At least we passed out a syllabus. Yes, the course outline that we gave out on the first day of class explained what a student needed to do to pass the class.

So, the students at least had some direction: In order to earn a certain grade in this class, thou shalt accomplish certain things. But that’s only part of the issue in that some students believed that simply by performing various tasks they were guaranteed an “A.” The other part of the equation was how well they performed the work.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I refer to the grades awarded to New Mexico schools, just like the report cards students receive. The Public Education Department of New Mexico just last week released grades, all the way from an “A” to an “F.” No doubt the grades raised a few eyebrows.

But it seems few people fully understand the criteria employed by the PED. As a now-layman, I certainly don’t understand how to negotiate all those hoops and won’t try to explain them here. It seems strange, though, that nearby Mora High School receives an “A,” whereas the local Family Partnership gets an “F.” Does that give the Rangers bragging rights?

At a teachers’ workshop in Albuquerque Monday through Wednesday of last week, on the day grades were released, there was considerable talk that an area out-of-district school received a low grade but was allowed to raise it to a “C” after the principal got on the horn and complained vociferously enough. Some schools, especially charter schools, have been in operation only for two years and therefore cannot provide three years of test scores for comparison with other schools.

It’s tough on school personnel to receive a grade but not really know what people did to earn (or not earn) that grade. Inquiring minds want to know. Accordingly, I checked out the “contact us” feature on the PED grade page on the Web and asked whether the department had explained in layman’s terms what factors constituted the grade-awarding decisions. But school personnel aren’t laymen — so?

Not surprisingly, I got an e-mail — actually a form letter — the next day stating that 1) time and resources don’t permit individual responses; 2) soon PED “will have an extensive FAQ that explains the entire process in lay terms”; 3) the department regrets “that these materials weren’t available sooner.”

Well thanks, PED, but the grades are already out, so school personnel can only look back, wonder why they blew it and then possibly try to guess the criteria for next year. It seems that proper planning on the part of the education department would have avoided the swampedness and overwhelmedness that office is experiencing. It is true that informed teachers and other school personnel know the intricacies of the new grading system; however, to the lay public, it’s arcane. What do people have against simplifying things?

A better way would have been to spell out — in layperson’s language — what schools need to do beforehand, rather than after-the-fact explanation of criteria.

At least WE passed out a course syllabus, and our students knew the expectations.

And on the subject of the revelation of grades, many alumni of Immaculate Conception School will remember that Msgr. Adrian Rabeyrolle, showed up once every six weeks to go over everyone’s grades. If ever there was an argument for having nine- or even 18-week grading periods, and thus fewer report cards to air publically, this was it.

The French-born school superintendent, as I recall, had a way of giving each syllable the same stress, making us try to divine the real meaning. It seemed those who got high grades earned the same verbal expressions and emphases as the rest of us. That way, “Jane. This. Is. Wonderful.” seemed as damning as “Arthur. This. Is. Unacceptable.”

So, scholar or other, praise or criticism, I believe we all sweated a bit more on report card day.

• • •

“Aware” is an adjective, not a verb. There is no such word as “awared.” The word is either “award,” “awarded” or “aware.” But for several days, the Memorial Middle School electronic sign has carried this message: “Grants awarded to MMS this year: $18,932.00.”

We’re proud of the chunk of change that has been awarded to the school, something nobody had previously AWARED us of. But we think someone in charge ought to fix the spelling. That might even prompt the PED to bump MMS’s grade up from a “C” to a “B.”

• • •

In last week’s column I tossed out a strange use of the possessive in the expression “Bob and I’s venture.” Surprisingly, such usage is common, not always coming from the lips of my wife’s Ohio-based brethren and sisteren.

The trouble with this kind of compound possessive is that we generally don’t include apostrophes with both possessors. We say, “Bob and Helen’s venture,” not “Bob’s and Helen’s car.” That’s why some may find it easier to use “Bob and I’s venture.”

Reader Richard Lindeborg, of Las Vegas, a former government speech writer in Washington, gives his perspective on the issue: “Maybe Bob and I’s venture sounds better to you because your brain wants ‘venture’ to be a verb, as in ‘When Bob and I ventured out to go to the bank.’

“Of course you could make the ‘my’ correct by changing venture to a gerund: ‘Bob and my venturing into animal training.’ Just how esoteric is that?”

Referring to the dog-training mishap I mentioned last week, Lindeborg added that he once read in a grammar book that “whenever a ‘correct’ phrasing would sound wrong to the average person, or even a whole bunch of subaverage persons, the writer should rewrite to avoid the problem: ‘When Bob and I ventured into animal training, we failed, as I failed in trying to dictate how high school students in Cuba, N.M., should speak.’”