The Treasure Hunter

By now two things about high-stakes testing in our public schools seem clear: officials at the national and state level are not going to end it any time soon, but parents have the power to reduce the negative effects of testing within school districts by opting-out their children.

Today’s post, written by Jaime Franchi and posted on Diane Ravitch’s blog, tells of what parents in Long Island, New York accomplished when they worked together and got some like-minded people elected to local school boards.  

One of the hotbeds of opt out in New York was centered on Long Island, which consists of Nassau County and Suffolk County. Fully half of the students eligible for state tests did not take the tests.

A year ago, parents were battling a combative Governor Cuomo, facing a hostile State Education Department, and rallying against Common Core. But what a difference a year makes. Now the Chancellor of the New York State Board of Regents, Betty Rosa, is an experienced educator who is sympathetic to the parents who opt out.

And the movement has larger goals:

The struggle came to a head during this spring’s testing season, culminating in a giant win for Long Island Opt-Out, a parent-led group that organized an historic number of test-refusals this year with almost 100,000 students—more than half of the student population in Nassau and Suffolk counties—opting out of state tests. Their message has been effective: No more Common Core. Despite incremental fixes promised by Gov. Andrew Cuomo and his so-called “Common Core Task Force,” they are still demanding concrete changes.

Yet, it remains to be seen how this evolving protest movement will improve or replace the current education agenda.

According to local public education advocates, the answer is multi-tiered. It includes elections: first at the state level and then at the local school board in an effort to tackle education policy from all sides. The goal is a shift away from schools’ increasing test-prep focus almost exclusively on math and reading skills—eschewing the arts and play-based learning—to a comprehensive curriculum that addresses what some advocates call the “whole child.”

The opt out leaders have been shrewd. They have elected nearly 100 of their members to local school boards. They threw their support behind a candidate for the State Senate and he eked out a narrow victory. They regularly schedule meetings with their representatives in Albany.

Opt out leaders want a sweeping change in education policy, from scripted lessons and high-stakes testing to child-centered classrooms, where children are really put first, not test scores.

In Oregon, my state, the movement to opt kids out of tests is slowly gaining traction.  As might be expected, it is more popular in cities and wealthier communities than in rural and high-poverty places. Many parents are afraid that their children will be punished if they don’t take the tests or that their schools will lose funding. Others still believe there are benefits in the data that show scores for all schools and in holding teachers accountable for students’ poor performance. What we and other states need is more people working together and a wider dissemination of the negative side of the testing story. I’d like very much to hear from readers about what is is happening where they live, especially if parents have been successful in forwarding the opt-out movement.

On June 18th Diane Ravitch summarized an article about “Grit” that had appeared earlier in SLATE: “Is Grit Really the Key to Success?” written by Daniel Engber.  Since the idea of developing grit in students seems to be popular these days, I went to the original article and will summarize it briefly here.  Then, I will re-post a piece I wrote about grit  a while ago and have edited over time. I think you will understand why I chose to repeat it.

Engber’s article is a review of Angela Duckworth’s new book, “The Power of Passion and Perseverance.” In it he also devotes a lot of attention to examining the history of the research on grit done by others and offering his own opinions.

Duckworth’s book is based on her theory of grit, captured in the book’s title, and the research she has done to identify it in specific groups of people.  She began her research by interviewing successful celebrities who worked their way up through lengthy and demanding circumstances. Later she developed a survey to identify the presence of grit in groups of people who were applying for college acceptance, demanding jobs, or admission to elite organizations.

One reason that Duckworth and her research have gained so much attention is that a movement to teach grit in today’s schools has gained a significant amount of interest and support. Duckworth also believes that grit can be taught through a variety of classroom practices, and that the resultant behaviors will make many more students successful in school.

Although it’s clear that Duckworth was “gritty” in her research, Engber finds it unconvincing.  He cites both contrary research studies and common life experiences that show other personal qualities just as powerful or more so than grit. He is also very skeptical of the predictability of Duckworth’s surveys.

Even though I haven’t read the book, I share Engber’s skepticism.  I’ve read similar views of grit and arguments for teaching it in schools and remain unconvinced.  Here are my views on grit in the essay below.

Topping the national news several months ago was a story about two dangerous criminals escaping from a high security prison. For several months they had devoted themselves to preparations: persuading a woman prison employee to get them the tools they needed and agree to drive them away when they got outside the prison walls, digging a route to the outside of the prison from their cell, and working late at night to avoid attracting notice. When their preparations were finally complete, they also went through several rehearsals before carrying out their plan. Unfortunately for them, they were captured only a few days after their escape. Their promised driver had broken her promise and left them without a plan or an opportunity to practice any new tactics to reach safety.

What interested me about this story was that men who had wasted so many years of their lives in crime rather than seeking education or legal jobs were able to plan so well, work hard, and show so much patience in carrying our their escape. They certainly showed “grit” when the goal was important to them and the stakes were high.

Another story of grit is told in one of my favorite movies, “Cool Hand Luke”, which is about a man arrested and imprisoned for a minor crime. Because he is smarter and more independent and resourceful than his fellow inmates, he is continually singled out for punishment and public humiliation.  Yet, he endures everything and continues to defy prison rules and trying to escape. Finally, he steals a prison truck and drives a long distance before hiding out in a deserted building.  Unfortunately, the prison officials manage to track him down and set fire to the building. In the end Luke chooses to take his own life rather than surrender. Yet, by losing his life he also wins: he will never go back to prison and no one can punish him ever again.

Although Luke is gone at the end of the movie, his lessons of “grit” inspire other prisoners to follow his example and stand up for themselves against prison cruelty. Although the movie shows so much harshness and sadness, its ultimate message is one of hope.

In both the real prison escape and the movie’s story, I found lessons about “grit” not understood by the experts now calling for teaching that skill to students in the classroom. Not tyrants, prison guards, nor teachers can teach grit. Human beings—and most animals– develop grit only when they are so dedicated to reaching a particular goal that they will push on through obstacles, rejections and repeated failures.

As a teacher and principal I often saw ordinary students develop grit on their own because the conditions in the classroom were right. Their teachers taught lessons that were interesting to young people and offered opportunities for self-chosen projects, collaboration with classmates, and innovation. And because the kids had already tasted success and satisfaction in previous classroom activities, they believed they could stretch themselves even further this time. Yes, the work was harder than before, but it was doable, and in their eyes the goal was worth the extra effort. They had already developed grit and could use it. And they believed in themselves.

Education should be a dynamic experience for all students. It’s not preparation for college or the workplace; but a laboratory for exploring who you are and what you want to do; for trying out your interests and talents in a safe place and for sifting out  the gold  buried in the sand of school subjects. It’s also a place to develop grit because you believe you can.

I really didn’t expect to find much about schools at this time of year when students, teachers, and administrators are finally taking a breath of fresh air and thinking only of peace and quiet for a while.  But, then an article in our local newspaper, The Oregonian, told about the success of a free community college opportunity program in Tennessee, and I wanted to cheer. It certainly looks like that program is already successful and that the one in Oregon, just beginning, will also be a success.  

A state run program called The “Tennessee Promise” has just completed its first year of operation  with 16,291 students enrolled in tuition-free community colleges or technical schools.  Much of the money for such schooling has been available in federal scholarships for several years, but most students and their families did not know about it, and the government applications were very difficult to fill out. In this system all students are informed about the program early in their high school careers and given instructions and assistance in filling out the application form.  Students  who receive a federal scholarship then get additional funding from local sources and the state itself.  Although the price of comunity college in Tennessee is $4000, students and their families pay nothing.

In the coming school year all of the 2,291 students at Nashville’s largest high school will apply for the program.  According to a student counselor at that school, the Promise program is”just part of the culture now.”

Having passed a law creating a similar program, the “Oregon Promise,” a second state will begin its program this fall.  Already 8,500 students have applied to state community colleges there.  In many ways the Oregon program echoes that of Tennessee, but there are a few differences.

Both programs keep state costs down by being the last contributor.  Only after federal Pell Grants and other  financial aid sources have been used does the state contribute.  However, Tenessee has backed its program with $360 million from lottery revenues, while the Oregon legislature has approved only $10 million for this year with no promise of future funding.

Oregon also requires a higher grade-point average for students to enroll and remain in the program than Tennesee, and its students may attend school only half-time, while Tennesee requires full time attendence. In addition, Oregon’s students get $1000 from the state whether or not they receive a federal grant. Finally, undocumented Oregon residents also qualify for the state grants.

What excites me, first of all, is that ten other states are interested in the program and closely following the progress in Tennessee and Oregon. In addition, President Obama has  proposed a national program based on Tennessee’s structure.  But beyond those possibilities I see opportunities  for a positive change in the behaviors and attitudes of high school students.  Knowing that the “Promise” is there for them if they work hard and get decent grades in high school may motivate many young people who had no hope of college or technical school before.  I expect to see a big uptick in attendance, enthusiasm, and effort in high schools in the two states already committed to the “Promise” and the same in other states that later join them.

Well, here it is, time for me to write and I don’t have anything new to say.  I have hashed over my concerns, beliefs, and new ideas often enough and recently enough to bore readers to tears. There is nothing new in public education, and I don’t write about charter schools unless they are being closed down.  In Oregon, at least, school is over for the summer with nothing new in sight. So, what if I meander for a while about the summer vacations I had in Newark New Jersey as a child?

The “summer vacation” was what July and August were called when I was a kid. And it was just that. School didn’t close until the last days of June, but after that we were truly free. Maybe a few chores around the house, but the rest of the time we made our own choices. Roaming the neighborhood on our bikes was the first choice,  pick-up games of softball or soccer came second, and the third was  joining in summer activities at our local elementary school. I remember taking a weaving class where we made placemats by weaving colored twine on a wooden frame.  The city swimming pools were also open every day and free to children, even the one in nearby Olympic Park until 1 P.M.  So were the public libraries.  At Arts HIgh School dowtown there were free art classes and at the Newark Museum there were activities that led to a dramatic performance.  For a nickel a ride we could take a bus to places too far away to bike to

During the time of World War II most families had Victory Gardens. We kids watered the plants, weeded the gardens and then picked the ripe vegetables. We also took over the fire hoses some of our fathers had as community watchmen to use for water fights. The hoses were connected to tall, closed water buckets rather than faucets, so we had to fill those buckets with water and someone had to keep pumping to make the hoses work. Once, when I was the pumper, I kept my eyes closed while pumping away hard. I didn’t realize until I was out of water that the other kids had aimed the hose at me the whole time.

Another thing most of us did was to collect old newspapers, rubber and metal we could turn in at a local gas station as part of the recycling movement. I would go from door to door on our streetand collect whatever our neighbors had to give. We were paid ten cents a pound and the same amount for used kitchen oil and fat at the local grocery store.

In the evenings we kept the lights low in our houses and the window shades down.  It was the job of the watchmen to walk around the neighborhood and make sure all the houses were relatively dark. We kids sat in the living room with our parents and listened to the radio.  Of course there was news about was going on at the  war front, but there were also music, mystery, action, and comedy shows.

With all those things going on I still found plenty of time to read, especially on hot afternoons. We had plenty of books at home.  When I was quite young my parents had bought a set of children’s books from a door-to- door salesman named “Journeys Through Bookland”. The set had ten books, the first one with poems and fairy tales, and the later ones with pieces of literature  and non fiction.  We also had a full set of “The Book of Knowledge” that my grandfather had given us. Finally, there was some adult literature that I sampled as I grew older. I remember specifically a collection of short stories by Guy de Mau Passant and the modern novel “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.”

As you might suspect those summer vacations went quickly and happily. Our schools didn’t give us any assignments to do over the summer or expect anything new from us when school began in the fall beyond writing  an essay on “My Summer Vacation”.  And there was no required summer school for those who hadn’t done well during the school year.  Still most of us learned a lot by exploring the world around us and living through personal experiences that couldn’t be taught at school.

Today I am re-posting an article about Jerome Bruner, a famous cognitive psychologist who died a few weeks ago.  Bruner was instrumental in devising and disseminating a new theory of learning.  The article was written by Jonathan Zimmerman, published in “The Atlantic,” and sent to me by my friend, Don Bellairs. 

As  a graduate student I read Bruner’s most famous book, ” The Process of Education” and bought into his theory of learning completely.  Later I created a saying that I have repeated in this blog and anywhere else educators might read it.  Here it is once again (with a few words changed in my quest for greater clarity): “Learning is not climbing someone else’s ladder; but weaving your own web from the pieces of meaning and usefulness you find along your way.”

 A few years ago, Jerome Bruner visited a graduate seminar I teach at New York University about educational research and politics. I told Jerry that I agreed with almost everything he wrote about education, but I feared that most Americans didn’t. What if it turned out that the country didn’t want what he was selling?

“Well,” Jerry grinned, “then you’ve got the makings of a great story.”

Bruner’s own astonishing story came to an end on Monday, when he died at the age of 100. Born to Polish immigrants, he was blind until surgery restored his vision at the age of two. He spent his life studying human perception, and the ways the stories we tell about the world influence how we think and learn about. Along the way, he helped revolutionize American psychology. When Bruner went to graduate school at Harvard University in the 1930s, most psychological research examined the behavior that people exhibited in the face of external pressures and stimuli. But that model didn’t take account of our individual minds, which filter and interpret everything we experience.

Bruner resolved to study what he called “cognitive psychology”—how people think and reason, not just how they react and respond. For education, especially, the implications were enormous. Bruner found that even very young children constructed their own knowledge—that is, they made sense of new information based on prior experience and understanding. The job of the teacher was to help students build upon what they already knew.

So it didn’t make sense to fill children with facts, which they would forget as soon as the test was over. The goal was to help them recognize relationships between facts. You didn’t have to be a physicist or a historian to understand gravity or the Civil War. But you did need a teacher who could help you think like a physicist or a historian, ordering and analyzing information just like they did.

A half-century after Bruner laid out these ideas in his magnum opus, The Process of Education; they have become the accepted “best practice” in American schools. But few teachers and students actually practice them. There’s an enormous gap between the story the United States tells about education and the way it actually does happen.

The first reason has to do with the preparation of America’s teaching force. To instruct children in the manner that Bruner imagined, you need to have a deep knowledge of the subject that you teach. I’m a professor of education at a major research university, but I couldn’t teach middle-school biology. I could make the kids memorize the parts of an atom or a cell, but that wouldn’t help them understand how biology “works”: how it asks questions, frames theories, and collects evidence.

And here’s the truly depressing fact: Many of the country’s teachers don’t have that kind of knowledge, either. Although most states now require future teachers to major in the subject they will instruct, they don’t demand that they exhibit a true mastery of it. Drawn overwhelmingly from the middle-to-low achievement range of their college cohorts, many of America’s teachers simply lack the strong disciplinary background to induct kids into a discipline.

Meanwhile, teachers who do possess such expertise are hamstrung by the beast of “accountability.” Since Congress passed the landmark No Child Left Behind law in 2001, federal and state rules have tied school funding—and, in some places, teacher salaries—to students’ performance on standardized tests. Especially in poorer communities, the result has been the antithesis of what Bruner imagined: a joyless pedagogy of rote memorization, preparing kids for the next high-stakes test.

Finally, it’s simply not clear that American citizens—you know, the people who elect school boards and pay taxes—want the type of instruction that Bruner did. He learned that the hard way when he developed a federally funded curriculum in the late 1960s called Man: A Course of Study (MACOS), which used examples from different times and places to ask basic questions about human behavior and morality.

But some of the curriculum’s content—especially its description of the Netsilik Eskimos, who practiced infanticide and euthanasia—caught the eye of conservatives, who wanted their children to be taught a single moral code. Congress eventually defunded MACOS, which reminds us about the dangers of encouraging kids to think for themselves. They might end up disagreeing with their parents, and a lot of Americans—maybe, most of them—don’t want that.

Later in his career, Bruner turned to the question of culture and education: how different societies influence human growth and development. My fear is that American culture doesn’t really accept the story that Bruner told about teaching. But I’ll always be grateful to him for telling it, over and over again, in the hope that the nation might one day learn it by heart.