There's a weird thing about being a mom: You can forget who you are.
 
As a parent, you struggle to recall what you wanted for just you, before you had kids. Everything becomes a calculation of how kids will react or respond to what you do, and that calculation often takes precedent over what you want for yourself. You forget how to choose for yourself.
 
This happens at a really small, granular level—I’ve asked myself, when my kids aren’t around, what foods do I really like (just me, not to share with my children)? What TV shows do I want to watch on my own, if I have the TV to myself all Sunday afternoon? What places do I like to shop, without family in tow? What vacation destination would I pick, if it were just me, or just me and my husband?
 
But it also happens at a very deep, philosophical level. Have I forgotten how to be myself? What do I want for myself? Who is the person I wanted to be, before I had kids? Who am I now?
 
I’ve been reading Who You Were Meant to Be: A Guide to Finding or Recovering Your Life’s Purpose by psychologist Lindsay C. Gibson. She helps readers think about what they are really drawn to, what interests them deeply (rather than what others want them to be interested in), what kinds of jobs they want to do, what they want their relationships to look like.

Much of her focus is on her clients who did not make life choices that they’re happy with, many of whom were influenced by controlling parents. They find that later in life, they aren’t doing well emotionally, and want to make big changes.
 
But what about those of us who are parents ourselves, and who have been shaped for the last umpteen years by our children’s needs, wishes, and personalities? It’s not that my kids are controlling me, it’s that I shifted so many aspects of my life in order to be able to care for them. That’s been true since the moment they were born, and I am not complaining! I chose to do that, making my kids my highest priority. 
 
On one hand, I would never, ever in a million years give up that shaping. It would be a cliché to say it’s kept me young at heart (and a true one). It’s made me more emotionally intelligent and aware in ways I never imagined. As a parent, you need to constantly stay flexible and shift gears on a moment’s notice, putting others’ needs before your own, dealing with crises and challenging questions and many things you wish you could avoid but have no real choice about  (currently coping with an onslaught of bureaucratic paperwork for back to school/back to sports is just one tiny example!). 
 
But on the other hand, parenting has also made me prioritize my kids and family over some of my deepest wishes for my own life. Again, I’m not complaining here. Just acknowledging. For example, I recently preferred to spend my week off work helping my daughters get ready for their summer programs, taking them to Target and Walgreens, pulling out their duffel bags, reviewing their packing lists, allaying their concerns, helping them enjoy final moments of freedom at home before heading out to new group settings… I did all this rather than working on my own writing projects. Rather than fulfilling my personal wishes, I decided to help them realize their summer dreams. I had an important motive—I wanted to soak in the little time I had with them during summer, time that feeds my soul as a mom.
 
And now both of my daughters are gone, one for just a week, and one for 4 weeks. My husband and I suddenly have the run of the house. And while we are busy working or heading out to meetings during the day, it seems normal, but suddenly, as I came home to an empty house this evening, I found myself in shock. 
 
I know this is an early taste of the “empty nest.” I thought it would be quiet and empty. But the odd thing is, more than that, I felt boring and dull and uncertain of what I would do with myself. For all this time I’d been struggling to sneak in a few minutes for my writing, between my full time job and my daughters’ needs and other family members I wanted to spend time with… and suddenly, now that I have hours to choose how to spend, I felt a sudden sense of blankness. 
 
I’ve long known that my children are separate from me. As a Stoic, I hold this knowledge close, remembering that my kids need to make their own choices, and that they have to take some responsibility for what they decide and what they do. I also understand that I have agency over myself, and I can choose to devote more of my time to my interests, especially those that uphold the virtues. However, my role as a mother takes precedence. And I genuinely love to spend time with my daughters. They are cool, interesting, fun, smart, and humorous people, who keep me guessing and laughing. They (and coffee) are my lifeblood!
 
So I’ll be missing them now, and I’ll miss them even more later. Again, Stoicism reminds us we don’t possess our children or any other humans, and that all is transient. One day we have them, another day we don’t. It’s the way of the world, and holding out for another option is absurd. I will try my best not to hold onto them, but rather to prepare them for the world, and to help them take flight in it. 
 
And I’ll work to be grateful for the time that’s allowed to me with my teens, and try to use to coach them to develop their character, their grit, wisdom, sense of service to others and confidence in themselves, their moderation in all things, and their courage. I will stay mindful of the moments we share together. And I will still always be there (as long as I am alive) to do my mom thing. To chat, to ask, to listen, to do, and to just be present. 
 
But for now, while they are away, I get the TV to myself for the next couple hours, to watch the most dry historical documentary I can find, or maybe the oldest classic movie in black and white. It seems I’ve forgotten how to decide. 

“Are we going to be OK?” I could see the look in my daughter’s eyes turn fearful as she lay on her bed holding her pillow to her chest, a distinct note of anxiety in her voice. So many things to worry about... so many concerns for a teen girl becoming a young woman to face. I felt sadness welling within me. I didn’t know how to answer, but I said, “Yes, we’ll be OK.” I needed to reassure her, though in truth I could use the reassurance myself. I, too, was struggling with how to move forward in a positive way. 
 
It has been a tough few months—years, honestly—in the US. Whether I’m talking to my teen daughters as they look with concern to the future, reading the newspaper with its page after page of stories of violence (here and abroad), or having coffee with friends who are despairing about the direction of our country, it has been challenging. 
 
In the wake of so much turmoil, I often wonder about this question: What can I do? How can my family and I make a difference when there are so many powerful forces at play and so many reasons to worry? 
 
We all know that the dichotomy of control is fundamental to the Stoic world view. There are certain things that are in our power, and many, many others that are not. When it comes to political power structures in Washington, for one, individuals have frustratingly little influence. We should vote, of course, and we should encourage others to vote. We should support causes we care about, and try our best to protect our rights and our safety by raising our voices to our leaders.
 
In reality, we can only create change in the small ways that are available to us. So let’s talk about that. In some ways, I’m writing this post to help myself and my family find a path forward with meaning and virtue. I hope you’ll read it as an effort to make even the smallest of differences. 
 
Here’s what I think we can do:

• Focus on raising our kids right, with values and with virtues. Make sure they know they are accountable for what they say and do, that their actions affect other people, and that they have a stake in a better community and country. Teach the them the golden rule (treat others as you’d want to be treated).
• Raise our voices in the community, and at the ballot box. Contribute to causes and candidates we care about with donations, information sharing, organizing, and volunteering efforts.
• Read and listen to podcasts and news from reputable sources to learn the facts about what’s happening and what we can do. That includes history and research studies, too. I’ve been reading a book one of my daughters asked to buy: On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century, by Timothy Snyder and illustrated by Nora Krug. The graphic version is filled with colorful illustrations and advice on how we can work to preserve the institutions of democracy and valuable examples from the history of authoritarianism.
• Watch how we spend money and time—who and what are we supporting? 
• Strive to be a role model at work, at home, and in the community. This was an important theme of the ancient Roman Stoics, for example in the lives of Stoic political leaders including Emperor Marcus Aurelius. 
• Let others know that we won’t stand for violence and intolerance in our spaces, and if an open and respectful dialogue is possible, work towards understanding each other. Collaborate with other folks or community organizations, if possible, on this. Consider joining a group where we can meet people who are different from ourselves, or find a way to help facilitate a cross-cultural dialogue. I've done this in my workplace and plan to do more as a volunteer in the community, and I encourage my kids to do the same; there are opportunities out there.
• In a more general sense, try to keep an open mind about other people. Just because someone disagrees with me doesn’t make that person an enemy. On the other hand, we should not tolerate intolerance. 
• At the end of the day, keep a sense of perspective. Often the best we can do is to simply be there for our family, friends, and colleagues. Just being compassionate and supportive of others and bringing them positive energy makes the world better.

 
I turn back to my Stoic ideas to remind myself not to get swept along by fears and sorrows about current events. While I can’t dismiss all my feelings as mere impressions—I’m not a sage yet—I can take a deep breath and ground myself in the real here and now with my daughters and husband, with my community, and with those whose work I read and take inspiration from (both ancient and very modern).

​Stoicism is an evergreen philosophy that takes us out of judgment and hatred and violence, and into virtue and action and practical wisdom. Let’s make it our guide as we fortify our minds and energies, and seek to make a world that welcomes and supports human flourishing for all.

Even now as Stoicism has spread in a resurgence around the world, many people still think of it as a “stiff upper lip.” Some see it as a tough, uncompromising ideology that can turn us into modern-day Spartans, impervious to our own pain and unconcerned with the suffering of others. 
 
But these views are narrow and inaccurate. In my vision of Stoic thinking and practice, it’s a way of cultivating our inner resources to make us stronger and better humans, more capable of living fully in the world, and more realistic and reasonable about our place in it. 
 
And that’s why I believe that you can be a Stoic and cultivate compassion for the suffering of other human beings (as well as yourself). In other words: Stoic compassion is not an oxymoron!
 
I recently gave a talk about how the two approaches—Stoicism and compassion cultivation—can work together side-by-side for the Stoics Care conference. I’d like to share a few highlights of that talk here. You can also check out the video here: 

Why Stoic compassion?
 
Why did I turn to both Stoicism and compassion cultivation, and combine them together in my own life? A number of years ago, I went through a period when I was very stressed. I experienced stress at work, the stress of family needs, financial stress, everyday life stress. And politics played a big role—the divisions and rancor that grew in the public sphere in the US in 2016 was off the charts, and this situation hasn’t subsided since. I felt disconnected and sad and wanted to have a more positive connection with other people. I started practicing Stoicism and then in fall 2016 I took a course on Compassion Cultivation that has influenced me ever since.
 
The word compassion comes from Latin for “with suffering.” It begins with acknowledging that people face pain, loss, and adversity. The core of compassion is “being there” for others, wishing them happiness and peace. Put simply: “Compassion is the recognition of the suffering of another, along with a desire to alleviate that suffering,” according to James Doty, a co-founder of Compassion Cultivation Training. This 8-week training program that originated at Stanford University in 2009 focuses on insights from psychology, neuroscience, and contemplative practice. It aims to build calm and resilience in the practitioner, and to give techniques to learn how to grow a compassion muscle in ourselves so that we can spread compassion to others. 
 
Compassion allows us to be with another person’s pain without absorbing it into our own being—preserving our sense of inner strength. Compassion for others is a resource that won’t run out, as long as we take care of our own internal resources.
 
Some people think that if Stoics truly follow their philosophy, they won’t suffer themselves, and perhaps there is nothing that they can do for the suffering of others. I have two things to say to that: first off, we all know many other loved ones, friends, colleagues who are not Stoics and who suffer. And it is our duty as humans—and as Stoics who believe in common humanity, cosmopolitanism, and that need for pro-social interactions inborn in all people—to care about these others and to support them. Second, we ourselves are not Stoic sages and are imperfect beings. That means we are bound to feel negative emotions and suffering, and we must also support and tend to ourselves. 
 
What do Stoicism and compassion have in common?
 
Now let’s get to the heart of what Stoicism and compassion cultivation have in common. 
 
Both are inexhaustible inner resources. Once you build and maintain these mindsets within yourself, they will never run out! That’s really the key here. You grow Stoic approaches and compassion in your mindset, attitude, and personal practices. Through mindfulness meditation, loving-kindness practices, journaling to encourage and analyze your approach, reading to re-set your mind, and new ways of being with other people, you light this fire within yourself. I will share a bit more about some of these practices at the end of this post.
          
I like to think of my Stoic and compassion practices like a flame within me. I can use that flame to improve relationships with other people and myself.
 
In this way, compassion can be the “missing piece” that connects your Stoic practice to other humans. In other words, you can unite your Stoic ruling center with a compassionate ability to support other people and yourself through adversity.
          
To build Stoic compassion, keep in mind these Stoic and compassionate concepts:

• Some things are in our power, and others are not in our power to change
• We share common humanity with all people, throughout the circles of concern
• We should stay in the moment and practice mindful awareness
• Facing adversity is normal, and we have the inner strength to tolerate it and to tolerate the pain of others and ourselves using compassion
• Let your “inner daemon” be your guide

 
In a future blog post, I’ll dive deeper into self-compassion. For now, I’d like to briefly address how Stoic compassion is different from our typical concept of empathy, and why it is preferable. 
 
Stoic compassion vs. empathy
 
Most often, people approach others’ suffering through the lens of empathy and emotional identification with pain. It sounds OK in theory, but empathy has flaws. Empathy (or emotional empathy) usually means putting yourself in the shoes of the suffering person. It can lead to feeling emotionally drained and experiencing “empathy fatigue”—especially for caregivers or medical professionals. 
 
Often, empathy leads to entangling your response with negative emotions stemming from the other person (fear, anger, hurt, remorse, jealousy, etc.). You try to help but feel yourself becoming overwhelmed. You may experience a sense of powerlessness or guilt when you realize you can’t fix the other person’s problems, or make different choices for him or her. Ultimately, this could lead to you withdrawing from the suffering person due to frustration, fatigue, or despair.
 
The ancient Stoics understood the pitfalls of empathy and taught a form of compassion that avoided emotional over-identification. Both Stoicism and Compassion Cultivation acknowledge that only certain things are up to up and that we need to stop trying to control or fix other people.
 
Epictetus said that “you should not disdain to sympathize” with people who are suffering, “at least with comforting words, or even to the extent of sharing outwardly in their grief.” He then added: “But do not commiserate with your whole heart and soul.” (Enchiridion, Chapter 16)
 
This sounds harsh to our ears, yet I think it’s a reflection of a form of compassion, one in which we share sympathy and loving expressions, but we do not give our soul over to the other’s pain. We maintain the integrity of our own hearts in order to stay strong for others in a more sustainable, long-term way. 
 
Exercises to build Stoic compassion
 
Here are a few exercises for building Stoic compassion:

• Mindfulness meditation
• Loving-kindness meditation
• Tonglen meditation
• Journaling and reflection 

 
Mindfulness meditation is not specific to compassion cultivation training, but it is a practice widely accepted to calm and center the mind. We sit quietly, follow our breath, and let our chaotic thoughts flow out of our minds. (You’ll still have thoughts occur to you, of course, but you’ll be able to let them go more easily—and observe them less judgmentally—if you practice this kind of meditation regularly.) Once we are more grounded and relaxed, we are more open to experiencing compassion. 
 
Loving-kindness meditation is a classic practice derived from Buddhism (where it is called metta) that plays a strong role in encouraging compassion towards ourselves and others. The focus is to feel compassion without any sense of judgment, and without wanting anything in return. Here is a quick review of how it works:

• Settle yourself and calm your breathing. 
• Then repeat silently to yourself: “May I be happy. May I be peaceful. May I be free from suffering.” You could also add any phrase you’d like, including these Stoic-inspired thoughts: “May I focus on what’s in my power… May I live in agreement with nature… May I be wise and brave… ” 
• Imagine breathing warmth into your heart and then breathing out warmth toward yourself, letting the compassion permeate your body.
• Next, direct those same phrases to someone who is close to you, saying: “May you be happy. May you be peaceful. May you be free from suffering.”
• Finally, pick a person or a group you don’t know well. Again, repeat the phrases for this person or group: “May you be happy. May you be peaceful. May you be free from suffering.” 
• In classic metta practice, you then share these wishes for people you dislike or consider enemies, and then towards all living beings, extending your circles of compassion.

 
A more advanced type of compassion-oriented meditation is called tonglen, which originated in Tibetan Buddhist practice. It’s not recommended for beginners because it can sometimes bring up tough emotions or negativity.
 
Here’s a quick explanation of tonglen, if you feel ready to try it:

• Bring to mind a person (or people) experiencing suffering and imagine that person is standing in front of you. Imagine their suffering as a dark cloud surrounding them.
• As you inhale, imagine breathing in the dark cloud. As you breathe in, the cloud transforms into a bright, warm light of compassion in your heart area.
• When you exhale, you extend that light of compassion to them, alleviating suffering.
• Continue breathing in the dark cloud, allowing it to transform into warm, bright light, and directing your compassionate warmth to the person as you exhale. 

 
In addition to meditating, journaling is another excellent way to combine compassion training and Stoic practice. It’s a Stoic tradition dating back centuries.
 
You can write in your journal how your meditations are going and what aspects are hard for you, exploring why. You can investigate challenges in your life and share supportive thoughts to “be there” as a friend for yourself. 
 
You can also use your journal to cultivate gratitude, recognizing what you love and appreciate about other people. You can also write about aspects of their lives that you’d like to build compassion for, even if you disagree with the person’s decisions or approach. A more advanced practice would be to journal about those who are tough to feel compassion for, and imagine their inner struggles. 
 
All of these are ways to grow connection and feelings of kindness, benevolence, and support for others—in other words, compassion—in alignment with your Stoic mindset. When combined, these two practices are incredibly powerful to the individual, and to all those around her/him who benefit from that bright flame within. 

They say that in the old days, people cursed their enemies with this wish: “May you live in interesting times.”

Today, we are surely living in “interesting times.” That has been made clear in the pandemic and now the advent of the first major land war in Europe in decades. On top of that, to those of us here in the US, there often seems to be more to divide us than unify us. We hear constant partisan battles raging across our media (both traditional and social) and our politics. Everywhere you turn, it seems that someone is judging you for what you do or how you think or who you are. The atmosphere is filled with negativity, and hate is spewed for even the smallest of transgressions. 
 
But despite all this, we carry on. Throughout history, people have looked for inspiration during difficult or dark periods. As things grow bleaker we need this even more. So now, I think it’s time to look at life a different way. 
 
I was inspired by a friend to propose this new approach: Rather than being dragged down by everyone’s flaws and shortcomings, let’s try turning to our friends and family as role models. 
 
My friend points out that her own circle of friends have demonstrated remarkable strengths. They are capable of doing hard things, and showing the way—inspiring others for how to live, if you just take a look. 
 
For example, one friend coped with the illness of her parent, while still taking care of a young child. Another friend found herself with a tough diagnosis while enduring a stressful job and a teen struggling with depression. Another friend re-entered the workforce after a break for raising her family, and took on new responsibilities. Other friends have endured personal losses and difficult training programs and housing issues and more. 
 
There are also so many examples in the wider world of people doing extraordinary things. Right now we are seeing brave regular citizens standing up and fighting for their sovereignty on the streets in an unprovoked war they didn’t want. They are willing to sacrifice everything. 
 
This idea of learning and being inspired by others struck me as the polar opposite of how most of us view our friends, neighbors, relatives, colleagues, and classmates. We’re usually so competitive. Our thoughts and comments dwell on someone not doing well enough or not doing what we would do. Failing us in some way, in how to live well. 
 
But what if we could be less judgy of others—while still staying focused on our personal virtues as individuals?
 
What if we could think of each other as naturally good and at least at heart reasonable people? That’s at the core of Stoicism. We are social beings, and we are all endowed with reason. 
 
To build on this is: What if we could focus on Epictetus’ concept that the only thing we can control are our own judgments? So by resisting the urge to judge and condemn people for small failings, we could actually train our own sense of choice and recognize the good more clearly? And instead, we could valorize other people's practical wisdom, for our own benefit?
 
There’s so much potential in this approach. Instead of tribalism and looking at other people as the other or the enemy, we could view them as fellow humans who are struggling to do what they think is right. 
 
Socrates famously said that some people act wrongly because they possessed wrong-headed judgments and ill-conceived ideals, not that they were “evil.” They were mistaken and misled. The Stoics took that up, with Epictetus reminding us that when we disagree, to recall that a person did what he or she thought was right. What's more, Stoics believed in finding a mentor to learn from; why not a friend or a person you admire in your own world?
 
Of course, I reserve the right to identify and fight against unjust people who are harming others and making others’ lives worse. But everyone else should have a chance to live out their own ideals, as long as no one is being hurt.
 
I have some amazing family members, friends, and colleagues—and they are and continue to be my role models for how to:

• Be loving and wise parents 
• Express emotional intelligence
• Take on new challenges 
• Age gracefully and actively
• Change careers and work life to align with values
• Cope with illness and death 
• End troubled relationships and move forward
• Rebound and rebuild careers after layoffs
• Form strong social networks
• Fight discrimination
• Create a life worth living 

 
I want to learn from them. I want to treasure them and admire them. Not compete with and judge them. 

Even kids can be role models this way. They certainly show great examples of emotional intelligence, and my children, in addition to my mom and husband, help me gain a sense of perspective. We can seek the good in all our interactions.
 
“Say no” to using moral righteousness to bash people in our lives. That’s what social media is for ;) 
 
Instead, let’s say “heck yeah!” to building true and real connections with other people—and learning from them. 

The virus is on the upswing again. On Thanksgiving we got the alert that the new omicron variant was spreading. It kept on expanding its reach as we packed up for traveling to see relatives in the East Coast, something my family had not done for two years. 
 
Thoughts crossed our minds about cancellation. Maybe the risks would be too great. But we also realized that there’s huge value in seeing loved ones, in person, while we can. Who knows what next year will bring for any of us? 
 
The lessons of Stoic thinking have taught me that the present is all we have. The lessons of loss  are distributed unevenly and often. All is constantly in flux, as Marcus Aurelius reminded himself often. 
 
We all have the opportunity to cultivate an open heart to the unending changes of our world, including those of illness and death—which we essentially all live with all the time but choose to turn away from. The pandemic was a wake-up call for many about this fact, which had been smoothed over by Madison Avenue, Hollywood, and the medical establishment for much of our lives. Today, many of us know the pain of loss first-hand and do not need a reminder. 
 
Another piece of news that came across my feed this winter break was the death of writer Joan Didion. Because of my interest in innovative nonfiction writers, I had recently started to delve into her work. I spent part of my time off reading The Year of Magical Thinking, Didion’s memoir about the sudden death of her husband. It’s a devastating book, both because of her raw exploration of grief for her spouse and also her descriptions of the simultaneous severe illness of her only daughter, who, at age 39, was hospitalized with pneumonia and then developed a severe brain injury. Didion shares the perspective of a wife and mother (albeit a non-conventional one) facing the loss of her two closest loved ones. This is not unfamiliar to families who have experienced death, especially in the pandemic, but even long before.  
 
So: This moment is all we have. Live it well. And make the next one count too. We won’t wait long for sorrow to meet us. 
 
Why say this now, in this season? As we spend time with loved ones over the holidays, it’s easy to get caught up in petty frustrations, fears, annoyances. Even tiny ones. I got really angry with one of my kids for leaving her food trash lying out, rather than putting it in the trashcan. Is this rational? Possibly. She is definitely capable of cleaning up. Trash is yucky, and why should someone else have to deal with it? On the other hand—it’s just a stack of trash, and easily handled. Why should I let garbage dominate my mind? I could see that I was not abiding by my Stoic approach in becoming angry. I hated realizing just that idea: “You’re not living up to your principles.” More anger, more digging in of heels, more ego-protecting defensiveness. 
 
So even if you’re struggling with these kinds of reactions too, I won’t tell you to remember your principles: I know how annoying that feels. I will instead lead both of us back to the big picture, and perspective of the now, and the realization of how fleeting it really is. To the value we place on family and friends and the dear ones in our lives today. To the time we have lost due to separations during the pandemic... and even to the people we have lost.
 
Today, hanging on the family tree, I see little photo ornaments I made of my girls’ faces when they were small. I can still think of them as babies, who needed our protection and guidance every minute. Those days are gone, and soon, these days of having teens living at home with me will be gone too. Let’s make the most of this winter, Covid or no, and soak in those moments with the ones we love as fully and deeply as we can. 

“What is the fruit of these teachings? Only the most beautiful and proper harvest of the truly educated–tranquility, fearlessness, and freedom. We should not trust the masses who say only the free can be educated, but rather the lovers of wisdom [or philosophers] who say that only the educated are free” ~ Epictetus, Discourses, 2.1.21-23a
 
 
Most of us remember panicking before taking a test in school. The stress made these kinds of questions pop into our minds: Did I study enough? Did I study the right things? What if I forget what I learned? What if I get confused and make mistakes? What if I get a headache and can’t focus? What if my brain is too tired to do this?
 
My kids experience this kind of stress daily, especially my high schooler. And some tests are bigger than others. My 11th grader is getting ready to take the SAT, and even though some schools aren’t requiring it anymore, it’s been an anxiety-producing right of passage for college applicants for decades. 
 
But what if you didn’t have to “do” school and testing this way? What if the high-stakes testing approach taken by most high schools isn’t working for the bulk of the students… and what if there were a better way? 
 
I’m no expert on education, but I’ve spent a while observing my children’s public school experiences, and I’ve reflected on my own schools. I’ve also worked in the past with education professors, to learn about how they teach teachers and what kinds of teaching methods they promote. 
 
What I’m coming to see is that so much of the current system is just not functioning for so many students. During the pandemic, a lot of failures in the way students are taught and assessed came to light, especially for those in underserved or underfunded districts and those dealing with challenges at home. Students got report cards filled with Ds and Fs, and were forced into summer school. They hadn’t learned the material, but then again, the teaching approach hadn’t given them much of a chance once they fell behind or missed tests due to tough online learning conditions. 
 
That’s why teachers and school districts are starting to downplay testing and even grading via rigid points systems. In a recent Los Angeles Times article, teachers and administrators described the changes they were making as the pandemic and school closures severely affected student performance—and as they began to see academic differences among groups. The story describes
 
… a growing trend in which educators are moving away from traditional point-driven grading systems, aiming to close large academic gaps among racial, ethnic and economic groups. The trend was accelerated by the pandemic and school closures that caused troubling increases in Ds and Fs across the country and by calls to examine the role of institutionalized racism in schools in the aftermath of the murder of George Floyd by a police officer.
 
Los Angeles and San Diego Unified—the state’s two largest school districts, with some 660,000 students combined—have recently directed teachers to base academic grades on whether students have learned what was expected of them during a course — and not penalize them for behavior, work habits and missed deadlines. The policies encourage teachers to give students opportunities to revise essays or retake tests to show that they have met learning goals, rather than enforcing hard deadlines.
 
My kids got a taste of this kind of approach in their middle school, when their math teacher offered them a chance to retake tests to improve their scores. It greatly lessened their stress about individual tests without dimming their desire to learn the material. In fact, they learned more overall by retaking tests that at first seemed daunting, and by studying the material for longer, in greater depth. 
 
Unfortunately, in the local high school, courses don’t work this way. Students are thrown into midterms and finals and high points value final projects where they don’t even know how they’re being assessed until their semester grades are entered into the official grade book—too late to change anything or learn anything new for that particular unit. 
 
It’s painful. It’s arbitrary. And it doesn’t give students a chance to actually improve if something goes wrong. 
 
My high school daughter explains that many of her teachers are “teaching to the test.” She says they want students can do well enough to pass final exams—but that they are not teaching in a way that prepares her and her classmates for the next class in the series. That’s been particularly tough with the unevenness of teaching and class environments during the pandemic.
 
On top of the mercurial and stressful nature of testing and grading this way, there’s the added element of the many inequities in education that are now being put under the microscope. For both reasons, a new approach is needed. It’s something that I think Epictetus would agree with: He was clear that all people deserved to be educated to become free in their minds—not just the few. All people should have a chance at liberating themselves through learning… no matter the circumstances. 
 
Standardized tests have also been a thorn in the side of teachers for decades, as teacher performance as graded based on testing. To quote Daniel Koretz of Harvard Graduate School of Education, 
 
To undo the problems created by test-based accountability, teachers must refocus instruction on teaching the underlying knowledge and skills that any good test should reflect, rather than spending time preparing kids for the specific test used for accountability.
 
Again, the argument comes down to helping students master a body of knowledge and skills, rather than assessing a single snapshop of what students memorized and could spit back out onto the page on a specific day.
 
Side note: This is not to say that student behavior such as tardiness or attendance issues, missing assignments, etc., shouldn’t have any impact or any measurement. In fact, some schools working on mastery approaches are adopting a “citizenship” grading system to capture some of these elements, separate from the typical transcript. It wouldn’t be part of students’ GPA.
 
Here in Northern California, a local independent school near my home uses a “mastery-based learning model,” which they explain this way: “Students are expected to demonstrate an understanding of all competencies and skills identified in a course before moving on, thereby reducing the number of ‘gaps’ in their education. Academic progress in a discipline is decoupled from age… While the time it takes a student to finish a course may vary, the depth of mastery remains constant.” When their students apply to colleges, they submit a mastery transcript, rather than one full of As, Bs, Cs, or Ds. 
 
In some California schools, districts expect students to know 80% of the material before they can move on from a unit; they aren’t allowed to pass through without demonstrating competency.
 
This approach is already well underway far outside of California, too, and larger districts or even states have already adopted it—showing it isn’t only an option for small or private schools. 
 
Mastery-based education, also known as competency-based education, has taken root in the state of Idaho, for example. The Idaho state department of education website says that the Idaho legislature voted to move towards this style of teaching in 2014, and that
 
Mastery-based education empowers students, personalizes learning, supports the demonstration of competencies (the knowledge, skills, and personal attributes that lead to success), and recognizes mastery by allowing students to advance as they demonstrate their knowledge and skills regardless of time, place or pace.
 
With Mastery-Based Education, failure is not an option. Mastery systems give students the opportunities they need to demonstrate their competency with appropriate pacing and supports. Assessments are purposeful and demonstrate what students can do, not just what they know. Learning is flexible, self-paced, engaging, and focused on building skills critical to college, career, and life… 
 
The most promising thing I’ve taken away from this approach is the quote above: "Failure is not an option." 

This way of thinking, to me, embodies a Stoic message: It’s through adversity that we can learn the most, and that we have the chance to build and deploy our virtues. It’s by learning skills for the sake of understanding and growth that we better ourselves and exercise our human excellence, not simply cramming to prove ourselves to others or compete with them. It’s when we fail that we see we could do better and keep going, acting on what is in power at any given moment. It’s our intention to learn and improve as humans that powers us forward.

This idea of working at it until you master something is difficult for many students, and it may seem easier to assign a grade (even if it's low) and move on... but shouldn't we give students the chance to build real skills?
 
This is a timely concept. In a period when many, many students received Ds and Fs during online learning in 2020-21, and when many classes and instructors weren’t able to adequately help students understand the subject matter, we have to re-think what it means to “fail” students.