A student recently asked what she needed to do to get 100% on an assignment.

Here’s my response:

“I don't  know. I don’t think I ever have given one. For quite a few years, I practiced Tae Kwon Do. The master was an international judge and a military academy instructor. He was ninth degree.  In traditional Tae Kwon Do, nobody, repeat nobody, became tenth degree,  because that would indicate perfection, with no room for improvement. I might give Feodor Dostoyevski a 99 for certain chapters of Crime and Punishment or The Brothers Karamazov. Maybe.”

Long ago, a student told me that the instructor in a beginning Creative Writing class had remarked, “If you get an A, you can be a successful writer. Get a B, you might have a chance, but it’s not likely. Get a C, forget it.”

Unless this fellow gave everyone A’s, that was not only a heartless remark, it was also patently false. I’ve known plenty of student writers who weren’t in the least impressive but who have, through patience and dedication, become masterful.

Grades are perhaps a necessary evil of education. Evil because: behind every grade lies the question, “Compared to what?”

According to traditional Tae Kwon Do, our quest should not be for perfection, but to achieve a patient and indomitable spirit, and to always do our best.

Master Jeong would make that advice into a chant, “Do your best. Do your best.”