July 2008 Archives

Editor's note: With this entry, Bridging Differences begins its annual summer hiatus. Deborah Meier and Diane Ravitch will return in late August.

Dear readers,

We’ll be back in late August; I’m not sure exactly what date. We may be playing around with other ways to have our discussion—more and shorter back and forths? We may or may not be able to do it, since we’re both at heart essayists! But maybe short snippets from “the media” which we both take a whack at?

Meanwhile, everyone has made some good suggestions for what to read. It ought to include everything Diane and I have written. Of course. On my Web site—deborahmeier.com—I have a link to almost everything I’ve written about education (compiled by my son, Nicholas Meier). One of our readers suggested Larry Cuban’s latest book on schooling and business. Top notch, as is all his work.

I’m lately intrigued by two “old” books that tackle the issue of “academics” in similar ways. One is by Mike Rose—"Lives on the Boundary"—and one by Gerald Graff—"Clueless in Academe." (In the latter, there’s even a chapter on the old CPESS.) Rose teaches at UCLA, and Graff is currently president of the Modern Language Association. Mike’s book is an especially helpful response to Tony Waters’ comments about German tracking.

There’s a new edition out of Pedro Noguera’s "City Schools and the American Dream"; and I already mentioned that Garret Keizer’s "No Place But Here" is a great summer read about rural education that rings as true for urban schooling. Mike and Susan Klonsky‘s "Small Schools" book—on the topic Diane and I’ve been blogging on of late is a lively read. Finally, since I want to spend more time in the future on the issue of childhood play, I urge you to read Valerie Polakow. "The Erosion of Childhood" is a good place to start. (Her latest, "Who Cares for Our Children," is also important to read.) And thanks, Diane, for suggesting Daniel Koretz; I shall take your advice and read him this summer, too.

What I discovered 45 years ago was that every article and book I read actually provoked my thoughts about education and schooling. Keeping that in mind, share with us the stuff you read from other fields (fiction and non-fiction) that might feed our discussion, help us go deeper and wider.

Finally, there are many good ed blogs, including one just about NYC—eduwonkette—which we both have exploited for interesting stories and data.

My best,
Deborah

Posted by Deborah Meier at 10:05 AM | Permalink | 4 Comments | Recommend

Dear Deborah,

Time for our summer break. We'll be back again blogging and thinking out loud when school opens at the end of August. When I was in school, it always started after Labor Day, and I have never understood why schools open in August, especially when so many lack air-conditioning.

So, I leave you with absolutely nothing to think about. Rest, relax, read some good books. If you want to read some page-turners, pick up some novels by Harlan Coben. He is a terrific writer who really knows how to hook the reader. But don't start reading them at night, or you might be up all night!

Oh, one thing to think about: Edison Schools is not closing down. It will become EdisonLearning, will continue to operate schools, and will open cyber-charter schools in the near future. Edison is betting that bricks-and-mortar schools are a thing of the past, and that new technologies will offer new possibilities for mass education.

I am planning to read Daniel Koretz's book, "Measuring Up." I have a shelf full of other books about charter schools, accountability, and other topics of interest to me. I have started work on a new book about the current era of school reform, and I am very excited about it. In fact, I have already finished four chapters! This morning, I woke up at 3:30 a.m. knowing exactly how to rewrite the beginning of the chapter. Nothing quite as exciting as getting a new book started and knowing that it is heading in the right direction.

Have an enjoyable August. We'll be online again in a few weeks. Readers, don't forget us!

Diane

Editor's note: Deborah Meier's reply will appear this Thursday, July 31, and then Bridges Differences will take a brief summer publishing hiatus.

Posted by Diane Ravitch at 8:14 AM | Permalink | 16 Comments | Recommend

Dear Diane,

A lot of questions. I’d love to know more about your answers, too. But part of the problem is that there are lots of different things called charters—even the charter laws differ dramatically in different states and the schools even more so. Not all are small, and many are no more, and sometimes maybe less, self-governing than the average regular public school. Vouchers are, of course, a straightforward proposal to get out of the public school business—except maybe for the left-overs.

The Edison schools (now moving into online learning) have been as large as any public school. In fact, most charter school students in Massachusetts attend large schools, although the average charter is modest in size. Many of the “chains” are even more “standardized” than KIPP. You sent me a piece, recently Diane, about IKEA schools—in of all places, Sweden!—whose leader boasts: "We do not mind being compared to McDonald's. If we're religious about anything, it's standardization. We tell our teachers it is more important to do things the same way than to do them well." A colleague and pro-KIPP’er friend acknowledged that their kids sometimes have difficulty in high schools that expect kids to be more independent, speak up, write well, and be intellectual explorers. He hoped they’d learn from this. But deciding to go into the high school business may just be postponing the bad news. (See Mike Rose’s brilliant "Lives On the Boundary" about just this subject.)

A side note on test scores: dramatic system-wide improvements in test scores, like New York state’s and D.C.'s, would have sent up a red flag in the days of psychometric standards when such results were a sign of poor tests or cheating. One of the odd qualities of the current mania for testing is that we have no standards for standardized tests.

But back to small schools. The purpose of smallness—that kids and faculty and families are better known to each other—is generally irrelevant in many of the new “small learning communities” and in most of the chains that profess smallness. Irrelevant, that is, for the purposes we had in mind. The reason for the large “dinner table” conversation that small schools (and smaller classes) allow for is precisely in order to make difficult decisions together, to weigh trade-offs, to look across age spans at unexpected side effects (or no effects at all, e.g. “successfully teaching fractions” starting at scratch year after year). Kids have always created their own form of smallness (cliques, gangs, groupings), so have adults! What we wanted was smallness on behalf of educational decision-making close to the ground.

Knowing kids better is not simply to help kids “feel good” (which is definitely a positive), but so that we can over time better understand their interests, styles, passions, “ways of thinking”—and our own. It matters only if we—school and family—are in control of how we can respond to what we learn. It’s a laboratory, in effect, for democracy. It’s not intended to turn teachers into social workers (although hopefully there are social workers that the kids can see) but into wiser intellectual leaders. Fewer and fewer kids take for granted any more that they live within something they can call “a community”—a living culture held together by common bonds as well as common norms for dealing with differences. Democracy is one kind of community, and a very complex kind. When our lives depend on democracy many of its citizens have only the faintest notion about how to think, much less operate, within it. Often enough, they abandon it at precisely such moments as a frill we cannot afford.

When we tease local school boards, or local decision-making in general, for stupidity, we are acknowledging that we have created a society in which very few people “think like” democrats, seeing the importance of connecting their knowledge to their arguments, taking the opinions of others into account, and on and on and on. Once every four years we deride “elitism” but in between we operate with elitist assumptions about the way “ordinary people” think. That’s the most telling indictment of our schools, not their scores on tests.

Yes, representative democracy is essential when the numbers prevent direct democracy, so we must learn equally how to operate within such a system. But each school needs to develop its own set of trade-offs between the two, which was a central argument of the NYC Network project. I think the Boston pilots come close to representing a helpful model that has captured the strengths of charters, but has remained true to our commitment to public’ness. I’m hoping the L.A. model follows in that path.

But, remember, what you and I have hoped for in public schooling has always been aspirational. As you have noted in your books, it has had a rocky and uneven history. Many were excluded. Nor have we ever depended on them as much as we do today given all the other publics kids were once exposed to in their growing years. Today, the young experience the adult world, if at all, through a variety of media, via pre-programmed, often solo games. They require very little negotiation amongst peers, and the ends are pure amusement—to induce the state of wanting “more, more”. (I’m sure there are some skills that are honed, some knowledge taken in—I’m an acknowledged novice at kids’ electronic games.)

Small schools are an attempt to re-create, intentionally, the best of the family dinner table, the town meeting, the public square, the legislative process, the team, and the academy of thinkers—with as much of the diversity of the larger community as we can corral all in one manageable place.

You asked many other questions; particularly about the reason so many hedge fund managers (etc.) want to start schools. Money and the pleasure of control is my short answer. The longer answer is that they really are “believers”. Note the rest of that piece, where IKEA’s spokesman broadens his McDonald’s analogy. What works for hotels and airlines, he says, is what’s best for schools.

But this is more than enough for starters.

Deb

Posted by Deborah Meier at 9:25 AM | Permalink | 41 Comments | Recommend

Dear Deborah,

I am still somewhat unsure about the difference between your small schools and the small schools created by various school districts, or your small schools and the charter schools that are popping up in many districts.

I just read in the LA Daily News that Antonio Villaraigosa, the mayor of Los Angeles, has asked voters to approve a new multi-billion-dollar bond issue to support new charter schools and "small learning communities." Not long ago, the Broad Foundation (and Eli Broad himself) committed $23 million to create many new charter schools in Los Angeles.

How will these schools differ from what you did at Central Park East? Will they replicate the promise of the Annenberg Challenge? Are they designed to achieve what you tried to do in the early 1990s? What are the similarities, what are the differences?

How do you feel about the dramatic expansion of KIPP charters? Soon KIPP will have 40-plus charters in Houston, and a growing number in many other cities. KIPP boasts a high graduation rate and unusually high test scores. How do you feel about their methods and their success?

Does the charter movement promote the privatization of public education? Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Why?

And last, why do you think so many super-wealthy individuals are so deeply interested in starting charter schools? Do they see public education as a government bureaucracy in need of an injection of private enterprise? In New York City recently, we have seen an upsurge of hedge fund managers and others with vast resources choosing to start charter schools, in some cases actually getting set up in a public school building. For example, Courtney Sale Ross operates a charter school in the ground floor of the Department of Education's headquarters. So, when people come to visit the school system's headquarters, the school on display is a charter school. This was supposed to be a showcase school, but it has run through a string of principals and teachers in its short life (see article in New York Sun detailing problems in Ross Global Academy Charter School). Another charter school is supposed to be inserted into P.S. 15 in Red Hook, Brooklyn, by one Spencer Robertson, son of billionaire Julian Robertson. I wonder why the billionaires don't buy their own space instead of taking it away from regular public schools that lack their deep pockets. In NYC, nearly three dozen charter schools have been wedged into public school buildings, and you can imagine the culture clash between the two schools in the same space, which is accentuated when the charter students—with private funding—have smaller classes, more technology, etc. A group called Democrats for Education Reform, run by wealthy hedge fund managers and other zillionaires, has the primary goal of creating more charter schools.

So, what gives here? How did some of your ideas migrate to become the plaything of the super-rich?

Diane

Posted by Diane Ravitch at 9:20 AM | Permalink | 14 Comments | Recommend

Dear Diane,

Every few days I have a new object for “the worst ever” prize. Our new American-as-apple-pie identification with torture is the one that keeps me up at night. It seems so unbelievable that it has gone on for so long, so publicly, and is so unstoppable. The gulag of our time—here in America.

But in answer to your query, the collapse of the Annenberg Challenge in 1995 remains painful for me to remember and too long to tell well. ("In Schools We Trust" has a chapter on it and other similar efforts.) I was just recently going through the documents from that period and recalling my disbelief and joy—could it possibly be (I kept pinching myself) that all the powers-that-be have signed on to such a serious and visionary effort to innovate on a sufficient scale to really influence future policy? We had the state commissioner, two successive NYC chancellors, the chair of the school board, and the head of the teachers' union signed on! We had both NYU and Teachers College prepared to develop the needed database, to document process and assess the outcomes over a minimum of five years, as well as track graduates over far longer.

The NYC Annenberg “idea” was to take a stab at the “accountability/governance” conundrum. Was there a way to do what’s right on the ground—which requires lots of “local” latitude—and still be accountable on a broader public scale.

The four nonprofit partners to the project came from different political and pedagogical wings of the reform movement, but were all interested in tackling the conundrum. Small schools were a part of it because we each, for our own separate reasons, thought that the kind of changes in attitude and practice needed required the consent of all those involved. Size would make this easier by making everything more transparent, and decision-making more direct. Ditto for choice—for staff and families. Self-governance was a given, because what we were exploring involved freedom from some of the constraints imposed by labor, management, and old habits.

Of course, you can see immediately how this might echo the business mantra! Less regulation, “trust us”. I worried about it, but I figured we were mom and pop stores, if you will; pre-corporate-style capitalism—and operating under a public umbrella.

Our definition of choice was that it belonged to families, not schools, to do the choosing, and to the community of professionals, not principals, to select their colleagues. Self-governing involved figuring out systems of governance that balanced professional and constituent voices and votes. Small sizes meant being small enough for all the staff to sit around one table and be heard; small enough so that part of our accountability would lie in the sheer transparency of the work. Dropouts would be noticed, by name.

Our definition of accountability was a system of multiple measures by which constituents could assess their work in public and transparent ways. We did not presume each Network would develop one standard approach; instead each Network was charged with developing its own intra- and external accountability system. But we did assume that we needed public review of each Network’s practices so that their systems of accountability met professional standards. A shared board of representatives would ensure the project’s financial and educational integrity, and provide a forum for important cross-learnings that came out of the work.

The aim of what we called Networks for School Renewal was to create a largely unregulated “learning zone” made up of networks of four to seven schools each, which would serve a total of 50,000 students (5 percent of the system) in an “open, collaborative fashion, working closely with the Board…the Chancellor’s office, and the UFT, and consulting regularly with…all the major stakeholders…so that our work can have a galvanizing effect on the system as a whole.” It was to be a controlled setting to study what did and didn’t work.

Alas, a new chancellor (and as a result a new school board chair) and a new state superintendent came on board, and didn’t like the idea. Forget it, they said. Alas, too (from my viewpoint), the Annenberg Foundation and the sponsors saw no other solution but to take the money and salvage what they could. Some of the old terminology was borrowed by the new chancellor, e.g. a “learning zone” for failing schools. Choice continued to thrive on a small scale as each of the sponsors used the resources to help small schools get started.

Ten years later, a new administration—under direct control of New York's mayor—resurrected the idea, calling for more “empowerment”, more choice, and more small schools—and networks, too. However, the empowering was for principals directly “accountable” to the central system. The new “networks” of 20-30 schools were accountable not to their constituents, but to the mayor. The system offered choice—a vast array of schools, with many free to choose their students. It is a kind of General Motors with competing automobile divisions accountable to a single CEO. Instead of moving toward more direct voice “from the field” via a range of democratic avenues, the Bloomberg Mayoral Plan insures as few intermediaries or dissident voices and as little public review as possible. Instead, we have a single mayoral package of reform, accountable to the mayor alone.

Sadly, and inevitably, it also took the wind out of the sails of most of the early innovators who were literally made invisible (official NYC history claims small schools started with Klein/Bloomberg), whose experiences were ignored, and whose innovations were severely curtailed. Part of my pique is no doubt personal! (There are some positive side effects as well—for another time, including the Boston Pilot ntwork.)

It was a lost opportunity to explore under public aegis how the ideas of small, self-governing schools, accountability, and choice might work in a big urban community. The time will come for another try. New words, new ideas, and new innovators will invent their own new form of the Annenberg Challenge, someday.

Deborah

Posted by Deborah Meier at 10:14 AM | Permalink | 10 Comments | Recommend

Dear Deborah,

Sometimes, like you, I start feeling down about the direction of our world today. The soaring price of gasoline is making life harder for everyone; millions of people are finding that it puts an intolerable strain on their budget for food, shelter, and other basic necessities. Meanwhile we are exporting billions of dollars to undemocratic regimes around the world.

Add to those real and present economic burdens the ongoing threat of climate changes, and we do confront terrible challenges and crises. I must say, I also worry about the growing tensions in the Middle East. The leader of Iran has been threatening for a few years to wipe Israel off the map, and last week the Iranians demonstrated that they have the missiles capable of carrying out the next genocide in our world's sorry history. Like you, I do not want to see the United States embroiled in another war in the Middle East; but I would not be sad at all if the Israelis performed another of their military surgical strikes, identifying and eliminating every single nuclear site in Iran. Not only would I not be sad, I would celebrate. I do not want to see a nuclear strike on Tel Aviv or on any other place in the world.

I have recently been reading the latest novel of Alan Furst. His novels deal with events in Europe in the eerie pre-war period in the 1930s. They are historically accurate, though the characters are his own. I have read all of his novels—he is something of a cult writer and has a devoted following, which includes me—and he makes no political point, just tells a gripping and very informative tale. In the current book, "The Spies of Warsaw," there is a Nazi who says that one of Hitler's favorite sayings is, "The world wants to be deceived, and we will deceive them." If Ahmadinejad says again and again that he wants to wipe Israel off the map, the Israelis would be foolish not to take him at his word. At the very least, this is not a situation in which they should wait to see if he is going to do it, because then it would be too late; millions will die in Israel and millions will die in a counter-strike on Iran.

But, whoa, I am getting way out of my zone of knowledge, just speculating, as is every citizen's right, as we all do. After all, if only experts were allowed to speak, that would vitiate the very meaning of democracy, in which all of us have the right to express our opinions. That, too, is a problem, as the blogosphere is both democratic and filled with opinions that range from insane conspiracy theories to really smart amateurs to really knowledgeable, well-grounded debates.

But, here and now, I have a question for you about the past. Friends have contacted me and said, "Ask Debbie what happened to the Annenberg Challenge." What they really want to know is how the small school movement turned into one of the favorite strategies of the corporate elites who are so interested in education. They also want to know how you feel about this idea that "headquarters" can decide to open 10, 20, 50 small schools, recruit principals, and will them into existence.

And while we are at it, were you aware that the New York City Department of Education just awarded a $50 million, $5 million contract to its own Leadership Academy? The Leadership Academy was created by Mayor Bloomberg and Chancellor Joel Klein. Klein was the chair of its board. He selected the other board members. He and the mayor raised $75 million for its first three years of operation as a quasi-public entity (imagine: $75 million to "train" 160 principals!). They tried to sell the rest of the country on the idea that this Academy was a national model, though no other district could possibly afford to emulate it. Just recently, Klein removed himself from the board of the Academy and awarded this $50 million contract to it. Of course, this means that the same crowd will be in charge of recruiting and training the school system's new principals long after they have left office. Doesn't this eviscerate the principle of mayoral control, since the new mayor will find that the old mayor is still in charge of training principals? Funny, with the exception of The New York Sun, not a peep in the media.

What a world.

Diane

Posted by Diane Ravitch at 8:00 AM | Permalink | 4 Comments | Recommend

Dear Diane,

We’re agreed about Summerhill, sort of... But I’m also attracted to it, and delighted by those children engrossed in their hammering. Incidentally, the kids turned out well. It appeals to the anarchist/libertarian in me. But then I’m also a democratic socialist, a liberal, a traditionalist and a communitarian!

These labels describe people who I hope can all live forever together on the same planet without doing each other too much harm. Somehow they live together in me, so, perhaps.

If we start another war in Iran, my hopes may have to be postponed a few centuries. I’m not confident that democracy will protect us from such a catastrophe. (This comes after reading Seymour Hersh’s gloomy and tightly reasoned piece in The New Yorker. ”Preparing the Battlefield”, July 7) Then I read Elizabeth Kolbert in the same New Yorker on “The Island in the Wind" about the devastating impact of climate change and energy misuse. For that, we need a kind of communitarianism—a worldwide concern for our shared future as a species—that seems even harder to hope for. It involves the task of persuading Americans (since we use nearly half the world’s energy) as an essential starting point. Unlikely.

It turns out, says Kolbert, that the science for doing “the right thing” exists. The knowledge base exists. And it wouldn’t require going back to cave-man status! She describes an island off Denmark, Samsø , that decided--”for fun”—to take on the challenge of living a “2,000-Watt” life. What can we learn from that small homogeneous little island? Perhaps only that in a democracy a willing public can do wonders!**

Reading about the summit of corporate experts meeting in Sun Valley this week, to decide education’s future (see NYC Education News) raises an interesting question about public discourse on public matters. What these folks have in common is almost no knowledge of the subject they are discussing. This may in retrospect have something to do with what happened to America’s productive life. For a generation or more we’ve been led by financial wizards, not folks steeped in a lore of making automobiles. Or schools. And a public that doesn’t take its own judgment seriously.

Since time is limited not everything can be learned that deserves to be learned. But knowing when and how to use people who do know something is wise. What would we need to learn before we’re 18 just to preserve democracy and the planet? What can we do without? What can we afford to side-line for the next half century—or maybe just until we become adults? It’s not an easy mind-exercise. Because we need people with the desire and sufficient trust to accept the claims of experts, those scientists and economists Kolbert quotes. One also needs people with a strong sense of life’s potential in order to work hard to protect it. For the Samsø ians, to quote one farmer, “it became a kind of sport.”

I think about my kindergarten class, Central Park East and Mission Hill and wonder, did we create the kind of communities that satisfied both the anarchist and the communitarian? Did we provide a glimpse of what it might mean to preserve individual freedom while also giving up some for the larger community? To be a solo mountain-climber and a community builder?? Did we teach the skepticism needed to recognize a sham crisis and the trust to acknowledge a real one?

What are the nuts and bolts of such an undertaking? What skills and crafts would need to be learned, what knowledge stored away, what habits internalized, what moral and ethical underpinnings lived by? In just 6 hours a day for 180 days a year. Daunting.

When I began teaching 5-year-olds in the mid-60s, I took to it, in part, because I abandoned the idea of remaking the whole world. I “settled” on the notion that each day was a day unto itself. I encountered each child and family with the simple notion--do no harm, and hopefully add a bit of “good”. In the process I discovered some things that could be shared with others. So from Day One, I wrote a lot about what I was learning. Also, it fit in well with raising children. With a loss like you experienced at just that stage in life, I don’t know what I’d have done. No one can ever imagine such a tragedy’s impact fully.

“Doing good day by day” sounds icky. I’m uncomfortable comparing schools to families, but they do share this in common. It was enough to keep me at it for more than 40 years. Yet I am also an impatient revolutionary—and faced with what needs to happen in the next few generations I wonder how we can use “education”—not just schooling—for the whole planet’s benefit? How can “remaking” some of our habits seem a task worth shouldering with all our hearts and minds? And what kind of schools would foster such needed habits? What can teachers uniquely add to this discourse vs. the CEOs who want to avoid responsibility for there role in America’s failing economy? (Maybe we need an “educators for economic reform”?)

As you can see—I’m still in the thrall of Kolbert’s words: “Just about everywhere there are possibilities for generating energy more inventively and using it more intelligently… We may decide not to make this effort.” But if we decide to make it, what role could schooling play?

Meanwhile, oops, I should turn off the lights in my bedroom!

Deb

** It’s fascinating to reread Freeman Dyson’s “The Question of Global Warming”, June 12, NY Review of Books, for a contrary view of the global warming “crisis.” Dyson is leery of the politics of “crisis” even in the case of global warming.

Posted by Deborah Meier at 9:10 AM | Permalink | 12 Comments | Recommend

Dear Deborah,

You and I do travel in different circles! I have never been to a Summerhillian conference and don’t expect that I ever will be. Somewhere in the core of my being is a staunch resistance to A.S. Neill’s libertarianism as it relates to children. As a parent and as someone who cares deeply about elevating the state of our civilization, I rebel against the idea of letting children decide whether they feel like learning today or any day. I believe that adults must take responsibility for children’s well-being, for their physical and intellectual growth, and that involves setting goals as well as limits, in other words, acting as the grown-up.

It was both enjoyable and painful for me to read Neill’s Summerhill, especially when he described with pride the children who had not had a single lesson for years because they preferred to hammer or do something else of their own choosing that was more fun. I have trouble imagining that our civilization would progress—indeed, I expect it would regress—if no child were ever expected to meet expectations other than those that flow from his or her own wishes and desires.

I recall Neill’s discussion of democracy in his school, where his vote counted for no more than that of any student, regardless of the child's age. Were we to take him seriously, then we would remove age limitations altogether from the franchise. I think that democracy is challenging enough without giving equal weight to the opinions of 7-year-olds and adults. One presumes, one expects, that there is a threshold of age (and presumed maturity) that everyone must meet before assuming a decision-making role in our society. Some people think that 7-year-olds might do a better job of running the nation than those currently of voting age, but I am not prepared to take that risk!

The discussion of Neill presents a microcosm of debates we have had over many years. I believe in the value of knowing things, and of identifying what those things are. Those “things” should not be the ideas and stuff that interest me as an individual, but the ideas and stuff that are important for all of us to know for our own survival, as individuals and as a society.

Let’s see: I believe in subject matter, because the subjects have evolved over many generations as a useful summary of different and important kinds of knowledge.

I believe that we all need a knowledge of science and mathematics, to allow us to participate in public discussions of public issues, and to enable at least some of us to work in fields in which such knowledge is a prerequisite. Those of us who are not going to become scientists and mathematicians need knowledge of these subjects so we are not excluded from important discussions of topics like climate change, evolution, war and peace, health issues, and so on. We also need to know enough so we are not bamboozled during political campaigns by slick commercials and propaganda.

I believe that we all need a knowledge of history and civics, geography and economics so that we are ready as citizens to understand the questions that regularly confront us as a society. I am particularly zealous about knowing history because it is the source of political intelligence. I feel strongly that we all need to know the meaning and context of the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, the Civil War, the Plessy v. Ferguson decision, the Brown decision, Pearl Harbor, the struggle for voting rights, McCarthyism, and so on. When any group of teachers sits down to figure out what is most important for their students to know, it turns out that the topics are not infinite, certainly not in American history.

I recall years ago being interviewed by a writer for Time magazine about the civil rights movement. I mentioned the Plessy decision, and she had never heard of it. I found that incredibly frustrating, because it limited our ability to have an intelligent discussion of the issues at hand.

I could go on with similar explanations of why I believe that the arts and literature should be part of everyone’s education. The arts, especially, demonstrate the need for practice, for self-discipline, and for study with those who are more knowledgeable than students. We do not expect children to teach themselves to play the piano or the saxophone. Perhaps a few have done so, but most need instruction by an experienced teacher.

Sure, there are trade-offs and dilemmas in identifying what we want all children to know. But those trade-offs and dilemmas are small as compared to a society in which there were no guidelines, no attempt to set content standards and goals, no recognition that adults are obliged to develop mutual goals for education.

This conversation, in which we are likely always to disagree, reminded me of one of my favorite quotes from John Dewey. And it gives me a chance to remind you that I do not consider Dewey to be my "nemesis," as you expect, but that I find much to admire in Dewey. Dewey was no Summerhillian; indeed, the Dewey School in Chicago had a terrific and very specific curriculum.

Dewey wrote in 1926:

There is a present tendency in so-called advanced schools of thought…to say, in effect, let us surround pupils with certain materials, tools, appliances, etc., and then let pupils respond to these things according to their own desires. Above all, let us not suggest any end or plan to the students; let us not suggest to them what they shall do, for that is an unwarranted trespass upon their sacred intellectual individuality…Now such a method is really stupid. For it attempts the impossible, which is always stupid; and it misconceives the conditions of independent thinking. [Any reader of this blog can find the full bibliographic reference on p. 491 of my book Left Back. DR]

Thank you, John Dewey. I could not have said it better myself!

Diane

PS: Yes, let’s talk about the 1960s in a future blog. In 1967, when you first became seriously involved in the civil rights movement, I was mourning my son Steven, who died of leukemia at the age of 2 in 1966. I immediately became pregnant again and gave birth to a third child in 1967. Although I participated in the March on Washington in 1963 and was very peripherally involved in civil rights activities, I was a full-time mother then and a part-time writer, trying to figure out what to do with my life when the children were sleeping.

Posted by Diane Ravitch at 10:08 AM | Permalink | 59 Comments | Recommend

Dear Diane,

It’s helpful in some way to know that I “have to” write once a week for some audience—including first and foremost you. It makes me set aside snippets here and there to possibly write and think about. I put an old essay that Florence Miller and I wrote together about a book you and Chester Finn wrote 20 years ago onto my Web site. (“What Do Our 17-Year-Olds Know?”). I posted it in Florence’s memory—since she died a few weeks ago. She had a sharp wit, and I heard it in that piece. I still like that style, although I’m less convinced that it works. Given the change in our relationship, I felt uneasy at reprinting it. But it’s a useful reminder of where you and I disagreed—and probably still do.

Last week, I spoke at an “alternative school conference” in Troy, New York. Many of those attending were Summerhillian “free school” types. It was interesting to approach the curriculum debates from their extreme. But the common ground was our insistence that we find ways for adults and young people to meet together around interesting questions and projects—and the mutual respect that it assumes. It’s that “I, thou, and it” connection which David Hawkins wrote about that I find myself always going back to. It’s why I want strong adults, whose natural authority helps young people develop their own natural authority, whose passions inspire their passions, and whose disciplined “good work” lays the ground for novices honing their own self-disciplined work. It’s why I find it hard to agree with your focus on “what we know.” Especially in an age when just putting something into “Google” produces amazing results!

But there are those perennial trade-offs, dilemmas, conundrums that I realize seem critical to pass on to the young—in the name of democracy. In my keynote at the Alternative Education Resource Organization's conference I addressed the idea that modern democracy was just as “unnatural” and counter-intuitive as modern science. It’s filled with traps and trade-offs. There is no way to perfectly solve the question of whose voice “counts”, especially at the ballot box. Or where and why some decisions must be made close to the action versus others in more distant but representative forums. Why age 18? Why should non-experts have the same vote as experts? Why should an 18-year-old's vote carry the same weight as mine?

And if we agree that all votes are equal, then what else needs to change so that we all have somewhat more equal wisdom and power? Shouldn’t we all have equal leisure time to consider the merits, or the money to hire lobbyists to persuade our fellow citizens, or equal access to the media? And, at least, an equally powerful education?

One of our readers, Erin, keeps being disturbed at my attention to nonschool factors. Aside from sheer empathy for those whose lives are more fragile than mine, my quest for more just social policy rests on my obsession with democracy. Democracy presumes some—undefined—level of equality of mind, spirit, and condition (health, a place to sleep, food, etc). But just what level?

Then there’s the conundrum of conundrums—how to get from here to there. How to build a more egalitarian (and therefore more democratic) society in the absence of all those fundamental necessities? If one must create the future out of the stuff that the past and present offer us, is a more full-blown democracy a utopian dream? Efforts to get around this dilemma—vanguard parties of one sort or another—are not the answer. Yet the temptation is great to fall back on “vanguards”, and we all succumb to it here and there.

I spent many years trying to imagine how—if I had the power—I could design a test that would lead schools, teachers, kids, and parents to seek the kind of schooling I wanted them to have. As parent, teacher, school board member, and principal I was tempted to wish that the power rested with me. I gave up for two reasons: one, I doubted if I’d have sufficient power to do so, and two, because I kept seeing ways in which the unpersuaded could get around the ends I had in mind, but still pass the test!

But are there some “in-betweens”, measures that would increase the likelihood, the odds—on a broad and bold scale—that we could get schools to attend to creating a generation of motivated, creative, inventive, self-disciplined, and empathetic truth-seekers?

Deb

P.S. Remind me to get back to the 1967 civil rights agenda. That was the year I became seriously involved with schools and less with civil and economic rights. It was the start of an exciting experience in which I imagined we could change schools from below—and en masse—if only “they” gave us the time and resources. What were you in the midst of, Diane, during that period?

Posted by Deborah Meier at 1:35 PM | Permalink | 30 Comments | Recommend

Dear Deborah,

Well, we have been blogging for more than a year now, and there was bound to be a screw-up sooner or later. The only question was: who would be first to do it, you or me? The answer is in (drum roll): It is me. My previous post (“Reports, Reform, and Hype,” June 24) was actually a response to your last post (“Blaming Teachers,” June 30). I think this happened because you were so energetic that you replied to me so fast, at lightning speed, leading me to answer an unpublished post of yours.

So, I can’t reply to your blog of June 30 because I already responded to it on June 24!

Let me take a few moments to reflect and lead us in a different direction, perhaps.

Yesterday (July 1) was a milestone birthday for me (thank you for your birthday greetings, blog partner!). I turned 70. I still don’t believe the number because I feel a lot younger; I know my mother and my grandmother were much less active when they reached that age. I still feel ready to go into the ring and take on all comers for 15 rounds. At least I feel that way in the mornings! I invited my seven siblings for a celebration of the fact that we are all still here, and all but one (who was ill) traveled across the country to join me.

Turning to our present matters, I have been struck by the fact that our blog has created a community of readers. Many of our readers comment on almost every post. They frequently communicate with one another on our site. They take ideas very seriously, as we do.

Why do we keep this conversation going? For me, there is a certain satisfaction in bouncing ideas around; in knowing that there are others out there who want to stop and think, who are willing to think with us and argue with us, who don’t assume that the powers-that-be must know best. I think where you and I often agree is that we assume that the powers-that-be need critics, and we are ready to give them the skeptical commentary that they need.

Sometimes I worry that we are too parochial, as we are both focused on New York City, and everyone knows that NYC is not the world. Yet, I see the developments in NYC replicated in cities around the nation. I see them as a mirror image of No Child Left Behind. I see school districts around the nation embracing privatization, outsourcing of central office responsibility, merit pay, incentivization, and other aspects of “the business model.” I see a steady dismantling of public education, not only in NYC, but in many school districts, especially in urban centers, and I know that the things that worry us are not New York-centric.

American education has always had problems and crises, but I can’t recall a time when some of the wealthiest people in the nation were putting serious money into a campaign to privatize public education.

The raison d’etre of our blog, I believe, is to look more deeply into education issues than others do. Our responsibility is to raise the questions and issues that other commentators have not even considered. Our role is to rip to shreds the phony consensus that encourages so many school districts to accept shallow and harmful “reforms.”

Diane

Posted by Diane Ravitch at 2:50 PM | Permalink | 7 Comments | Recommend