Tuesday, September 17, 2013

The Perennial Bowel Movement


“The bourgeoisie cannot exist without constantly revolutionizing the instruments of production, and thereby the relations of production, and with them the whole relations of society.”
~ Karl Marx

The “back to the basics” movement is here, again. Doesn’t this remind you of the 1980s? In response to the overall dissatisfaction with the programs popularized in the 60s, declining test scores and disruptive classrooms[1], Ronald Reagan called us to action.  A Nation at Risk warned, “The educational foundations of our society are presently being eroded by a rising tide of mediocrity that threatens our very future as a Nation and a people.”[2]

Not surprisingly, immigration policies and the civil rights movement of the 60’s had dramatically changed the face of America’s schools so the conversation of mediocrity pivoted around how we should respond to racial and ethnic diversity.[3] Kenneth Clark’s study on youth in Harlem pointed to the fact that blacks were systematically deprived of a good education and he cautioned that “unless firm steps were taken immediately, the public school system in the urban North would become predominantly a segregated system…a school system of low academic standards, providing a second-class education for under classed children.”[4]

Although Reagan’s education platform promised that “all children, regardless of race or class or economic status [would get] a fair chance,”[5] corporate America and the military would benefit the most from the Reagan administration. Reagan’s budget cuts resulted in mass unemployment and millions of children entered the ranks of the officially declared “poor.” Within a short period of time, a quarter of the nation’s children—twelve million—were living in poverty.[6]

Following A Nation at Risk, there was a rush to design reform programs that could “fix” low performing public schools. The report asserted that lax academic standards were correlated with lax behavioral standards and that neither should be ignored. The general consensus was to get ‘back to the basics,’ which meant to focus on math and reading instruction, teach children to follow directions[7] and establish a common core curriculum that would ‘level’ the playing field. It was in the 1980’s, when E.D. Hirsch, Jr. first coined the term “core knowledge.” After the release of his bestselling book, Cultural Literacy, he established The Core Knowledge Foundation that teaches how disadvantaged children can succeed if they have access to the same knowledge as children from privileged settings. Throughout the following decade, academics debated the question: How much power does a school really have when educating children living in poverty?

None of this sounds very different than today, does it?

Yet, this time we’ve upped the ante. Fueled by a push-back political landscape and a highly publicized 1% ‘takes all’ economy, politicians on both sides of the aisle are anxious to mitigate the swell of the angry poor concentrated in big cities. They know it will take some time to move from reforming schools to reforming the entire system. How else can they completely appropriate public school funding?

Keep the proletariat dizzy.  

Have you ever run on a treadmill?  It’s exhausting but you don’t get very far do you?  You stay because your mind is focused on the calories you’re burning.  Parents are running hard on lots of individual treadmills called, ‘Choice.’ Much of their experience can be exemplified by ‘the lottery’ and other deceptive admissions devices that lead most parents nowhere fast.  Teachers meanwhile are running too, working that front line dodging the bullets, jumping through Danielson hoops. In the background, an epic recording plays over and over assuring folks that capitalism is what makes this country great. The broadcast is muffled and staticy but tireless. “Choice grows competition, competition improves quality, quality makes consumers happy and business is the backbone of the American dream.” In between each pause, we auto-insert a plea for patience.

Teachers who remember our history are considered difficult because they see patterns. Like little connect the dots puzzles, they share in the cafeteria or in the halls. Consequently, veterans and their union meetings are neatly disposed of.  Some teachers are blatantly ignored like the elderly. Others are picked on incessantly or kicked out onto the streets like unwanted guests at a party.  They’re replaced by the new teacher, churned out and distributed, heroic jugglers of the new regime. They can handle disgruntled parents with one hand and pander to those with the money with the other— blindfolded! Add the new Common Core to the mix, vast complex units of study doled out like blocks of welfare cheese and we’ve successfully spun half the country’s schools & school districts into a tizzy.  This is the dizziness around us.  This is what distracts people. And it fuels fear. 

Is our greatness not so great after all?  Like getting caught in the flush of some great big white toilet bowl, we’re flailing our arms and kicking but it’s swirling too fast. The current is strong and all I can think about is what are we going to do with all this shit?

*This post was reprinted at Truthout. 


[1] Thomas, JW (1980). Agency and achievement: self-management & self-regard. Review of Educational Research
[2] Ravitch,D (2000) Left Back: A Century of Battles Over School Reform. Touchstone
[3] Ibid
[4] Clark, K.B (1965) Dark Ghetto: Dilemmas of Social Power. Harper & Row
[5] Ravitch, D (2000) Left Back: A Century of Battles Over School Reform. Touchstone
[6] Zinn, H (2005) A People’s History of the United States, Harper Perennial Modern Classics
[7] Thomas, JW (1980). Agency and achievement: self-management & self-regard. Review of Educational Research

Saturday, September 07, 2013

Imagination in a Time of Chaos

As an educator and professional development specialist that spends hours looking for ways to make the teaching and learning experience real, I periodically come across a quote that lingers in my mind until it explodes. These spirited moments are the backbone of my job as any educator will tell you. We are the alchemists of society, paid to reveal the gold buried under the ordinary. Our task has certainly become difficult. In a sandstorm climate riddled with doubt and low morale, educators all over (Chicago, Philadelphia, Mexico, New York to name a few) are experiencing great chaos, upheaval, and struggle. Nevertheless, two days ago, I found a glimmering nugget. It happened while I was watching the award winning documentary One Survivor Remembers, the story of Gerda Weissmann’s experience of World War II (which by the way is expertly packaged and offered to teachers for free by Teaching Tolerance).  In this video, Gerda Weissmann describes how she survived the long and treacherous Death March in 1945 by hanging her mind on ‘trivial’ things like the color of a dress. At the end she says,

            “I do believe that if you were blessed with imagination that you could work that. If unfortunately you were a person who faced reality, I think you didn’t have much of a chance.”

What is imagination in a time of chaos?  Is it powerful enough to help us survive these turbulent times?  Is imagination for those who can’t face reality or is it one’s capacity to manipulate our experience of time by focusing on something joyful, or trivial even, but in essence holds us fast to the whole journey?

Several years ago I traveled to Seattle on a monthly basis to work with two schools on a 1990’s version of whole school reform.  At that time, reform was about developing and implementing comprehensive plans at the school level to improve teaching and learning.[1] I was in an alternative high school modeling a lesson for a teacher charged with a very challenging group of teenagers.  I put them in groups and gave them the task of imagining a school of the future, to design it with great detail and to their liking.  I gave each group an explicit task sheet and a large piece of paper with markers.  As I walked from group to group, I realized the students were stumped. And it wasn’t because they didn’t like it because they didn’t complain like they normally would or act out. They just sat silently waiting.  I pulled up a chair and sat with one particularly sullen group and started asking questions. I asked them how they would describe the ideal work space. What would the school building look like? I asked about light and the style of furniture and how the classrooms should be organized.  I spoke in bursts, my eye brows arching, hands waving around as if we were embarking on a scavenger hunt. My gut told me to get them engaged. Focus on the concrete and visual.  Later, perhaps they’d venture further on their own into the abstract, themes, projects, relationships to the community, discipline policies that make sense, that sort of thing. 

Remember, these students were in an alternative high school.  This means they had fallen into the widening crack of mainstream schooling. Most had been kicked out but some were there because their parents were trying to find a place to reel them in, prevent them from becoming one of the drop outs. While I threw out question after question, I carefully watched the body language. One lowered his head dropping long bangs over his paisley shaped eyes. To his left, a tall lanky boy with pointy elbows picked up the marker, shrugged and then started to draw a rectangular building and then mocked the effort by adding two stick figures. Come on, I told him, keep going, but I was getting tired. I was feeling smaller and smaller by their reluctance. I visited the other groups and found similar behaviors. Stepping back to observe them along with the teacher, we saw the tall, hard teenagers transform into small innocent children.  They were shy and inexperienced, fumbling.  This assignment, I thought, was going to be fun and freeing and in reality it created anxiety and struggle. I didn’t understand it. Didn’t everyone have an imagination? What stopped them? I realized later on that this exercise in imagination requires courage. One must allow oneself to be vulnerable because it is such an open space that whatever you say is completely your own.  

A few years later, I started a publication for students and teachers called Real Worlds on diversity and community. I dedicated an issue to the theme imagination. By that time I had witnessed schools tossing imagination aside as if it were a fruitless, idealistic activity or an intrusion on more important things like testing, math or ‘close reading.’  I sent out letters inviting students and teachers to imagine their own personal futures and to focus on the year 2025.  Submissions came in and the final result was small but encouraging.  I was not alone in thinking that we need to communicate a value for imagination and engage in the practice of exercising it.  I wanted to plant the seed in the minds of educators that imagination in not only a tool for survival but it is the prelude to an alternate reality. 

If it’s true what Gerda Weissmann says that without imagination many didn’t even have a chance at surviving, then shouldn’t imagination be one of the most valued skills we can teach our children? In the movie, Life is Beautiful starring Roberto Benigni, another World War II internment story; the father uses his lively imagination to keep his son from the brutal reality. During the years of slavery, blacks sang songs and told rich, heartwarming stories to each other.  Would it have been possible for the black community to have survived otherwise? John Little, a former slave wrote,

            “They say slaves are happy, because they laugh and are merry. I myself and three or four others, have received two hundred lashes in the day, and had our feet feeters; yet, at night, we would sing and dance and make others laugh… We did it to keep down trouble and to keep our hearts from being completely broken—”[2]

Why is imagination so important now? When a parent in Philadelphia (one of the nation's largest school districts) says, “I feel like we’re staring into the abyss,” in response to the fight between the city and state over funding[3], I think we are in need of imagination. While politicians “push deep, budget-balancing cuts in state aid while seeking to advance the fortunes of private, parochial and privately operated, publicly funded charter schools,”[4] we are in need of imagination.  I’m not talking about imagination as a way to avoid reality but as a way to transcend it, to survive it, keep our eyes on the prize. How else can conscientious educators manage year after year fighting for good public schools that have the best interest of children at heart?  It’s scary and depressing to read the news, the endless barrage of attacks on teachers, school closings, failed protests and the proliferation of poor leadership. How can this radical stomping out of our public school system be as good as they say when thousands and thousands of engaged citizens and educators are so upset?

If we do not encourage creativity in our teachers, how can they be expected to fill the halls of our schools with the spirit and courage of imagination?  Children must experience and learn this essential skill as a means to our collective survival. When whole communities can’t see past the abyss, then we are looking at a national crisis. 

Let us hang our minds on the rainbow colors that fill our children’s crayon boxes.  Let us find the time to fill the air with joyful stories that have the power and glory to remind each other of the whole journey.  For Gerda, perhaps this was the last gift from her mother, like the cup of hot chocolate or from her father who told her wear to snow boots in the middle of summer.  

For teachers and students all over, see past the abyss and imagine an alternative.




[1] Excerpt from Rios, R. The Last Teacher (2013)
[2] Zinn, H. (1980) A People’s History of the United States
[4] Ibid