Tag Archives: education

in spite of / because of / on behalf of

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I made the mistake of checking CNN at lunch and spoiled my appetite. I’m not exaggerating when I say that my worst fears for public education were just confirmed today by Betsy’s DeVos’s confirmation. I’d be lying if I said I was shocked, but somewhere between disappointed and devastated sounds about right.

And for about the hundredth time in the past few weeks, I thought, “What now? What’s next?”

Ironically, I had another tab open on my laptop while I was reading the news. It was this blog post by Parker Palmer on Krista Tippett’s fantastic website On Being. Palmer was writing on an unrelated topic, but as usual, his words had profound relevance for the moment. Here’s what he had to say:

“…you may be asking the vexing question, ‘What can I do?’ For me, the answer begins within, then moves out into the world.

…Here’s where many of us get stuck, thinking of how little power we possess compared to the enormity of our nation’s problems. So let’s listen to the wisdom of writer and activist Wendell Berry who reminds us that, when it comes to big problems, there’s never been one big answer, only a million-million little ones.

If you believe that the little thing you’re doing can’t possibly make a big-picture difference, remember Berry’s words:

‘We don’t have a right to ask whether we’re going to succeed or not. The only question we have a right to ask is what’s the right thing to do?’”

Well, at the moment, I don’t really know what to do. So in the absence of that, I just invented a heuristic to ground my thinking. I’m calling it “IN SPITE OF / ON BEHALF OF / BECAUSE OF.”  Here’s how it worked for me:

IN SPITE OF Betsy Devos’s confirmation, I will keep working…

ON BEHALF OF public education…

BECAUSE OF my belief that the world will become more just and peaceful only if all children have an equal opportunity to thrive and grow.

At the moment, I still don’t know what to do exactly, but I’m hoping this statement can be a starting place that will allow me to follow Parker Palmer’s advice to “[begin] within, and then [move] out into the world.

If you try the heuristic for yourself, will you let me know how it worked for you? I’d love to hear your statements and feel inspired.

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letter to the next president

Dear President Trump,

You’ve been understandably distracted by other issues since inauguration day, but I’m hoping you’ll soon move education to the top of the list since it’s relevant to every single citizen. (Plus, I notice that it’s been removed from the “issues” section of the White House website.) All of us have had experiences in our own schooling that inform our views about education today, but that was then and this is now. What’s the connection between those things? How do those experiences shape our hopes and expectations for the teachers and students who are busily typing away in the classroom I’m occupying right now?

Based on the Betsy Devos hearing last week, providing families with choices is at the center of your agenda. This seems like a no-brainer. Presumably, parents and caregivers want the best education for their children that is possible.  As a parent myself, I wanted my own children to have caring teachers, high expectations, rigorous curriculum, lots of enrichment opportunities, and connections to them as whole people, not just test scores on a page that would be used to judge their worth and their schools. I wanted them to have choices that opened up their lives now and in their futures. It mattered to me that they learn not only to be smarter, but to be kinder and more inquisitive. I wanted them to know that their voices were important in the world.

When I look around at my students right now, that hasn’t changed. I want the same things for them, and I suspect they would agree that they should have ACCESS to those opportunities.

What’s worrisome to me, however, is how “access” is getting defined in the discussions I heard last week. Equity and access are important to help students thrive, but vouchers–taking money AWAY from public education to siphon toward private and parochial schools and charters that often have profit margins uppermost in their missions–aren’t the answer. Diverting funds from public schools, who actually are not “flush with cash” as you described them in your inaugural speech, isn’t the answer either. Not holding charters, private, and parochial schools to the same standards or entrance requirements (this is especially true when it comes to students with special needs) isn’t equitable and isn’t providing choice. It’s just providing the illusion of it.

Public schools are the one public institution all of us share as a nation. I urge you to provide more support for them and for students and their teachers so that they will have equal access to the resources they need (books, technology, free and healthy breakfasts, challenging curriculum, fair assessments, and robust professional development for starters). These things cost money, but they also enable positive life chances for all of our future citizens and will keep America great (not just great again). The grand experiment that is our democracy depends on it.

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takin’ it to the streets (aka bringing detail about education to the public sphere)

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IMAGE CREDIT: The Public Sphere, New Media and Politics

I’m so fortunate to be teaching another writing course this semester! As I said in so many words at this same time last year, the two acts of writing and supporting fellow writers–be they students or colleagues–have animated my work since I started this gig way back in 1987. (Am I old, or am I resilient? Draw your own conclusions.)

Having met my latest class on Tuesday, I’m eager to begin writing with them during Thursday’s class. In anticipation of our work together in CO301D: Teaching Writing in the Disciplines–a course that aims to deepen personal knowledge of the field of education in order to share that knowledge in the public sphere–we just started reading Mike’s Rose’s profound little book, Why School: Reclaiming Education for All of Us (2009/2014). In the Introduction, Rose makes the following claim:

The challenge in [writing about education] is how to bring the cognitive detail and intimacy into public view, how to render it, and how to apply it to broader social and political issues. The public sphere is where the detail belongs, for collecting it is a testament to who we are, a tribute to our intelligence as a people (p. 21).

In that same vein, the following excerpt from my CO301D syllabus describes what our work together will entail this semester. Speaking now directly to my students: 

I’ve designed this course to help you, as future English Language Arts teachers, develop expertise in current issues in the field of education (especially literacy education) that will inform your writing for public and practitioner audiences. That means you’ll read and analyze multiple texts written in print and multimodal genres (because that’s what writing looks like these days), you’ll construct and refine your own theories about education (because we all already have them, whether we’ve articulated them or not), and then you’ll write (A LOT) to make better sense of what you, your classmates, and other experts know so that you can communicate your views via public writing.

“But isn’t all writing public?” you may be wondering. Technically, perhaps, but in school, writing tends to move along a one-lane street connecting the student and the teacher only. This class aims to move the vehicle of your thought onto a multi-lane information super highway with lots of on-ramps and off-ramps so that others can traffic with your ideas, and you can traffic with others’. On that freeway, we’ll consider the following questions, among others:

  • If anyone can Google any information, “Why school?” as Mike Rose puts it. Assuming that there is a point (otherwise, you’re wasting a whole lot of money on tuition), what is it that every educated person in a democracy, including students and teachers, should be able to know and do as a result of her/his schooling? What role do you as a future teacher, as well as schools in general, have to play in expanding access to equity for all students? What does it mean to be ambitious on behalf of youth?
  • For that matter, why write? How do other educators communicate what they think in regard to the above questions? For whom do they write? How do they craft their messages, and for what purposes, so that their ideas can be heard? Where do educators’ voices fit in today’s political debates about education? How can they shape public conversation and educational policy instead of being pawns in it?
  • Which brings us to you. Why should you as a soon-to-be-teacher engage in public writing about literacy and education? Who needs to hear what you have to say and why? Since everyone has been to school, what can you tell them that they don’t already (think they) know about education today? How will you communicate your ideas for colleagues and others outside of the field of education, including students, colleagues, parents, and the general public?
  • And when you do write, what will that writing look like in our digital, multimodal age?

Driving down this information super highway is likely to be daunting indeed, but the good news is that we’re all on the bus together. I hope our road trip will be safe, but boisterous. I know our conversation will be unpredictable, but interesting. Let’s make it our goal to have some good stories to tell when we reach our destination.

Now buckle up and let’s go! To do so, choose one or more of the italicized questions above and respond in the comments section below. In other words, write in public. Right now. On purpose. Because I know you have something to say.

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