaining how the graders came to the B School only to find husbands; that unless you dated them, you were lost. Not only that, but they said that all the graders had majored in Fine Arts and Sanskrit in college.

Grouser Meets Dean

Grouser marched angrily to the Dean's office. "I want to see Dean Holbrook," he stormed at one of the secretaries. After about 10 minutes, he was led into the presence of the dean. "It's either the graders or me, Dean Holbrook," he shouted incoherently. "One of us has got to go." The dean finally managed to clam Grouser and hear his complaint. "You obviously aren't acquainted with the technical workings of the grading system. Why don't you go to see Professor Hubbard, the head of the Managerial reports?" Grouser didn't feel like being shuttled between offices, but he did want to give this Hubbard a piece of his mind. "Thanks, Dean, and don't be surprised if I join the Navy or the Air Force," he grumbled. Up three flights, and he was in Professor Hubbard's office. "My name is Grouser. I laughed when I first heard about the graders' 'report-pitching' game, but after seeing the marks on five consecutive papers, I am convinced that's the way they figure them."

Professor Hubbard was definitely taken back. "What is this 'report-pitching' game?" he asked. "Well, my roommate has seen the graders in Gallatin House almost every noon standing at the bottom of the stairs, and pitching reports. The one farthest up receives a distinction, and the rest are graded accordingly."

Noting that Grouser was serious, Professor Hubbard described the grading procedure. "There are two members of the Faculty in charge of each report," he began. "They analyze it very carefully, write it down, and have their first meeting with the graders. All points are carefully discussed, and reports and picked at random, to check the findings of the group. The girls have already studied the case.

"Again papers are picked at random, and girls meet in conference groups to set up standards. The grading is not done on a point basis and credit is definitely given for a good but unorthodox approach." Grouser was awed.

Professor Hubbard then explained that a large card filled with graders' comments was filed away for each report. At the end of the year, all eight cards are examined, the trend of the grades is noted, a frequency distribution of the grades is made and then the final mark is determined.

"If a student shows improvement in the last reports, which are the most complicated, it is to his credit." But Grouser was, apparently, still not entirely convinced, so Professor Hubbard suggested a chat with Professor McNair to learn the history of the system.

He listened to Grouser's gripes sympathetically, and then traced the background of the procedure. "The increase in enrollment after World War I, and the policy if extending the case system to all courses made it impossible for the instructors to do the grading. So in 1920, I hired three female college graduates to do the job. By 1923, the matrimonial mortality rate was so high that we went back to male graders.

"Unfortunately, however, they didn't work out so well, and we learned our lesson. We returned to girl graders, and find them more efficient, conscientious, and patient than men." This was too much for Grouser. "Why, I didn't even think they were human," he blurted out. By way of reply, Professor McNair called a Dr. Larsen, and warned by telephone of "the approach" of a first term skeptic." So Grouser was soon on his way to Baker 217.

As it turned out, the lady our skeptic quizzed upon entering Baker 217 was not a secretary, but Dr. Larsen herself. While mumbling his confusion and things about "thought you were a man , and just wanted to ask you a few questions," he went boldly ahead. "I've been disillusioned five successive times by my B.P.A.'s, and have decided that it is about time to do something about it. After all, it takes a man's outlook to appreciate business problems, and I don't think girls can possibly do it."

Cheerfulness Breaks In

At this point they ere interrupted by the appearance of a very charming sweater girl who glided into the room, smiled seductively at him, deposited some papers on the desk, and pranced out.

"That's what I mean," he said, squirming nervously in his chair. "How can a girl like that know anything about business?"

"That," said Miss Larsen, "was not a grader, but one of the secretaries. You see, we only have 18 full time graders and four who grade part time."

"Are the girls all hand-picked from Holyoke, as many friends tell me?" asked Grouser. "No, we only have four from Holyoke," answered Miss Larsen, destroying another misconception. Twelve colleges are represented. Most of the girls majored in Economics or Math."

Recalling his accounting exam, Grouser asked if any of the girls had majored in that field. "No, but there are four additional graders who do nothing but accounting papers." That's their specialty and let's see--Why," she said in amazement--"two of them majored in French and one in Spanish." This all sounded quite logical to the Grouser. "You might be interested to know," she continued, "how the girls are selected." On perceiving Grouser's eager nod, she declared that, "some of them are sent us from the general employment office, and some come directly to us. Lately, we have written several colleges describing the type of girl we want, and the position we had to offer. The girls must have had a good B average, and come from an accredited college.

"We interview them, and send to the colleges for references, investigating them thoroughly before they are accepted." "I've always heard that they are pretty smart," said the Grouser, conceding that point. But he straightened himself, making ready for the master stroke. "how can they know anything about business?" He settled back triumphantly, content to let Miss Larsen wiggle out of that one as best she could.

"I believe that the best way to explain it all would be to tell you how we go about training graders. When the girls first come here they go through a three-month training course, attending all the classes and doing all the assigned reading.

As a matter of fact, they never stop going to classes, so that they can be proficient in more than one subject. Then they go through another period when they grade papers--but their work is checked through by the more experience girls.

"Since secretaries put the grades on the papers, all the handwriting may appear the same, but actually a girl seldom gets one man's paper more than twice in a term. For a double check, the professors themselves read through the distinction and unsatisfactory reports."

"What do you recommend for a good report?" queried Grouser, thinking of his own recent failures. "Common sense," replied Dr. Larsen unhesitatingly. "But I am just going over to Morris House now; why don't you come along, and meet the graders themselves?"

In three minutes they were on the second floor of Morris, in a room drifted high with B.P.A.'s and other reports. Girls were industriously eating apples and furrowing their brows over illegible handwriting. "Ladies," interrupted Miss Larsen, "I would like to have you meet the Grouser."

Discovering to his embarrassment that all the graders expected him to stay something, he ventured, "Where is the blind one?" To the surprised questions of the girls, he explained that "someone told me that one of you went blind and kept on grading exam papers for four hours."

Grouser Ploughs Ahead

This seemed to break the ice, and so he gained confidence. "I'm just here to clear up some rumors that have been floating around the B School. How much time do you spending grading a report?" An old-timer volunteered the information: "About one-half hour each, with a little more for the good ones. And incidentally, there is very little correlation between the grade and the time devoted to writing the report; of course there are some exceptions to that," she remarked, recalling a two and one-quarter page work she had once corrected.

Now the graders began to take up the offensive. "What get us peeved," they complained, "is the continual use of such foul expressions as 'denote, delimit, maximizing, deem, feel,' and above all the inevitable 'pros outweigh the cons, therefore such should be done.' Sometimes the boys get confused, and talk about Silton when they mean Babcock, or keep 'ringing up sales on the cashier,' for ten pages."

"By the way," asked Grouser, "do you date Business School men?" "Well" replied one of the few girls who were still in the office after the 5:00 o'clock bells had rung, "some of us do.--Six of the girls are married and several engaged.

Grouser stepped outside feeling like a new man. For the next ten days his spirits were high. Then came the time when report number six was being handed back. He hurried to Morgan 3, down the pleasant corridors, and the girls smiled broadly as she handed him number 3255. Back went the cover, and down sat the Grouser. Unsatisfactory, in that same bold feminine hand.

"Well, I'll be damned, " groaned Grouser. "Maybe it's me after all!"