Tag Archives: reform policies

Is Progressive Schooling Just Around the Corner? (Part 2)

Predicting the future, well, is iffy. Except for an occasional Nate Silver who became famous in calling the 2012 election of Barack Obama, more often than not, predictions of what is around the corner range from goofy to funny. I do laugh at the big bloopers made by smart people about the future (see here). And I have gotten off a few clumsy ones of my own. So, at best, I am somewhere between occasionally right and, more often than not, wrong.

But my lack of success has yet to stop me from looking around the corner. The previous post asked whether a progressive coalition was forming to challenge frontally the current efficiency-driven, standards-based, testing and accountability movement that has dominated public schooling for the past three decades. I would like to think so but my experience, research, and ability to read portents of the future do not add up to an enviable record. So, readers beware.

Here are some fragments of a potential coalition that I do see emerging:

*Parents, educators, and students drawn from the political left and right (e.g. progressives, home schoolers, and Tea Party advocates) opposed to the amount and spread of standardized testing–the op-out movement–including mounting anxiety over new tests for assessing student learning of Common Core Standards;

*Traditional progressive groups (often splintered and small) that have low profiles for a long time yet continue to support educating the whole child, holistic education, democratic and social justice education, alternative schools including career academies, project-based learning, etc.

*The Maker movement (Do It Yourself–DIY) to invent, innovate, and work with everything by hand and through technology from rockets to crafts applied to schools.

*Personalized learning (see previous post)

*Donor, corporate, and parental supporters of urban school hybrids including charter schools and blended learning.

The last item needs some elaboration since it is hardly a self-evident emerging interest group.

The charter school movement has roots in a progressive agenda that, as educator Joe Nathan wrote in Rethinking Schools in 1996, viewed charters as “an important opportunity for educators to fulfill their dreams, to empower the powerless, and to help encourage a bureaucratic system to be more responsive and more effective.”

In the previous post, I mentioned some progressive charter schools. Beyond those self-defined progressive charters are emerging hybrids of schools that stress both teacher- and student-centered instruction and learning. Sure, it is still hard for many to combine traditional (think KIPP) and progressive teaching and learning in the same sentence (see here). But combinations of progressive and traditional approaches, including social-emotional learning do exist now and have existed (see here and here).

Some urban schools have embraced blended learning models that mix individualized  instruction with traditional approaches (see here for range of examples).

Whether these different fragments can coalesce into a political movement, I do not know. Pulling together Democrat and Republican partisans, educational progressives and conservatives, KIPP champions and whole-child enthusiasts is not only risky but a Herculean feat. Can it be done? Yes. Will it occur?  I do not know. What I do know is that a shift from the current center of gravity of seeing schools as a powerful tool for economic growth to one where historic goals of tax-supported public schools such as graduating thoughtful, literate, and well-rounded young men and women engaged in supporting and helping their communities is imperative. It will, however, require a coalition of different groups to act politically in making the changes occur. Whether my timid prediction will turn out to be a blooper or not, time will tell.

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Is Progressive Schooling Just Around the Corner? (Part 1)

My record in predictions is, at best, half-wrong and half-right. I have no special powers in looking around the corner. My record in figuring out what is cresting, what will take hold and spread and what will disappear is unenviable.

Not an encouraging way to entice readers to continue, I admit. Nonetheless,  let me tell you what signs I see of a possible progressive coalition emerging. This is impressionistic, to be sure, filled with guesses, occasional fumbles, and error. But there might just be something brewing politically across the country that is emerging as a  counter to the three-decade long concentration on top-down federal, state, and foundation-funded curriculum standards, testing, and accountability.

What do I mean by “progressive?’ In the decades between the 1890s and 1940s, “progressive education” in the U.S. was the reigning political ideology of schooling. There were two main ideas, anchored in what was then emerging as a “science of education” that spurred and divided U.S. progressives in those years. First, student-centered instruction and learning (adherents were sometimes called “pedagogical progressives“) and, second, advocates of “scientific management” (sometimes called “administrative progressives” who sought to prepare children and youth to fit into work and society far more efficiently than the traditional schooling of the day. Both wings of the progressive movement cited John Dewey and his embrace of science as their source.

Educators, including many academics, administrators and researchers of the day glommed on to “scientific management.” Proud to be called “educational engineers”  during these years, these progressives created lists of behaviors that principals would use to evaluate teachers, designed protocols to follow to make a school building efficient, and measured anything that was nailed down.

Academics, school boards, and superintendents–then called “administrative progressives” –adopted scientific ways of determining educational efficiency. These reformers were kissing cousins of “pedagogical progressives.” The latter wanted to uproot traditional teaching and learning and plant child-centered learning in schools. They made a small dent in U.S. schools but the efficiency-minded progressives triumphed politically in shaping schools in the early 20th century.

That efficiency-driven progressive crusade for meaningful information to inform policy decisions about district and school efficiency and effectiveness has continued in subsequent decades. The current donor and business-led resurgence of a “cult of efficiency,” the application of scientific management to schooling, appears in the current romance with Big Data, evidence-based instruction, and the onslaught of models that use assumption-loaded algorithms to grade how well schools and individual teachers are doing, and customizing online lessons for students.

Even though the efficiency wing of early 20th century progressives has politically trumped the wing of the movement focused on the whole child and student-centered pedagogy, it is well to keep in mind that cycles of rhetoric–wars of words–and policy action on efficiency-driven and student-centered progressivism have spun back-and-forth for decades regardless of which wing won in which decade. The point is that while most policymakers are efficiency driven and have succeeded in dominating public schooling for decades, that political domination has hardly eliminated educators and parents committed to holistic schooling.

Even now at the current height of efficiency-driven, top-down standards and testing, schools committed to educating the whole child have persisted (see here and here). Also consider those charter schools that label themselves as progressive (see herehere, and here)

And on occasion, both wings of the progressive movement, contemporary “educational engineers” committed to scientific management-cum-accountability and those interested in student-centered instruction, have surprisingly merged. One example is the differentiation of high school curriculum offerings (vocational, academic, commercial) in the 1920s and the frequent efforts to differentiate (or individualize) instruction since the early 20th century (see here  and  differentiated curriculum).  That marriage of efficiency-minded reformers and  student-centered advocates occurred then and occurs now.

I see that convergence of the two historically progressive wings in online instruction touted highly today as “personalized learning” in places like The School of One, Rocketship schools, and K-12 corporate schools.  See, for example, the current glossary of personalized learning.

This convergence of efficiency driven instruction and passion for student-centeredness has had it critics, but does represent one instance of a bottom-up push to combine student productivity and individual instruction. Is it a vanguard of a new cycle of Progressivism? Perhaps.

Part 2 will look at the political interest groups (e.g., left-of-center progressives, tea party advocates, home schooling champions, corporate leaders, teacher unions, parents, and students) that have grown in their opposition to current top-down standardization of curriculum (e.g., Common Core and national testing). I also look at the do-it-yourself or maker movement, boosters of career academies, and long-time pedagogical progressives who have continued their support of student-centered instruction and curriculum. Whether these vastly different groups can form and sustain a political coalition to alter the current standards, testing, and accountability movement, I consider in Part 2.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Philanthropic Advocacy for School Reforms

I … challenge the wisdom of giving public sanction and approval to the spending of a huge fortune ….My object here is to state as clearly and as briefly as possible why the huge philanthropic trusts, known as foundations, appear to be a menace to the welfare of society.

Frank Walsh, Chairman of the U.S. Commission on Industrial Relations, 1915

 

Yes, a century ago, Walsh pilloried the richest man in the world who had established a foundation in his name, John D.Rockefeller, in advancing his corporate interests–then in oil, coal, and scores of other enterprises. His namesake foundation was a “moulder of public thought.”

A century later, critics are making similar charges that donors to school reform (see here and here) shape the policy agenda of districts, states, and the federal government when it comes to improving the nation’s schools.

If you think I am suggesting that donors and criticism of their charity comes around again and again, you are on the money (see here and here). The cyclical nature of philanthropic grant-making by both progressive-leaning and conservative-leaning foundations to advance different versions of urban reform–do any readers remember the Ford Foundation in the late-1960s funding decentralization in school reform and the harsh criticism the Foundation encountered including federal legislation in 1969?– is evident to me. As William Faulkner said: The past is not dead. In fact, it’s not even past.

How come?

There is a theory that when new organizations are born, they imprint the organizational goals, norms, and rules that last for decades as they mature and thrive even when the environment changes on them. Just like when naturalist Konrad Lorenz showed how new-born goslings saw him first and attached to him–following him everywhere for as long as they lived.

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Those years in the early 20th century, then, of wealthy businessmen forming foundations to give away their fortunes to help others and getting criticized for pursuing their corporate interests of the day is where the Walsh committee’s censure of John D. Rockefeller enter the picture. Imprinted on these foundations was that wealthy donors will do what they seek to do even if goes against the public interest. Since then, legislators and critics have lambasted donors during difficult economic times, social disruption, and political divisions for not being true to their stated goals. And the first decade of the 21st century is one of those times.

Why now?

The largest donors today (Gates, Walton, Dell, Broad, Fisher, etc.) began as entrepreneurs who created wealth and have decided to focus on causes dear to them including school reform. They have shifted their attention and dollars away from individual grants scattered among state and local districts to push their version of school reform (e.g., charter schools, alternative pools of educators such as Teach for America, teacher evaluation, Common Core State Standards) by making joint grants to the same entities (e.g., charter management organizations, big districts led by superintendents and school boards partial to their agenda) and national policy advocacy, that is, creating new organizations and funding existing ones such as “think tanks” that will influence legislators, educational policymakers, and the general public (e.g., New America Foundation, Brookings Institution, American Enterprise Institute) to do the right thing.

Researchers Sarah Reckhow and Jeffrey Snyder have documented the extent of what they call “convergent” funding of particular organizations between 2000 and 2010 that advance national policy agendas big donors want. In 2000, for example, 23 percent of donor money went to organizations that received funds from two or more major foundations. A decade later, 64 percent of donor money was given to organizations that received grant dollars from two or more foundations. One startling fact of “convergence” is that 13 of the 15 largest K-12 foundations gave grants to Teach for America. They concluded:

By targeting resources to a more focused set of organizations and allowing those organizations to grow stronger and more influential, foundations have likely increased their influence on education policy   (p. 193).

Recent articles on “A Walmart Fortune, Spreading Charter Schools” and “How Bill Gates Pulled Off the Swift Common Core Revolution” add heft to the above increased … influence on education policy.

Surely current foundations are politically engaged now at a national level far beyond earlier foundations were in advocating for a particular policy agenda. In doing so, this “convergence” of money and policy advocacy have unintentionally strengthened efforts to centralize national authority in advancing a particular agenda for school reform.  The previous voices of unions, parent groups, professional associations, university-based researchers, and civil rights organizations have become mere echoes of what influence they once had.

Frank Walsh, where are you?

 

 

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Cursive Writing and Coding: Conflicts over School Goals (Part 1)

Schools as “museums of virtue”* and schools as engines of change have been dominant and conflicting metaphors in the history of school reform. In the mid-19th century, tax-supported public schools pursued Reading, ‘Riting, ‘Rithmetic–the three Rs. Basic literacy–being able to read the Bible, write one’s name, know elementary ciphering, and absorb family and community values–were the primary reasons for creating public schools. In a predominantly rural society, one-room schools sought to preserve the virtues of Protestantism, instill basic literacy, strengthen patriotism, and social custom through the three Rs.

One hundred and fifty years later, public schools are not only expected to instill the traditional three Rs and socialize children into dominant societal values but also expected to be responsible for the “whole child” and change society for the better. There has been an unrelenting expansion of traditional  three Rs to now include a suite of literacies:  scientific , numeracy, technological, and civic. The notion of schools as “museums of virtue” still exists but now competes with the idea that schools were (and are) engines of political, social, and economic changes that could (and should) transform the nation. That conflict can best be seen in the demise of cursive writing and the recent spread of K-12 students learning to code.

Goodbye Cursive

Recent articles (see here and here) have documented the slow death of a traditional subject in the elementary school curriculum for well over a century. Since the 1970s, teaching penmanship, usually in the second or third grades, declined. With 45 states adopting Common Core Standards in which there is no mention of cursive writing has hammered the last nail into the penmanship tradition. Well, not quite.

Efforts to prevent the extinction of an endangered school subject in North Carolina, Indiana and a few other states have led to legislative mandates that penmanship be taught in elementary school. That delaying action, however, will not alter the eventual disappearance of handwriting from the curriculum.

Arguments for dropping cursive handwriting include irrelevance–block printing is now acceptable in replacing cursive, typing is far more efficient than handwriting, standardized tests do not require handwriting–and its difficulty for many students to learn who will not use it much in the rest of their lives. Finally, teaching handwriting takes up valuable time in the second and third grades that could be better spent on acquiring Common Core content and skills and preparing for high-stakes standardized tests.

Arguments for keeping handwriting, while clearly in the minority, stress tradition and heritage for students writing by hand–reading key documents in the history of the nation, notes students themselves take, and an older generation’s continued use of cursive writing.  Moreover, cursive handwriting helps students develop reading, communication , and hand-eye coordination, experts say.

Even with a few states mandating the teaching of handwriting in school, mournful taps will eventually be blown for penmanship skills. Like the teaching of traditiona lgrammar and diagramming sentences or having students take wood and metal shop courses in junior high school some teaching practices and course-taking have disappeared from the crowded classroom and curriculum as times change. Modern substitutes for these extinct subjects and skills, however, eagerly step into the empty slots.

Enter Coding

Even before the current craze for teaching young children how to write code for computer software (see here, here, and here), the appearance of desktop computers in the early 1980s led quickly to teaching students how to use the keyboard and even write code (remember Basic?).

Keyboarding, like typing, was simple to learn. Computer scientists at that time, however, thought that teaching young children how to write code–I am still referring to the 1980s– would unleash children’s creativity and expression while teaching them to think sequentially and critically.  Using constructivist ways of teaching, children would be able to transfer knowledge and skills from learning to program to  other subjects in the curriculum. This innovation would transform traditional teaching and learning. Beliefs in transfer-of-learning through teaching coding and transformation of the traditional school led to the introduction of Logo in U.S. and British public schools.

The brainchild of Seymour Papert (who had worked with Swiss developmental psychologist Jean Piaget) and a team at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), Logo had children using programming language to command a robotic “turtle” on a computer screen. The MIT team sought to teach young children how to face and solve problems, learn geometric concepts, and bring creativity back into the classroom. The designers saw Logo as a student-centered, progressive innovation that would transform teaching, learning, and the institution of schooling. As one former Logo teacher recalled:

[Logo] was a departure in terms of the pedagogical style… we have a term that is now fairly widely used in this country, “constructivism”. Logo was exactly that, the notion of people constructing
knowledge based on their experience of the world and playing with what they already know and working with other people, and the notion that the teacher should be a helper rather than a dictator
or instructor in the old-fashioned sense..

Logo and its “turtle” swept across many schools here and abroad.

Yet within a decade, the glamor of young children commanding turtles to move across screens evaporated. Although Logo continues to exist, few schools now use the programming language or sustain the culture of learning that Logo promised.

The underlying assumption driving Logo was that students learning skills of programming and being creative would transfer when those students would tackle other cognitive skills and knowledge across the school curriculum. This is a variation, as one reviewer of Seymour Papert’s books put it, of Logo as Latin.

Briefly, those who staunchly argue for the cognitive benefits of learning Latin (e.g., increases English vocabulary, sharpens thinking, and increases SAT scores) assume that studying the language will transfer to English grammar, literature, public speaking, and produce collateral benefits. The research literature on these supposed benefits stretches back to the early 1920s and has disappointed champions of the language time and again (see Timothy Koschmann, Logo as Latin)

Failure of transfer-of-learning and school after school changing Logo to meets its institutional imperatives led to the demise of Logo in public schools.

I believe that those current advocates for teaching children to code have ignored this history, the power of schools as institutions to adopt and transform innovations and, most important, the limits of transfer-of-learning.

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*”Museums of virtue” come from Willard Waller’s essay on “The School and the Community” in William Goode, et. al., Willard Waller on the Family, Education, and War (University of Chicago Press, 1970), p. 257. David Tyack introduced me to the writings of Willard Waller and referred to schools as museums of virtue in many essays and books.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Schools as Factories: Metaphors That Stick

You have seen images like these time and again:

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The idea of the school as an efficient factory assembly line has a long but surprising history. A century ago, the notion of schools delivering finished products to a democratic society was both new and admired. Here is what Professor Ellwood P. Cubberley, of Stanford University said in the early 20th century:

Our schools are, in a sense, factories, in which the raw products (children) are to be shaped and fashioned into products to meet the various demands of life. The specifications for manufacturing come from the demands of twentieth-century civilization, and it is the business of the school to build its pupils according to the specifications laid down.

In the midst of the progressive-inspired school efficiency movement, sparked by “scientific management,” Cubberley captured the prevailing beliefs of most school reformers then. Critics of the day, such as John Dewey, did question this efficiency-driven mindset that dominated schools then arguing that the purpose of public schooling in a democracy goes beyond preparation for the workplace. But their voices were drowned out by champions of uniformity, productivity, and more bang for each dollar spent  in every aspect of schooling.

Within a half-century, however, the affection for the metaphor of school-as-factory shifted 180 degrees and reformers of a later generation turned the image into an indictment. Standardization, efficiency, and up-close connections to the economy–the values earlier reformers applauded–became epithets hurled by self-styled progressive school reformers of a subsequent generation. So  recent images represent students and teachers as cogs in a constantly whirring machine:

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Of course, schools-as-factories is only one of the many metaphors for schooling used since the onset of tax-supported public schools. Philip Schlechty and Ann Joslin, for example, wrote three decades ago about different images that have been used by both advocates and critics of what schools should be doing:

the school as a factory
the school as a hospital
the school as a log in a pastoral setting with Mark Hopkins on one end and a
             motivated or able student on the other end
the school as a family
the school as a war zone

All of these have a history and were used by both reformers and their opponents. Embraced by different sides of the school reform spectrum at two different moments in time, competing metaphors, like those above, lagged behind or seldom appeared in policy proposals advanced by reformers. The one metaphor that has persisted over the 20th century outstripping the others has been the image of the school-as-a-factory even with its shifting positive to negative connotations.

Why has school-as-factory stuck?

The metaphor serves the interests of both contemporary advocates and critics of standardized curriculum and instruction. Of course, current advocates avoid the vocabulary of assembly line and factory made products. They–yes there are some advocates who even use the phrase schools-as-factories (see here)–talk about the need for schools to be efficiently run (principals and superintendents as managers and CEOs), effectively producing better test scores on international tests than European and Asian competitors, being held accountable for what students achieve and what classroom teachers do, and, most important, cranking out graduates ready to enter the labor market fully equipped with the necessary skills and knowledge. Advocates want schools to build human capital, especially in urban districts, and link those schools to a growing economy.

Critics of the metaphor, however, look at curricular and instructional standardization, ubiquitous testing, and coercive accountability as harming both students and teachers. This cartoon says it all.

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The sharp increase in snarky cartoons and irritable comments on Common Core standards and pervasive standardized testing from both the political left and right, I believe, stems from the century-old disputes over what purposes schools serve in a capitalist democracy. This age-old question is seldom openly debated and too often has been lost in the rhetoric and metaphors used by reformers over the past century.

And that, I believe, is the reason why schools-as-factories has stuck as an image used in reformer squabbles over the generations.

 

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Open Space Offices and Open Space Schools–Borrowing Across Organizations?

Some viewers and friends ask me from time to time where do I get my ideas for writing twice-weekly posts about school reform and classroom practice. I tell them that I read lots of blogs, magazine articles, and curated websites written by teachers, administrators, school board members, historians of education, and state and federal policymakers. I listen to current and former graduate students who stay in touch with me. And then there are films I watch, magazines and books I read, and friends and family I talk with every week where schooling, policy, and classroom teaching are completely absent.

From all of these writings, conversations, and experiences I get ideas and jot them down on post-its or make copies of the blog, article, or video and put them on my desktop screen as reminders for possible posts. I think about each one, scratching out some entries on post-its and deleting PDFs but keeping a few. More often than not, I consider how “new” ideas, innovations, popular policies, and classroom practices have a history that often goes unnoted.

And that is how I came to write about open space offices and schools.

Connecting Office Cubicles and Open Space Schools

A week ago, I saw an article criticizing open space in offices, the open areas filled with cubicles for employees that began in the U.S. and Europe in the 1950s , accelerating in the 1960s and since have become so widespread, 70 percent of all office space is open, as to be satirized in Dilbert and “The Office.”

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After reading the article (and similar ones–(see here and here), I noted the dates for introducing open space offices and thought about the architectural innovations in schools–called “open space”–that swept across U.S. schools in the late-1960s through the late-1970s. I asked myself: with all of the influence that business practices have had on schooling historically, are open space schools another instance of that influence? I was curious and began–you guessed it–researching it on the Internet. I did find one writer who made the explicit connection between open space  offices and schools. No others could I find.

Keep in mind, however, that open space schools are not identical with “open classrooms,” a pedagogical innovation aimed at classrooms in both traditional age-graded school buildings as well as in those newly-built open space schools.

Still, open space schools, like “open classrooms,” did have (and still does) a progressive pedagogical philosophy in creating pods, large spaces for groups to assemble, cubicles for small group and individual activities and few, if any, classrooms with four walls. No hallways either.

Progressive-minded educators wanted to liberate teachers from traditional instruction in self-contained classroom buildings that architecturally looked like egg-crates. They wanted open space for small group activities, team-teaching,  multiple learning centers for young children, student-driven projects for youth, and  frequent collaboration among both teachers and students. Open space schools, these advocates said, would make “frontal teaching“disappear.

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Criticism of open space schools, however, arose in the 1970s from teachers, parents, and administrators about the noise and distractions that accompanied lessons taught cheek-by-jowl in open spaces. Many students and teachers found it hard to manage activities that required team-work, collaboration, and independence. Within a few years, teachers and administrators had erected bookcases and sliding partitions to re-create self-contained classrooms. Over time, open space buildings were demolished to be replaced with new ones containing, yes, you know what I will put next:  “egg-crate” classrooms and corridors.

And what about open space offices? One writer who summarized research on the psychological ill effects of open space upon office worker performance, said: “they [open space and cubicles] were damaging to the workers’ attention spans, productivity, creative thinking, and satisfaction.” Such effects were very close to what teachers, embedded in open space schools, said decades ago.

Back to my original query: with all of the influence that business practices have had on schooling historically, are open space schools another instance of that influence? My answer is “yes.” That influence, however, is not new; it has been around for well over a century.

The early progressive movement at the beginning of the 20th century contained two competing wings  –administrative and pedagogical: Pedagogical progressives sought student-centered curriculum and instruction with sensitivity to child and youth development while administrative progressives sought efficiency through Frederick Taylor’s “scientific management” and Edward Thorndike‘s focus on measurement.  Empowered by “scientific management,” academics and superintendents imbued with heart-felt beliefs in more efficient schools, according to historian David Tyack, handily beat followers of John Dewey in influencing school and classroom practices.

The point I make is that business influence on school organization, structure and use of space has a long history and did not begin or end with open space schools.

 

 

 

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More Cartoons on Common Core Standards

One of the most viewed monthly installments of cartoons that I have posted over the past three years has been on the Common Core. Here is another batch that I have gathered. Enjoy!

 

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I end with a Calvin and Hobbes panel about a “typical” day in school.

 

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Pay-for-Performance for CEOs and Teachers

Oracle CEO Larry Ellison earns $37,692 an hour. No, that is not a typo or misplaced comma. Ellison’ annual salary ran $78.4 million, much of it in stock option awards. His salary was based on the annual performance of the company’s stock. Oracle’s Board of Directors set the pay scale (Ellison owns one-fourth of the company’s shares) to spur better management to increase profits and shareholders’ dividends.

They pay Ellison to perform well on the metric they have chosen (“company earnings before income taxes minus the costs of stock-based compensation, acquisitions, restructuring, and other items.” This CEO’s performance pay is not, however, a metric used by other major corporations for paying their top person. I return to the point of different measures used by companies to judge CEO performance later.

Switch now to the average U.S. public school teacher who earns an annual salary of over $55,000. That figure translates to around $27.00 for a 40-hour week. Like Ellison, hundreds of thousands of teachers are involved in pay-for-performance plans. In response to the federal Race To the Top competition, many states have mandated that teachers’ performance and salary be tied to students’ test scores to spur better teaching and student learning. Those test scores, as a factor in assessing effectiveness and determining salary (or bonuses), can range from as much as over half to one-quarter of the decision to set salary and retain or fire a teacher.

While I have written about this pay-for-performance reform over the past few years (see here, here, and here), for this post I want to inspect how the private sector–often a model for U.S. school reform–has its own problems, often undisclosed by business-oriented champions of school metrics, in determining CEO pay.

The lesson to learn from this post is: Paying for CEO performance in companies and schools is as flawed as the measures used to determine it.

A recent study of the metrics used in 195 large companies over the past five years showed that the most popular gauge measuring CEO performance was “total shareholder return.” Over half of the companies using that measure, however,  lost nearly two percent over the five-year period. Companies using less popular equations such as “earnings-per-share growth” gained almost three percent.

Now, here’s the clincher. Most companies judging CEO performance are relying on a metric that yielded loses for investors (“total shareholder return”)  yet,  at the same time, those very same companies continued to give their CEOs substantial raises year after year.

The authors of the study believe that the popularity of the performance measure, i.e., “total shareholder return,” stems from how easy it is for boards of directors and CEOs to manipulate the metric by “removing costs from the equation” such as “discontinuing product lines or closing factories.” Boards of directors then can reward CEOs with higher compensation packages. Earnings-per-share growth, a less popular metric and one of multiple measures that many firms use, sorts out under-performing from high performing firms, the authors found. This one as well as other measures, they concluded, are less easily manipulated by top corporate officials. CEO pay, then, can be better associated with company performance.

The main takeaways from this study is that boards of directors and CEOs do manipulate the numbers,  “one size does not fit all when measuring pay for performance,”and that multiple measures for determining effectiveness and salary have a better chance of capturing performance than single ones do.

Now, consider teacher pay-for-performance where one measure–student test scores–is often used to determine to what degree a teacher is effective. Like “total shareholder return” there are serious problems of using this metric alone or even in concert with other measures to judge teacher performance (see here and here).

Consider the following:

Incentives corrupt measures.

Since the mid-1970s, social scientists have criticized the use of specific quantitative measures to monitor or steer policies because those implementing such policies alter their practices to insure better numbers. The work of social scientist Donald T. Campbell and economists in the mid-1970s about the perverse outcomes of incentives was available but have largely been ignored. Campbell wrote in 1976.

“The more any quantitative social indicator is used for social decision-making, the more subject it will be to corruption pressures and the more apt it will be to distort and corrupt the social processes it is intended to monitor” (Campbell 1976, p.54)

Campbell used examples drawn from statistics on police solving crimes (p. 55), the Soviets setting numerical goals in industry (p. 57), and the U.S.’s use of “body counts” in Vietnam as evidence of winning (p.58). For public schools, Campbell said that “achievement tests are … highly corruptible indicators (p.57).”

That was nearly forty years ago. In the past decade, researchers have documented  (also see here) the link between standardized test scores and narrowed instruction to prepare students for test items, instances of  state policymakers fiddling with cut-off scores on tests, increased dropouts, and straight out cheating. Although how the distortions occur are unclear, the evidence confirms Campbell’s insight.

Easy To Measure Indicators Trump Hard To Measure Ones

Few in business, medicine or education question that some indicators are easier to quantify than others. In medicine, for example, hospital mortality and surgical procedures are fairly easy to measure but the results even when compared to other hospitals and surgeons hide as much as they reveal about effective health care. So it is with standardized tests.

Because test scores are inexpensive and efficient to collect, they draw attention away from important but hard-to-measure aspects of teaching and learning such as student engagement, rapport between teachers and students, academic climate in classroom and school, and principal leadership. Cumulative practitioner experience and stories about teaching over centuries have established these as crucial factors in working with gifted and vulnerable students.

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These are known results of using single measures to judge individual or organizational performance. Consequences of their use can be anticipated. Historical examples abound. Some districts (e.g., Denver) wisely have moved to using multiple measures with student outcomes included that go beyond test scores but in most states where such mandates reign, test scores still remain a major part of the equation used to judge teacher performance (e.g., New York City, Washington, D.C., Houston, Texas) and allocate bonuses to teachers and principals.

This manipulation of data and one-size-fits-all measures show up in businesses as well as schools raising serious questions about the worth of this frenetic passion for pay-for-performance in both public and private sectors.

In the meantime, if Oracle’s Larry Ellison read this post in his office–say 10 minutes–he would have earned over $6,000. Ah, to be a CEO.

 

 

 

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Evidence Based Education Policy and Practice: A Conversation (Francis Schrag)

 

This fictitious exchange between two passionate educators over making educational policy and influencing classroom practice through careful scrutiny of evidence–such as has occurred in medicine and the natural sciences–as opposed to relying on professional judgment anchored in expertise gathered in schools brings out a fundamental difference among educators and the public that has marked public debate over the past three decades. The center of gravity in making educational policy in the U.S. has shifted from counting resources that go into schooling and relying on professional judgment to counting outcomes students derive from their years in schools and what the numbers say.

That shift can be dated from the Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965 but gained sufficient traction after the Nation at Risk report (1983) to dominate debate over innovation, policy, and practice. Although this is one of the longest guest posts I have published, I found it useful (and hope that viewers will as well) in making sense of a central conflict that exist today within and among school reformers, researchers, teachers, policymakers and parents.

Francis Schrag is professor emeritus in the philosophy of education at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. This article appeared in Teachers College Record, March 14, 2014.

A dialogue between a proponent and opponent of Evidence Based Education Policy. Each position is stated forcefully and each reader must decide who has the best of the argument.

Danielle, a professor of educational psychology and Leo, a school board member and former elementary school teacher and principal, visit a middle-school classroom in Portland Maine where students are deeply engaged in building robots out of Lego materials, robots that will be pitted against other robots in contests of strength and agility.  The project requires them to make use of concepts they’ve learned in math and physics.  Everything suggests that the students are deeply absorbed in what is surely a challenging activity, barely glancing around to see who has entered their classroom.

Leo:  Now this is exciting education. This is what we should be moving towards.  I wish all teachers could see this classroom in action.

Danielle:  Not so fast.  I’ll withhold judgment till I have some data.  Let’s see how their math and science scores at the end of the year compare with those of the conventional classroom we visited this morning.  Granted that one didn’t look too out of the ordinary, but the teacher was really working to get the kids to master the material.

Leo:  I don’t see why you need to wait.  Can’t you see the difference in level of engagement in the two classrooms?  Don’t you think the students will remember this experience long after they’ve forgotten the formula for angular momentum? Your hesitation reminds me of a satirical article a friend showed me; I think it came from a British medical journal.  As I recall the headline went: “Parachute use to prevent death and major trauma related to gravitational challenge: systematic review of randomized controlled trials.”

Danielle:  Very cute, but let’s get serious.  Spontaneous reactions can be misleading; things aren’t always what they appear to be, as I’m sure you’ll agree.  I grant you that it looks as if the kids in this room are engaged, but we don’t know whether they’re engaged in the prescribed tasks and we don’t know what they’re actually learning, do we?  We’ll have a much better idea when we see the comparative scores on the test.  The problem with educators is that they get taken in with what looks like it works, they go with hunches, and what’s in fashion, but haven’t learned to consult data to see what actually does work.  If physicians hadn’t learned to consult data before prescribing, bloodletting would still be a popular treatment.

Suppose you and I agreed on the need for students to study math and physics.  And suppose that it turned out that the kids in the more conventional classroom learned a lot more math and physics, on average, as measured on tests, than the kids in the robotics classroom.  Would you feel a need to change your mind about what we’ve just seen?  And, if not, shouldn’t you?  Physicians are now on board with Evidence Based Medicine (EBM) in general, and randomized controlled trials (RCTs) in particular, as the best sources of evidence.  Why are teachers so allergic to the scientific method?  It’s the best approach we have to determine educational policy.

Leo:  Slow down Danielle.  You may recall that a sophisticated RCT convincingly showed the benefits of smaller class sizes in elementary schools in Tennessee, but these results were not replicated when California reduced its elementary school class size, because there was neither room in the schools for additional classrooms nor enough highly skilled teachers to staff them.  This example is used by Nancy Cartwright and Jeremy Hardie in their book on evidence-based policy to show that the effectiveness of a policy depends, not simply on the causal properties of the policy itself, but on what they call a “team” of support factors (2012, p. 25).  If any one of these factors were present in the setting where the trial was conducted but is lacking in the new setting, the beneficial results will not be produced.  This lack of generalizability, by the way, afflicts RCTs in medicine too.  For instance, the populations enrolled in teaching hospital RCTs are often different from those visiting their primary care physician.

Danielle:  I have to agree that educators often extrapolate from RCTs in a way that’s unwarranted, but aren’t you, in effect, calling for the collection of more and better evidence, rather than urging the abandonment of the scientific approach.  After all, the Cartwright and Hardie book wasn’t written to urge policy makers to throw out the scientific approach and go back to so-called expert or professional judgment, which may be no more than prejudice or illicit extrapolation based on anecdotal evidence.

Leo:  You seem to be willing to trust the data more than the judgment of seasoned professionals.  Don’t you think the many hours of observing and teaching in actual classrooms counts for anything?

Danielle: If your district has to decide which program to run, the robotics or the traditional, do you really want to base your decision on the judgment of individual teachers or principals, to say nothing of parents and interested citizens?  In medicine and other fields, meta-analyses have repeatedly shown that individual clinical judgment is more prone to error than decisions based on statistical evidence (Howick, 2011, Chap. 11). And, as I already mentioned, many of the accepted therapies of earlier periods, from bloodletting to hormone replacement therapy, turned out to be worse for the patients than doing nothing at all.

Now why should education be different?  How many teachers have “known” that the so-called whole-word method was the best approach to teaching reading, and years later found out from well-designed studies that this is simply untrue?  How many have “known” that children learn more in smaller classes?  No, even if RCTs aren’t always the way to go, I don’t think we can leave these things to individual educator judgment; it’s too fallible.

And you may not need to run a new study on the question at issue.  There may already be relevant, rigorous studies out there, testing more exploratory classrooms against more traditional ones in the science and math area for middle-schoolers.  I recommend you look at the federal government What Works website, which keeps track of trial results you can rely on.

Leo:  I’ve looked at many of these studies, and I have two problems with them.  They typically use test score gains as their indicator of durable educational value, but these can be very misleading.  Incidentally, there’s a parallel criticism of the use of “surrogate end points” like blood levels in medical trials.  Moreover, according to Goodhart’s Law—he was a British economist—once a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good indicator.  This is precisely what happens in education: the more intensely we focus on raising a test score by means of increasing test preparation to say nothing of cheating—everything from making sure the weakest, students don’t take the test to outright changing students’ answers—the less it tells us about what kids can do or will do outside the test situation.

Danielle:  Of course we need to be careful about an exclusive reliance on test scores.  But you can’t indict an entire approach because it has been misused on occasion.

Leo: I said there was a second problem, as well.  You recall that what impressed us about the robotics classroom was the level of involvement of the kids.  When you go into a traditional classroom, the kids will always look at the door to see who’s coming in.  That’s because they’re bored and looking for a bit of distraction.  Now ask yourself, what does that involvement betoken. It means that they’re learning that science is more than memorizing a bunch of facts, that math is more than solving problems that have no meaning or salience in the real world, that using knowledge and engaging in hard thinking in support of a goal you’ve invested in is one of life’s great satisfactions.  Most kids hate math and the American public is one of the most scientifically illiterate in the developed world.  Why is that?  Perhaps it’s because kids have rarely used the knowledge they are acquiring to do anything besides solve problems set by the teacher or textbook.

I’m sure you recall from your studies in philosophy of education the way John Dewey called our attention in Experience and Education to what he called, the greatest pedagogical fallacy, “the notion that a person learns only the particular thing he is studying at the time” (Dewey, 1938, p. 48).  Dewey went on to say that what he called “collateral learning,” the formation of “enduring attitudes” was often much more important than the particular lesson, and he cited the desire to go on learning as the most important attitude of all.  Now when I look at that robotics classroom, I can see that those students are not just learning a particular lesson, they’re experiencing the excitement that can lead to a lifetime of interest in science or engineering even if they don’t select a STEM field to specialize in.

Danielle:  I understand what Dewey is saying about “collateral learning.”  In medicine as you know, side effects are never ignored, and I don’t deny that we in education are well behind our medical colleagues in that respect.  Still, I’m not sure I agree with you and Dewey about what’s most important, but suppose I do.  Why are you so sure that the kids’ obvious involvement in the robotics activity will generate the continuing motivation to keep on learning?  Isn’t it possible that a stronger mastery of subject matter will have the very impact you seek?  How can we tell?  We’d need to first find a way to measure that “collateral learning,” then preferably conduct a randomized, controlled trial, to determine which of us is right.

Leo:  I just don’t see how you can measure something like the desire to go on learning, yet, and here I agree with Dewey, it may be the most important educational outcome of all.

Danielle:  This is a measurement challenge to be sure, but not an insurmountable one.  Here’s one idea: let’s track student choices subsequent to particular experiences.  For example, in a clinical trial comparing our robotics class with a conventional middle school math and science curriculum, we could track student choices of math and science courses in high school.  Examination of their high school transcripts could supply needed data.  Or we could ask whether students taking the robotics class in middle school were more likely (than peers not selected for the program) to take math courses in high school, to major in math or science in college, etc.  Randomized, longitudinal designs are the most valid, but I admit they are costly and take time.

Leo: I’d rather all that money went into the kids and classrooms.

Danielle:  I’d agree with you if we knew how to spend it to improve education.  But we don’t, and if you’re representative of people involved in making policy at the school district level, to say nothing of teachers brainwashed in the Deweyian approach by teacher educators, we never will.

Leo:  That’s a low blow, Danielle, but I haven’t even articulated my most fundamental disagreement with your whole approach, your obsession with measurement and quantification, at the expense of children and education.

Danielle:  I’m not sure I want to hear this, but I did promise to hear you out.  Go ahead.

Leo:  We’ve had about a dozen years since the passage of the No Child Left Behind Act to see what an obsessive focus on test scores looks like and it’s not pretty.  More and more time is taken up with test-prep, especially strategies for selecting right answers to multiple-choice questions.  Not a few teachers and principals succumb to the temptation to cheat, as I’m sure you’ve read.  Teachers are getting more demoralized each year, and the most creative novice teachers are finding jobs in private schools or simply not entering the profession.  Meanwhile administrators try to game the system and spin the results.  But even they have lost power to the statisticians and other quantitatively oriented scholars, who are the only ones who can understand and interpret the test results.  Have you seen the articles in measurement journals, the arcane vocabulary and esoteric formulas on nearly every page?

And do I have to add that greedy entrepreneurs with a constant eye on their bottom lines persuade the public schools to outsource more and more of their functions, including teaching itself.  This weakens our democracy and our sense of community.  And even after all those enormous social costs, the results on the National Assessment of Educational Progress are basically flat and the gap between black and white academic achievement—the impetus for passing NCLB in the first place—is as great as it ever was.

Danielle:  I agree that it’s a dismal spectacle.  You talk as if educators had been adhering to Evidence Based Policy for the last dozen years, but I’m here to tell you they haven’t and that’s the main reason, I’d contend, that we’re in the hole that we are.  If educators were less resistant to the scientific approach, we’d be in better shape today.  Physicians have learned to deal with quantitative data, why can’t teachers, or are you telling me they’re not smart enough?  Anyhow, I hope you feel better now that you’ve unloaded that tirade of criticisms.

Leo:  Actually, I’m not through, because I don’t think we’ve gotten to the heart of the matter yet.

Danielle:  I’m all ears.

Leo:  No need to be sarcastic, Danielle.  Does the name Michel Foucault mean anything to you?  He was a French historian and philosopher.

Danielle:  Sure, I’ve heard of him.  A few of my colleagues in the school of education, though not in my department, are very enthusiastic about his work.  I tried reading him, but I found it tough going.  Looked like a lot of speculation with little data to back it up.  How is his work relevant?

Leo:   In Discipline and Punish, Foucault described the way knowledge and power are intertwined, especially in the human sciences, and he used the history of the school examination as a way of illustrating his thesis (1975/1995, pp. 184-194).  Examinations provide a way of discovering “facts” about individual students, and a way of placing every student on the continuum of test-takers.  At the same time, the examination provides the examiners, scorers and those who make use of the scores ways to exercise power over kids’ futures.  Think of the Scholastic Assessment Tests (SATs) for example.  Every kid’s score can be represented by a number and kids can be ranked from those scoring a low of 600 to those with perfect scores of 2400.  Your score is a big determinant of what colleges will even consider you for admission.  But that’s not all: Foucault argued that these attempts to quantify human attributes create new categories of young people and thereby determine how they view themselves.  If you get a perfect SAT score, or earn “straight As” on your report card, that becomes a big part of the way others see you and how you see yourself.  And likewise for the mediocre scorers, the “C” students, or the low scorers who not only have many futures closed to them, but may see themselves as “losers,” “failures,” “screw-ups.”  A minority may, of course resist and rebel against their placement on the scale—consider themselves to be “cool”, unlike the “nerds” who study, but that won’t change their position on the continuum or their opportunities.  Indeed, it may limit them further as they come to be labeled “misfits” “ teens at-risk,” “gang-bangers” and the like. But, and here’s my main point, this entire system is only possible due to our willingness to represent the capabilities and limitations of children and young people by numerical quantities.  It’s nothing but scientism, the delusive attempt to force the qualitative, quirky, amazingly variegated human world into a sterile quantitative straight-jacket.  You recall the statement that has been attributed to Einstein, don’t you, “Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.” I just don’t understand your refusal to grasp that basic point; it drives me mad.

Danielle:  Calm down, Leo.  I don’t disagree that reducing individuals to numbers can be a problem; every technology has a dark side, I’ll grant you that, but think it through.  Do you really want to go back to a time when college admissions folks used “qualitative” judgments to determine admissions?  When interviewers could tell from meeting a candidate or receiving a letter of recommendation if he were a member of “our crowd,” would know how to conduct himself at a football game, cocktail party, or chapel service, spoke without an accent, wasn’t a grubby Jew or worse, a “primitive” black man or foreign-born anarchist or communist.  You noticed I used the masculine pronoun:  Women, remember, were known to be incapable of serious intellectual work, no data were needed, the evidence was right there in plain sight.  Your Foucault is not much of a historian, I think.

Leo:  We have some pretty basic disagreements here.  I know we each believe we’re right.  Is there any way to settle the disagreement?

Danielle:  I can imagine a comprehensive, longitudinal experiment in a variety of communities, some of which would carry out EBEP and control communities that would eschew all use of quantification.  After a long enough time, maybe twenty years, we’d take a look at which communities were advancing, which were regressing.  Of course, this is just an idea; no one would pay to actually have it done.

Leo:  But even if we conducted such an experiment, how would we know which approach was successful?

Danielle:  We shouldn’t depend on a single measure, of course.  I suggest we use a variety of measures, high school graduation rate, college attendance, scores on the National Assessment of Educational Progress, SATs, state achievement tests, annual income in mid-career, and so on.  And, of course, we could analyze the scores by subgroups within communities to see just what was going on.

Leo:  Danielle, I can’t believe it.  You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said.

Danielle:  What do you mean?

Leo:   If my favored policy is to eschew quantitative evidence altogether, wouldn’t I be inconsistent if I permitted the experiment to be decided by quantitative evidence, such as NAEP scores or worse, annual incomes?  Don’t you recall that I reject your fundamental assumption—that durable, significant consequences of educational experiences can be represented as quantities?

Danielle:  Now I’m the one that’s about to scream.  Perhaps you could assess a single student’s progress by looking at her portfolio at the beginning and end of the school year.  How, in the absence of quantification, though, can you evaluate an educational policy that affects many thousands of students?  Even if you had a portfolio for each student, you’d still need some way to aggregate them in order to be in a position to make a judgment about the policy or program that generated those portfolios.  You gave me that Einstein quote to clinch your argument.  Well, let me rebut that with a quotation by another famous and original thinker, the Marquis de Condorcet, an eighteenth century French philosopher and social theorist.  Here’s what he said:  “if this evidence cannot be weighted and measured, and if these effects cannot be subjected to precise measurement, then we cannot know exactly how much good or evil they contain” (Condorcet, 2012, p.138).  The point remains true, whether in education or medicine.  If you can’t accept it, I regret to say, we’ve reached the end of the conversation.

References

Cartwright, N & Hardie, J. (2012). Evidence-based policy:  A practical guide to doing it better.  Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press.

Condorcet, M. (2012). The sketch. In S. Lukes, and N. Urbinati (Eds.), Political Writings (pp. 1-147). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Dewey, J. (1938/1973). Experience and education.  New York: Collier Macmillan Publishers.

Foucault, M. (1995).  Discipline and punish: The birth of the prison. (A. Sheridan, Trans.) New York: Vintage Books. (Original work published in 1975)

Howick, J. (2011). The Philosophy of evidence-based medicine. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing.

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Moving Forward without a Backward Glance: MOOCs and Technological Innovations

In a recent commentary on the rock star Sting’s dipping back into his childhood to revitalize his song writing, David Brooks said: “how important it is to ground future vision in historical consciousness.” I agree with Brooks when it comes to the half-life  of technological innovations. The experience of Massive  Open Online Courses (MOOCs) over the past few years is an unexpected example of what Brooks meant.

Much has been written about MOOCs  since they went viral in the past three years (see here, here, here, and here). This vision of creating platforms for college-level courses that would give anyone with an Internet connection access to college courses while reducing ever-escalating costs of higher education has turned some professors into academic entrepreneurs. Here is a two-for-one innovation (increased efficiency and equity) that has married new technologies with global access to higher education. MOOCs spread rapidly among elite institutions (e.g., Harvard, MIT, Stanford) and some second- and third-tier universities. For those familiar with the Gartner hype cycle–which many acolytes of MOOCs somehow either missed or ignored–the first two phases of the cycle were textbook examples:

“Technology Trigger: A potential technology breakthrough kicks things off. Early proof-of-concept stories and media interest trigger significant publicity. Often no usable products exist and commercial viability is unproven.

Peak of Inflated Expectations: Early publicity produces a number of success stories—often accompanied by scores of failures. Some companies take action; many do not.”

Recent articles (see here and here) express disappointment mixed with hope over how MOOCs have fared since the first blush of the academic love affair with the innovation. The evidence thus far is ample: high dropout rates, little knowledge of what students who completed a MOOC actually learned, lack of faculty enthusiasm, and the real sticking point for universities–how to make money from offering MOOCs? No surprise, then, that the birth rate of new MOOCs has plummeted. We are now in the “Trough of Disillusionment” phase of the cycle.

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The high hopes and inspired rhetoric pushing MOOCs have collapsed. Looking back, the creators were pained–one of them, Sebastian Thrun, has departed from the MOOC scene–and I must add, terribly innocent about earlier technological innovations in education.

Of course, I do not know how (or whether) the next phase (“Slope of Enlightenment”) will unfold. No one does. It is a work in progress. But how does all of this current disappointment with MOOCs connect to the point I raised in the first paragraph: “how important it is to ground future vision in historical consciousness?”

Would knowing the checkered history of technological innovations in K-12 schools and higher education–including the Hype Cycle–help high-tech innovators “ground their future vision?” Yes, it would but I doubt if lessons drawn from earlier innovations would help them alter what they will do anyway. While innovators are creative and hopeful about the future they may be, in David Brooks’ words, “necessarily naive.”

And it is that phrase “necessarily naive” that creates the paradox previous high-tech innovators and school reformers have faced and do so now.

The paradox works like this: If I know well what has occurred with past technological innovations seeking to reshape K-12 and higher education, that is, most fail in the first few years, I would not even try. However, if I don’t care about those past efforts  but still forge ahead because I have faith that what I propose will work regardless of the odds, then I can succeed.

The paradox of forging ahead without a backward glance is 100 percent  American.  Consider often described characteristics of being American: highly individualistic, competitive, optimistic, believes in change, especially technological, as an unvarnished good and that anyone with grit who works hard can overcome any obstacle. There are other characteristics associated with being American including beliefs in equality, a strong work ethic, and fairness.

Running like a red thread in the white fabric of being American, however, is the pervasive belief that if you know the past well, it can be a drag–a disincentive, economists would say–for action, invention, and making progress. To avoid looking backward in order to innovate, one has to be “necessarily naive” in the face of past failures in new technologies. Hence, with “naive” entrepreneurs ignoring the past, there has been a swift rise in and decline of MOOCs.

A skeptic might say: Really, Larry, what would you have to know about past technological innovations that might have helped the founders of MOOCs avoid the “trough of disillusionment?”

My answer is:

1. Technological innovations aimed primarily at increasing productivity and efficiency in schooling have largely ignored teacher knowledge and expertise.

2. High-tech innovators seldom ask the questions teachers ask about a new classroom technology.

3. Innovators have cared little about whether their new technology can be integrated into teachers’ routines because their priorities are to transform teaching and learning, increase student productivity, and keep costs low.

A backward glance to lessons drawn from previous technological innovations, then, might help start-up entrepreneurs from being “necessarily naive” about MOOCs or the next new thing for K-12 classrooms. Will that happen? I doubt it.

 

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