Leave the Children Alone - Part III

This week yet another New York Times piece by Harvard and Stanford “experts” warned of the devastating learning loses sustained by American kids due to the pandemic.  Click the link and read the piece if you love arcane, statistical analyses and nearly impenetrable pseudo-scientific prose.  Or if you need a sleep aid.

The educational establishment is rife with this kind of dry, academic assessment of learning, as though it is importantly quantifiable, basically mechanistic, and in need of evaluation by economists and professorial statisticians.  In the morass of data, one small thing rang true.  Poor neighborhoods fared worse than rich ones.  The article could have been economically reduced to that one sentence.

These analyses are based on assumptions, all of which are false:

• That grade levels in school are an important matrix in which to assess learning. - Nope

• That math and reading standards are far and away the best measures of developmental progress. - Nope

• That learning is linear, sequential and measurable. - Nope

• That school is a race, and “falling behind” is terribly troubling and has horrid consequences. - Nope

• That our current system of curricula, instruction and assessment is basically the “right” system if only we did it better. - Nope

• That tough times require tough measures and more “seat time” in the form of longer school hours, Saturday classes, truncated summer vacation and tutoring would help. - Hell Nope!

This is a brief excerpt from my 2016 book:

Some years ago I was beginning an admissions presentation to anxious Manhattan parents of potential pre-school applicants.  In the rarified air of New York City private schools, pre-school admission is just the first inning of a very long blood sport.   In this game, which I will describe in greater detail later, a sought-after pre-school place begets an even-more-coveted kindergarten space which portends admission to a highly selective middle school, which in turn promises entry to a prestigious high school, thereby ushering the now-18-month-old into Harvard, Yale or Princeton so as to live happily ever after. 

I can’t recall what impulse led me to do so, but I interrupted my usual remarks by asking the surprised parents, “Without thinking too hard, would you please identify, in one word, qualities you admire in other humans that you would like to see developed in your children.”  After only a moment the impromptu responses began:  “Curiosity.”  “Compassion.”  “Imagination.”  “Humor.”  “Creativity.”  “Integrity.” “Empathy.”  “Originality.” “Courage.” “Honesty.”    When the torrent slowed I asked, “Don’t you find it odd that very few of the qualities you most admire are intentionally nurtured in schools?”   “In fact,” I continued, “many of these things are suppressed or, worse, punished in many schools.  Some of you may choose schools like that.”

Emboldened by the unintentional endorsement of all the things my progressive school intends, I pressed my luck.   “Now, think a little harder and conjure up one educational experience in your own life, anytime from nursery school to post-graduate work, that you recall as powerful and important.”

The anecdotes poured out:  Teachers remembered fondly for long digressions from the dull syllabus.   Blowing things up in 2^nd grade.   The first time a teacher recognized a special talent within error-ridden prose.   A life-changing trip.   A chance to be a leader.   Building something.  A simulation that brought history or literature into vivid, highly personal, context.  The simple experience of being noticed and loved without judgment.   As I observed with good humor, no parent affectionately recalled a vocabulary test, dozens of math worksheets, long nights of cramming for mid-term exams or the joys of SAT prep.   Keep in mind that I did not ask them to recall the times they had the most fun in school.  I asked what things were most powerful and important.  

That these powerful and important experiences were often fun is not coincidental.  We have been culturally conditioned to believe that learning is supposed to be hard, even unpleasant.   No pain, no gain.  Rigor, rigor, rigor.   (It bears noting that the word “rigor” is most frequently paired with “mortis.”)   In the service of preparing young folks for their productive place in the global economy, we have turned schools into grim factories (albeit with colorful banners and faux enthusiasm) with ever-longer schooldays and school years and mountains of suffocating homework. 

Given this cultural misunderstanding many parents believe they face a difficult choice:  Shall I surrender my child to years of hard labor so that she will have a successful life?  Or shall I allow her to daydream, play with friends, read fantastic books and sentence her to live at home for the rest of her life?   Of course some of us think daydreaming, playing with friends and fantastic books are a successful life.  I'm 68 and still think that.  But that’s not the point.   

It’s a false choice.   Daydreaming, playing, fantasy and friends are also the ingredients that make successful doctors, lawyers, scientists, social workers, hedge fund managers, architects, Nobel Prize winners and poets.   From both a psychological and neurobiological point of view, long hours of homework, Advanced Placement tests and other elements of so-called high achievement, may actually reduce the possibility of conspicuous achievement – if it is conspicuous achievement that you value. 

I elaborated on many of these points in an early pandemic post, now made to seem prescient, given this panic over “catching up.”  I encourage you to read it too, if you have the time and patience - or need a sleep aid!