Dumbing Us Down by John Taylor Gatto

This is the 6th post in my series about books related to teaching, learning and homeschooling. 

(See my earlier post for a description of the series.)

I first came across Dumbing Us Down: The Hidden Curriculum of Compulsory Schooling (1st edition, 1991) at a homeschooling conference. At the time, I was trying to understand why my mostly positive memories of elementary school in the 1960s were not enough to overcome my adverse reaction to sending my daughter to school in 1996. How had something that had felt so right for me, when I was a child, become something that felt so wrong for my own free-spirited little girl?

At first, all I had to go on was a gut feeling, because I hadn't yet found the words to describe exactly what it was about the school environment that bothered me, but the feeling wouldn't go away. I just knew there was something about the way my daughter was being instructed and confined all day that didn't sit well with me. What had been OK for me was not something I was willing to accept for her.  It was as simple—and irrational—as that. What I needed was a rational explanation for what my instincts were telling me.

I think that's why Dumbing Us Down caught my attention. "Strong Words from the New York State Teacher of the Year" the cover proclaimed. Glancing at the back of the book, I learned the author was a teacher who had broken ranks and turned against the system that had employed him.  He had resigned "after 26 years of award-winning teaching in Manhattan's public schools." What had happened to provoke this teacher, who in his book describes school as "a twelve-year jail sentence where bad habits are the only curriculum truly learned"? 

Strong words, indeed, but was there any truth to them? I bought a copy of the book to decide for myself. In the first chapter, I read about the seven lessons that make up the "hidden curriculum of compulsory schooling." They are, according to Gatto:

1. Confusion—"Everything I teach is out of context."
2. Class Position—"The variety of ways children are numbered by schools has increased dramatically, until it is hard to see the human beings plainly under the weight of the numbers they carry."
3. Indifference—"The lesson of bells is that no work is worth finishing, so why care too deeply about anything?"
4. Emotional Dependency—"By stars and red checks, smiles and frowns, prizes, honors, and disgraces, I teach kids to surrender their will to the predestinated chain of command."
5. Intellectual Dependency—"Good students wait for a teacher to tell them what to do."
6. Provisional Self-Esteem—"I teach that a kid's self-respect should depend on expert opinion. My kids are constantly evaluated and judged." "Self-evaluation, the staple of every major philosophical system that ever appeared on the planet, is never considered a factor."
7. One Can't Hide—"I teach students they are always watched, that each is under constant surveillance by myself and my colleagues."

Although I didn't agree with all the libertarian rhetoric in Gatto's book—too many sweeping generalizations and not enough evidence to convince me—his list of lessons validated what I had been feeling. My daughter had already complained (in first grade!) about doing work that seemed meaningless (i.e., out of context). She grumbled about not having enough time to finish her work and the lack of "alone time." And, as her mother, I was concerned about her lack of freedom: her teacher made all the decisions about what, when and how to learn, leaving little opportunity for self-directed learning or "free play." 

So, why hadn't these things bothered me when I was in school? I think it was because I was the kind of child who needed a place that was predictable, where expectations were clear and consistent. I thrived on the gold stars and approval I got from teachers. For reasons I won't go into here, I didn't expect to have control over my own life, so I was ripe for schooling.

But a child who has always been encouraged to believe in herself and pursue her own dreams knows what freedom feels like. She takes for granted her ability to branch out and explore, gradually widening her reach as she grows older. I think that's why putting my daughter into school felt so much like putting her into a cage. Compared to her life at home and within a larger community, it was too limiting, too confining, too prescriptive. I wanted her to have access to a bigger experience than school could provide. 

That's what Gatto's book helped me to see:

"Whatever an education is, it should make you a unique individual, not a conformist; it should furnish you with an original spirit with which to tackle the big challenges; it should allow you to find values which will be your road map through life; it should make you spiritually rich, a person who loves whatever you are doing, wherever you are, whomever you are with; it should teach you what is important, how to live and how to die." 

The Art of Education by Linda Dobson

This is the 5th post in my series about books related to teaching, learning and homeschooling. (See my earlier post for a description of the series.)

Imagine that all the books I'm writing about are having a conversation. Here's what the books I've written about so far have had to say: 

• Homeschooling for Excellence says it's possible for kids who do not attend school to excel academically. It provides an example of one family's approach to homeschooling.
• Family Matters makes a compelling case from various points of view (emotional, familial, academic, social, political, philosophical) for choosing to homeschool.
• Learning All the Time argues that children are typically born knowing how to learn and will continue to do so if we don't get in their way (similar to the way an object in motion will continue in motion unless an outside force acts upon it). 
• In Their Own Way explains why it's important to consider how someone learns, their preferred learning style(s), before you try to help them with what they want to learn.

The Art of Education by Linda Dobson adds another voice in favor of homeschooling. Unfortunately, the first six chapters come across (in my opinion) as unnecessarily inflammatory, reactionary and specious. For example, she writes:

" . . . public school programming has managed to create a society void of internal moral motivation and filled with hate, violence, and distrust." 

Well, maybe. But I've seen school "programming" that's inspiring, and I've known students for whom school was a sanctuary. It's not a black-and-white situation (school = evil, family-centered learning = good).

I'm glad I didn't give up on The Art of Education after the first few chapters, though, because the book also offers compassionate advice for those who believe homeschooling can be more than simply an alternative way to learn math and science. For instance, I agree with Dobson when she writes:

"Balanced learning with loved ones provides that sense of wholeness it is our nature to seek. Instead of feeling denied, we feel fulfilled, instead of feeling disrespected, we respect Self. Instead of separation, we experience connection."

How I chose to educate my children—striving to respect their choices instead of dictating their lives, for example—has had a lasting impact on the quality of our family relationships, our community of friends, and even how I feel about myself. The point Dobson makes is that homeschooling is not simply a matter of replacing school teachers with home tutors—if we are open-minded and willing to adapt, the experience can be both personally and socially transformative.

"We're free to do things you can't do in school. We can make noise; we can talk to each other; we can help each other [without being accused of cheating]; we can take as long as we want when a topic of book captures our interest; we can follow our hearts and interests wherever they lead; we can make mistakes without ridicule and attempt something new without fear of being graded, judged, and labeled should we reach a bit too high. We can do many of those things research shows increase the odds of children enjoying the learning experience. We can practice the art of education." 

I'd argue that students may also be allowed do these things in schools, where teachers and administrators have worked together to find creative alternatives to the old-school model of lecture, test, grade, repeat. What I like most about The Art of Education is that it pushes all of us to re-examine our priorities, deal with our personal baggage, and become better human beings in the process. 

The Art of Education includes an introduction by John Taylor Gatto, professional educator and author of Dumbing Us Down—the book I plan to review in my next post.

Family Matters: Why Homeschooling Makes Sense by David Guterson

This is the second post in my new series about books related to teaching, learning and homeschooling. (See my earlier post for a description of the series.)

A few years after Homeschooling for Excellence was published (see last week's post), David Guterson (and yes, I mean that David Guterson, the English teacher made famous by Snow Falling on Cedars) wrote an excellent book called Family Matters: Why Homeschooling Makes Sense. Within my local and statewide homeschooling communities—and I presume elsewhere across the country—his book quickly replaced, or at the very least supplemented, Homeschooling for Excellence. It became the resource we most often recommended to those with a budding interest in homeschooling.

"If homeschooling means foremost teaching one's own, it also means answering questions about it put by friends, relatives, even strangers." 

Family Matters is the best book written for those who genuinely want to know why anyone would choose to homeschool. Homeschoolers struggling to counter opposition from friends and family who don't yet understand or support their decision can use the book to fuel their arguments or, better yet, hand out copies to their critics. Although I've noticed opposition tends to fade as others see how well homeschooled children do over time, the first years are usually the hardest for families and therefore the time when a homeschooling parent needs the most support. That's where Family Matters comes in handy.

When I first started homeschooling back in the 1990s, I met many women who felt crushed when their husbands, parents, neighbors, or any number of other important people in their lives, argued against homeschooling, claiming it would "ruin" their kids. These women, troubled by the doubters and critics in their lives, were usually determined to homeschool regardless, not because they were stubborn but because their hearts were telling them that homeschooling was the best option for their children. I admired their courage and felt their pain when they would say, "I'm going to do this no matter what, but I'd much rather do it with his (or her) support."

"Give them a copy of this book," was what we veteran homeschoolers would say. "It's very persuasive."

Someone who is dear to me was among the skeptics when I started homeschooling. I think his bias against the idea came from all the years he had spent in academia. He was a sociology professor at an Ivy League institution, so how could I expect him to imagine a life without school? I would need to prove to him that a homeschooled student could obtain rigorous academic instruction and adequate socialization, but I knew that would take time.

So I gave him a copy of Family Matters—and waited for his reaction.

He called me about a week later to tell me that he was feeling much better about my decision to homeschool. He said he still had some reservations but it was beginning to make sense to him. He was willing to keep an open mind, and that was enough for me.

"Teaching is an act of love before it is anything else." 

By now you may be wondering what's in the book that makes it so compelling. The power comes from Guterson's willingness to look at homeschooling from the perspectives of those who are opposed to it. Skeptics who read his book are open to what he writes because he gives them a chance to voice their concerns before he addresses them. Like a skilled debater, he anticipates all the common objections, acknowledges the valid points, and then offers his rebuttals.

Guterson writes with authority because he has a personal connection to the people who hold the views he's presenting—and countering—in his book. For ten years, he was a teacher in a high school, facing opposition from those who couldn't understand how a teacher could decide not to send his own kids to school. Likewise, he heard arguments from his father, a criminal defense attorney, who was philosophically opposed to home education. So these aren't straw man arguments he's knocking down; they represent serious concerns about the academic, social and political efficacy of homeschooling, and he takes them seriously. When he writes about "why homeschooling makes sense," it's clear he's thought long and hard about his reasons before putting them down on paper.

As for what the objections are and how he counters them, you'll have to read the book to find out.

"My central notion has been a simple one: that parents are critical to education and therefore public educators—and everyone else—can learn much from those who teach their own."

What the Young and the Old Have in Common

Atul Gawande is the kind of person who makes the rest of us feel inadequate. It isn't enough for him to be a Rhodes Scholar, Harvard Medical school graduate, and surgeon at Brigham and Women's Hospital (arguably one of the finest teaching hospitals in the world). He's also a researcher, a journalist (having written articles for Slate and The New Yorker), the author of four popular books (Complications, Better, Checklist Manifesto, and the recently released Being Mortal), and—oh yes—a loving husband and father to three children. According to his Wikipedia entry, "He enjoys reading." How he finds the time is anyone's guess. In short: he's amazing.

I've always been fascinated by medicine, and there's nothing I enjoy more than curling up with a well-written nonfiction book. So, not surprisingly, I've loved everything Dr. Gawande has written. Being Mortal is his best so far. It is terrifying (because he makes us think about our own mortality), poignant, informative, tragic and brilliant. And, quite unexpectedly, it includes insights into why schools aren't necessarily the best places for our kids to be spending so many hours of their days, so many months of the year, for so many years of their young lives.

Did Dr. Gawande intend for his newest book to be a commentary on our educational system? I'm sure he didn't. In fact, he might not even agree with me. But as I was reading along, I kept coming across passages that I believe apply as much to education as they do to elder care. 

Personalized Learning and Student Choice

"It is frankly difficult to understand how anyone can talk about school reform without immediately addressing the question of how students can be given more say about what goes on in their classes." —Alfie Kohn, "Choices for Children: Why and How to Let Students Decide"

I'm going to play Devil's Advocate for a moment and ask, "Why talk about school reform at all?" The old school model of "I teach, you learn" works—sort of. During the twelve years or more when students are in school, a large percentage of them manage to learn. If not everything, at least something. Most graduate and eventually get jobs.

It isn't a perfect system, but what is? Why not continue to teach our children in the same way that our parents and grandparents learned?

If this doesn't strike you as absurd, then you may be the type of learner for whom the system was designed. You might like following instructions, knowing what to expect, and having everything planned in advance for you. Perhaps you learn well from books and lectures and are very good at recalling what you have read or heard. Maybe you get high marks on standardized tests. There isn't necessarily anything wrong with learning in this way; in fact, I happen to be one of the people for whom this old-school model works pretty well. It simply isn't optimum for all people, all of the time.

There's another problem with doing things the same way we've always done them: it doesn't result in progress. To improve upon an idea, we have to be willing to try something new. Even if we acknowledge that the old model "worked" well enough to provide an adequate education for large numbers of students, no one would describe our current educational system as flawless. There's always room for improvement. No educator deserving of the title would be satisfied with "good enough," so we have to keep asking ourselves: How can we do a better job?

Here's where I agree with Alfie Kohn: one way we can do a better job is by giving students "more say about what goes on in their classes."

I'm familiar with Kohn's books (Punished By Rewards, The Case Against Standardized Testing, The Schools Our Children Deserve) and was pleased to see his article listed among the course materials for Week 4 of DLMOOC. Kohn summarizes the benefits of including students in the decision-making process, such as an improved sense of well-being, better self-discipline, greater academic achievement, avoidance of burnout (student and teacher), and democracy in action. He writes:

"There is nothing new about the idea that students should be able to participate, individually and collectively, in making decisions. This conviction has long played a role in schools designated as progressive, democratic, open, free, experimental, or alternative; in educational philosophies called developmental, constructivist, holistic, or learner-centered; in specific innovations such as whole-language learning, discovery-based science, or authentic assessment; and in the daily practice of teachers whose natural instinct is to treat children with respect."

The theme for Week 4 of the Deeper Learning MOOC has been personalized learning, student voice, and student choice—topics I have written about in several earlier posts (see, for example, Choices: Too Many, Not Enough, or Just Right? and Treating Students as Equal Partners). I'm delighted to have been introduced, through the DLMOOC, to many people who are working hard to create opportunities for students in schools to have a say in what and how they learn. The panelists for this week's discussion were inspiring.



Keven Kroehler, Executive Director for Edvisions Schools, talks about creating a "level playing field" in schools, where the contributions of students and teachers are equally valued and respected. He comments that "students think of things that teachers hadn't thought of," which reminded me of a few situations I faced last year (When Your Students Know More Than You Do, and Lessons Learned). Kevin also emphasized the importance of offering students authentic choices—the ability to make decisions about things that matter to them—rather than false choices, as in, "Which of these two preselected, mandatory activities do you want to do?" Kids know when they are being manipulated.  

Likewise, I appreciated panelist Kathleen Cushman's perspective on student voice. She talked about students being "citizens, not subjects," and described student voice as an "equity issue."She asks teachers to consider: "Whose voice gets listened to? Who gets to speak?" She recommends what I call "The Smorgasbord Approach," exposing students to a variety of things and allowing them to choose what interests them (as I describe in my post on Nurturing Interest-Based Learning). 

Panelist Brandon Wiley, Director of Asia Society's International Studies Schools Network (ISSN), talked about the importance of "recognizing students as key constituents, clients, customers," and giving them "a seat at the table," and I nodded my head in agreement. If students are the "key constituents," then it's inconceivable for them to be left out of the planning, implementation and evaluation of their work. This requires us to change how we think about everything: what students learn, how they learn it, and how they demonstrate their learning.  

I enjoyed hearing the DLMOOC panelists describe their iterative design process (similar to what I blogged about in Kindergarten-Style Planning), and it was interesting to me to see how this approach works in a school setting. Teachers collaborated not only with their students but with other teachers, parents, and members of the community. They developed a student's plan of study incrementally, continually learning and building upon what they discovered as they went along. During each stage of the project (planning, implementing, assessing), all the people with a vested interest were consulted and given opportunities to provide feedback. While this must have complicated the decision-making process, it also helped everyone make new connections, personally and cognitively.

The students who were on the "Lens into the Classroom" Student Panel for Week 4 were engaging, too.


Allowing students to have a say in how they learn is a school reform that has clearly made a big difference in the lives of these students. While this doesn't prove that all students' learning would necessarily be deepened in a High Tech High type of school, it seems likely that it would. Even the students who prefer a more traditional approach would benefit, because they could choose that method for themselves.

When my youngest daughter was fourteen, she said she wanted to attend the public high school in our town. Up until that point, she had always been homeschooled and free to choose what, when and how she learned. Why would she want to give that up? There were a variety of reasons—she wanted to see what school was like; she was interested in meeting more kids her age than she could find in the homeschooling community; she wanted to learn in a classroom setting. Ultimately, what mattered most was that she had a choice. She could return to homeschooling at any time, and she knew that was an option. That made all the difference in how she approached her education. She evaluated her own needs, assessed what the school had to offer, and figured out how to make the best use of her time there.

Giving kids choice doesn't mean deciding what that choice should be. It means we allow kids to figure out who they are and what they need to grow and thrive. A structured classroom with a teacher lecturing in the front isn't necessarily going to prevent deeper learning, but it shouldn't be the only option.

Choices: Too Many, Not Enough, or Just Right?

What could possibly be wrong with having lots of choices? Choices acknowledge our individual differences: when we advocate for choice, we promote diversity, creativity, and critical thinking. As a parent and home educator, I favor creative alternatives to traditional forms of education—choices!—because I have met many students (my own children included) who do much better when they are not forced to conform to a single, prescriptive approach to learning. I have frequently argued that being able to choose for oneself is empowering, especially when it comes to education. Thanks to advances in technology, open educational resources, and online courses, hundreds of thousands of adults now feel empowered to pursue higher education on their own terms and schedules.

So, choice is good; but, what about too many choices? Recently, when I wanted to learn more about blogging, I used Google to search the Web, and I was presented with over 127 million results. Which ones were worth my attention? Later, when I needed to buy sunscreen, I made the mistake of going into a Walmart "superstore" and was stymied by the number of brands and varieties they sold. How is a person supposed to choose from so many seemingly identical choices?

It was after these two experiences that I came across Sheena Iyangar's TED Talks on "The Art of Choosing" (2010) and "How to Make Choosing Easier" (2011). She describes what happens when we are faced with "choice overload," and how some of our assumptions about having an abundance of choices can actually make us miserable. While we Americans like to believe that "the more choices you have, the more likely you are to make the best choice," in practice, people tend to second-guess their choices and thus suffer from guilt, frustration, and even depression as they dwell on the choices they didn't make.

 

Looking back on my experiences as a home educator, I can see how having an abundance of choices has hampered me at times. When I first began homeschooling, I had to decide what sort of method and materials I wanted to use. The New Hampshire Home Education law (RSA 193-A) allowed me to choose any approach or curriculum as long as it consisted of "instruction in science, mathematics, language, government, history, health, reading, writing, spelling, the history of the constitutions of New Hampshire and the United States, and an exposure to and appreciation of art and music." I could also choose which of those subjects to teach each year as long as the annual evaluations demonstrated that my children were "making educational progress at a level commensurate with their ages and abilities."This freedom was both liberating and daunting. How was I ever going to choose the best educational materials from the wide selection available? (Consider: a single homechool curriculum vendor, the Rainbow Resource Center, offers over 40,000 educational products, and there are many other curriculum vendors.) Once I had chosen, would I be plagued with doubt, wondering whether I should have chosen differently?