Underlying the discussion about grade inflation is the almost Calvinist suspicion that students are getting away with something, the echo of an avuncular “in my day” admonition. That grade inflation exists at universities in the U.S. is not in question. According to a 2003 study that included 80 institutions, grades have risen at a rate of 0.15 on a 4.0 scale per decade since the ’60s. And at Cornell, the percentage of As handed out has more than doubled since 1965.

The argument for stemming grade inflation goes something like this: overall inflation of grades makes it harder for employers and graduate schools to distinguish between truly exceptional students and average Joes. And the fact that grade inflation is not uniform between different universities — or even across departments within a given university — makes it even harder. In a sense, a university functions as a coin counter, grouping students into classes; the fear is that pennies are getting into the quarter stack.

The mechanistic sorting has effects beyond grade inflation. Much of the undergraduate experience involves maneuvering a complex system that is — at times — more about deadlines, tests and institutional rules than about becoming a thoughtful and critical member of society. As an undergraduate, I remember having my laptop stolen while I stepped out of a building to use my cell phone. I had been working on a paper for an Art History class, and when I explained to the T.A. what had happened, he said he would not accept my paper without docking it a letter grade each day. He said accepting my paper late without penalty would be unfair to the other students. I appealed to the professor (and won), but I remember asking myself whether education should ideally consist of so many such negotiations.

As a graduate student who teaches, I can say that some of my colleagues are suspicious of undergraduates, at times reasonably so. Some undergraduates seem to think that the standard for a good excuse is verifiability; if a teacher cannot prove you are lying, then he or she has no right to penalize you. Most of the time, of course, it is obvious a student is lying (especially if every week ushers in a new crisis) and I file the incident away in my overall assessment of the student’s character. But just because there are a few bad apples does not mean a professor’s — or an institution’s — approach to education should structure itself around student misbehavior.

Part of educating conscientious and thoughtful students, I believe, involves treating students as adults and as intellectual colleagues, having good faith in them until proven otherwise. If a student asks for an extension, I typically grant it to him or her as long as I am given advanced notice. I do not keep detailed attendance records; instead I rely on my general impression of a student’s participation and involvement. This approach is, of course, more difficult to adopt in large lecture courses, but I think that flexibility is the ideal dynamic for a teacher-student relationship.

The mistrustful tone inherent to the debate about grade inflation is antithetical to the purpose of education. Much of the criticism comes from outside the university, but some university administrators have responded by implementing measures to deflate grades. These attempts are misguided; it is not the duty of the university to sort students for employers. And in the end, grade inflation might be a good thing. It eliminates — or at least alleviates — the grade mongering and anxiety that so often stand in the way of learning. I would much rather speak with a student about his or her ideas than about what he or she has to get on the next paper to get an A in the class.

It is also strange that most of the criticism about grade inflation has been directed toward top national universities, especially Princeton, where students have already distinguished themselves by being admitted. Cornell is in a similar position: how does one deflate grades at a school with a highly talented student body? The practical problem might be different at larger, less selective schools where there is more of a spread, but I think that it would be detrimental to the culture here to take smart students who produce good work and grade them down for the sake of a wider grade distribution. Grades cannot be altogether eliminated; they are a means of providing feedback and of motivating students. But it is important to view students — and for students to view themselves — as more than variables plugged into a formula that spits out a number.

Gabriel Arana is a graduate student in the College of Arts and Sciences. He can be contacted at garana@cornellsun.com. The Red Line appears Thursdays.