A Place at the Table

DC schools’ Capital Gains program is in the news again. In fifteen District of Columbia schools 6th, 7th, and 8th graders are being paid for performance. While some factors are consistent in all schools, there is some variation, but every school includes attendance, behavior, and, in some form, grades. Uniforms are a criteria in nine of the schools, and service is a factor at one school. Students earn up to $10 a day, or $100 every two weeks, for meeting expectations in each area. It would appear that the formula is $2 for each of the target goals.

The Capital Gains program is a shared initiative of DC Schools and the Harvard’s Education Innovation Laboratory (EdLabs). Certainly EdLab and its partners are not the only proponents of monetary incentives for school performance, but they have received a great deal of attention lately. Michelle Rhee, Chancellor of District of Columbia Schools, says:

We are honored to be a part of this cutting-edge institute. We believe that all children, regardless of background and circumstance, can achieve at the highest levels, and we want to ensure that our decisions at all levels are guided by the kind of robust data, analysis, and innovative thinking EdLabs will provide.

The EdLab stems from and supports the research of Dr. Roland Fryer, an impressive scholar and the youngest African American to be tenured by Harvard. Rising from a disadvantaged background himself, Fryer has become a leading expert on the correlation between economics and the African American experience. He has been willing to confront issues that many have been hesitant to address, including the persistent achievement gap for African American students. Education Innovation Laboratory website states:

To achieve excellence and equity, school districts must embrace bold innovation and objective measurement of their programs and practice...

We embrace untested and even “heretical” ideas and rigorously evaluate and re-evaluate everything we think we know about public education to understand what works, what doesn’t, and why. Our goal is to provide policy makers and practitioners with evidence based solutions.

The Creative Energy Team that provides EdLabs' evidence-based solutions is made up of of eight professors of economics, one professor of psychology, the dean of the Harvard school of education, and a creative director who appears to be a highly acclaimed public relations/advertising manager. The four primary “heretical ideas” EdLab is currently embracing include three that offer some form of student pay for performance: Capital Gains in DC, Sparks in New York City Schools, and The Paper Project in Chicago City Schools. All of these are . The fourth, Million Motivation, which is being piloted in the NYC Schools, provides cell phones and students earn points for ringtones and downloads as incentives.

Maybe I just don't have enough information, but........

I still don’t understand how economists became education experts. Granted we have issues in education for which educators have not found solutions, but economists might want to figure out where they went wrong on economics before they offer to fix education.

It seems unusual to find the terms “embracing,” “transformative,” “beliefs,” and “visions” included in the research strategy statement at the EdLab website. To me these words are more commonly associated with causes than objective research. But then, Fryer’s statement in reference to his incentive project, "I just thought that giving them some short-term incentives to do what's in their long-term best interests would be a good way to go," seems to hinge on personal opinion, not evidence. I didn't expect Fryer to provide an in depth explanation during an interview with Stephen Colbert, but I thought I would find some mention of research that informs his theories at the EdLab website.

I am perplexed when I find a New York Times piece from 2005 indicating that “Fryer recently ran a pilot experiment with third graders at P.S. 70 in the Bronx…. Fryer is trying to find out whether the individual or group incentives work better. He suspects the latter -- 'because no stigma of being the smartest kid applies.' But the P.S. 70 data was inconclusive.” As a teacher, it seems to me that further research into group incentives could impact practice and yield gains in student learning with minimal investment in resources. So it seemed strange to desert that inquiry to pursue costly, controversial and complicated research on individual monetary incentives that would be difficult to sustain and almost impossible to implement on a large scale.

I was also surprised to discover that the shift to monetary incentive research appears to be the upshot of a dinner party where “Fryer met Joel Klein, the chancellor of New York's public schools, and explained his project to him. Klein asked Fryer if he might be interested in expanding his incentive experiment into 15 or so low-achieving schools” . Apparently this was when the multimillion dollar program that offers $10 for a good benchmark test grade for 3rd graders and $20 to 7th graders in New York was conceived.

It puzzled me that Fryer felt he had to "sell" this program to school administrators, and that “The principals began to grill him. ….Fryer addressed each issue as best he could. But one question kept coming back at him: if we start paying students to test well, aren't we sending the message that learning is not its own reward? Although the exchange flustered him, Fryer had by meeting's end persuaded the principals to take part.” At such a meeting, shouldn't he have had a convincing research review on hand to support the efficacy of monetary incentives? If these practitioners had serious concerns, wouldn't that have been an indication that the project design might need to be tweaked before implementation?

Fryer says, that he “finds that others—in his field and outside it—do not always share his interest in following the data, no matter where the numbers lead: 'Sometimes people have got this fixed idea, and they don’t care what data you bring to the table.'" Yes indeed.

I don't think we will transform student learning by handing out money. In fact, I think it will create more problems than it solves. I wonder what will happen when the experiment is over because, in most cases, reward-based behaviors have not proven sustainable after the reward is withdrawn. I acknowledge that this is an opinion biased by my ethical beliefs and my personal experience. Even though I don't know everything there is to know about motivating middle schoolers, I have over 20 years of professional experience, and I work at keeping my knowledge base current.

Still, I am open to new ideas and, along with EdLabs, I’m willing to "evaluate and re-valuate everything I think I know about public education to understand what works, what doesn’t, and why."

Maybe paying middle school kids for showing up, behaving, passing tests and wearing a uniform will turn out to be the evidence-based solution that transforms public education. Maybe cash for grades will help children envision future success rather than immediate gratification. But embracing beliefs and envisioning is not enough. Parents, practitioners, policymakers, and the public should have ready access to the research that undergirds this project, the process by which data are collected and evaluated, and a the detailed plan for what comes next for the human subjects of this experiment in behavioral science.

Beliefs can be a powerful engine for change and certainly DC schools need to make some changes, but until the Capital Gains program can deliver some data to the table, my concern is whether the investment strategy is one of long term growth potential or short term gain that uses children as capital for portfolio building. This isn't Wall Street and education isn't a commodity to be bought and sold.

Posted by Susan Graham at 12:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

There’s a new teacher at Stepford Elementary, her name is Saya and she meets the need for ethnic diversity on the staff. Saya is from Japan.

Saya demonstrates the Stepford School System's commitment to “Integrating Technology to Prepare Our Students for 21st Century Learning.” Saya is a Robot Teacher.

You remember Stepford don’t you? It’s the quaint little suburban village where all those stay-at-home housewives are happy and beautiful because Dis, the president of the local Men’s Club, is replacing the old human models with new improved animatronic spouses. The nice thing about a robot is that robots don't think or feel so all the annoying little habits and opinions of a real person can be programmed right out of a robotic Stepford Wife. No ideas, no ambition, and no negative emotions.

But wait, Saya may have to participate in some highly effective staff development reprogramming.

Saya can express six basic emotions — surprise, fear, disgust, anger, happiness, sadness — because its rubber skin is being pulled from the back with motors and wiring around the eyes and the mouth.

I can understand designing a robot that gives the impression of caring by imitating surprise and happiness. But why on earth program a robotic teacher for disgust and anger? Who thought that would be a good idea?

Now I am beginning to worry---is Saya really a highly qualified teacher? Imagine my concern when I started doing a little research and found out that she is a former receptionist! Did she go through a formal teacher preparation program? A quickie alternative preparation program? Or did she test out through the Japanese equivalent of the "take a test and get the certificate" process? What do we really know about her pedagogical skills?

Saya can…..perform actions such as call roll, smile or scold, but plans for perfecting it already exist.

Wow, is she going to get advanced training in handing out papers and writing names on the board? Before you know it, she’ll be able to give out spelling words!

Oh relax, Saya isn’t going to take your job just yet. She’ s a little bit better than the toucans in the Tiki Room, but not quite up to Abraham Lincoln in The Hall of Presidents. But don’t let your guard down too much; because as I looked for information about Saya, I discovered this….

The research falls under the umbrella of artificial intelligence -- the creation of machines that can behave like humans -- and Whitehill envisions a not-so-far-away future when robots will replace people as teachers, at least in areas that require a lot of repetition, such as foreign language and math drills. He doesn't, however, foresee them ever replacing philosophy teachers, for example. "Mundane subjects or those that try a teacher's patience would be good for robot teachers," Whitehill said. "Robots have infinite patience."

Hummm… So, does that mean that robots would be a good answer for those English as a Second Language kids and the ones who are low-performing in math? If it tries the teacher's patience to teach that way, I wonder how trying it is on the poor kids? Whitehill points out that this would free up the the "real" teachers for the more "challenging" courses. Makes you wonder exactly how deep his understanding of teaching and learning (and humanity) really runs.

I wonder if Mr. Whitehill would want his robot to teach his own kindergartner? Would that"infinite patience with mundane subjects" be sufficient for his own children? Or would he rather have someone who has had human experience with human children. Well, maybe Saya will have received software updates to expand her knowledge, skills, and dispositions as an educator by then. They say that robots with artificial intelligence will "learn" over time from exposure to "data" (that's us). She could be the next-generation robot's mentor. You never know. What goes around comes around because it's a small world after all!.

Posted by Susan Graham at 12:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Last week I wrote about how looking at pictures informed the way I thought about teaching and learning. I’ve been thinking about The Picture Lady ever since.

The Picture Lady came to visit us in fifth grade. I think The Picture Lady was probably a Junior League member and her traveling art exhibit was a community service project. Each visit, she brought us a new picture – a large nicely framed copy of a famous work of art – and she gave us a little 15-minute lesson on the artist and some aspect of art appreciation.

After her visit, the picture took up residence on the far right end of the chalkboard rail. I sat right in front of the picture. There were no art museums in East Texas, but I had a front row seat when The Picture Lady came, and it sort of felt like she'd left the picture there just for me.

Last week I sat down and tried to recall the pictures and the lessons she taught. While I had to goggle around to find some of the titles, these are pictures I can still see in my head, quite a few decades later.

Vermeer: Maid with Milk Jug
Van Gogh: The Starry Night
Seurat: A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte
Gainsborough: The Blue Boy
Renoir: Girl with a Watering Can
Van Eyck: The Arnolfini Marriage
Mary Cassatt: The Child’s Bath
Rembrandt: The Man with the Golden Helmet
Michelangelo: The Sistine Chapel Creation
Picasso: The Three Musicians
Sargent: The Wyndham Sisters
Wood: American Gothic
Da Vinci: The Last Supper
Velasquez: La Meninas
Whistler: Whistler’s Mother
Monet: Water Lilies
Hopper: Cape Cod Morning

I can recall lessons on impasto, fresco, pointillism, chiaroscuro, vanishing point, symbolism, impressionism, realism, portraiture, perspective, line, color and composition. I remember Van Gogh’s ear and Wood’s dentist, Vermeer’s preference for lighting from the left, and Da Vinci’s failure to anticipate the failure of egg white emulsion. For all these years, I’ve wondered whose back is that reflected in Van Eyck’s convex mirror? What is Whistler’s mother thinking about? Who is the rather sinister man at the doorway in La Meninas? Why is Hopper’s woman so happy and Wood’s woman so dour? How long did it take Seurat to make all those little dots? What did the artists, particularly the portrait artists, think of their subjects?

If The Picture Lady had not come to my fifth grade classroom almost 50 years ago, I would not have known those pictures existed. I would not have learned how to look at them or appreciate what I was seeing. I would not have taken advantage of living within driving distance of the National Portrait Gallery and the National Gallery of Art in Washington. The Picture Lady Day and her pictures opened up a whole new world to me. She taught me to see differently and deeply. She gave me a gift that has lasted a lifetime.

I wonder, would The Picture Lady be welcomed into our schools today? Would we spare 15 minutes for a Junior Leaguer who wanted to introduce kids to culture? Or would she be viewed as an imposition or a distraction or just a waste of time that could be spent doing something more valuable?

And I wonder, exactly what could that something possibly be?

Posted by Susan Graham at 12:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

A few weeks ago an article by Washington Post art critic Blake Gopnik caught my attention. I tore it out and left in on my desk. I keep going back to it. Gopnik says,

A few hours spent with the 48 paintings in "Pride of Place," the latest groundbreaking show from curator Arthur Wheelock, suggests that we might want to hunt for a proper, up-close viewing spot for every image. That's not what this exhibition is officially about; it's more focused on the urban world its pictures show. But it highlights something more profound: that over the past few centuries, we've lost all clue of how to look at classic Dutch pictures. Literally: We don't know how to use our eyes to take these pictures in, where to stand to do it and what to look for once we've got to where we need to be.

First of all, I tend to think about Art as something in a museum and somehow different than art that is available in local galleries or art that might actually hang on my own walls. Gopnik reminded me that those pictures were painted as renderings of actual cityscapes rather than “works of art”. But what really struck me was this—these paintings were not done for a gallery, they were purchased as personal possessions. Of course I knew that, but it had never really impacted my viewing experience. All of a sudden, there was a voyeuristic sense of peeking over the shoulder of the original owners and trying to see the pictures through their eyes. Now I am wondering--is a work of art about the subject, the artist, the commissioner, or the viewer?

It seems to me that these same questions make sense to think about as we view public education. We spend a lot of time looking and a lot of time talking about what we see in our schools, and while we spend a lot of time and energy analyzing and critiquing education, there is still a lot of disagreement about the process and the product. Maybe we have different reasons for looking -- or maybe we’re just looking at it the wrong way. I’m thinking about what Gopnik said about those Dutch cityscapes.

We don’t know how to use our eyes to take these pictures in.

We talk about taking school “snapshots.” Snapshots are handy. They are quick and inexpensive. They freeze a moment in time and provide an accurate reproduction of what is seen through the viewfinder. But really viewing a school is more like viewing scenery out of a train window. The fixed images in a snapshot may be easier to focus upon, but they are cut-outs, devoid of context. Do we become frustrated in our efforts to “look” at school because we have obsess on frozen frames, rather than allowing the images to flow as a continuum of experience? Do we zoom in so closely when we "disaggregate" data that we lose the framework in which that information has authentic meaning? Do we zoom out so far that we can’t see the details that matter? What’s just beyond the edge of the captured image? Does it matter?

We don’t know where to stand to do it.

We talk about a “slanted view” as a bad thing, but Gopnik explains that the Dutch Masters did not intend for all paintings to be viewed from the center front position. The placement of the picture in the room -- and location of the viewer in the room space -- were anticipated as part of the picture design. The picture itself doesn’t change, but the viewing experience might be very different over here or over there.

So when we look at an education experience, where do we stand to observe? With outside researchers? School administrators? Higher education providers? Future employers? Classroom teachers? Parents? Or students? If the school picture looks “wrong,” how can we be sure that what needs to change is the school -- or the perspective of the viewer?

We don’t know what to look for once we’ve got to where we need to be.

We talk about what teaching and learning ought to look like, without ever really being clear about what we want an education to do. Pictures have different purposes. Their intent may be to record an event, evoke an emotion, preserve a memory, provide documentation, honor an individual, or just please the eye. A great work of art might do all of those things, but it is unrealistic to expect all art to accomplish all of them. Knowing more about the subject of the work, the mind of the artists, the goals of the person who commissioned the work, and cultural setting in which the work was produced my help us understand more about how to view a work of art.

So what exactly is it that we are looking for in public education? Do we value symmetry over emphasis? Are we looking for accuracy or imagination? Should education inspire or indoctrinate? Do we want an education that gives us answers or asks us questions?

There are a lot of people critiquing the “art” of educating our children. Is the picture of public education all wrong? Or is it that we don’t always know how to look, or where to stand, or what to look for once we’ve got to where we need to be? I don’t know the answers, but it seems to me that the questions are worth asking.

Posted by Susan Graham at 6:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)