2106 stories
·
3 followers

School Communications Are a Mess

1 Share

With the exception of my husband, no one contacts me as often as my children’s school does. There’s the old-school stuff: a folder that comes home in each of their backpacks weekly, filled with flyers and graded work and tests to sign; a binder with a nightly behavior and reading log, also for me to sign. I get texts and emails with the school’s weekly newsletter, updates from the PTA, and, more than anything else, notifications about posts on the various platforms and apps the school uses.

That brings me to the new-school stuff: ClassDojo for one kid. Bloomz for another (except for choir information, which is on ClassDojo). Something called PowerSchool, which is meant to be the district’s hub for grades but also—for some mysterious reason—sends me weekly automated emails telling me that the balance in my daughters’ accounts has fallen below $5. (This makes no sense. For one thing, their school lunch is free. For another, school payments are handled on another platform entirely.)

I’d like to think that, given the volume of information I receive, I have a solid grasp of how my children are faring in school. But I have reason to doubt as much. American parents are prone to overestimating how well their kids are doing in school. According to a recent report from Learning Heroes, a nonprofit whose aim is to help parents develop an accurate understanding of their children’s academic performance, about 88 percent of American parents say their child is performing at or above grade level in reading; 83 percent say the same about math. But in most states, the share of students meeting grade-level expectations in reading or math is less than 50 percent, according to the National Center for Education Statistics’ most recently available compilation of state scores.

This is the strange state of modern school communication: Although parents have access to an enormous amount of information about what their children are doing in school, many struggle to figure out whether their kids are actually keeping up. Having spent recent weeks chatting with parents and teachers in the hope of gaining better insight into where school-to-parent communication is breaking down, I’ve come to the conclusion that parents are receiving both too much and too little information at the same time.

[Read: A totally unnecessary way to stress parents out]

In my conversations with fellow parents about school messaging, communication overwhelm repeatedly came up. One parent in Rochester, New York, told me that her kids’ school seems to take a saturation approach, bombarding her with information via multiple tools, in hopes that her family will get the message. More than anything, parents complained that schools employ too many apps and online platforms. Joanna Cummings, a mother of four based in Indianapolis, told me that although all of her children go to the same school, she still has four different apps for communicating with teachers, plus a fifth site where certain test scores are posted.

When information is spread and frequently repeated across platforms, it’s hard to know where to look for updates—especially if there’s seemingly little rhyme or reason to what gets announced where. And the sheer volume of communications can make prioritizing difficult. “You have this undifferentiated fire hose of content coming at you from the school, but it’s not stratified in a useful way,” Matthias Schabel, a father of three in Portland, Oregon, told me. Often, important notices are tucked into messages that also contain a lot of fluff—a notification for Pajama Day, a reminder that Chuck E. Cheese is hosting a back-to-school night, an announcement that the district is holding a flower sale at the football game. The paradoxical outcome is that although the school might be sharing essential information with you, you can’t trust that you’ll see it.

Nancy Nayar, a mom of two in Brooklyn, told me that despite the numerous sources of information at her kids’ school—JumpRope and Jupiter for checking on grades and assignments; Google Classroom for daily content; a physical binder with written work; plus many, many papers sent home by folder—she was haunted by the possibility that she had a mistaken impression about her kids’ performance. “In some respects, you think, Well, I don’t have any excuse for not knowing everything that’s going on with my kids’ school,” Nayar said. “But there’s so much about every detail.”

Even streamlined information can be bewildering. Lindsay Meisel, a parent of two in San Francisco, told me that when her son was in first grade a couple of years ago, he fell behind in reading. Initially, she thought that his grades had revealed little reason to worry. Instead of giving traditional letter grades, the school uses a system that evaluates children on a scale from one to four—and when her son got mostly twos and threes, his teacher told her that was normal. When it seemed that her son hadn’t done well on a computer-adaptive test called a Star assessment, which is designed to track a child’s progression toward grade-level expectations, she said she was told to take those numbers with a grain of salt, because lots of younger kids struggle with online testing. That seemed reasonable to her.

Even so, this left Meisel confused about whether she needed to intervene. “The one objective measure that I feel like I can really trust, where he did poorly, you’re saying that actually is not reliable,” Meisel recalled thinking. “But then, what is reliable?” It took a third-party evaluation for Meisel to understand that her son was seriously behind.

This points to a troubling irony: For all of the frustration that parents have with overcommunication from schools, they may not be receiving—or clocking—some of the most crucial pieces of information. “If your kid is bringing home a good grade, you assume that that good grade means your child’s on grade level,” Bibb Hubbard, the founder of Learning Heroes, told me. “That’s inaccurate.”

Misunderstandings about grades are driven in part by rampant grade inflation. As Kelsey Piper recently documented in The Argument, the average GPA of American high schoolers rose from about 2.6 in 1987 to 3.1 in 2019—despite the fact that 12th-grade performance on standardized tests such as the National Assessment of Educational Progress was stagnant or even falling for much of that period. But grade inflation isn’t the only issue, Hubbard said. After all, grades take into consideration achievements other than mastery of material, including effort, engagement, and assignment completion. The trouble is that schools don’t always share a clear measure of grade-level performance, and even when they do, parents don’t necessarily know what to make of it. They rely on teachers to help them interpret their kids’ scores, but as Hubbard noted, “teachers are not trained or expected to tell parents the whole picture.”

[Jenny Anderson: What happened after a teacher ditched screens]

Meanwhile, many teachers have no choice but to spend their time spamming parents with mass updates. Abby Boruff, a public-school teacher in Des Moines, Iowa, told me that she thinks a lot of teachers would agree that the use of apps for communication is out of control. But that’s not always a problem they are well situated to solve. School tech systems are typically adopted piecemeal. And once they’re in place, they can be hard to remove. “Nobody wants to get rid of the old stuff,” Boruff said. “They want to try new stuff, but we never want to get rid of the stuff that we don’t need anymore.” Plus, individual schools and systems are responsible for communicating a lot of different things, Kristen McQuillan, a former public-school teacher and the executive director of Knowledge Matters, a nonprofit aimed at improving school curricula, told me. Many different parties—the state, the school district, the principal—have a hand in determining what schools ought to be communicating and when.

Different parents also have different preferred ways of receiving information. Catering to all of them necessarily requires duplicating communication. Even trickier is the reality that many parents don’t want to hear bad news about their kid, Boruff said. They can also be hard to reach—or it can be difficult to get them into the school for a sit-down conversation. Data back this up: The share of K–8 parents attending parent-teacher conferences has fallen from 77 percent in 2017 to 57 percent today, according to the most recent data from Learning Heroes. This reluctance or inability to meet in person makes it tough for teachers to convey news about a child falling behind. “If I’m concerned about something,” Boruff said, “that’s not a conversation I want to have on ParentSquare.”

This doesn’t mean that teachers should settle for an easy out. Sometimes, the job requires sharing bad news, and teachers must be willing to deliver it, just as parents must be willing to receive it. Building the mutual trust needed for these challenging conversations may not be something an app can solve. So parents looking for clarity about whether their children are on track may have to dig for it—not in the glut of emails they receive from their kid’s school, but by reaching out to the teacher directly, for a real conversation.



Read the whole story
mrmarchant
3 hours ago
reply
Share this story
Delete

Quoting Nilay Patel

1 Share

The products aren't good enough to sell people on the costs.

You cannot tell people that you have to listen to the whine of a data center in their backyard for AI overviews and some of the most hilarious deep fake slop in history.

It's not worth it. It just isn't worth it to anyone. And agents aren't real and they might not be being used the way that anyone wants them to yet. All these companies are spending more than they're making on these products. Refrigerators holding blood storage in Europe are being hacked.

The costs are too high. The benefits are not real. And if you connect that to corruption, you're like, in order to impose these costs on me, these CEOs are in the White House shaking Trump's hand, renaming it to the Gulf of America, paying for this ballroom that we don't want. It's obvious crypto-corruption, and it's still slop.

The AI industry will not get out of it until they make better products. Until everyone can see without needing to be convinced, without needing an ad campaign, without any of this stuff that just using these products makes your life better.

— Nilay Patel, The Vergecast: Big Tech lost big in the 2026 election

Tags: nilay-patel, slop, ai, generative-ai, ai-ethics

Read the whole story
mrmarchant
4 hours ago
reply
Share this story
Delete

From Linux to Wikipedia: How Volunteers Build the Internet

1 Share

Peer production is responsible for some of the most valuable online resources, challenging the authority of firms, markets, and government bureaucracies.

Source: Adobe Stock

In 1991, a Finnish graduate student in computer science named Linus Torvalds sent a brief announcement to an online discussion group, saying he had been working on parts of a new operating system in his spare time. Torvalds described his project as “just a hobby [that] won’t be big and professional” and insisted that it would be free to use, study, modify, and distribute. Torvalds was building a technically challenging piece of software called an operating system “kernel,” which handles the most basic functions related to communication between a computer’s hardware and software. Unlike past operating system projects, Torvalds invited feedback and contributions from anyone on the Internet.

Benjamin Mako Hill, Christian Pentzold, and Aaron Shaw coauthored “Peer Production,” from which this article is adapted.

With time, Torvalds’ kernel attracted other developers who worked with him to turn the hobby project into an established piece of software that the group called “Linux.” This team combined their new kernel with another Internet-based collaborative project, GNU, whose goal was to create a replacement for the UNIX operating system but which had not yet produced a usable kernel. The result was the GNU/Linux operating system.

More than 30 years later, GNU/Linux (or just “Linux,” as most people call it) runs on billions of computers worldwide and has become one of the most important pieces of software in history. Nearly all supercomputers, a large majority of Internet servers, a majority of smartphones, and a growing number of “embedded systems” in devices like televisions run some version of Linux. In all of these markets, Linux did not simply fill an empty niche. Rather, it displaced many proprietary server operating systems from major manufacturers at the time, including Sun Microsystems, HP, and IBM.

Linux’s success upended the prevailing wisdom about how to build software. In the 1980s and 1990s, most world-class software was written by large, hierarchically managed teams of developers within immense, multinational corporations such as AT&T and Microsoft. Software developers worked full time for these companies and were well paid. The companies retained vast legal teams who used restrictive copyright licenses, proprietary patents, and technological measures to ensure that none of the code their developers wrote could ever be used — or, in most cases, even seen — by anyone outside the firm.

Linux took nearly every aspect of this proprietary software development approach and threw it out the window. The Linux kernel and the GNU/Linux operating system were built by volunteers collaborating outside firms, without hierarchical management structures, without money as the primary incentive, and without the typical legal or technical arrangements to restrict access, adaptation, or reuse of the underlying source code. The vast majority of early Linux contributors only wrote small amounts of code. But despite this unusual production model, Linux’s high quality and growing market share were undeniable by the end of the 1990s.

Linux took nearly every aspect of proprietary software development and threw it out the window.

Since then, Linux has inspired millions of attempts to build knowledge goods in a similarly open and collaborative manner. The most famous is the free, collaboratively produced encyclopedia Wikipedia. Like Linux, Wikipedia began with an open call for volunteer contributions to “an encyclopedia that anyone can edit” in January 2001. Wikipedia includes about 68 million articles across more than 300 different language editions. In the English-language version alone, the articles were built from more than a billion distinct contributions, or “edits,” by more than 121 million user accounts and many millions of anonymous contributors. Nearly all of these edits are from volunteers. Today, Wikipedia is one of the most-visited websites in the world and the largest and most comprehensive encyclopedia in history by nearly every metric.

The collaborative production model that underlies Linux and Wikipedia has also been used thousands of times at a smaller scale.

For example, while preparing his syllabus for a class in 2011, a law professor named Andreas Fischer-Lescano stumbled upon dubious passages in the doctoral thesis of the German politician and then-Minister of Defense Karl-Theodor zu Guttenberg. Fischer-Lescano searched the Internet and discovered that they had been copied from other sources without credit. In February 2011, a Twitter user raised the issue and asked for help with a thorough analysis of zu Guttenberg’s dissertation. Many volunteers joined GuttenPlag Wiki — a participatory online platform created for that purpose — and within a couple of days, hundreds of pages of zu Guttenberg’s thesis were marked up with detailed documentation of apparent plagiarism in many places. About two weeks later, zu Guttenberg resigned from all political offices in light of the incriminating findings.


Although radically different in terms of size, scale, and scope, Linux, Wikipedia, and GuttenPlag Wiki are all examples of what you might call “commons-based peer production,” a term coined in the early 2000s by a law professor named Yochai Benkler.

Drawing on Benkler’s work, we propose a new definition of peer production. We hold that these projects must do four things:

  1. Motivate participants to contribute using diverse incentives that are frequently, if not exclusively, nonmonetary.
  2. Be decentralized in that they are collectively self-governed and organized by participants.
  3. Be decentralized in terms of how tasks are executed.
  4. Create content that is protected as part of the public commons.

Peer production projects may be similar to markets in that they rely on the distributed, self-directed actions of individuals to create information and other kinds of goods. However, unlike markets, peer production involves neither financial incentives nor prices nor exclusive property regimes. And unlike firms or government organizations, peer production involves neither contractual obligations, pre-defined work plans, nor hierarchical forms of management and task assignment. While some people may contribute to peer production as part of their job, many do so as volunteers. When people do engage in peer production as part of their jobs, employers usually do not dictate the type of peer production work they pursue.

It’s worth repeating that these characteristics defy conventional assumptions about organizations and economic production.

According to classical economic wisdom, if you want people to collaborate and efficiently distribute the outputs of that collaboration, the best way to do so is through private, for-profit firms that sell goods or services in an open market. Firms hire and pay employees who are then contractually bound to pursue the work assigned to them by managers. The products of the work these employees do become company property, which sets their price, manages sales transactions, and distributes salaries and any profits generated along the way.

In theory, these techniques address the challenges of aligning incentives, organizing tasks, and ensuring that the resulting outputs are distributed to those willing and able to pay for them.

But peer production represents an alternative to the behavioral models at the heart of classical economic wisdom. Neither contractual obligations, financial incentives, nor bureaucratic authority ensures that participants contribute their work or that the work is organized effectively. The resulting products are public commons protected as non-exclusive (rather than private) forms of intellectual property. This means that peer-produced resources cannot be priced directly on the open market.

In its Platonic ideal, peer production projects retain complete collective, autonomous control over the scope of their work, the legitimacy of their leaders’ authority, and the selection of tasks worth pursuing. In practice, though, peer production is often employed to varying degrees — by institutions that do not neatly check all the definitional boxes.

Peer production represents an alternative to the behavioral models at the heart of classical economic wisdom.

Take, for example, a site like Reddit. On Reddit, people join topically defined subcommunities, or subreddits, where they voluntarily share information in “posts,” then vote on and comment on those posts. The aggregation — also known as collaborative filtering — of the voting and commenting activity produces a collective sense of what’s most interesting or important. Thinking back to our definition above of peer production, we would say that Reddit relies on diverse nonmonetary motivations and decentralized goal-setting and execution, but the products have always been formally controlled by Reddit’s corporate owners (i.e., not a commons).

Reddit’s owners initially adopted a very permissive attitude toward data redistribution and reuse that made Reddit function like a commons. Over time, however, this changed as Reddit prepared for its initial public offering (IPO) in 2024. AI companies engaged in bulk collection and reuse of Reddit data, raising the financial stakes and introducing threats to the site’s viewership and engagement. In Spring 2023, Reddit’s owners restricted access to their data and began charging for it, making the site much less commons-like and provoking a backlash among some of the most committed volunteer contributors.

Online sites and services like Yelp and YouTube have similarly eroded the boundaries between markets and peer production. On these platforms, participants contribute content for free while others are compensated through advertising revenues, product placement, or access to private events. In cases like Airbnb, private companies profit from an activity (hosting guests through “couchsurfing”) that was previously managed in a non-monetized way by a peer-production community offering nearly identical services, such as Couchsurfing and Hospitality Club. Airbnb is not peer production, but it also seems unlikely that it could have existed without peer production to show it the way.


When you really think about peer production at its most basic level, you might ask: What is a bunch of unpaid volunteers doing at the heart of the modern commercial Internet? How do these volunteers get anything done if nobody is in charge and nobody pays them for their work? Why should we trust anything these communities create to support so many fundamental parts of our digital lives?

These are, fundamentally, some of the most core questions in the field.

After all, despite all the fanfare about “the wisdom of crowds,” collaborative production on the Internet remains both rare and challenging. For every example of a peer-produced product, there are many unsuccessful attempts to build a collaborative community. Many of these failed efforts to build communities produced valuable knowledge commons in their own right. For example, in a study of software commons, Charles Schweik and Robert English found that a large portion of successful software commons — nearly half — only involve a single developer writing code on their own and sharing it with the world. In other words, many software commons are entirely uncollaborative.

You might ask: How do these volunteers get anything done if nobody is in charge?

As peer production communities have matured, they have also encountered challenges and limitations. Broadly speaking, peer production has advanced most rapidly in the Global North and tends to reflect the demographic attributes and interests of the wealthiest and most digitally literate. Inside communities, hierarchies and power relations have emerged, and sexism and harassment can be widespread. Additionally, projects that grow tend to become more formalized, resulting in open communities that are, at the same time, highly structured, bureaucratic organizations. Even when communities welcome newcomers, arriving volunteers often meet multiple obstacles that effectively exclude all but the most highly educated and Internet-savvy individuals.

Nevertheless, peer production has continued to shape the world in both direct and indirect ways. As wikis, distributed software development, and related modes of online collaboration have become more widespread, they have influenced how more traditional organizations structure themselves. This includes the so-called “sharing economy,” crowdfunding, distributed computing, user-generated content production on commercial platforms such as YouTube and Yelp, hacking and fabrication spaces in the DIY movement, social media systems, and even blockchain-based technologies such as cryptocurrencies. Generative artificial intelligence systems and digital assistants, such as OpenAI’s ChatGPT, answer questions using data from peer-produced sources.

When Linux was released, not even its authors foresaw the emergence of peer production, nor could they have imagined that anyone would still be writing about their work decades later. But now, at a time when many of the world’s most powerful companies and governments struggle with misinformation, declining civic participation, and growing social divisions, peer production offers an alternative model for addressing these new challenges.


Benjamin Mako Hill is a social scientist and technologist; Christian Pentzold is Professor and Chair of Media and Communications in the Department of Communication and Media Studies at Leipzig University; and Aaron Shaw is Professor of Communication Studies and Sociology at Northwestern University. They coauthored “Peer Production,” from which this article is adapted.



Read the whole story
mrmarchant
1 day ago
reply
Share this story
Delete

Protein Can Help Build and Preserve Muscle, But Eating More Has Its Limits

1 Share

It’s also highly personal

The post Protein Can Help Build and Preserve Muscle, But Eating More Has Its Limits appeared first on Nautilus.



Read the whole story
mrmarchant
2 days ago
reply
Share this story
Delete

The Afterlife of Pi

1 Share
A 150-year visual history of what happened to the digits of pi after they were calculated.

Read the whole story
mrmarchant
2 days ago
reply
Share this story
Delete

The Decline and Fall of Rigor in Advanced Placement

1 Share
The Course of Empire: Desolation, 1836, Thomas Cole (United States)
The Course of Empire: Desolation, 1836, Thomas Cole (United States)

The recent national conversation about the “dumbing down” of AP Exams is missing the point. Most commentators have focused on what I have called “The Great Recalibration of AP Exams,” College Board’s multi-year project to raise the scores of millions of AP exams every year (see Figure 1). The Great Recalibration has led professors at Harvard University and the University of California to question the accuracy of AP scores and doubt the academic rigor of the AP program. It has even prompted Chester E. Finn Jr., one of the program’s most ardent defenders, to “suspect that the gold standard for academic achievement is losing its shine” (see “Are AP Exams Getting Easier?” July 19, 2024).

Figure 1: More Students Passing Popular AP Exams

But emphasizing score inflation in this way is like focusing on the sack of Rome as the reason for its fall while ignoring the serious signs of decline across the entire empire that preceded it. Indeed, almost every aspect of the AP program has become easier than it was just a decade or two ago. Today’s AP exams require students to know less information, read shorter and simpler texts, answer more basic questions, and complete easier writing tasks with more time, more scaffolds, and more generous rubrics. While these changes are most obvious in humanities subjects like English and history, they are everywhere in the AP program. Through a thousand paper cuts over the past two decades, College Board has slowly bled its signature program of much of its rigor.

Tracking all these paper cuts is no easy task, especially because 42 AP courses are now on offer. The frameworks for these courses are created by College Board with the support of thousands of high school teachers and college professors who work on AP development committees and at AP exam readings. I’ve spoken to dozens of these insiders, and they assure me that no one just decided one day to make AP exams easier. They insist there is no nefarious plot at College Board to “dumb down” the program, nor any basis for the overtly racist claims that the exams have been made easier to accommodate non-white students. Instead, the AP development committees, which largely operate independently of one another, have tended toward lowering academic standards over the past two decades. The story is therefore one of mismanagement and neglect: it seems that no one at College Board had any incentive to maintain rigor in its signature academic program.

Whatever the causes for the lowering of standards, these committee members and readers have admitted to me that AP exams have become objectively easier than they were just a decade or two ago. College Board could have just conceded that AP exams have changed as academic standards have been lowered at the university level. That’s a defensible argument for maintaining the validity of AP exams as predictors of college grades, however inflated they may be. Instead, College Board has denied that the exams are easier and gone so far as to contend that AP exams have not changed at all: “AP Exam questions are not easier than in the past, nor are they harder. The exams themselves have not changed,” Trevor Packer, a College Board senior vice president, wrote in Education Next (see “AP Exams Are as Rigorous as Ever,” April 8, 2026).

In this article I catalogue the many ways AP exams have changed that make them measurably easier than they once were. The evidence tells a story more of gradual decline than sudden collapse—a series of individually defensible changes that, taken together, led the AP program on an inexorable trajectory away from its stated goal of providing a “rigorous academic curriculum” and exams that show that students are “ready for college-level coursework.” The result is that, rather than being an exception to the national decline in student achievement and the erosion of academic standards, the AP program is the perfect picture of it.

The Product of “Immoderate Greatness”?

Because AP exam volume has exploded by more than 700 percent over the past three decades, some commentators have portrayed the decline of rigor in Advanced Placement as if it were a “natural and inevitable effect of immoderate greatness,” to borrow an old phrase. As millions of new students flooded into the AP program, College Board faced persistent criticism that too many of them are struggling in AP classes and “failing” AP exams. And in an education environment where so many forces are conspiring to lower the bar, the AP program’s high academic standards never stood a chance.

In reality, the AP program could have maintained its rigor even as it became more inclusive of students of a wide range of abilities. It was always wise to remove irrelevant barriers and expand access to the program, but equity does not require students to know less content, read less complex texts, or produce less sophisticated arguments. The failure of College Board was not in expanding the program; it was that it could not sustain its lofty aspirations of bringing college-level work to high school students at scale.

How Do We Measure “Rigor”?

Determining whether one exam is “easier” than another is more complicated than it sounds, even for experts. “Rigor,” for example, is an overused buzzword that is notoriously difficult to define. Whatever “rigor” is, it should not be reduced merely to a description of changes in the format of AP exams. These changes are an important part of my analysis, but providing fewer answer choices or more time per question is not, in itself, proof of a decline in rigor. Some changes to exam format have improved AP exams by removing irrelevant obstacles and making questions clearer and fairer for everyone. Many of them are also defensible from decades of academic research about AP exams. Nevertheless, the collective effect of these changes is that they have made taking AP exams much easier for students over the past two decades.

The much more serious problem is that the underlying academic demands of AP courses have been greatly diminished hand in hand with the changes to the format of the exams. These academic demands are measurable in precise ways (that is, the amount of content knowledge an exam requires, the grade-level readability of reading passages, the requirements of scoring rubrics, and the methodology used to calculate scores). A rigorous AP exam that claims to be testing college-level knowledge should require students to know a substantial body of content, think about it in disciplined ways, apply it to the analysis of challenging texts, and produce written evidence of their mastery under consistently high standards. When AP exams cover less material, require less reasoning on more easily readable texts and questions, and reward weaker performances with the same scores, they have become less rigorous in their academic substance.

In this article I assess the evidence for the decline in rigor on today’s AP courses and exams across seven distinct categories. In each instance, the story is a variation on the same theme: Course and exam developers have made AP exams meaningfully and objectively easier as they attempted to improve the AP program. Crucially, they also have made the courses less rigorous, even if they may not have had a particular intention of doing so. Many of these changes could be defended in isolation, but nearly all of them have moved the program in the same direction away from the rigor that once defined AP exams as a “gold standard” for academic excellence.

1. Reduced Content Requirements

The lowering of standards in the AP program long predates the negative impact of Covid or the rise of artificial intelligence. The crucial turning point was a series of course “redesigns” that began in the early 2010s. This overhaul was intended to address persistent, legitimate criticisms that AP courses were overloaded with too much content and focused too much on mere factual recall. These new AP courses were supposed to emphasize “depth over breadth,” allowing AP teachers adequate time to cover material and focus on critical thinking skills beyond rote memorization. The redesigns also explicitly aligned AP courses to the Common Core standards that College Board’s then-incoming CEO, David Coleman, had helped create.

Whatever the intentions, the result was that most AP courses were redesigned to reduce content, lower requirements, and simplify exam questions. In an era when factual recall has been de-emphasized in K–8 education, hundreds of thousands of high school students are now entering AP classes with weak content mastery and poor foundational skills. As one AP textbook author argued, “[T]he problem is that AP exams are increasingly de-emphasizing actual knowledge and focusing more on ‘holistic’ skills.” The choice to turn away from memorization and reduce content within AP courses has helped create a whole generation of AP students who know shockingly little of the content they have allegedly studied at a college level in AP courses.

None of this should be a surprise. This exact outcome was predicted in a 2007 report produced by the Thomas B. Fordham Institute, before the redesigns had even occurred:

Our fear is that actual content knowledge will be de-emphasized as “big ideas” eclipse facts in a potentially extreme tendency to favor depth over breadth. The College Board should take great care to make sure that doesn’t happen.

College Board did not, in fact, take great care, and the results are clearly visible on college campuses, where many professors have lamented that AP students are clearly unready for college-level work:

At the University of Texas at Austin, where I am a professor of history, we see the consequences of this trend firsthand. Students who pass the AP U.S. History exam receive credit only for the second half of our U.S. history survey course. To earn credit for the first half, they must pass a faculty-graded essay exam. A substantial majority of these students fail to demonstrate the content knowledge or writing skills that we expect from a university-level history student. This reality exposes the gap between what AP courses promise and what they actually deliver.

Similarly, according to one English professor,

At Colby College, where I teach . . . many students arrive here and elsewhere having taken A.P. classes. . . . [W]hen I teach a first-year writing course, or an introductory course in the English major, I inevitably spend the first few weeks undoing the damage the A.P. system does to how students understand both writing and the study of literature.

These complaints have been echoed by many university professors, most recently by Professor Paul E. Peterson of Harvard University. The concerns transcend disciplinary distinctions: One math professor has argued that AP courses are not truly college-level courses. “This equivalence is an illusion,” he says. “Calculus at my university, Johns Hopkins University, could not pass the audit to qualify for AP Calculus. This is equally true for many other universities and colleges.” Likewise, an economics professor has identified that the free-response questions of AP Macroeconomics “test mid-level understanding” rather than rigorous, college-level work. This crisis of standards has led some to call upon College Board to “increase the rigor of its advanced placement examinations to satisfy these colleges’ and universities’ expectations as to what constitutes genuinely collegiate-level instruction.”

It’s not just college professors beating the drum. After the redesigned courses were first launched, some AP teachers decried what they saw as a “dumbing down” of the program. When AP World History was stripped of thousands of years of the past, many AP teachers were “outraged” that their students would “lose a broad global understanding of history” as the course became more narrowly focused on modern and Western history. Across a range of subjects, critics began to question whether the redesigned AP courses were still at a college level. About the new AP U.S. Government and Politics course, one suggested “it is time to end the charade that an AP course is equivalent to a college course.” An AP Environmental Science reader observed that “over the years, the math has gotten easier on the FRQs,” while a veteran AP Chemistry teacher responded to College Board’s changes to AP Chemistry by maintaining the rigor in his class, even if he had seen “the level of difficulty plummet” on the exam. “[W]hen it came time to review for the test,” he said, “I told them that the AP exam will only have the ‘easy things’ on it, not the hard things.” Critics have pointed out that the new AP Statistics framework has reduced course content more than it did in the last redesign in 2018, which had already simplified the course. The changes led the South Carolina Department of Education to change its policies because College Board has lowered the rigor of the course so significantly:

College Board has removed mathematical content from the AP Statistics course, thereby lowering the rigor required for a fourth higher-level course.

Likewise, the new AP Latin course framework has slashed the required lines of Vergil’s Aeneid in half and left a major part of the syllabus up to “teacher choice units.” Similarly, AP Spanish Literature’s redesign reduced the required reading list by one third (from 56 to 38 titles). AP Computer Science has been criticized for a number of similarly “concerning revisions” over the past two decades, and AP Chemistry has been accused of being “dumbed down” for years. After College Board “cut 40 percent of the content out of” AP Biology, a veteran AP teacher observed that “the course now is a little bit easier on the students.” College Board continues to revise courses to remove content and lower expectations across most of the full scope of 42 AP courses. Taken together, these changes show that the noble goal of ensuring AP classes had “depth over breadth” has devolved into AP courses with consistently less depth and less breadth.

2. “Early Access” and “Career Prep” AP Courses

The AP program has also loosened its standards in developing new, less challenging AP classes. This process began with College Board’s strategy to bring its so-called college-level AP courses to high school freshmen and sophomores in subjects such as AP Human Geography, AP World History, and AP Seminar. These “Early Access” courses are intended to function as a gateway to the AP program. AP Computer Science Principles, for example, was intentionally created for students who needed, according to College Board, “more of a gentle introduction” to computer science. The result, according to one critic, is “a dumbed-down curriculum” that “probably does more harm than good.”

Recently, College Board launched its easiest AP math course ever: AP Precalculus. While AP Precalculus may be a well-intentioned way to bring the AP program to younger and more diverse students, the course is, in the words of one college math professor, “high-school-level material, not university-level material, and so offering AP credit for it makes no sense.” To make matters worse, College Board quickly slashed 25 percent of the AP Precalculus curriculum in order to appease some critics of the new course. The result is that today’s AP Precalculus course is 75 percent of a high-school course rebranded as “Advanced Placement” without a corresponding increase in difficulty.

In addition to these courses, College Board is in the process of launching new “Career Kickstart” courses as “a new entry point to AP for a broader range of students.” AP Business with Personal Finance, for example, was created with the express purpose of “career preparation” for “those who may not be immediately college-bound.” College Board’s CEO, David Coleman, indicated that this aligns with a new vision of Advanced Placement: “How do we make high school relevant, engaging, and purposeful?” he asked in an Education Week interview. “Bluntly, it takes [the] next generation of coursework. We are reconsidering the kinds of courses we offer.” Whatever the benefits of these courses in increasing access, they are expanding the Advanced Placement brand away from college-level work in favor of “career prep” and advanced high school work. In other words, they are making the AP program easier.

3. Simpler Multiple-Choice Questions

The revisions to multiple-choice questions provide an excellent example of how minor revisions, however defensible by psychometric research, have the cumulative effect of making AP exams easier to take. For example, College Board eliminated the “guessing penalty” in 2011, a change grounded in research that shows that such penalties reward risk-taking more than content mastery. Whatever the motive for the change, AP students can now earn more points by randomly guessing when they do not know the answer.

College Board is in the process of reducing the number of response options on multiple-choice questions from five to four on most exams. While this change is also justifiable, it will certainly “make the multiple choice portion of the exam less of a beast.” Many exams have been redesigned to reduce the total number of questions, allocate more time per question, or otherwise make the section measurably less challenging. Critics have noted that the AP Spanish Language exam became “easier to pass” and that all the foreign language courses have stripped away complex grammatical constructions in favor of “holistic” topics. As Erica L. Meltzer wrote in her blog, The Critical Reader:

[U]ntil a few years ago, most foreign-language AP exams required students to complete a series of grammar fill-ins testing verb tenses, prepositions, and idiomatic usage. . . . But fill-ins have now been eliminated entirely, replaced by more “holistic,” “higher-order” assignments.

Across a number of math and science subjects, students now have access to more formula sheets and graphing calculators on the multiple-choice section. These are probably all reasonable choices, but they also make the exams less challenging in the sense that they require less “mental lift” on the part of AP students.

More importantly, many multiple-choice questions have been changed in a way that requires less knowledge of academic content. On the AP English Language exam, College Board replaced almost half of the multiple-choice reading questions with much easier writing-revision questions. Regarding these changes, one AP English Language textbook author argued, “the reading passages will be shorter and have fewer questions, and the writing passages will be written at a considerably lower level than any of the multiple-choice passages on the current exam.”

To see how different multiple-choice questions have become, compare an AP U.S. History multiple-choice question from the 1994 exam with one from the most recent course framework.

Table 1: Multiple-Choice Questions Then and Now

It is true that the old format of multiple-choice questions required “rote memorization and recall under pressure” rather than deeper “academic and intellectual investigation in a college class,” in the words of one critic. Nevertheless, to prepare for these kinds of questions, AP students needed to learn a lot of specific information about all sorts of topics in U.S. History. Multiple-choice questions on today’s exam provide a “stimulus” in the form of a text or image, but they do not require a deep understanding of anything to find the correct answer. What prior knowledge would an AP student need in order to guess that a picture of women building an airplane in the early 1940s shows that World War II mobilized American society? You could be forgiven for advising today’s AP U.S. History students to focus on studying broad themes of history rather than the substantive facts that undergird it.

In trying to address criticism over too much rote memorization in AP courses, the AP program created a new problem by diluting the difficulty of multiple-choice questions, which now have no guessing penalty, fewer answer choices, more time per question, more formula sheets, more calculator access, a more generous scoring scale, and, most importantly, less academic substance. Individually, most of these changes could be considered improvements to the exam, but taken together, they make the multiple-choice sections of many AP exams less difficult.

4. More Basic Free-Response Prompts

On many AP exams, the free-response prompts are not only easier to answer, but they also test less academically substantive topics. To illustrate: Compare the Question 3 prompt I faced on the AP English Language exam back in high school to an equivalent prompt from the 2025 exam.

Table 2: Free-Response Prompts: Then and Now

From Shakespeare to People magazine, from “the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks” to “trying to live in the moment and enjoy the journey,” the AP English Language exam has not merely been modernized or made relevant for high school students. It has been drained of the challenging academic material and serious scholarly questions that used to characterize the exam.

Even when a current test topic corresponds with one from the past, the content of questions is less complex than it once was. Compare the 2001 AP English prompt that asked students to analyze a philosophical meditation on how photography limits our understanding of the world with the 2024 prompt that asked students to respond to a brief quote from a newspaper about selfies.

This isn’t happening only on the AP English Language exam. On many science exams, the free-response questions may appear more difficult but are actually much less so. As part of the overall redesign of AP courses, the focus of these questions has shifted away from demonstrating mastery of a wide range of concepts to more application-based questions that require a narrower base of knowledge. The redesign led one AP Chemistry teacher to argue as far back as 2013 that the free-response questions on the AP Chemistry exam were “hopelessly dumbed down.” The same author has shown how the 2025 AP Chemistry exam is designed in a way that “hand-holds” students with prompting, clues, and step-by-step guides to help students earn points more easily. He concluded:

The single, significant take-away for me from the 2025 released FRQs is this; “Oh, that’s exactly how I would dumb down an AP problem to make it easier for my honors or even my regular classes to be able to answer it.”

If you suspect I am exaggerating here, you really need to read the free-response questions from the 2025 AP World History exam for yourself. The first question asks students to “identify one claim that the author makes in the first paragraph” of an excerpt from an “academic book.” To earn full credit on this part, AP students need only write one or two sentences that successfully identify any relevant claim in that paragraph. And the “academic book” in question? It’s actually a popular-press book written at a high-school reading level.

The second short-answer question is even simpler. It presents students with an excerpt from a women’s newspaper and asks them to “identify one likely audience” for that text. To earn full credit on this part, AP students need to write just one or two sentences that identify women as one likely audience for a women’s newspaper. If these sound more like questions for middle school than for college-level exams, that’s because they are. You do not need a PhD in psychometrics to see the difference.

How much content knowledge do you need to earn points on each part of this question from the 2026 AP European History exam?

5. Less Complex Reading Passages

One of the most striking changes to the exams in the past two decades is the gradual replacement of dense, challenging texts with simpler texts by more contemporary authors. These simpler texts are often accompanied by definitions of straightforward vocabulary. Incredibly, a 2025 AP English prompt included footnote definitions for words like “optimism” and “pessimism.”

The decline of difficulty in reading passages is measurable. For example, consider the prose passages on free-response Question 2 of the AP English Language exam. When they are measured on traditional scales of readability (Flesch-Kincaid, Gunning Fog, and SMOG), it is clear that these passages have become easier over time.

These reading scales are just three of many metrics used to assess the complexity of texts, and this is just one question type on one exam. But I have run the data using many metrics and across different question types, and the story is always the same: AP English Language and AP English Literature passages are becoming simpler, with shorter sentences, more basic vocabulary, and less sophisticated ideas. While readability metrics are not a perfect science, and the readability of a passage in itself is not proof that the exams are easier, these numbers provide further verification that the apparent decline in rigor is supported by more than mere anecdotal evidence. How many more grade levels will AP reading passages sink before we begin doubting whether they represent college-level material? Will we ever see a passage like the 2006 AP English Language Question 2 on an AP exam again?

6. Reduced Rubric Requirements

Even though the prompts have become simpler and the passages easier to read, the free-response questions on AP exams could still challenge test takers if the scoring system compensated for the decrease in difficulty. But the system of scoring AP essays has been transformed from holistic rubrics that rewarded coherent, unified writing to analytic (or point-by-point) rubrics that reward fragmented, mechanical writing. The new analytic rubrics are more user-friendly and perhaps even fairer than the old rubrics, but they have the pernicious effect of encouraging AP students to do the bare minimum needed to “earn a point” rather than striving to write at a college level. The ability to earn points for individual sentences or fragments of ideas leaves almost no incentive for students to try to write elegant, unified prose. This is why influential AP history teachers on YouTube explicitly recommend that AP students not write a concluding paragraph on their essays. With no points awarded for writing a complete essay, they might as well write a partial essay instead.

All AP free-response essays are scored by human readers. In the past few years, many of these readers have reported that it is “obvious that College Board wanted us to find opportunities to give points.” A veteran AP English Literature reader recently revealed that “this year they’ve told us to be exceptionally generous with giving points.” Another reader for that exam observed that, whereas previous exams required students to select works of “literary merit” on free-response Question 3, “Nowadays readers are told to read and score the essay according to the benchmarks and scoring guide regardless of what the work is.” A university professor who has graded exams for many years claimed that College Board “changed the format and I have seen the scores higher but the quality of work much lower.” Another university professor who reads for AP history exams told me that “the default was to look for the minimum threshold and award the points.” The professor went on to say that “only very rarely did I read an answer and think, ‘I would gladly accept this in one of my gen ed courses.’” Even a decade ago, readers were reporting that they were being pressured to give away points more freely:

Over the past few years, [The College Board] has subtly pressured graders to increase student scores. This year the pressure is no longer subtle. Graders have been told to “give students the benefit of the doubt” and “set the bar very low.” (Those are actual quotes.)

A high school teacher who reads for AP Capstone exams wrote to me that she was “stunned” when a table leader instructed her to award points for work that was clearly below the standard of the published rubric. Similarly, an AP Environmental Science reader has exposed how the criteria for the rubrics can be modified during an AP reading so that “exams graded later in the week are more likely to receive higher scores.” While AP readers are deeply divided on this issue, a vocal subset of veteran AP readers has lamented the conversion to analytic rubrics and the consistent lowering of the bar.

Once the most important part of AP history exams, document-based questions (DBQs) have become demonstrably less challenging. Students used to be presented with about 10 documents and were encouraged to cite them all in their responses. Now, students in AP European History, AP U.S. History, and AP World History are presented with only seven documents and are only required to integrate four of them into their essays to earn all of the evidence points on the newly simplified rubrics. And because essays are scored on analytic rubrics rather than holistic rubrics, students can earn points for mere sentences or clusters of sentences rather than entire essays. The result is that exams have become “WAY EASIER!” according to Steve Heimler, publisher of the website Heimler’s History.

One advocate for this lowering of the bar lamented that the old rubrics required students to weave a complex argument throughout their essays, an approach that, in his words, “unfairly benefited those who could write in a complex manner and, thus, those who came from privileged backgrounds.” Never mind the assumption that students from less privileged backgrounds are not really capable of writing “in a complex manner.” In the name of improving the program, College Board has devalued great writing in a program that ostensibly prepares students for the rigors of America’s colleges and universities.


EdNext in your inbox

Sign up for the EdNext Weekly newsletter, and stay up to date with the Daily Digest, delivered straight to your inbox.


7. Higher Scaled Scores

Over the past two years, we have been engaged in a national conversation about College Board’s recalibration of AP exams. College Board has defended these changes by appealing to a relatively new psychometric methodology called evidence-based standard setting (EBSS). Even though its explanations of this methodology are confusing and unconvincing, even to professors at Harvard University and the University of California, College Board has assuaged some concerns, perhaps in part because most people know so little about psychometrics and its limitations in the first place.

Regardless of these psychometric explanations, AP scores are not actually set by “science” in the abstract. They are set by people. And the College Board’s own research has shown that these very people, the hundreds of professors and teachers who set standards every year, have presided over massive grade inflation at their own institutions. How are these same people not importing their inflated grading standards into the AP program?

College Board continues to compare AP scores to college grades with no statistical adjustment for the college grade inflation it has criticized. It has argued:

Typically, AP Program’s high standards result in 60%–75% of AP Exams earning a score of 3 or higher, which is equivalent to a college C or better. By contrast, colleges in our standard-setting studies award grades of C or higher to approximately 75%–90% of their students in similar courses.

But if 60 to 75 percent of AP Exams “earn a score of 3 or higher,” it is because College Board has increased scores on exams it has simplified over the past two decades. Even if its new scoring method is a superior methodology, it cannot establish that today’s exams themselves demand as much knowledge and skill as earlier exams did.

College Board has also cited decreasing scores in multiple subjects to prove that its new methodology does not merely inflate scores:

From 2024 to 2025, pass rates rose significantly in subjects like AP English Language, AP Environmental Science, and AP Human Geography—because the student performance data showed more students were meeting the enduring learning objectives for these courses. In other subjects, including AP Calculus BC, AP Statistics, AP Physics C: Mechanics, and both AP Government and Politics courses, pass rates declined—because fewer students met those enduring standards.

This claim is technically true in that very minor decreases in scores did occur in those five subjects in a single year (between 2024 and 2025). But as Figure 2 demonstrates, the claim is profoundly misleading because four of those five subjects now have higher “pass rates” than they did just a few years ago.

Figure 2: Pass Rate Declines Since 2018 Are Rare and Often Temporary

Using contemporary college performance as the benchmark for AP standards poses a problem because college standards themselves have declined. This makes College Board’s next claim especially difficult to believe:

Even as college grades have drifted upward over time, AP has maintained high standards for performance. In fact, the AP standard of achievement in 2025 is more rigorous than the standard of achievement in colleges in 1990—35 years ago! (average college GPA in 1990: 2.8. GPA equivalent of the average AP score in 2025: 2.5).

Again, the “GPA equivalent of the average AP score in 2025” is a number that College Board has intentionally increased as part of its stated goal to increase scores so that nearly all exams result in 60 to 75 percent of test takers earning “qualifying” scores. This high percentage is also based on exams that are objectively less difficult than they once were.

Yet the real problem lies not with the higher scores themselves nor with the methodology used to justify them. The old scores could have been artificially low, and the methodology could represent a major improvement to the AP program. The problem is that AP scores are soaring even as College Board has reduced content requirements, simplified question stems and answer choices, selected easier reading passages, lowered rubric requirements, and made many other changes that have diminished the academic substance of AP courses and exams.

Restoring Credibility to the AP Program

While some AP courses have retained robust academic standards and some exam questions are still challenging, College Board has lowered the bar in so many ways across so many subjects that the entire program has become an unrecognizable shadow of its former self. The AP program many of us remember from high school is long gone.

So, what do we do now? The AP program administers more than 6 million exams every year, and College Board has decided that around 4 million (that is, 60 to 75 percent) of those scores should be worthy of college credit. Do we trust that College Board and its many committees of professors and teachers have kept highly rigorous standards, even when all the evidence is mounting that they have not? Even when the official explanations for this scoring are clearly specious?

What we must not do is rush to change policies that offer college credits for AP scores. Doing so would deprive students of a meaningful way of saving money on college tuition. It would also punish students for the failure of College Board to maintain high academic standards in the AP program. This is College Board’s problem, and College Board needs to offer a solution that goes beyond telling us not to believe our lying eyes about what these exams have become. Instead of rushing to change credit policies, universities should follow the University of California’s lead and demand more information from College Board about its opaque scoring methodology. They should also demand that College Board explain how it will restore rigor to the AP program over the next few years.

Whatever happens, College Board needs to be transparent and honest in a way it was not during the redesign of the AP African American Studies course in 2023. It needs to stop making easily falsifiable claims like “AP Exam questions are not easier than in the past, nor are they harder. The exams themselves have not changed.” It needs to allow for independent, third-party research to verify its incredible claim that “the AP standard of achievement in 2025 is more rigorous than the standard of achievement in colleges in 1990.” It should also conduct studies that compare student performance on today’s AP exams with student performance under equivalent standards from 10 or 20 years ago. How would today’s students perform on intact 1995, 2005, or 2010 AP exams under the old scoring standards? How would earlier cohorts perform on today’s exams? If AP exams are as difficult or even more difficult than they once were, then let equivalent student performance data prove the claim.

College Board must undergo an honest reckoning with what has happened in the past two decades and a meaningful restoration of college-level rigor to the AP program over the next few years. The organization should follow its own research that shows that scoring as low as a 2 on an AP exam still has benefits. If so, then we should just let students score a 2 and reap those benefits. Isn’t it better to score a 2 on a real AP exam than to be offered a participation trophy of 3 on a simplified AP exam that does not really prepare them for college-level work? As educators, we all need to accept the fact that not everyone deserves an A or a qualifying score on an AP exam, even if we face enormous social pressure everywhere to lower the bar.

It is neither elitist nor racist to advocate for the highest academic standards in the AP program. We do not need to long for the “good old days” of an exclusive and exclusionary AP program, and we do not need to revert to the old problems of AP exams from the 1990s or early 2000s. Reclaiming academic rigor in the AP program will be challenging (and probably even painful), but it will be good for everyone. It may be the AP program’s best chance of recovering its credibility and saving itself from what may very well be “the natural and inevitable effect of immoderate greatness.”

This essay is adapted from an article originally posted at X.

John Moscatiello is a teacher and administrator at The Wilberforce School in Princeton, New Jersey. He is the author of “The Great Recalibration of AP Exams.”

The post The Decline and Fall of Rigor in Advanced Placement appeared first on Education Next.

Read the whole story
mrmarchant
2 days ago
reply
Share this story
Delete
Next Page of Stories