The term "moral hazard" has been bandied about lately as a term of economics and the question of whether the government should be "bailing out" failing companies. As an economic term, "moral hazard" means the hazard that comes from insulating an entity form failure and the conseuqences of it. "Running the risk of moral hazard" is the idea that a risk we take in insulating others from failure is that they will never learn from their mistakes and may take as big or bigger risks in the future.
While the term has been used in economics, I think it is high time we apply it to the world of educational psychology. More directly, we educators should remain cognizant that every time we "keep students from failing" by artificially insulating them from the consequences of negative actions, we are ensuring that they do not learn from mistakes. In other words, if the best way to learn from mistakes is to realize that they are mistakes, then interfering with the experience of consequences of mistakes means interfering with the best feedback mechanism one has.
Many times in my career as a teacher have I argued this position and many times, unfortunately, I have lost the argument. In a previous post, I referred to one such incident: me and several other teachers brokered a deal with a senior in danger of failing that if he does x and y, we would see to it that he could pass. Repeatedly, he broke the deal. Repeatedly, the other teachers (without me) rebroekered the deal - all to ensure that he could pass despite having broken the agreement on which his success depended.
Many other times, I have seen the risk of moral hazard come into play when teachers explain rules and cosnequences to students only to, when push came to shove, chafe and allow students to break said rules without undergoing the consequences.
Why do we teachers allow and evene encourage such moral hazards to occur?
I believe that, just as in the current economic situation, it is hard to "hold the line" and enforce consequences when the consequences are severe. It is all well and good to say that companies that are irresponsible shall be allowed to go bankrupt, but it is painful to sit by and watch this happen. Thus, the government ends up caving in and taking the emotionally easy way out by not letting companies go under and people go unemployed.
In the same way, teachers allow such moral hazard becasue, as teachers, we generally do not like to hurt kids. We want to see kids happy, and we do not enjoy seeing kids fail. Unfortunately, we do not often realize that while this is a noble feeling, we often do more harm than good by protecting students form the consequences of their actions, and in the process, interfering with the feedback mechanism of natural consequences. She who places her hand on the stove and gets burned will not do it again. She who places her hand on the stove and is repeatedly saved from such an experience (by having their hand yanked away from the stove, etc) will never, or very slowly, learn that the stove burns. But as no one wishes to see a child get hurt, we protect them and unknowlingly slow down their learning process.
I have learned - and this will sound strange - to find a small (very small) bit of accomplishment in allowing students to fail of their own accord. I see it as a learning opportunity for the student. Of course, I don't actively want students to fail and do not try to make them fail; on the contrary, I want to do everything in my power to see them succeed SHORT OF PROTECTING THEM FROM DESERVED CONSEQUENCES. If this sounds strange, let me illustrate with an example.
One particular student of mine did just about everything wrong in the second and third marking period. He showed up late, talked back, did not do work, disrupted class, etc. I talked with him many times and warned him that he was heading for a failing grade. When his third quarter grade showed up as an "E," he did everyhing he could to try and convince me to change it...to no avail. I explained to him that that was the consequence of his actions and that if he wanted to avoid failing the class, he must improve in quarter four. I would not change his grade or offer him any special benefit of the doubt.
From then on, he has improved greatly. He has been much better in class and is now earning a "B." I tell him as frequently as I can that I am proud of his change in behavior, and when asked what accounts for this new and improved showing, he simply tells me that he knows that acting up will result in a failing grade.
So, there you have it. Fairness means helping children succeed while holding to the rules when they don't. The minute one allows the rules to be overlooked and protecting kids from consequences of their actions, one is running the same "moral hazard" risk the economists talk about: we run the risk of interfering with people's ability to learn from, and correct, their mistakes.
Showing posts with label education philosophy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label education philosophy. Show all posts
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Would Privatizing American Education Threaten Democratic Values?: An Analogy Between Schooling and the Media
This article... argues that, in an increasingly fragmented world, privatised control of civic education in state-funded schools in England threatens the integrity of public education and the civic objectives of state schooling.
This quote is taken from an abstract for an article in a prominent education journal. It voices a common criticism towards the idea of privatizing American education, via either a voucher or a wholly private model. The argument is that, by getting rid of the "common school," education becomes unstandardized and, hence, threatens the idea of a common value set needed for a functioning democracy. Here is a nice summary of what the argument often looks like:
The Undermining America Argument: Choice will siphon off needed funds from public schools and, as a result, the quality of public education in the United States will suffer. In addition, choice will undermine democratic values and lead to segregation and division.
The problem I have with this argument is twofold. First, it contains an assumption that I am not convinced is valid: democracy relies on the citizenry sharing common values. While this statement is often bandied about as fact, it is generally never, but really should be, argued for. But this is a discussion for another time, as this objection is not the one which concerns us here.
The primary reason I object to the argument that a plurality of private schooling option would undermine necessary common values is simply that the conclusion is dubious. And such can be seen if we look at an analogy: that of the media, and whether it functions best as a monopoly or plurality.
The irony that one notices is that the biggest defenders of public "common" schooling tend to be on the political left. This has been true since John Dewey and Edward Thorndike all the way to the present day, as seen with Jonathan Kozol and Alfie Kohn. (Yes, the right supports public ed as well, but vouchers and privatization seem to be primarily a "right wing" phenomenon). But another argument found primarily on the left argues against the "monopolization" of the media. There is a disjunct between these two arguments. One the one hand, it is said that monopolizing education is healthy for democracy, and on the other, that monopolizing the media is unhealthy for a democracy.
What?
Wouldn't one expect that those in favor of pluralism in the media would also be in favor of pluralism in education? Both the media and the education system, after all, have to do with the exact same thing: educating citizens. Why is it that there exists no argument that pluralizing media sources would result in an undermining of democratic values?
The reason is that those in favor of citizens having a plurality of media sources to choose from argue, rightly, that a diversity of voices is good for democracy and when news sources become monolithic, a well-educated citizenry is threatened. An extremizing of this argument can be seen here:
Arguably, the US's much-vaunted "free media" practice a form of adroit self-censorship that's all too reminiscent of Soviet models of the past. Example: could a state-owned American media machine have been much more avid as a cheerleader for the US occupation of Iraq?
In other words, the minute we have an entirely state-run media (or corporate run monopoly on media) then the easier it is for society to be indoctrinated rather than educated.
But I fail to see how this argument would not also work brilliantly as an argument against a monopoly of state-run schools! Let's try it out by taking the above quote and changing a few words:
Arguably, the US's much-vaunted "liberal education" practice a form of adroit self-censorship that's all too reminiscent of Soviet models of the past. Example: could a state-owned American school system have been much more avid as a cheerleader for the US occupation of Iraq?
The point I am trying to make here is that, if critics of privatization of schooling as a threat to common values were consistent, they would also be equally against pluralism in journalism and the press. If different people get their news from different places, we will ot all receive the same news, and therefore (allegedly) democracy will break down.*
Of course, we rightly realize that a plurality of media sources does not hurt, but helps democracy by offering people a choice on what news to receive, and keeping everyone in check by making it extremely unlikely that the type of indoctrination hinted at in the above quote could take place. People can choose their news and news organizations must compete with each other.
The exact same can be said for why pluralization of education outlets is a benefit to democracy. Allowing choice in educaiton means that one source (federal or state governments) do not control the curricula for every child. This means that, while certain schools will choose to indoctrinate in certain ways, a diverse populace will be sustained. Schools will be forced to compete for business, and as a result, will strive to produce better education than competitors. (Can you imagine how low the quality of news would be if the federal government or Foxnews were the only game in town with no one to compete against?)
In closing, democratic values are not threatened, but strengthened by, a plurality of news media sources. No one (save for Dr. Sunstein) takes seriously the argument that, for a democracy to function, we must all receive the same news. Thus, I don't see how the education situation is not directly analogous. No one should take seriously the idea that for a democracy to properly function, all students must receive exactly the same education.
*[Ironically, legal professor Cass Sunstein actually does make a similar argument in his book Republic.com, where he argues that the proliferation of media sources is a bad thing because it produces a fractious polity which, apparently, makes democracy less workable rather than more robust. Not many agree with Sunstein, for good reason.]
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Reflection on, and Review of, Gatto's "Weapons of Mass Instruction"
Recently, I read John Taylor Gatto's book "Weapons of Mass Instruction." Gatto, a former New York City Teacher of the Year, has become an outspoken advocate of abolishing compulsory education. While I share his libertarian sentiments, I similarly distrust his solution of "open source education" which basically means that every child is on his or her own to get an education however they can (i.e., some may be homeschooled, some may become apprentices at an early age, and some may have to "learn on the street.")
One criticism I did not put in my book review was that Gatto demonstrates a Rousseauean faith - a faith I do not share - in the "natural" education written about in books like Emile and those authored by Maria Montessori. Here, students choose their own educational trajectory and, through sheer will, educate themselves (possibly with teachers playing the role of 'facillitator'). This idea sounds good in theory, and would probably work for some highly-motivated and passionate kids. But (a) youth and short-sightedness are otften positively correlated, and I shudder to think of how many kids would not become educated (about anything socially productive or marketable) if left ot their own devices. (b) I think that this approach mistakenly assumes that students know what their interests are from the get-go (where many actually find new interests via education that they would not have chosen on first blush).
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I began this book with high hopes. I am a libertarian and, like Gatto, a teacher who is very unsatisfied with our (mis)education of children. Like Gatto, I strongly feel that the "one size fits all" system may be more accurately summarized as a "one size fits a few quite well, and the rest can fend for themselves" system.
For all that, I found Gatto's case to be surprisingly weak. First, Gatto breaks a cardinal rule of those aiming at reform: tearing down a system need always be accompanied by putting something explicit in its place. Gatto's "open source education" proposal is far from explicit. "Let kids get education on their own, each in their own way," is about the extent of his suggestion, and the suggestion begs many questions: what about those who come from unmotivated or ill-equipped (financially or intellectually) families? How can we ensure that students pursue not only what they are immediately interested in, but also become well-rounded? Gatto might not feel these questions to be important enough to address, but many others do.
He attempts to allay our concerns about open source education by reminding us that many folks have been successful without formal schooling. Abe Lincoln, after all, became president with only a fourth grade education. NASCAR driver Danica Patrick does not possess a high school diploma. Craig Venter, of the Human Genome Project, was a D student who passed high school by the skin of his teeth (Gatto fails to mention that he went on to get a BS and PhD, which would ruin his argument against the value of formalized education).
All in all, Gatto provides us with about 30-35 examples of people who have achieved a lot without formal education. I am sure, if you give me about a week, I could come up with at least as many examples of students who did not achieve much without a formal education and an equal number of examples of those who have achieved a lot that would credit formal schooling as a key component to their success. Unfortunately, Gatto's argument here is so highly anecdotal that one is tempted not to call it an argument (but an appeal to emotion).
He does make some interesting observations about formalized schooling's inability to (he says it is a deliberate lack of desire to) foster skills like critical reasoning. I wholly concur, but fail to see how the inexorable conclusion to this is to abolish formal schooling. (Gatto is convinced, in a very conspiracy-theoristic tone, that the government is deliberately dumbing down students to make them better sheep. He never really cites evidence for this.) Gatto's argument here is analogous to a person cooking a recipe and when the results turn out less-than-tasty, automatically making an argument that the utensils (rather than the recipe) is the problem. In other words, the fact that schools often turn out ill-equipped and ill-learned kids could as much be attributed to HOW we instruct rather than the fact that we do it under compulsion. (Other nations don't seem to have our problem turning out kids who can think.)
Frankly, I am surprised that Gatto does not even consider the idea of revamping the school system we have, maybe into a competitive voucher system. And if creating an education system relevant to student interests is the concern, then a voucher system may achieve a similar objective to Gatto's ideal without leaving everything up to chance and luck of the draw, as his "open source education" does.
When it all comes down to it, I admire much that Gatto stands for. Like him, I am deeply dissatisfied with the system of schooling that I teach in, and am convinced that we can make schooling fit individual students better. I, too, decry the increasing centralization of education (and notice that it is accompanied by lessening performance.) But I don't think that Gatto's solution is TOO laissez-faire ("anything goes") in a way that leaves too much up to chance (especially for those who are not lucky enough to have parents who can homeschool or ambition to self-study). He does not provide any reason to suppose that a voucher system could not allay many of the problems he discusses, but in a way that guarantees at least some degree of guarantee that all students have the opportunity to receive schooling.
For a much more interesting, plausible, and fact-based book on educationa reform from a libertarian perspective, read "Education and Captalism."
One criticism I did not put in my book review was that Gatto demonstrates a Rousseauean faith - a faith I do not share - in the "natural" education written about in books like Emile and those authored by Maria Montessori. Here, students choose their own educational trajectory and, through sheer will, educate themselves (possibly with teachers playing the role of 'facillitator'). This idea sounds good in theory, and would probably work for some highly-motivated and passionate kids. But (a) youth and short-sightedness are otften positively correlated, and I shudder to think of how many kids would not become educated (about anything socially productive or marketable) if left ot their own devices. (b) I think that this approach mistakenly assumes that students know what their interests are from the get-go (where many actually find new interests via education that they would not have chosen on first blush).
___________________________________________________________________
I began this book with high hopes. I am a libertarian and, like Gatto, a teacher who is very unsatisfied with our (mis)education of children. Like Gatto, I strongly feel that the "one size fits all" system may be more accurately summarized as a "one size fits a few quite well, and the rest can fend for themselves" system.
For all that, I found Gatto's case to be surprisingly weak. First, Gatto breaks a cardinal rule of those aiming at reform: tearing down a system need always be accompanied by putting something explicit in its place. Gatto's "open source education" proposal is far from explicit. "Let kids get education on their own, each in their own way," is about the extent of his suggestion, and the suggestion begs many questions: what about those who come from unmotivated or ill-equipped (financially or intellectually) families? How can we ensure that students pursue not only what they are immediately interested in, but also become well-rounded? Gatto might not feel these questions to be important enough to address, but many others do.
He attempts to allay our concerns about open source education by reminding us that many folks have been successful without formal schooling. Abe Lincoln, after all, became president with only a fourth grade education. NASCAR driver Danica Patrick does not possess a high school diploma. Craig Venter, of the Human Genome Project, was a D student who passed high school by the skin of his teeth (Gatto fails to mention that he went on to get a BS and PhD, which would ruin his argument against the value of formalized education).
All in all, Gatto provides us with about 30-35 examples of people who have achieved a lot without formal education. I am sure, if you give me about a week, I could come up with at least as many examples of students who did not achieve much without a formal education and an equal number of examples of those who have achieved a lot that would credit formal schooling as a key component to their success. Unfortunately, Gatto's argument here is so highly anecdotal that one is tempted not to call it an argument (but an appeal to emotion).
He does make some interesting observations about formalized schooling's inability to (he says it is a deliberate lack of desire to) foster skills like critical reasoning. I wholly concur, but fail to see how the inexorable conclusion to this is to abolish formal schooling. (Gatto is convinced, in a very conspiracy-theoristic tone, that the government is deliberately dumbing down students to make them better sheep. He never really cites evidence for this.) Gatto's argument here is analogous to a person cooking a recipe and when the results turn out less-than-tasty, automatically making an argument that the utensils (rather than the recipe) is the problem. In other words, the fact that schools often turn out ill-equipped and ill-learned kids could as much be attributed to HOW we instruct rather than the fact that we do it under compulsion. (Other nations don't seem to have our problem turning out kids who can think.)
Frankly, I am surprised that Gatto does not even consider the idea of revamping the school system we have, maybe into a competitive voucher system. And if creating an education system relevant to student interests is the concern, then a voucher system may achieve a similar objective to Gatto's ideal without leaving everything up to chance and luck of the draw, as his "open source education" does.
When it all comes down to it, I admire much that Gatto stands for. Like him, I am deeply dissatisfied with the system of schooling that I teach in, and am convinced that we can make schooling fit individual students better. I, too, decry the increasing centralization of education (and notice that it is accompanied by lessening performance.) But I don't think that Gatto's solution is TOO laissez-faire ("anything goes") in a way that leaves too much up to chance (especially for those who are not lucky enough to have parents who can homeschool or ambition to self-study). He does not provide any reason to suppose that a voucher system could not allay many of the problems he discusses, but in a way that guarantees at least some degree of guarantee that all students have the opportunity to receive schooling.
For a much more interesting, plausible, and fact-based book on educationa reform from a libertarian perspective, read "Education and Captalism."
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Interestting, if only in theory (Review of Adler's "Paideia Proposal")
Here is a book review I wrote for philosopher Mortimer Adler's "Paideia Proposal," - a conservative work arguing for education reform. Adler is somewhat of a critic of "progressive educaiton" and advocates for a more "liberal arts" type of k-12 educaiton. For those unfamilar, Adler was also a vocal advocate of educating with the "great books" of the Western canon.
I agree with some of Adler's ideas about restoring rigor and discipline into educaiton, but I disagree with his very monolithic "one size fits all" approach, as well as his view that k-12 education should not utilize electives or vocational training. Even though I dislike many excesses of "progressive education," I see much value in a utlitarian approach to education that sees education for what W. James might call its "cash value" to students, rather than as an end in itself (which it can be to many, but will not likely be to all). In other words, Adler treats all students as if they are "bookish," managing to suggest that those who are not simply need to be molded to be so.
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Mortimer Adler's "Paideia Proposal," ("paideia" means "education" in Greek) is a book which intends to offer a stern antidote to many "progressive" ideas in education. One might call Adler an educational conservative - an "essentialist" who believes that education is of value in itself (and should not be justified by its utilitarian value). Adler also believes in the value of a liberal arts education for all, the role of order and discipline in education, and the value of cultivating the intellect as the primary goal of k-12 education.
Adler's Paideia proposal "breaks" education into three types which students should receive in equal measure:
(a) knowledge acquisition: this is where direct teacher/student instruction goes on, and where the student learns to store and recall facts.
(b) developing of intellectual skill: this is where the student "learns by doing," and practices the skill under the teacher's facilitation.
(c) increase in understanding and insight: this is where students learn to evaluate, analyze, synthesize, and create ideas from ideas. Students engage in teacher-led discussion and reflections while learning "higher order thinking" skills.
I agree with these goals, but disagree much with Adler's approach. A key criticism I have of Adler's writing is that, like many philosophers of education, he speaks of students as they exist in theory rather than in practice, and tends to see them as a big monolithic group (while he says he doesn't).
Put differently and bluntly, if I had a child, I might be tempted to send it to a Paidiea school, but would be hesitant to suggest that every child should be forced into this model.
What makes the Paideia project unworkable in practice is Adler's insistence that "one size" of education "fits all." Alder does not believe in tracking of any kind, dismissing it as very undemocratic (by which he really means unegalitarian). He writes as if things like differences in intelligence (by the measure of IQ) do not exist. He repeats frequently the idea that "all children are educable," but turns it cleverly into "all children are capable of learning and absorbing the same stuff as all others." (He does bring this up as a possible criticism but dismisses the problem with high-sounding rhetoric, intimating that naysayers simply don't believe in equality.)
As a special educator, I think this idea of a "one size fits all" education is a pleasant sounding disaster. As one of my colleagues put it, "It is not a God-given right to comprehend Algebra II," by which he means that some simply learn slower, and are more limited than others. (I think Alder would realize his mistake when he put a child with Downs Syndrome, mental retardation, or autism into his Paidiea school.) Alder's point that we should challenge all students is well taken, but he doesn't seem to take seriously the FACT that students differ not only in "learning style" but in innate ability. To subject each child - regardless of ability - to the same curriculum is as unfair as hasty and strict tracking.
The other disaster in Adler's proposal is the idea that all K-12 education should be non-specialized and non-vocational. Under Adler's proposal, electives are essentially abolished and, as he says, we should "eliminate all the non-essentials from the school day." If it doesn't have to do with cultivating the intellect, we don't want it.
This would not only make school a positively dreary place for kids to be (eliminating any classes that might appeal to those not budding philosophers) but it would also lead the non-college-bound out in the cold. Alder suggests several times that all vocational training should take place post-high-school, meaning that school would no longer prepare students for a vocation at all, and those who can't afford to put off work after high school to receive additional training would be ill-prepared to start a career.
Like many schemes philosophers make about how to reform education, the Paidiea Proposal would make for some very interesting private schools. Like the Montessori method, this system might work for some or even half, but certainly not for all. Many students - those who might go into blue collar vocations - would likely do poorly in Paidiea schools. Adler might suggest that I am being pessimistic and "undemocratic," but I would charge him with utopianism and...being a theoretician rather than a statistician.
As long as differences in ability exist (and the fact is unfortunate), the Paidiea proposal, by expecting different abilities to access the same curricula, runs the risk of being as unfair as those he charges with excessive differentiation.
I agree with some of Adler's ideas about restoring rigor and discipline into educaiton, but I disagree with his very monolithic "one size fits all" approach, as well as his view that k-12 education should not utilize electives or vocational training. Even though I dislike many excesses of "progressive education," I see much value in a utlitarian approach to education that sees education for what W. James might call its "cash value" to students, rather than as an end in itself (which it can be to many, but will not likely be to all). In other words, Adler treats all students as if they are "bookish," managing to suggest that those who are not simply need to be molded to be so.
_______________________________________________________
Mortimer Adler's "Paideia Proposal," ("paideia" means "education" in Greek) is a book which intends to offer a stern antidote to many "progressive" ideas in education. One might call Adler an educational conservative - an "essentialist" who believes that education is of value in itself (and should not be justified by its utilitarian value). Adler also believes in the value of a liberal arts education for all, the role of order and discipline in education, and the value of cultivating the intellect as the primary goal of k-12 education.
Adler's Paideia proposal "breaks" education into three types which students should receive in equal measure:
(a) knowledge acquisition: this is where direct teacher/student instruction goes on, and where the student learns to store and recall facts.
(b) developing of intellectual skill: this is where the student "learns by doing," and practices the skill under the teacher's facilitation.
(c) increase in understanding and insight: this is where students learn to evaluate, analyze, synthesize, and create ideas from ideas. Students engage in teacher-led discussion and reflections while learning "higher order thinking" skills.
I agree with these goals, but disagree much with Adler's approach. A key criticism I have of Adler's writing is that, like many philosophers of education, he speaks of students as they exist in theory rather than in practice, and tends to see them as a big monolithic group (while he says he doesn't).
Put differently and bluntly, if I had a child, I might be tempted to send it to a Paidiea school, but would be hesitant to suggest that every child should be forced into this model.
What makes the Paideia project unworkable in practice is Adler's insistence that "one size" of education "fits all." Alder does not believe in tracking of any kind, dismissing it as very undemocratic (by which he really means unegalitarian). He writes as if things like differences in intelligence (by the measure of IQ) do not exist. He repeats frequently the idea that "all children are educable," but turns it cleverly into "all children are capable of learning and absorbing the same stuff as all others." (He does bring this up as a possible criticism but dismisses the problem with high-sounding rhetoric, intimating that naysayers simply don't believe in equality.)
As a special educator, I think this idea of a "one size fits all" education is a pleasant sounding disaster. As one of my colleagues put it, "It is not a God-given right to comprehend Algebra II," by which he means that some simply learn slower, and are more limited than others. (I think Alder would realize his mistake when he put a child with Downs Syndrome, mental retardation, or autism into his Paidiea school.) Alder's point that we should challenge all students is well taken, but he doesn't seem to take seriously the FACT that students differ not only in "learning style" but in innate ability. To subject each child - regardless of ability - to the same curriculum is as unfair as hasty and strict tracking.
The other disaster in Adler's proposal is the idea that all K-12 education should be non-specialized and non-vocational. Under Adler's proposal, electives are essentially abolished and, as he says, we should "eliminate all the non-essentials from the school day." If it doesn't have to do with cultivating the intellect, we don't want it.
This would not only make school a positively dreary place for kids to be (eliminating any classes that might appeal to those not budding philosophers) but it would also lead the non-college-bound out in the cold. Alder suggests several times that all vocational training should take place post-high-school, meaning that school would no longer prepare students for a vocation at all, and those who can't afford to put off work after high school to receive additional training would be ill-prepared to start a career.
Like many schemes philosophers make about how to reform education, the Paidiea Proposal would make for some very interesting private schools. Like the Montessori method, this system might work for some or even half, but certainly not for all. Many students - those who might go into blue collar vocations - would likely do poorly in Paidiea schools. Adler might suggest that I am being pessimistic and "undemocratic," but I would charge him with utopianism and...being a theoretician rather than a statistician.
As long as differences in ability exist (and the fact is unfortunate), the Paidiea proposal, by expecting different abilities to access the same curricula, runs the risk of being as unfair as those he charges with excessive differentiation.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Teaching Them to Be Students
Music teachers are not often philosophers. Yet, at a staff meeting yesterday, where the faculty talked about a new curriculum for "freshman seminar," a high school course required of freshman to teach them basic academic skills, a music teacher responded to a question posed to us: What do you think all freshman should be taught?" Her reply got to the core of what was on many of our minds: "we need to teach them how to be students before we can TEACH them anything." She commented that before she can teach a student how to play the oboe, they must be taught how to learn, take and use guidance, attempt success, and not give up if they stumble. These are things that, sadly, many students do not come to high school knowing.
This is an often neglected and integral piece of the educative process: in order that students can learn, they must learn to be students first. In an age where we tell students many grand stories extolling the virtues of challenging authority - from the American founders to Galileo - we neglect to teach them the value of authority and the wisdom to know how and when to accept it.
We live, quite justly, in a classless system, where anyone from anywhere has the civic freedom to move up or down in the world based on their own efforts and a pinch of luck. Because of this, I think, we are inherently distrustful of words like 'authority,' 'wisdom,' and to the ideas that come with them. To accept instruction from those who know better than we hints at the idea that some are "better" than others and that the learner must bow to the teacher.
But just like skepticism in matters of science, while sometimes good, can be taken to the extreme, so can the idea that authority should be rebelled against. In order to learn, students must at some point accept the fact that they do not know all they need to know and must become willing (even grudgingly) to receive information from those in a position of authority.
This is what I think the music teacher means by saying that students must learn to be students before they learn anything. We must teach them the wisdom to know when to challenge authority and when to accept that authority may have something to teach them. They must learn when to have an ego and when to pack it away for the sake of their betterment. They must learn that while "doing their own thing" can be good, they must also do things that are not of their own design or choosing, but are things that BOTH things can benefit them. (One without the other becomes detrimental to well-being.)
These are some of the things students are not coming to us with. Sometimes, it is as if they come to us convinced that they inhabit a universe of one. We, as teachers, must take as our first mission to widen their universe.
This is an often neglected and integral piece of the educative process: in order that students can learn, they must learn to be students first. In an age where we tell students many grand stories extolling the virtues of challenging authority - from the American founders to Galileo - we neglect to teach them the value of authority and the wisdom to know how and when to accept it.
We live, quite justly, in a classless system, where anyone from anywhere has the civic freedom to move up or down in the world based on their own efforts and a pinch of luck. Because of this, I think, we are inherently distrustful of words like 'authority,' 'wisdom,' and to the ideas that come with them. To accept instruction from those who know better than we hints at the idea that some are "better" than others and that the learner must bow to the teacher.
But just like skepticism in matters of science, while sometimes good, can be taken to the extreme, so can the idea that authority should be rebelled against. In order to learn, students must at some point accept the fact that they do not know all they need to know and must become willing (even grudgingly) to receive information from those in a position of authority.
This is what I think the music teacher means by saying that students must learn to be students before they learn anything. We must teach them the wisdom to know when to challenge authority and when to accept that authority may have something to teach them. They must learn when to have an ego and when to pack it away for the sake of their betterment. They must learn that while "doing their own thing" can be good, they must also do things that are not of their own design or choosing, but are things that BOTH things can benefit them. (One without the other becomes detrimental to well-being.)
These are some of the things students are not coming to us with. Sometimes, it is as if they come to us convinced that they inhabit a universe of one. We, as teachers, must take as our first mission to widen their universe.
Monday, March 2, 2009
The Problem of Student Motivation
Recently, I have come across an interesting article: "Who is Responsible for Student Learning," by Baylor University education professor, J. Wesley Null. The main thesis of the article is that in an age where "accountability" is a buzz word, we must remember that, as wrong as it may sound to some, teachers can only do so much in getting students to learn. We often forget that the other half of the responsibility MUST lie with the student.
Null suggests that the view which sees teachers as the primary responsibility-holders to student learning confuse the business of education with most other businesses. There, if the product falls short of expectations, the workers are the likely culprit. As Null rightly points out, this ignores one key difference between "factories" and education: students, unlike cars and insurance policies, are agents that are often actively resistant to being "worked on." If a car turns out not to work well, something in the workmanship is likely to blame. If a student graduates history class without being able to recall history facts, it may be due to poor teaching by the teacher, or poor learning by the student.
Null provides an analogy to bolster the point:
Obviously, we would suggest that the pastor can persuade, guide, cajole, instruct, and remind. What we would not say, though, is that any of this can make the marriage work. In the end, teaching, guiding, and reminding are only so good as the will of the person recieving the instruction, guidance, and reminders.
That this is analogous to the limits of the teacher's role is obvious. What we do with this recognition is not. When teachers say things like, 'we can only do so much,' or try to shift at least some of the "blame" onto parents, students, and an anti-intellectual culture that many students come to us imbued with, we are seen as offering a subterfuge. In turn, teachers may be charged with laziness and unwillingness to be accountable.
In some sense, this view is sometimes justified. There certainly are such things as bad teachers, and often, those teachers ARE shielded from accountability by the ill-thought-out mechanism of tenure. And, as a "public service," there has to be some way to hold teachers accountable for results. Otherwise, poor-performing teachers can pawn all responsibility onto their students.
There are several other reasons for our collective uncomfortability with blaming at least some of education's failure on students:
(1) Doing so forces parents and society at large to take a critical look at their practices and whether they may be (inadvertently) sending teachers students who have not been taught such basic prerequisites to learning as respect for authority, impulse control, and some reason (internal or external) to value the enterprise of education. It is easier to blame teachers for students' low performance.
(2) As trivial as it seems, all of us have become familiar with the "feel good" teacher movies like "The Ron Clark Story," "Dangerous Minds," and "Freedom Writers," where a teacher is able to overcome all educational obstabcles with students by pure dilligence and tenacity. Take this, couple it with the egalitarian idea that every child has equal potential, and we grow intolerant with the view that student failure is not purely a symptom of bad teaching.
(3) As most of us have had at least 12 years of direct experience with teachers, teaching is the one job that most people have seen close-up, and as such, most people feel is not so difficult. I think that this inadvertently plays into notions that student failure is due to bad teaching because, unlike most professions, it is easy to "play at armchair teaching." Laypersons might not be quick to offer opinions on how accountants can do their job better, but are generally unafraid to criticize the "common sense" discipline of teaching.
It is difficult to know how to strike a good balance between holding teachers accountable for results and accepting that teaching, unlike other professions, requires willingness from producer AND PRODUCT in order to be successful. it may even be as simple as involving teachers who produce scores of underachieving students in more stringent observations and professional developments. It may also involve offering teachesr financial incentives, as some districts have done, for good results (thus not penalizing underperformance, but simply rewarding outstanding performance.
But what many don't realize is that teaching is hard as it is. It is even harder when we teachers are held solely or even primarily accountable for students low performance on tests (when they admit, as they often have to me, that they do not studey), for low homework grades (homework is the responsibility of the home), and even student truency.
As Null correctly notes, and as hard as it is for many parents and policy-makers to hear, "Individual agency matters. Put another way, one person cannot be held responsible for another person's behavior."
Null suggests that the view which sees teachers as the primary responsibility-holders to student learning confuse the business of education with most other businesses. There, if the product falls short of expectations, the workers are the likely culprit. As Null rightly points out, this ignores one key difference between "factories" and education: students, unlike cars and insurance policies, are agents that are often actively resistant to being "worked on." If a car turns out not to work well, something in the workmanship is likely to blame. If a student graduates history class without being able to recall history facts, it may be due to poor teaching by the teacher, or poor learning by the student.
Null provides an analogy to bolster the point:
[I]f a husband and wife enroll in, say, a marriage course at their local church, should the pastor who teaches these classes be blamed if the couple's marriage never improves? Or do the husband and wife have a joint responsibility to improve their own marriage?
Obviously, we would suggest that the pastor can persuade, guide, cajole, instruct, and remind. What we would not say, though, is that any of this can make the marriage work. In the end, teaching, guiding, and reminding are only so good as the will of the person recieving the instruction, guidance, and reminders.
That this is analogous to the limits of the teacher's role is obvious. What we do with this recognition is not. When teachers say things like, 'we can only do so much,' or try to shift at least some of the "blame" onto parents, students, and an anti-intellectual culture that many students come to us imbued with, we are seen as offering a subterfuge. In turn, teachers may be charged with laziness and unwillingness to be accountable.
In some sense, this view is sometimes justified. There certainly are such things as bad teachers, and often, those teachers ARE shielded from accountability by the ill-thought-out mechanism of tenure. And, as a "public service," there has to be some way to hold teachers accountable for results. Otherwise, poor-performing teachers can pawn all responsibility onto their students.
There are several other reasons for our collective uncomfortability with blaming at least some of education's failure on students:
(1) Doing so forces parents and society at large to take a critical look at their practices and whether they may be (inadvertently) sending teachers students who have not been taught such basic prerequisites to learning as respect for authority, impulse control, and some reason (internal or external) to value the enterprise of education. It is easier to blame teachers for students' low performance.
(2) As trivial as it seems, all of us have become familiar with the "feel good" teacher movies like "The Ron Clark Story," "Dangerous Minds," and "Freedom Writers," where a teacher is able to overcome all educational obstabcles with students by pure dilligence and tenacity. Take this, couple it with the egalitarian idea that every child has equal potential, and we grow intolerant with the view that student failure is not purely a symptom of bad teaching.
(3) As most of us have had at least 12 years of direct experience with teachers, teaching is the one job that most people have seen close-up, and as such, most people feel is not so difficult. I think that this inadvertently plays into notions that student failure is due to bad teaching because, unlike most professions, it is easy to "play at armchair teaching." Laypersons might not be quick to offer opinions on how accountants can do their job better, but are generally unafraid to criticize the "common sense" discipline of teaching.
It is difficult to know how to strike a good balance between holding teachers accountable for results and accepting that teaching, unlike other professions, requires willingness from producer AND PRODUCT in order to be successful. it may even be as simple as involving teachers who produce scores of underachieving students in more stringent observations and professional developments. It may also involve offering teachesr financial incentives, as some districts have done, for good results (thus not penalizing underperformance, but simply rewarding outstanding performance.
But what many don't realize is that teaching is hard as it is. It is even harder when we teachers are held solely or even primarily accountable for students low performance on tests (when they admit, as they often have to me, that they do not studey), for low homework grades (homework is the responsibility of the home), and even student truency.
As Null correctly notes, and as hard as it is for many parents and policy-makers to hear, "Individual agency matters. Put another way, one person cannot be held responsible for another person's behavior."
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Why Are We So Stuck on Progressive Education?
Here is an interesting indictment of progressive education from a parental point of view. Written in 2005. the article is written by an education consultant who happened to be a parent of children attedning a public school steeped in many progressive ideas about education.
What were these "progressive" ideas with which this parent disapproved? Ideas like "whole language educaiton," dislike of worksheets and anything that smacked of "instruct and drill" - all of these things start from a common premise of "progressive ed:" learning by listening to the teacher instruct is synthetic and "inauthentic," while learning by self-discovery of the student is natural and "authentic." The best example of this idea that learning shold be self-discovery, rather than knowledge acquisition from an external souce, is best seen in the author's discription of whole language educaiton.
The same trend of replacing "instruct and drill" educaiton with more natural "self-discovery" method can be seen in the author's discription of the way his children's school taught math.
Teaching language by ignoring instruction in phonics and expecting students to start with reading sentences, and teaching math by ignoring instruction on basic mathematical operations and expecting students to engage in conceptual problem solving. Both of these techniques make the mistake of seeing operations like reading and math as something basic that children can figure out themselves if just "guided" the right way. Of course, it is quite absurd to believe that children will discover on their own how to sound out new words - "gauche" or "bivouac" - if they do not learn basic and more complex phonics, and equally as absurd to think that a child will discover how to divide 25.86 by 7 unless taught division FACTS.
As predicted, whole langauge education went bust about a decade ago, as did the idea that students can learn math without learning math FACTS. The problem, though, is that progressive ideas never really seem to die, but rather simply change shape and tact. As a high school special educator, I can certainly attest that progressivism is alive and well at my high school. While we (grudgingly) accept the fact that lecture must occur, we still have not lost our progressive disdain for worksheets, drills, fact learning, and textbook work. In my graudate courses, we still talk of Dewey (and Vygotsky!!) as if they rule the day, constructivism as the only way to properly educate, and the tyranny of testing students recall of facts (in favor of "holistic" and "authentic" assessment.)
But here is the killer question. Why has progressivism stuck around for so long, even though it has failed, time after time, to produce the results it claimed it could? Our author paints the situaiton well:
That such evidence exists against progressive education may be denied by some, but any read-through of Project Follow Through, Maureen Sout's "Feel Good Curriculum," or any work by ED Hirsch should suffice to demonstrate that it does.
Thus, the question remains: if the desired results continue not to be produced, then why has progressive pedagogy (in various incarnations from "progressivism" to "constructivism" to today's "brain based learning,") continue to flourish?
I suspect that the primary reason progressivism's approach remains en vogue despite its failures is because educators like children and we dislike to disappoint or upset them. Progressive education feeds off of this desire by giving us a way to "toss" the "instruct and drill" method that students dislike, in favor of more friendly activities, like playing math games with blocks, and letting kids design their own project specifications.
That educators have an emotional connection to progressivism (the softer approach) can be seen by their constant caricature of the "old way" of education as draconian, authoritarian, and dry. Progressive education, by contrast, is often accompanied by pretty phrases like "educating the whole child" (as opposed to educating only part of the child?!), "authentic education" (rather than fraudulent education?!), and "child-centered education (was there ever an education that did not have the child as its aim?!). If the old education is the authoritarian father, then progressivism is the nurturing mother (this, in a field with far more mothers than fathers in its employ).
This emotional pull is, I feel, the force that keeps progressivism kicking after all of these failed years. As the author says, the fact that we keep going back to "more of the same" (first progressivism, then constructivism, now "brain-based ways of learning" - the same ideas dressed differently), despite repeated failures to make gains defies logic. And I am not sure logic was involved. My guess is that the stubborn persistence of progresivism in education has more to do with the emotional sway it has over educators lost in its nurturing language.
What were these "progressive" ideas with which this parent disapproved? Ideas like "whole language educaiton," dislike of worksheets and anything that smacked of "instruct and drill" - all of these things start from a common premise of "progressive ed:" learning by listening to the teacher instruct is synthetic and "inauthentic," while learning by self-discovery of the student is natural and "authentic." The best example of this idea that learning shold be self-discovery, rather than knowledge acquisition from an external souce, is best seen in the author's discription of whole language educaiton.
Whole language is progressive education’s belief system applied to reading. Its theorists believe learning to read is as natural as learning to speak, and therefore it isn’t necessary (and indeed it could be harmful) to directly and systematically teach and drill children on the sound-letter relationships, called phonemes.
They believe learning to read is primarily an exercise in recognizing whole words..
The same trend of replacing "instruct and drill" educaiton with more natural "self-discovery" method can be seen in the author's discription of the way his children's school taught math.
The NCTM standards document openly disdains “paper and pencil practice” of basic arithmetic computational skills, and it demands that calculators be used even in kindergarten. It emphasizes how math should be taught (through hands-on activities and problem solving rather than teacher-led instruction and practice)...
Teaching language by ignoring instruction in phonics and expecting students to start with reading sentences, and teaching math by ignoring instruction on basic mathematical operations and expecting students to engage in conceptual problem solving. Both of these techniques make the mistake of seeing operations like reading and math as something basic that children can figure out themselves if just "guided" the right way. Of course, it is quite absurd to believe that children will discover on their own how to sound out new words - "gauche" or "bivouac" - if they do not learn basic and more complex phonics, and equally as absurd to think that a child will discover how to divide 25.86 by 7 unless taught division FACTS.
As predicted, whole langauge education went bust about a decade ago, as did the idea that students can learn math without learning math FACTS. The problem, though, is that progressive ideas never really seem to die, but rather simply change shape and tact. As a high school special educator, I can certainly attest that progressivism is alive and well at my high school. While we (grudgingly) accept the fact that lecture must occur, we still have not lost our progressive disdain for worksheets, drills, fact learning, and textbook work. In my graudate courses, we still talk of Dewey (and Vygotsky!!) as if they rule the day, constructivism as the only way to properly educate, and the tyranny of testing students recall of facts (in favor of "holistic" and "authentic" assessment.)
But here is the killer question. Why has progressivism stuck around for so long, even though it has failed, time after time, to produce the results it claimed it could? Our author paints the situaiton well:
But the overwhelming body of empirical research is basically an indictment of the progressive education model. And it’s not just recent research—educators have had experimental research evidence for decades that unequivocally conclude that current progressive theories don’t work—evidence that large numbers of educators have chosen to ignore
That such evidence exists against progressive education may be denied by some, but any read-through of Project Follow Through, Maureen Sout's "Feel Good Curriculum," or any work by ED Hirsch should suffice to demonstrate that it does.
Thus, the question remains: if the desired results continue not to be produced, then why has progressive pedagogy (in various incarnations from "progressivism" to "constructivism" to today's "brain based learning,") continue to flourish?
I suspect that the primary reason progressivism's approach remains en vogue despite its failures is because educators like children and we dislike to disappoint or upset them. Progressive education feeds off of this desire by giving us a way to "toss" the "instruct and drill" method that students dislike, in favor of more friendly activities, like playing math games with blocks, and letting kids design their own project specifications.
That educators have an emotional connection to progressivism (the softer approach) can be seen by their constant caricature of the "old way" of education as draconian, authoritarian, and dry. Progressive education, by contrast, is often accompanied by pretty phrases like "educating the whole child" (as opposed to educating only part of the child?!), "authentic education" (rather than fraudulent education?!), and "child-centered education (was there ever an education that did not have the child as its aim?!). If the old education is the authoritarian father, then progressivism is the nurturing mother (this, in a field with far more mothers than fathers in its employ).
This emotional pull is, I feel, the force that keeps progressivism kicking after all of these failed years. As the author says, the fact that we keep going back to "more of the same" (first progressivism, then constructivism, now "brain-based ways of learning" - the same ideas dressed differently), despite repeated failures to make gains defies logic. And I am not sure logic was involved. My guess is that the stubborn persistence of progresivism in education has more to do with the emotional sway it has over educators lost in its nurturing language.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
An Interesting Balance: Bertrand Russell's View of Authority v. Freedom in the Education of Children
Over the past week, I have had occasion to read and re-read Bertrand Russell's brief essay, "Education and Discipline". While I often regard Bertrand Russell's social essays (as seen in such books as In Praise of Idleness) as flighty and ill-thought-out, this essay highlights an interesting dichotomy that has been present in the philosophy of education for the last many hundreds of years: the tension between liberty v. authority in education.
In fact, I think that Russell rightly recognizes this issue as the key issue in the philosophy of how to educate children. Do we follow Rousseau and Montessori in the belief that education of children sh old involve a minimum of (or any) coercion - education as spontaneous discovery by the child - or the more "classical" idea that education should involve an instructor coercing the child to submit to their authority.
Russell, quite rightly, sees the danger in both. About the former idea of non-coercive education, he writes:
About the idea that education is about molding the child to submit to the authority of educators, Russell writes that:
Too much authoritarianism in education, Russell notes, leads either to over-submissive and timid children or to rebels who become so disillusioned with authority that they "suppose that opposition to authority is essentially meritorious and that unconventional opinions are bound to be correct." Being a rebel for the sake of rebellion is equally as unwise as being too timid to challenge authority.
Thus, there is danger in both extremes. Leave children too free and children will never learn how to live in a world with others (peers and authority figures). Be too authoritarian towards children and one is bound to create children who do not know how to deal with freedom (who will either be afraid of it or rebel against it out of spite). In Russell's words,
By developing children with "good nature," Russell means that we are trying to raise students who can be well-adjusted and content in later life, which requires a balance between cultivating the child's individuality and preparing her to be a social being.
Of course, these two ends of education - individuality and socialization - are necessarily in conflict, and it is rare to hear philosophers of education recognize this conflict. Dewey overemphasized socialization as much as Montessori overemphasized individualization. To be sure, though, while these two ideas are diametrically opposed - the more individualized you are, the less socialized, and vice versa - they are not mutually exclusive; it is quite easy to recognize that both elements - individuality and sociality - can peacefully coexist in the same individual.
So the struggle of educational theorists, philosophers, and policy-makers is to juggle these two ideals - figure out how to teach children to be independent but also carry the wisdom to know how to do this as a social creature. If the job of education is to sew in each child the ability to become a well-functioning adult, we must recognize that being a well-functioning adult entails both individual authenticity and an ability to function in society.
Russell's appraisal? "I do not think that educators have yet solved the problem of combining the desirable forms of freedom with the necessary minimum of moral training." For me, the problem is that Russell writes as if this is a "solvable" problem - that the question of how much individuality and how much sociability to instill in students is a problem with a definite, universal, and identifiable solution.
Contra this, I believe that individuality and sociability, as terms necessarily in tension, will never yield to a once-and-for-all resolution. I believe that educators and theorists will always have to re-examine and re-answer the question of how to "healthily" (a subjective term) balance the one with the other. As long as we live in"communities of individuals" we will have to struggle with how to teach just enough respect for community with just enough individuality, but I simply can't see how this will not always bee a most delicate balancing act.
I do admire Russell's essay, though, for highlighting this duality, as very few in the philosophy of education seem to. If there is any wisdom to be spoken of on this topic, I think Russell had it right: any education that unqualifiedly sees coercion and authority as absolute goods or evils can absolutely be called unwise.
In fact, I think that Russell rightly recognizes this issue as the key issue in the philosophy of how to educate children. Do we follow Rousseau and Montessori in the belief that education of children sh old involve a minimum of (or any) coercion - education as spontaneous discovery by the child - or the more "classical" idea that education should involve an instructor coercing the child to submit to their authority.
Russell, quite rightly, sees the danger in both. About the former idea of non-coercive education, he writes:
The belief that liberty will ensure moral perfection is a relic of Rousseauism, and would not survive a study of animals and babies. Those who hold this belief think that education should have no positive purpose, but should merely offer an environment suitable for spontaneous development. I cannot agree with this school, which seems to me too individualistic, and unduly indifferent to the importance of knowledge.
About the idea that education is about molding the child to submit to the authority of educators, Russell writes that:
Thus an unduly authoritative education turns the pupils into timid tyrants, incapable of either claiming or tolerating originality in word or deed
Too much authoritarianism in education, Russell notes, leads either to over-submissive and timid children or to rebels who become so disillusioned with authority that they "suppose that opposition to authority is essentially meritorious and that unconventional opinions are bound to be correct." Being a rebel for the sake of rebellion is equally as unwise as being too timid to challenge authority.
Thus, there is danger in both extremes. Leave children too free and children will never learn how to live in a world with others (peers and authority figures). Be too authoritarian towards children and one is bound to create children who do not know how to deal with freedom (who will either be afraid of it or rebel against it out of spite). In Russell's words,
What is wanted is neither submissiveness nor rebellion, but good nature, and general friendliness both to people and to new ideas.
By developing children with "good nature," Russell means that we are trying to raise students who can be well-adjusted and content in later life, which requires a balance between cultivating the child's individuality and preparing her to be a social being.
Of course, these two ends of education - individuality and socialization - are necessarily in conflict, and it is rare to hear philosophers of education recognize this conflict. Dewey overemphasized socialization as much as Montessori overemphasized individualization. To be sure, though, while these two ideas are diametrically opposed - the more individualized you are, the less socialized, and vice versa - they are not mutually exclusive; it is quite easy to recognize that both elements - individuality and sociality - can peacefully coexist in the same individual.
So the struggle of educational theorists, philosophers, and policy-makers is to juggle these two ideals - figure out how to teach children to be independent but also carry the wisdom to know how to do this as a social creature. If the job of education is to sew in each child the ability to become a well-functioning adult, we must recognize that being a well-functioning adult entails both individual authenticity and an ability to function in society.
Russell's appraisal? "I do not think that educators have yet solved the problem of combining the desirable forms of freedom with the necessary minimum of moral training." For me, the problem is that Russell writes as if this is a "solvable" problem - that the question of how much individuality and how much sociability to instill in students is a problem with a definite, universal, and identifiable solution.
Contra this, I believe that individuality and sociability, as terms necessarily in tension, will never yield to a once-and-for-all resolution. I believe that educators and theorists will always have to re-examine and re-answer the question of how to "healthily" (a subjective term) balance the one with the other. As long as we live in"communities of individuals" we will have to struggle with how to teach just enough respect for community with just enough individuality, but I simply can't see how this will not always bee a most delicate balancing act.
I do admire Russell's essay, though, for highlighting this duality, as very few in the philosophy of education seem to. If there is any wisdom to be spoken of on this topic, I think Russell had it right: any education that unqualifiedly sees coercion and authority as absolute goods or evils can absolutely be called unwise.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Review of Rand-Influenced Book on Education
Today, I reviewed Jerry Kirpatrick's book "Montessori, Dewey, and Capitalism." It is a book that defends (a) a free-market capitalistic model of educaiton; and (b) the appropriateness of Dewey's and Montessori's methods of education in that framework.
I gave the book 2 out of 5 stars.
__________________________________________________________
First off, Jerry Kirkpatrick has written one of only a few books that defend education in an environment of the free market. For that, he deseves some praise. While I find fault with much that he says, I am in agreement with Kirkpatrick that schools need to be opened up to the competitive forces of the market.
Kirkpatrick is concerned to defend a particlar type of education - that utilizing the insights of progressive educators John Dewey and Maria Montessori - as the only proper plan of education in a capitalistic society. He suggests that in a capitalistic society, the "old way of educaiton" that teaches students to submit to the school's authority would be in contradiction with capitalism's anti-authoritarian structure.
My first objection is that, despite Kirkpatrick's argument, I do not see how any social structure REQUIRES a certain type of education. I do not see how a mixed economy or socialist country could not just as easily have a "lecture" style of education as it could a Montessori style. To suggest that a philosophy of educaiton and a philosophy of social organizaiton must be alligned is like saying that that a nation's philosphy of science must be alligned with its philosophy of social organization.
Secondly, Kirkpatrick takes it as unquestioned that Montessori's anti-authority method of education meshes well with capitalism's anti-authority structure. I do not see this as correct. When students move past high school, they will experience many "authoritarian" relationships, like that between them and employers and that between them and moneylenders. (I have even heard it argued elsewhere that an "anti-authoritarian" style of education leaves kids ill-preared to function in a capitalistic system, which involves learning to obey rules, laws, and mores.)
While I am not against the Montessori method of educaiton, I suspect that Kirkpatrick's confidence in it is exhuberant. Many well-argued books have been written outlining the dangers of current schools' infatuation with "progressive education" ideas ("whole child" education, "whole language" education, education as self-discovery rather than subject-discovery). The interested might read Stout's "Feel Good Curriculum" and Hirsch's "The Schools We Need and Why We Don't Have Them," as starting points.
In brief, Kirkpatrick makes a big mistakes, probably related to his belief in Ayn Rand's philosophy. First, he is very much against coercion, extremizing this view into the idea that coercing children is an unqualified wrong. It is interesting to note, though, that even in a capitalistic society, the need to coerce children is recognized in an almost universal agreement that kids below a certain age need to be restricted in certain ways, as they lack the executive functioning skills to self-regulate. Kirkpatrick recognizes that students need freedom, but does not recgnize that students also need a good amount of structure. Before one can be self-disciplined, one needs to be taught discipline. (One cannot just "discover" how to be disciplined.)
Kirkpatrick goes on to describe what an educaiton system in a free market would look like. I think the discusison is a bit facile to be honest. Kirkpatrick is confident that a free-market system would do away with grades, rankings, standardized tests, degrees, and certificates. I see this as a very hasty and wrong judgment that misinterprets a key role of schools: to signify to future employers, colleges, etc, that the child has mastered a certain content and acquired certain skills. Without diplomas, grades, and tests, the very term "graduation" loses all meaning. (How would we know when a chlld is graduated? How would we know when to pass a child on to the next level? How would future employers know how their perspective employees did in school?)
Kirkpatrick also sees rankings, letter grades, and degrees as very bad things. Of course, as an educator, I can attest that the grading system is what often keeps kids motivated to work harder, and without it, students would find it very hard to know where they need improvement and how much improvement they need. If there were no such things as "exit requirements" I question whether many people would see any point to education at all (aside from those who learn solely for the enjoyment of it).
Quite simply, I think Kirkpatrick's book could benefit from a lot of rethinking. Particularly, he discusses his own ideas, but not once discusses existant or possible criticisms (as for his championing of Montessori and Dewey, there are many, many critics he could have dealt with. He chose not to.) As for his facile confidence that a free-market would gravitate towards a Montessori appraoch, he did not bring up the fact that the large majority of private schools in existence are non-Montessori schools with more "authoritarian" structure. (Is there a reason to suppose that this trend would reverse? We don't know; Kirkpatrick doesn't bring it up!) There are also many critics of a free-market approach to education that not once do we hear Kirkpatrick grapple with.
I give this book two stars. One star is for being one of the handful of books discussing education in a free market framework. The second was for Kirkpatrick's very learned, but skewed, history of the transition from "classical" to "progressive" education.
I gave the book 2 out of 5 stars.
__________________________________________________________
First off, Jerry Kirkpatrick has written one of only a few books that defend education in an environment of the free market. For that, he deseves some praise. While I find fault with much that he says, I am in agreement with Kirkpatrick that schools need to be opened up to the competitive forces of the market.
Kirkpatrick is concerned to defend a particlar type of education - that utilizing the insights of progressive educators John Dewey and Maria Montessori - as the only proper plan of education in a capitalistic society. He suggests that in a capitalistic society, the "old way of educaiton" that teaches students to submit to the school's authority would be in contradiction with capitalism's anti-authoritarian structure.
My first objection is that, despite Kirkpatrick's argument, I do not see how any social structure REQUIRES a certain type of education. I do not see how a mixed economy or socialist country could not just as easily have a "lecture" style of education as it could a Montessori style. To suggest that a philosophy of educaiton and a philosophy of social organizaiton must be alligned is like saying that that a nation's philosphy of science must be alligned with its philosophy of social organization.
Secondly, Kirkpatrick takes it as unquestioned that Montessori's anti-authority method of education meshes well with capitalism's anti-authority structure. I do not see this as correct. When students move past high school, they will experience many "authoritarian" relationships, like that between them and employers and that between them and moneylenders. (I have even heard it argued elsewhere that an "anti-authoritarian" style of education leaves kids ill-preared to function in a capitalistic system, which involves learning to obey rules, laws, and mores.)
While I am not against the Montessori method of educaiton, I suspect that Kirkpatrick's confidence in it is exhuberant. Many well-argued books have been written outlining the dangers of current schools' infatuation with "progressive education" ideas ("whole child" education, "whole language" education, education as self-discovery rather than subject-discovery). The interested might read Stout's "Feel Good Curriculum" and Hirsch's "The Schools We Need and Why We Don't Have Them," as starting points.
In brief, Kirkpatrick makes a big mistakes, probably related to his belief in Ayn Rand's philosophy. First, he is very much against coercion, extremizing this view into the idea that coercing children is an unqualified wrong. It is interesting to note, though, that even in a capitalistic society, the need to coerce children is recognized in an almost universal agreement that kids below a certain age need to be restricted in certain ways, as they lack the executive functioning skills to self-regulate. Kirkpatrick recognizes that students need freedom, but does not recgnize that students also need a good amount of structure. Before one can be self-disciplined, one needs to be taught discipline. (One cannot just "discover" how to be disciplined.)
Kirkpatrick goes on to describe what an educaiton system in a free market would look like. I think the discusison is a bit facile to be honest. Kirkpatrick is confident that a free-market system would do away with grades, rankings, standardized tests, degrees, and certificates. I see this as a very hasty and wrong judgment that misinterprets a key role of schools: to signify to future employers, colleges, etc, that the child has mastered a certain content and acquired certain skills. Without diplomas, grades, and tests, the very term "graduation" loses all meaning. (How would we know when a chlld is graduated? How would we know when to pass a child on to the next level? How would future employers know how their perspective employees did in school?)
Kirkpatrick also sees rankings, letter grades, and degrees as very bad things. Of course, as an educator, I can attest that the grading system is what often keeps kids motivated to work harder, and without it, students would find it very hard to know where they need improvement and how much improvement they need. If there were no such things as "exit requirements" I question whether many people would see any point to education at all (aside from those who learn solely for the enjoyment of it).
Quite simply, I think Kirkpatrick's book could benefit from a lot of rethinking. Particularly, he discusses his own ideas, but not once discusses existant or possible criticisms (as for his championing of Montessori and Dewey, there are many, many critics he could have dealt with. He chose not to.) As for his facile confidence that a free-market would gravitate towards a Montessori appraoch, he did not bring up the fact that the large majority of private schools in existence are non-Montessori schools with more "authoritarian" structure. (Is there a reason to suppose that this trend would reverse? We don't know; Kirkpatrick doesn't bring it up!) There are also many critics of a free-market approach to education that not once do we hear Kirkpatrick grapple with.
I give this book two stars. One star is for being one of the handful of books discussing education in a free market framework. The second was for Kirkpatrick's very learned, but skewed, history of the transition from "classical" to "progressive" education.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Progressive Education: A Bridge Too Far,
On another blog, there is an intersting post questioning America's over-reliance on standardized test scores, and test scores in general. As an educator, I share the blogger's concern that American schools are cranking out students that are ill-able to think well.
The problem is that much of this criticism of the current educational approach comes from the vantege point of (what is loosely termed) progressive education. Influenced by in large by John Dewey, Maria Montessori, Edward Thorndike, etc, these educators tend to take the approach of "whole child education" where schools focus less on instilling disciplinary knowledge and more on educating students to participate in social democracy. Less about reading and math, and more about "critical thinking" and social-mindedness.
In this blogger's post, was the example of the Eight Year Study, which allegedly found that progressive schools turn out more "well rounded" and competent students than do "traditional" schools.
What bothers me about the study is not that it shows progresssive schools to turn out more self- and socially-attuned individuals (this is of little suprise considering that progressive schools offer explicit instruction in these areas). My big problem is the ASSUMPTION made in the study that the proper school is one that teachers particular social values.
Here is an example from the study of some objectives of things the study's progressive schools wish to instill in students:
While siome of these - cultivation of work habits and study skills, acquisition of important information - are relatively uncontroversial, some cause me concern: to see schools as "inculcat[ors] of social attitudes," or facilitators in the development of "consistent philosoph[ies] of life," skirt dangerously close to the idea of schools as value-pushers and teachers as opiners.
It seems to me that schools in any kind of pluralistic society should stay as neutral towards any non-academic value as possible, and seeing teachers' role as helping students develop philosophies of life open the floodgates for value-pushing. Teaching english is not value pushing (and is necessasry for academic function). Teaching a philosophy of life is, if anything, the job of parent, pastor, community, or anyone except a public school teacher.
Second, schools have enough on their plates in teaching academic subjects, which we do not do well anyway. Why place a role onto schools which can be best achieved by private entitites like churches, clubs, families, and communities? If focusing on one job is proving to be difficult, why add the additional job of curing social ills as well?
The two foremost problems with "whole child education" is that (a) it forces schoools to play a role that are better played by families, pastors, community, and parties more interested than the school board; and (b) it opens up the potentially dangerous idea that schools become value-pushers, people-molders, and anything but academic-knowledge-conveyers.
While there are many other flaws in the progressive education vision (abolishing letter grades in favor of more "holistic" grades, lack of academic rigor) the two I mentione in the paragraph above are the most concerning to me. I do not want to see a day when schools devote a piece of each school day to "inculcat[ing] social attitudes," and helping students "develop... a philosophy of life."
If we are having enough truouble teaching facts, then why open schools up to teach values?
The problem is that much of this criticism of the current educational approach comes from the vantege point of (what is loosely termed) progressive education. Influenced by in large by John Dewey, Maria Montessori, Edward Thorndike, etc, these educators tend to take the approach of "whole child education" where schools focus less on instilling disciplinary knowledge and more on educating students to participate in social democracy. Less about reading and math, and more about "critical thinking" and social-mindedness.
In this blogger's post, was the example of the Eight Year Study, which allegedly found that progressive schools turn out more "well rounded" and competent students than do "traditional" schools.
What bothers me about the study is not that it shows progresssive schools to turn out more self- and socially-attuned individuals (this is of little suprise considering that progressive schools offer explicit instruction in these areas). My big problem is the ASSUMPTION made in the study that the proper school is one that teachers particular social values.
Here is an example from the study of some objectives of things the study's progressive schools wish to instill in students:
The development of effective methods of thinking
The cultivation of useful work habits and study skills
The inculcation of social attitudes
The acquisition of a wide range of significant interests
The development of increased appreciation of music, art, literature, and other aesthetic experiences
The development of social sensitivity
The development of better personal-social adjustment
he acquisition of important information
The development of physical health
The development of a consistent philosophy of life
While siome of these - cultivation of work habits and study skills, acquisition of important information - are relatively uncontroversial, some cause me concern: to see schools as "inculcat[ors] of social attitudes," or facilitators in the development of "consistent philosoph[ies] of life," skirt dangerously close to the idea of schools as value-pushers and teachers as opiners.
It seems to me that schools in any kind of pluralistic society should stay as neutral towards any non-academic value as possible, and seeing teachers' role as helping students develop philosophies of life open the floodgates for value-pushing. Teaching english is not value pushing (and is necessasry for academic function). Teaching a philosophy of life is, if anything, the job of parent, pastor, community, or anyone except a public school teacher.
Second, schools have enough on their plates in teaching academic subjects, which we do not do well anyway. Why place a role onto schools which can be best achieved by private entitites like churches, clubs, families, and communities? If focusing on one job is proving to be difficult, why add the additional job of curing social ills as well?
The two foremost problems with "whole child education" is that (a) it forces schoools to play a role that are better played by families, pastors, community, and parties more interested than the school board; and (b) it opens up the potentially dangerous idea that schools become value-pushers, people-molders, and anything but academic-knowledge-conveyers.
While there are many other flaws in the progressive education vision (abolishing letter grades in favor of more "holistic" grades, lack of academic rigor) the two I mentione in the paragraph above are the most concerning to me. I do not want to see a day when schools devote a piece of each school day to "inculcat[ing] social attitudes," and helping students "develop... a philosophy of life."
If we are having enough truouble teaching facts, then why open schools up to teach values?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Review of Stout's "Feel Good Curriculum"
Here is a review I recently wrote about another highly reccomended book, Maureen Stout's "Feel-Good Curriculum." It is a very good indictment of an overly progressive education, a la ED Hirsch
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Maureen Stout's book, "The Feel-Good Curriculum," would make a good companion to the works of ED Hirsch, author of "The Knowledge Deficit." These two authors' theses are much the same: over the past forty-or-so years, the "progressive" changes in American education have led to the decline of academic standards, the over-valuing of (a misguided view of) self-esteem, and and the turning out of students ill-prepared for the disciplined nature of the "real world."
Stout is a professor of education at UC Berkley, and like her philosophical kin Hirsch, is interested not only in demonstrating these saddening trends but in exploring their ideational roots. While the usual suspects (Dewey, Thorndike), she also links non-educators like psychologist Carl Rogers and Erik Ericksson with the "child-centered," whole child," and "self-actualization" movements in education.
These movements changed virtually everything about schooling. Instead of teaching students basic academics, their primary goals were not wo help the child reach self-actualizaiton (whatever THAT means!). Instead of seeing discipline as necessary for an ordered school, it was now seen as an antiquated stifler of student enthusiasm.
...And, as Stout points out, the movement kept on going, becoming more and more extreme despite yielding worse and worse reults. As an educator, I found myself oscillating between chuckling and containing anger as I read about current trends in educaiton - Vygotskyan cooperative learning, social (rather than standards-based) promotion, educators as facilitators rather than instructors - that I sadly recognize all too well. And as an educator, I can attest that these are trends that need to be rethought and revamped, but never seem to be; Stout hits these problems right on the head in writing about these problems, not only identifying THAT, but WHY, they are problems.
Stout ends with a section on how we can turn some of these effects around (and her suggestions sound much like those of ED Hirsch). She does not advocate a return to the dark ages where students memorize rote passages and are paddled for misbehavior. She advocates a return to standards-based, rather than "outcome-based" educaiton, readjust our views on the value of discipine, and maybe get rid of the "progressive" idea of self-esteem that equates it with "feeling good for no good reason" rather than an earned feeling of accomplishment.
This is a very, very good book. Those who read it will either be challenged to re-examine cherished views or be further outraged by problems they know too well. Either way, it is not a book to be missed.
_______________________________________________________________
Maureen Stout's book, "The Feel-Good Curriculum," would make a good companion to the works of ED Hirsch, author of "The Knowledge Deficit." These two authors' theses are much the same: over the past forty-or-so years, the "progressive" changes in American education have led to the decline of academic standards, the over-valuing of (a misguided view of) self-esteem, and and the turning out of students ill-prepared for the disciplined nature of the "real world."
Stout is a professor of education at UC Berkley, and like her philosophical kin Hirsch, is interested not only in demonstrating these saddening trends but in exploring their ideational roots. While the usual suspects (Dewey, Thorndike), she also links non-educators like psychologist Carl Rogers and Erik Ericksson with the "child-centered," whole child," and "self-actualization" movements in education.
These movements changed virtually everything about schooling. Instead of teaching students basic academics, their primary goals were not wo help the child reach self-actualizaiton (whatever THAT means!). Instead of seeing discipline as necessary for an ordered school, it was now seen as an antiquated stifler of student enthusiasm.
...And, as Stout points out, the movement kept on going, becoming more and more extreme despite yielding worse and worse reults. As an educator, I found myself oscillating between chuckling and containing anger as I read about current trends in educaiton - Vygotskyan cooperative learning, social (rather than standards-based) promotion, educators as facilitators rather than instructors - that I sadly recognize all too well. And as an educator, I can attest that these are trends that need to be rethought and revamped, but never seem to be; Stout hits these problems right on the head in writing about these problems, not only identifying THAT, but WHY, they are problems.
Stout ends with a section on how we can turn some of these effects around (and her suggestions sound much like those of ED Hirsch). She does not advocate a return to the dark ages where students memorize rote passages and are paddled for misbehavior. She advocates a return to standards-based, rather than "outcome-based" educaiton, readjust our views on the value of discipine, and maybe get rid of the "progressive" idea of self-esteem that equates it with "feeling good for no good reason" rather than an earned feeling of accomplishment.
This is a very, very good book. Those who read it will either be challenged to re-examine cherished views or be further outraged by problems they know too well. Either way, it is not a book to be missed.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Some Thoughts on What Intelligence Is
To me as an educator, one of the more interesting, and challenging, questions is: what is intelligence? Further, we can ask how many "intelligences" are there and how do we recognize intelligence? For what it is worth, here are some of my thoughts on these questions:
What Is Intelligence
The word "intelligence" has proven quite resistant to any single definition (or discovery of any necessary or sufficient conditions). I think this has a large amount to do with its function as an abstract noun, a noun that doesn't refer to an existant so much as an abstract generalization. As with a term like "justice," we all might have our own ideas as to what we think intelligence is, but there is no "thing" that we can point to to prove or disprove any competing conception. (If we suggested that a dog must have x condition, we can point to dogs that may not have x condition in order to disprove the assertion, but we cannot do the same with abstract nouns, as there are no concretes to point to.)
on the online dictionaries, a most common definition goes like this: intelligence is the "ability to comprehend, or, to acquire and use information." I have yet to find fault with this definition except to say that if we use it as our guide, there must be as many "intelligences" as there are things to be "intelligent" about. (I will get to that in the proceeding section.)
But ultimately, I do think that the "abstract noun" problem faces a very Wittgensteinian dilemma in that it seems to prove incapable of any obviously correct definition in the same way concrete nouns are. Further, attempts at defining words like "intelligence" seem like exercises in circularity; in order to define "intelligence," we must think about examples of intelligence we know of, and abstract their common traits. But doing this presupposes a working definition (or way to recognize) what counts as intelligence. This, in a circular way, defining a term like "intelligence" requires a pre-existing idea of what intelligence is (as we define by abstracting from concrete examples).
In short, I don't hold out any real hope of any once-and-for-all correct definition of intelligence, nor am I worried about it. Like other ab tract nouns - beauty, justice, evil - we as often as not rely on the "Potter Stewart" definition: we know it when we see it.
How many intelligences are there?
As mentioned above, If we use the above definition - intelligence is the "ability to comprehend, or, to acquire and use information," it seems quite obvious that there are as many intelligences as there are things to be intelligent about.
First, I do stress the contingency of the above sentence: there is no a priori reason to use that definition over others, other than the fact that it is nondescript enough to accord with most intuitions I think we have about intelligence.
There is one big problem with this definition, though. For some, it will be too broad and for others, too narrow. This mostly hinges on whether people want to see things that we might otherwise call "talents" be labeled as "intelligences." To see this, take the example of the songwriter. Some want to narrow the definition of "intelligence" to disallow the "talent" of songwriting from being an "intelligence." Others, though, want to see songwriting included as an intelligence. (As mentioned, we often circularly define words like "intelligence" based on what we want that definition to allow for.)
The problem here seems to be that most people debating this issue seem to talk about different disciplines as "either/or" scenarios; either it an example of intelligence, or talent. Songwriting, they say, is a talent; math is an intelligence. What they often don't see is that both activities involve admixtures of both "talent" ( the "natural" and unteachable predilection) and intelligence (for now, the ability to acquire and use information). Math, generally thought of as an intelligence, requires both of these as much as songwriting does (just in different proportions). Just like songwriting seems to be more a talent than an intelligence because you can't really teach it - either you have it or you don't - we can easily see math in the same way; some have the intuitive number sense and those who don't have immense difficulty learning it.
I do think that those taking a more restrictive view of intelligence, and wish to preclude art, music, sports, etc. - from being called "intelligence" take an unusually strict view because they fail to see that just because one has a talent for something does not negate the fact that they also can develop those talents in ways deserving of the "intelligence" categorization. To take a favorite example of tennis player Roger Federer, one might be tempted to suggest that tennis playing is a talent rather than an intelligence. One could only do this, of course, if they neglect the amount of skill and learning involved in the enterprise. Like any other genius, Roger Federer's ability to acquire and use knowledge about his craft surpasses, in sensitivity in breadth, what most will achieve. Talent? In part. But talent only goes so far, and it is HERE where I think it becomes a crime not to call Roger Federer's tennis ability an intelligence.
I am hard pressed to come up with examples of things that qualify all the way as talents or all the way as intelligence. It seems that just about every constructive human activity requires both some sort of natural predilection (talent) and an ability to acquire and use information (intelligence). That is why I think that under our dictionary definition of intelligence there are as many intelligences as things to be intelligent about.
How do we recognize intelligence?
Much of the dispute over what to call an intelligence and what not to has to do with whether the proposed activity can be measured? It is uncontroversial that ma thematic ability and spatial reasoning should be called intelligences because we can objectively measure them. It is, however, controversial to say that creative writing ability should be called an intelligence and the reason is because it cannot be objectively measured (it can, of course, be subjectively measured, as any lover of writing will tell us.)
This, I think, is a mistake. We should not base whether x intelligence exists by deciding whether it can be measured. We do not, for instance, say that talent for acting does not exist because it cannot be measured. What we do say is that while there is such a thing as talent for acting, such a thing cannot be objectively determined or measured, but is a matter of subjective judgment. We should say the same when it comes to "intelligences" that cannot be objectively measured. We should not say that they simply don't exist because htey can't be measured. Rather, we can recognize that a thing like "social intelligence" is recognizable, even if it cannot be objectively measured.
I am as big a fan of measurement as the next, and I think that IQ is a valid measure of a person's scholastic aptitude. What I don't think is that IQ exhausts the possibility of what can qualify as an intelligence simply because other "intelligences" cannot be objectively measured. (The only persons who would object are psychometricians, and this is no sup rise, because their profession only allows them to target those capacities that can be measured, even if they realize that other capacities exist in the same way a lawyer's profession demands that she recognizes only codified law but can acknowledge that uncodified morality exists.)
To conclude, I see no reason to suppose that "intelligence" will ever yield to any once-and-for-all agreed-upon definition, nor would I expect it to (as an abstract noun). Partly because of this, I think it is folly to suggest any narrow definition of intelligence and support a more pluralistic view: intelligence exists wherever there is a recognized ability to acquire and use information to inform one's actions. In holding this view, I see it as backwards to suggest that intelligences exist only when they can be objectively measured. To hold this is to put the cart before the horse.
What Is Intelligence
The word "intelligence" has proven quite resistant to any single definition (or discovery of any necessary or sufficient conditions). I think this has a large amount to do with its function as an abstract noun, a noun that doesn't refer to an existant so much as an abstract generalization. As with a term like "justice," we all might have our own ideas as to what we think intelligence is, but there is no "thing" that we can point to to prove or disprove any competing conception. (If we suggested that a dog must have x condition, we can point to dogs that may not have x condition in order to disprove the assertion, but we cannot do the same with abstract nouns, as there are no concretes to point to.)
on the online dictionaries, a most common definition goes like this: intelligence is the "ability to comprehend, or, to acquire and use information." I have yet to find fault with this definition except to say that if we use it as our guide, there must be as many "intelligences" as there are things to be "intelligent" about. (I will get to that in the proceeding section.)
But ultimately, I do think that the "abstract noun" problem faces a very Wittgensteinian dilemma in that it seems to prove incapable of any obviously correct definition in the same way concrete nouns are. Further, attempts at defining words like "intelligence" seem like exercises in circularity; in order to define "intelligence," we must think about examples of intelligence we know of, and abstract their common traits. But doing this presupposes a working definition (or way to recognize) what counts as intelligence. This, in a circular way, defining a term like "intelligence" requires a pre-existing idea of what intelligence is (as we define by abstracting from concrete examples).
In short, I don't hold out any real hope of any once-and-for-all correct definition of intelligence, nor am I worried about it. Like other ab tract nouns - beauty, justice, evil - we as often as not rely on the "Potter Stewart" definition: we know it when we see it.
How many intelligences are there?
As mentioned above, If we use the above definition - intelligence is the "ability to comprehend, or, to acquire and use information," it seems quite obvious that there are as many intelligences as there are things to be intelligent about.
First, I do stress the contingency of the above sentence: there is no a priori reason to use that definition over others, other than the fact that it is nondescript enough to accord with most intuitions I think we have about intelligence.
There is one big problem with this definition, though. For some, it will be too broad and for others, too narrow. This mostly hinges on whether people want to see things that we might otherwise call "talents" be labeled as "intelligences." To see this, take the example of the songwriter. Some want to narrow the definition of "intelligence" to disallow the "talent" of songwriting from being an "intelligence." Others, though, want to see songwriting included as an intelligence. (As mentioned, we often circularly define words like "intelligence" based on what we want that definition to allow for.)
The problem here seems to be that most people debating this issue seem to talk about different disciplines as "either/or" scenarios; either it an example of intelligence, or talent. Songwriting, they say, is a talent; math is an intelligence. What they often don't see is that both activities involve admixtures of both "talent" ( the "natural" and unteachable predilection) and intelligence (for now, the ability to acquire and use information). Math, generally thought of as an intelligence, requires both of these as much as songwriting does (just in different proportions). Just like songwriting seems to be more a talent than an intelligence because you can't really teach it - either you have it or you don't - we can easily see math in the same way; some have the intuitive number sense and those who don't have immense difficulty learning it.
I do think that those taking a more restrictive view of intelligence, and wish to preclude art, music, sports, etc. - from being called "intelligence" take an unusually strict view because they fail to see that just because one has a talent for something does not negate the fact that they also can develop those talents in ways deserving of the "intelligence" categorization. To take a favorite example of tennis player Roger Federer, one might be tempted to suggest that tennis playing is a talent rather than an intelligence. One could only do this, of course, if they neglect the amount of skill and learning involved in the enterprise. Like any other genius, Roger Federer's ability to acquire and use knowledge about his craft surpasses, in sensitivity in breadth, what most will achieve. Talent? In part. But talent only goes so far, and it is HERE where I think it becomes a crime not to call Roger Federer's tennis ability an intelligence.
I am hard pressed to come up with examples of things that qualify all the way as talents or all the way as intelligence. It seems that just about every constructive human activity requires both some sort of natural predilection (talent) and an ability to acquire and use information (intelligence). That is why I think that under our dictionary definition of intelligence there are as many intelligences as things to be intelligent about.
How do we recognize intelligence?
Much of the dispute over what to call an intelligence and what not to has to do with whether the proposed activity can be measured? It is uncontroversial that ma thematic ability and spatial reasoning should be called intelligences because we can objectively measure them. It is, however, controversial to say that creative writing ability should be called an intelligence and the reason is because it cannot be objectively measured (it can, of course, be subjectively measured, as any lover of writing will tell us.)
This, I think, is a mistake. We should not base whether x intelligence exists by deciding whether it can be measured. We do not, for instance, say that talent for acting does not exist because it cannot be measured. What we do say is that while there is such a thing as talent for acting, such a thing cannot be objectively determined or measured, but is a matter of subjective judgment. We should say the same when it comes to "intelligences" that cannot be objectively measured. We should not say that they simply don't exist because htey can't be measured. Rather, we can recognize that a thing like "social intelligence" is recognizable, even if it cannot be objectively measured.
I am as big a fan of measurement as the next, and I think that IQ is a valid measure of a person's scholastic aptitude. What I don't think is that IQ exhausts the possibility of what can qualify as an intelligence simply because other "intelligences" cannot be objectively measured. (The only persons who would object are psychometricians, and this is no sup rise, because their profession only allows them to target those capacities that can be measured, even if they realize that other capacities exist in the same way a lawyer's profession demands that she recognizes only codified law but can acknowledge that uncodified morality exists.)
To conclude, I see no reason to suppose that "intelligence" will ever yield to any once-and-for-all agreed-upon definition, nor would I expect it to (as an abstract noun). Partly because of this, I think it is folly to suggest any narrow definition of intelligence and support a more pluralistic view: intelligence exists wherever there is a recognized ability to acquire and use information to inform one's actions. In holding this view, I see it as backwards to suggest that intelligences exist only when they can be objectively measured. To hold this is to put the cart before the horse.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Against "practicing without a license"
Below is a review of Stanley Fish's recent book "Save the World on Your Own Time," where he takes the college world to task for getting away from instruction and instilling knowledge and, instead, preaching and instilling preferred values.
I cannot say enough great things about the book and professor Fish's thesis. I am very much in agreement with all but a few minor details. I strongly urge anyone concerned with the proper role of educators to read it.
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In "Save the World on Your Own Time," former professor and dean Stanley Fish is quite clear on what he wants: "I want a university infected by no one's politics, but by the nitty-gritty obligations of teaching and research." (p. 16) Fish draws on his own experience in academia, as well as the usual highly publicized examples a la Ward Churchill, to argue that the academy is focusing less on teaching and more on preaching. And unlike those like David Horowitz and Dinesh D'Souza, Fish does not simply want to make political discourse by university faculty more "balanced," but to remove it all together. As Fish writes repeatedly, teaching political ideas (how to think about them, the history of them, etc) is different from preaching political ideas.
That the latter is happening on a pretty large scale is not much in dispute. From Ward Churchill being removed from the U of Colorado for comments made after 9/11, to universities taking collective stands on policy issues, to the "speech codes" that several universities have experimented with over the past decade, Fish documents this trend quite well.
But what to do about it? Fish wants us to "return" to the "proper" job of universities: to teach students how to think, rather than what to think. Teach about ideas, rather than endorse ideas. Let's avoid the rhetoric, contra Derek Bok and Martha Nussbaum, about the universities' responsibility to promkote tolerance, democracy, pluralism, or any other value and accept the fact that universities are not in the "making good citizens" business, but in the "making educated citizens" business.
Does this mean that universities should not talk about values, politics, literary ideas, etc? No. "You can probe [a] policy's history,...explore its philosophical lineage... [and] examine its implicaitons... but you can't urge it on your students." (p. 24) Will this make the university stale or self-censorious? Fish offers persuasive reasons to suggest that self-censoring can lead to more excitement. Anyone can offer and talk about their opinioins; it is quite more exciting to show students how to analyze and talk about ideas then it is to opine about them.
Some of Fish's other ideas will doubtless rub some the wrong way. For instance, many people take it as a given that the goal of a university is to promote social justice, democracy, pluralism, multiculturalism, or some other such value (other than the pursuit of truth and knowledge). Fish says no! This is the job of the counselor, clergyman, television pundit, and politician; for an academic to preach values other than pursuit of truth and knowledge is to, in effect, "practice without a license."
Fish even gets into a juicy discussion on the "intelligent design" movement, and argues quite persuasively that the very subordination of pursuing truth to pursuing "democratic pluralistic debate" is what gave rise to this fiasco. Some may think it is a stretch, but Fish is quite convincing in his suggestion that our infatuation with keeping debates as pluralistic as possible has gotten in the way of our asking whether a certain position is true or the opposition worthy. (ID exploits this by focusing less on the "theory's" scientific merits and more on the value of "democratic dialogue.")
My only real complaint about this book is that I was hoping to hear Fish's take on the dilemma caused by professors at once having to take positions in publications (particularly humanities publications) while expecting not to let students find out their biases. (The Ward Churchill incident is a good example, where Churchill seemed very neutral and fair in his classes, but was fired becuase his writings rubbed people the wrong way.) Should we not expect professors to take iconoclastic positions in print for fear that their students might find out? Or is taking strong positions okay, so long as one keeps their research and teaching seperate? I think I know where Fish would come out here, but I was hoping to hear him discuss this very vexing and pertinent topic.
All in all, though, the book was well argued, economically written (176 pp.) and is bound to stir up an academy that needs stirring up.
I cannot say enough great things about the book and professor Fish's thesis. I am very much in agreement with all but a few minor details. I strongly urge anyone concerned with the proper role of educators to read it.
_________________________________________________________________________
In "Save the World on Your Own Time," former professor and dean Stanley Fish is quite clear on what he wants: "I want a university infected by no one's politics, but by the nitty-gritty obligations of teaching and research." (p. 16) Fish draws on his own experience in academia, as well as the usual highly publicized examples a la Ward Churchill, to argue that the academy is focusing less on teaching and more on preaching. And unlike those like David Horowitz and Dinesh D'Souza, Fish does not simply want to make political discourse by university faculty more "balanced," but to remove it all together. As Fish writes repeatedly, teaching political ideas (how to think about them, the history of them, etc) is different from preaching political ideas.
That the latter is happening on a pretty large scale is not much in dispute. From Ward Churchill being removed from the U of Colorado for comments made after 9/11, to universities taking collective stands on policy issues, to the "speech codes" that several universities have experimented with over the past decade, Fish documents this trend quite well.
But what to do about it? Fish wants us to "return" to the "proper" job of universities: to teach students how to think, rather than what to think. Teach about ideas, rather than endorse ideas. Let's avoid the rhetoric, contra Derek Bok and Martha Nussbaum, about the universities' responsibility to promkote tolerance, democracy, pluralism, or any other value and accept the fact that universities are not in the "making good citizens" business, but in the "making educated citizens" business.
Does this mean that universities should not talk about values, politics, literary ideas, etc? No. "You can probe [a] policy's history,...explore its philosophical lineage... [and] examine its implicaitons... but you can't urge it on your students." (p. 24) Will this make the university stale or self-censorious? Fish offers persuasive reasons to suggest that self-censoring can lead to more excitement. Anyone can offer and talk about their opinioins; it is quite more exciting to show students how to analyze and talk about ideas then it is to opine about them.
Some of Fish's other ideas will doubtless rub some the wrong way. For instance, many people take it as a given that the goal of a university is to promote social justice, democracy, pluralism, multiculturalism, or some other such value (other than the pursuit of truth and knowledge). Fish says no! This is the job of the counselor, clergyman, television pundit, and politician; for an academic to preach values other than pursuit of truth and knowledge is to, in effect, "practice without a license."
Fish even gets into a juicy discussion on the "intelligent design" movement, and argues quite persuasively that the very subordination of pursuing truth to pursuing "democratic pluralistic debate" is what gave rise to this fiasco. Some may think it is a stretch, but Fish is quite convincing in his suggestion that our infatuation with keeping debates as pluralistic as possible has gotten in the way of our asking whether a certain position is true or the opposition worthy. (ID exploits this by focusing less on the "theory's" scientific merits and more on the value of "democratic dialogue.")
My only real complaint about this book is that I was hoping to hear Fish's take on the dilemma caused by professors at once having to take positions in publications (particularly humanities publications) while expecting not to let students find out their biases. (The Ward Churchill incident is a good example, where Churchill seemed very neutral and fair in his classes, but was fired becuase his writings rubbed people the wrong way.) Should we not expect professors to take iconoclastic positions in print for fear that their students might find out? Or is taking strong positions okay, so long as one keeps their research and teaching seperate? I think I know where Fish would come out here, but I was hoping to hear him discuss this very vexing and pertinent topic.
All in all, though, the book was well argued, economically written (176 pp.) and is bound to stir up an academy that needs stirring up.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
It Depends on What Your Definition of "Equal" Is...
What do affirmative action, socialism, and special education have in common? They all subscribe to the idea that "equal" means "the same in result" rather than "a consistent application of standards."
When I was first hired as a special educator, my soon-to-be supervisor mentioned her view that "'the same' and 'equal' are two different things." In context, what she meant is that applying the same rules and standards to all children does not lead to equal education, because some students have different needs than others. Being a new hire, I did not want to risk stirring waters by disagreeing with her, but the idea has become more and more worrisome and wrong-headed to me.
Now, "equal" can mean very different things to different people: (a) "equal" can mean a consistent application of rules; or (b) parity or result. Thus, equality can apply to (a) equality of rules and standards or (b) equality of results gotten.
Applied to the special education situation, one can argue that education can achieve "equality" in two ways: (a) education is equal when all students are held to the same standard, or (b) education is equal when all students are equally achieving. When my supervisor says that "the same" education is not "equal" education, her and I are disagreeing on what definition "equal" should have in education.
As a special educator, I certainly understand that different students come to education with very different abilities, predilections, and situations. But as an educator (without the 'special') I am also sensitive to the fact that American education operates on the premise that students are presented with standards they are to meet in order to advance to the next level. (The very idea of grade levels implies that different grade levels connote different levels of mastery of standards. If it were not this way, grade level would cease to mean anything.)
Unfortunately, special education is caught in a very tenuous middle position. On the one hand, American special education operates on the idea of "inclusion" or "mainstreaming," which says that disabled students and non-disabled ("abled") students should be in the same classes and be taught the same curricula. On the other hand, special education very much operates on a contradictory notion: that students should have work "individualized" to meet their unique needs. Thus, on the one hand, we have 'standards based' education, and on the other, 'child centered' education.
The problem is that these two ideas are in tension because they operate on two different notions of equality. "Standards based education" (the model of "inclusive" education) operates on "procedural, rather than outcome, equality") while "child centered" education operates on "outcome, rather than procedural, equality."
In my experience, special educators tend to be more sympathetic to the latter definition while general educators tend to be more sympathetic to the former definition. That makes me a rarity as I am a special educator who stands firmly with "equality of procedure" rather than "equality of results."
Why? Because it seems to me that there is little point in having a standardized curriculum and grade levels if each student is to have standards adjusted to fit their individual needs. How, in other words, are we to say that a student has passed ninth grade science that utilizes a standard curriculum if we add, as a caveat, that passing ninth grade science does not mean that all students had equal expectations put on them? "James had to do all the homework, while John only had to do 2/3rds" obliterates the idea that they both passed THE SAME class and mastered THE SAME material.
My supervisor might argue, though, that John has a processing delay or that, for some other reason, it takes him longer to do work than it does James. By this view, she is arguing that holding the same standard to two people of differing abilities is unequal.
I cannot say that this definition is wrong (words are defined by usage). I can, though, point out that such a view undermines the whole idea of American publication, with its desire to see all students come out with similar standards having been met. It undermines the idea inherent in grade levels - that passing x grade level means that the student has mastered the type of material expected of students in that grade.
So, in my personal opinion, special education is caught in a contradictory position. They are operating on a definition of "equal" that is in tension with the "procedural equality" that is the very cornerstone of what schools are designed to achieve. Quite simply, if education is to be individualized so that "equality of outcomes" becomes more important than "procedural equality," we might as well do away with grade level standards and any pretense of standards-based education. Quite simply, this would mean that the ideal of "common schools" and "common education" becomes lost.
Sadly, this seems to be where we are headed.
When I was first hired as a special educator, my soon-to-be supervisor mentioned her view that "'the same' and 'equal' are two different things." In context, what she meant is that applying the same rules and standards to all children does not lead to equal education, because some students have different needs than others. Being a new hire, I did not want to risk stirring waters by disagreeing with her, but the idea has become more and more worrisome and wrong-headed to me.
Now, "equal" can mean very different things to different people: (a) "equal" can mean a consistent application of rules; or (b) parity or result. Thus, equality can apply to (a) equality of rules and standards or (b) equality of results gotten.
Applied to the special education situation, one can argue that education can achieve "equality" in two ways: (a) education is equal when all students are held to the same standard, or (b) education is equal when all students are equally achieving. When my supervisor says that "the same" education is not "equal" education, her and I are disagreeing on what definition "equal" should have in education.
As a special educator, I certainly understand that different students come to education with very different abilities, predilections, and situations. But as an educator (without the 'special') I am also sensitive to the fact that American education operates on the premise that students are presented with standards they are to meet in order to advance to the next level. (The very idea of grade levels implies that different grade levels connote different levels of mastery of standards. If it were not this way, grade level would cease to mean anything.)
Unfortunately, special education is caught in a very tenuous middle position. On the one hand, American special education operates on the idea of "inclusion" or "mainstreaming," which says that disabled students and non-disabled ("abled") students should be in the same classes and be taught the same curricula. On the other hand, special education very much operates on a contradictory notion: that students should have work "individualized" to meet their unique needs. Thus, on the one hand, we have 'standards based' education, and on the other, 'child centered' education.
The problem is that these two ideas are in tension because they operate on two different notions of equality. "Standards based education" (the model of "inclusive" education) operates on "procedural, rather than outcome, equality") while "child centered" education operates on "outcome, rather than procedural, equality."
In my experience, special educators tend to be more sympathetic to the latter definition while general educators tend to be more sympathetic to the former definition. That makes me a rarity as I am a special educator who stands firmly with "equality of procedure" rather than "equality of results."
Why? Because it seems to me that there is little point in having a standardized curriculum and grade levels if each student is to have standards adjusted to fit their individual needs. How, in other words, are we to say that a student has passed ninth grade science that utilizes a standard curriculum if we add, as a caveat, that passing ninth grade science does not mean that all students had equal expectations put on them? "James had to do all the homework, while John only had to do 2/3rds" obliterates the idea that they both passed THE SAME class and mastered THE SAME material.
My supervisor might argue, though, that John has a processing delay or that, for some other reason, it takes him longer to do work than it does James. By this view, she is arguing that holding the same standard to two people of differing abilities is unequal.
I cannot say that this definition is wrong (words are defined by usage). I can, though, point out that such a view undermines the whole idea of American publication, with its desire to see all students come out with similar standards having been met. It undermines the idea inherent in grade levels - that passing x grade level means that the student has mastered the type of material expected of students in that grade.
So, in my personal opinion, special education is caught in a contradictory position. They are operating on a definition of "equal" that is in tension with the "procedural equality" that is the very cornerstone of what schools are designed to achieve. Quite simply, if education is to be individualized so that "equality of outcomes" becomes more important than "procedural equality," we might as well do away with grade level standards and any pretense of standards-based education. Quite simply, this would mean that the ideal of "common schools" and "common education" becomes lost.
Sadly, this seems to be where we are headed.
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