November 2009 Archives

Knowledge can be acquired or applied or discarded. Discarded knowledge occurs with too much frequency, acquired knowledge occurs occasionally, and applied knowledge occurs sporadically but with great impact. It may be argued that the application of knowledge cannot occur without acquisition, but what is information without purpose? The reason schools propagate knowledge is to appropriate such knowledge for the common good. The American experience of education has always been a model more successful with the application of knowledge than its mere acquisition. We are a nation of tinkerers and builders.

I am standing inside Tokyo's Narita airport ruminating about the function of knowledge in the lives of American school children. Such esoteric thoughts burden the minds of teachers because knowledge and pedagogy are the tools of our trade. Plus I needed something to think about while I was detained by Japanese immigration officials.

I successfully navigated baggage and customs but was delayed by a tailored immigration agent who asked me the purpose of my visit. The answer was limited to two choices: business or pleasure. Before I left for Japan I was instructed by "people in the know" to answer 'pleasure' lest I be asked a series of questions. I told the staid official that I was visiting Japan for pleasure, feeling confident that this single word would expedite my entry. I was wrong.

"What type of pleasure?" he asked.

I suddenly felt, well...dirty. I'm not sure if it was the tone of his voice or my guarded nature, but I was, after all, a middle-aged man traveling to Japan during the non-tourist season. The customs official assumed I was another American businessman and I essentially replied that I flew over 9,000 miles to East Asia for pleasure. We stared at each other for a moment. Could I retract my answer?

"I'm visiting Japan to meet some people and visit some shrines," I answered.
My response was not a lie but it did not sound legitimate. I was visiting Japan to meet with education officials and did have one day set aside on my calendar to visit Shinto temples and Buddhist shrines in Kyoto.

"You will visit shrines for one week?" the customs official intoned. He found my response incredulous, and I can't say that I blamed him. How could I tell him, as the song says, that I "get my kicks above the waistline"?

I was instructed to stay put while he consulted with another customs official. She wore a different colored uniform, signifying a higher rank, and wore a surgical mask around her face-one of many Japanese people wearing such masks to prevent influenza. Another official, also wearing a mask, completed a trio deciding my fate. Each looked at my passport and exchanged words. In a perfectly executed blend of choreography and synchronization, they all looked at me with serious expressions. I offered a polite wave and smiled.

Crazy thoughts entered my mind. What if some baggage handler at JFK airport packed my suitcase full of heroin? What if the stranger sitting next to me in the plane slipped contraband inside my laptop bag? The immigration declaration form specifically prohibits entering Japan with fruit, vegetables, narcotics, pornography, seeds, or snails. The outside pocket of my laptop bag might be occupied by a pair of breeding snails ready to wreck havoc on the Japanese ecosystem.

The customs officials continued their dialogue and occasionally glanced at me. I anticipated sitting in a small, locked room while they booked me on the next flight back to the USA.

After consulting with a fourth official, the immigration agent who first greeted me returned my passport. I was free to enter Japan.

I am surrounded by the wonders of technology. Planes are arriving and departing, taxi drivers are sitting in cars waiting for passengers, people are talking on cell phones, airline agents are tapping computer keyboards, and electricity ignites an explosion of neon signs. Friends and family hug loved ones and just about everyone is taking pictures. I see the stamp of American ingenuity all around me and wonder about all the fuss concerning international math and science scores.

American education is criticized by many voices but the choir gets loudest every time the TIMSS scores are released. The Trends in International Mathematics and Science provides data on the mathematics and science achievement of U.S. 4th-and 8th-grade students compared to that of students in other countries. Critics use this data to argue that American education is falling behind other countries, particularly Asian countries, with respect to both math and science scores. The syllogism is constructed as follows: TIMSS scores are the barometer of a nation's math and science knowledge; math and science scores are the best means to objectively evaluate such knowledge; American students are performing poorly on the TIMSS tests and therefore will not be able to contribute to a technology-driven world. If American students cannot compete on the TIMSS test, critics maintain, our nation is at risk and the "race to the top" will not be won. Fair enough, but this reasoning places too much emphasis on the assumption that test scores and creativity are conjugal partners.

Let's take a closer look inside and outside Tokyo's airport. The planes, cars, computers, cellular phones, cameras, and electricity are all technologies invented by Americans who loved to tinker and to build. The strength of our system of education has always been the ability of teachers to foster critical thinking skills and release the creative impulses of our children.

The TIMSS scores are a piece of data that reflects mostly content knowledge. Not a useless test, but not a very prescient exam either. Knowledge, as I noted earlier, requires application and purpose to advance a society. Knowing the periodic table of the elements is good; knowing how to create new compounds with the elements is better. Americans enjoy creating and other countries, such as Japan, take pride in improvement. In fact, the Japanese apply the word ''kaizen,'' meaning ''improvement'' to ensure quality control of products such as cars and televisions. It is a concept GM and Zenith should have emulated years ago.

The true value of the TIMSS test is not discerned easily because the comprehension and application of knowledge, paradoxically, are not always mutually inclusive. American students may not be willing to spend the time necessary to do as well as they should on standardized tests, but they do seem to accomplish much in the world of science and math. Could it be that American teachers know how to both grow a seed and cultivate a plant?

The critics are right that American students lag behind other countries when viewed through the myopic lens of the TIMSS tests, but what about actual science and math results? How do our students compare to that of other nations regarding the application of math and science knowledge?

Two prestigious awards that recognize outstanding achievement in science and math-the Nobel Prize and the Einstein Awards- consistently recognize the creativity of American students. The Nobel Prize in science and math (economics) has been awarded to Americans almost 300 times since its inception in 1901. No other country comes close to this record number of math and science Nobel laureates. Critics infected with the contagion of pessimism retort "that was then, this is now." Americans have been awarded this distinguished honor 67 times in the last decade; again, no other country comes close to this number. The Albert Einstein World Award of Science was created in 1984 as a means of recognition, and as an incentive to scientific and technological research and development. It takes into special consideration "those researches, which have brought true benefit and well being to mankind." Although only in existence twenty-five years, Americans have been awarded this prize eleven times. Japan, China, and Finland-the countries that excel on the TIMSS tests- have not earned a single award.

What does this all mean? Simply stated, the labor of America's teachers appears to bear plenty of fruit. The many seminal ideas and inventions that better our world are set in motion in classrooms throughout our country, and teachers should be proud of their work. America's teachers understand the relationship between content knowledge and how to apply such knowledge. That is the strength of our flawed but rich system of education.

A block of wood, a piece of metal, and a small spring stand alone until a child sees some useful purpose.

Let us all hope and pray that American children will continue to build a better mousetrap.

Posted by Anthony Mullen at 10:50 AM | Permalink | 11 Comments | Recommend

The young marine from The Bronx listened to the lean sergeant talk about the invasion of Japan. The Gunnery Sergeant did not need to remind the group of battle weary marines that any attempt to land on Japan proper would be met with fierce resistance. The Pacific island hopping campaign had proven the Japanese Imperial Army would sacrifice all to prevent an invasion of their homeland. The lives of hundreds of thousands of Japanese and American soldiers were lost on mostly obscure coral atolls and volcanic spits of land, and military analysts were projecting similar or greater numbers of casualties when Allied forces landed in Japan.

I'm not sure what fear or anxiety my father felt as he waited to set foot on Japanese soil; he was a marine and marines were not supposed to show fear. A palpable sense of fear could provoke hesitancy, and marines were taught that a hesitant marine was a dead marine.

Sixty-four years after my father was sent to fight a war against Japan, I am traveling on a mission of peace. My father never arrived in Japan - two atomic bombs convinced Emperor Hirohito that the war was lost and my father got his wish to go home. I am expected to land at Tokyo's Narita Airport in fourteen hours.

It is a curious thing how the paths of fathers and sons sometime intersect at unforeseen crossroads, misty places set aside by time and purpose and fate. My fate is taking me to a faraway land known more today for its ability to achieve high math and science scores than the code of Bushido and kamikaze pilots. A single generation separates my father and me, but it is a generation made distant by a postmodern world.

I have been invited to Japan by the JEE baba Foundation, an educational organization that promotes the exchange of students and teachers between the United States and Japan. Each year for the past 15 years JEE baba has invited the national teacher of the year to meet with Japanese education officials and to tour the country. I am scheduled to meet with the minister of education, the school superintendents of Tokyo, Yokohama, and Kyoto, and the governor of Chiba Prefecture. My meeting with the governor will be filmed for the nightly news.

I wonder about the Japanese people and their children. Stereotypes about their academic prowess place them on the inside track in the global "race to the top" and I have read countless articles about the successes of their educational system. I need to see firsthand what is truth and what is propaganda. I bring with me a bias that America's teachers are among the best in the world and so must inhibit my impartial judgment.

My plane has landed at Tokyo's Narita Airport and most of the Japanese and American business people are beginning to rouse from a restful sleep. I stayed awake the entire flight because my mind was busy thinking about my role as an ambassador for America's teachers. I have been provided a quick lesson in Japanese etiquette and replaced the dollars in my wallet with yen. But I do not know what is expected of me. I am a pilgrim on a quest for some end unseen by my father's eyes. As I exit the plane and feel Japan beneath my feet, I think about my father's opinion of the Japanese people. He told me many times "the Japanese people are good people" and never talked about the war. He wanted to return to Japan one day as a tourist. Sadly, an early death prevented him from meeting a people he once fought but always respected.

I stand still for a moment and let my fellow passengers walk around me. I stare at the ground and smile. My footsteps have fulfilled a father's hope and dreams.

Posted by Anthony Mullen at 10:47 AM | Permalink | 6 Comments | Recommend

A crowd of children is gathered inside the Magic Kingdom hoping to catch a glimpse of the star and get his autograph. I notice a dwarf pass the crowd and go unnoticed by most of the children. One little girl asks her mother to stop the character.

"You don't want to lose your place in line waiting for Mickey to get an autograph from one of the dwarfs," the mother instructed her daughter.

The little girl wearing a Mickey shirt quietly watched the dwarf walk away.

It never occurred to me that a social pecking order exists among Disney characters. Some characters are treated with a sense of reverence while others are just another foam face in the crowd.

A park employee is sweeping litter around the edge of the crowd.

"Where are the other dwarfs?" I ask.

"I think Dopey is the only dwarf we have," he answered.

"Where are the other six?"

"I guess they're in their cottage in the woods," he replied sarcastically.

I wonder why Disney picked Dopey from among the gang of seven to represent the dwarfs. Sneezy, Sleepy, Doc, Happy, Bashful and Grumpy formed a slightly dysfunctional brotherhood of dwarfs, but they managed to live and work in harmony. And why break up a union of workers that sings while swinging pick axes in a mine?

I am in Orlando attending the Kappa Delta Pi 47th biennial convocation. Kappa Delta Pi has a long history of promoting quality teaching and the convocation is bursting with energy. It's nice to see so many educators participating in over 170 workshops designed to enrich the professional development of graduate students, teachers and administrators. I meet two teachers from the Southeast and join a conversation about school cliques.

One is a middle school teacher and the other a high school teacher. Both have strong opinions about school cliques.

The high school teacher tries to connect the dots from a lunch table to Columbine.

"So-called popular cliques isolate certain students, leaving them feeling alone and inferior. So these kids form their own cliques-like the outcasts at Columbine High School."

The middle school teacher talks about the dynamics of friendship and how students treat each other before and after joining a clique. She describes incidents in which students who were friends since Kindergarten parted ways when one joined a clique. The child left outside the clique did not look, act, or dress like the members of the clique, and was left abandoned by a former childhood friend.

"It's really sad," she said. "I have seen too many children treat former friends differently after joining a clique."

"And it gets a lot worse in high school," added the secondary school teacher. "Some kids begin to feel more powerful as a group and start to dominate the school culture."

Cliques are social phenomena that usually begin as early as elementary school and take root in middle school. Cliques usually attract members with similar interests such as jocks, preppies, Goths, skate boarders, musicians, computer geeks, and people with purple hair. Most cliques are harmless and a temporary means for a student to feel secure before forming a more complete self-identity, but some cliques do attract dangerous minds.

And there is always the child left out.

The elementary school teacher is passionate about the need to "emotionally educate" children to address the problems associated with cliques and social isolation.

"In my school district," she said, "we incorporate programs that promote close and meaningful relationships with peers. We make sure that no child is left out. And guess what happened?"

"Test score improved?" I answered.

"Yes! Tests scores improved."

"What kind of programs did you implement?" I asked.

The veteran teacher talked about how teachers and support staff try to identify children—many as young as five or six years old—who appear to be socially isolated from their peers. She talked about reaching out to these lonely children and teaching them socialization skills. Not all parents or school officials initially supported the 'touchy feely' type school model until the test results proved the nexus between social and emotional health and academic success.

"A child's emotional health is intrinsically linked to academic and life success—that's common sense. But some school officials and parents did not see value in teachers spending time discussing virtue and ethics," she added. "These people were concerned that children were missing math and science time."

Her school's ability to both address the social and emotional needs of children and raise test scores impressed me.

"So your school makes an extra effort to make sure no child is isolated from his or her peers?" I asked.

"Absolutely. Children who are isolated when young tend to be isolated throughout their school years. They are the children who are stigmatized and the stigma stays with them.

I wonder why Disney decided to isolate the childish and naïve dwarf from his peers. Walt Disney was a genius and visionary but he blew it on this one. Dopey appeared lost and he reminded me of the child we all knew in grade school who had few friends. The one labeled "funny looking" or "stupid" or "weird" and inevitably kept that moniker until high school graduation.

I decided to follow the dwarf.

Dopey navigated the theme park crowds, finding openings between clusters of people with the agility of an NFL running back. I needed to quickly step from the pavement to a higher sidewalk to keep better track of the nimble dwarf. Fortunately for me, the character's large head made him easily visible and his lack of peripheral vision kept him on a linear path. A fork in the road and a large gathering of people created a pedestrian traffic jam. The crowd was cheering and fathers held up their young children. Cameras flashed from every direction.

Dopey paused for a moment and stood near the rear of the crowd. Few people noticed the dwarf because the cast of characters assembled near Cinderella's castle mesmerized them. Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Goofy, Pluto and Chip 'n Dale stood hand-to-hand posing for photographs. It was the perfect storm of popular Disney mascots.

I wondered if Dopey would join the ensemble.

Childhood and adolescence present many physical and psychological challenges; however, it is also a time in which individuals seek strength and support from peers. Cliques develop and children sort themselves into groups that share similar interests, cultures, or provide a sense of protection or belonging. A child who does not find a peer group is left feeling isolated and abandoned and the long-term psychosocial outcomes can be devastating. A child with few friends or social support networks is much more likely to suffer from depression or other mood disorders. The developmental importance of belonging to a peer group during school years is critical to the maturation process, and no doubt the reason it has been a frequent theme of novels and movies.

Instinct surely plays a role in the human desire to form groups but nurture has an equally important part. Parents are the first and most significant arbitrators of childhood friendships, and we all remember which friends were labeled good or bad for our social circle. Or the characters worth posing with.

Dopey did not make a move to join the popular mascots. I do not know if he was late arriving or not invited. I do know that another little girl pointed at the dwarf and tried to get her father to bring her to him. The father whispered something in the girl's ear and then quickly lifted her upon his shoulders. She now had a better view of Mickey and friends.

Social isolation may benefit a few people with monastic tendencies, but children and adolescents who do not experience the protective benefits of close relationships with classmates risk increased vulnerability to negative social pressures. The price to gain admission to the clique is often costly. A girl may become promiscuous or a boy may feel the need to commit acts of bravado or deviant behavior to earn admittance.

The dwarf did not stay long. He was accosted by a group of teenagers who found an opportunity to abuse an outcast. They began to tap on his head with their knuckles and make obscene gestures. One boy kept asking knock, knock, who's in there? Dopey placed his hands over his heart and a security guard quickly appeared. The hall monitor had arrived and the boys dispersed.

Dopey walked away and eventually disappeared behind a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.

I hope the dwarf had found his cottage in the woods.

Posted by Anthony Mullen at 12:16 PM | Permalink | 7 Comments | Recommend