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No wonder so many dissertations stink.

Your Daily Reminder

AERA deadlines are rapidly approaching. Best of luck everyone.

COMPlete!

I received notice today that I passed every section of the comprehensive exams. Now, if I can finish these summer jobs and knock out a couple of dissertations, my trek through graduate school will be complete.

Tour de France

Alas, my cable subscription does not include Versus, the U.S. broadcaster of the Tour de France.

Luckily, this website lists a number of live feeds. They're a little choppy, but better than nothing. The finishes for stages 1, 2, and 3 were thrilling.

So my routine for the next couple of weeks: wake up, drink coffee and watch Tour, work, catch the final 10 km or so of the tour, eat lunch, work, run or bike, eat some dinner, and then maybe do a little more work.

High School History Classes

Our history textbooks consisted of long strings of dates and facts, peppered with text-boxes (“Women in the Industrial Revolution,” “The Underground Railroad”), and superficial glosses of powerful ideas (“Humanism,” “Capitalism”). We studied history as if preparing for a game of trivial pursuit, not as if we were inquiring into processes which have made us into who we are. We were tested accordingly, with instruction focused on passing state tests and AP exams. We displayed our ability to "think critically" through formulaic five-paragraph essays.

It took me a few years to develop an interest in history. It really didn't bloom until I read Herodotus in college.

In college, I respected my professors not just as teachers, but as historians, astronomers, philosophers, literary theorists, and so forth. They actually had something to say about the books we were reading.

I've often thought about the kind of high school I would have liked to have attended. My dream high school would recast the role of the high school teacher so that it more closely resembles the role of a college professor. The best professors are passionate both about their subject and about the process of communicating the value of their subject to others.

Necessity and sufficiency

Advocates of various pedagogies or policy interventions often trumpet a study which shows the effectiveness of their program. My frustration comes when they then go on to argue that this is evidence that they have the only (or at least the best) solution to whatever ails education.

This involves a confusion between necessity and sufficiency. Evidence that a given program (ceteris paribus) may be sufficient to raise scores by, for instance, 0.2 standard deviations, does not prove that it is necessary to improve achievement by 0.2 standard deviations. Alternatives may still exist which produce the same desired consequence.

What's in a name?

I graduated from Lee High School, home of the Generals. It seems inappropriate to name a school at which roughly half of the students are African-American after a Confederate Civil War General. I suppose this may better than our cross-town rivals, the Butler Rebels, but not by much.

When I attended, we were given a silver star after completing each year. Upon graduating, we earned a fifth bonus star and became “five-star generals.” Thus, the student career was modeled after that of a Confederate officer.

Looking Backward to Lee High School's Class of 1999

Thanks to the wonders of social networking, I’m now Facebook friends with well over half of the students from my AP History and English classes.

I was not close with many students from my school. My senior yearbook is filled with comments like, “Chad, you were kind of funny. I’ve never seen someone laugh so hard or so consistently at his own jokes. Anyway, I can’t say I’ll miss you, because you weren’t here, and I don’t really know you. But thanks for giving Mrs. Shaver a hard time.” It’s true that I was often absent, partly because I skipped class, and partly because I was dual-enrolled during my senior year.

With only a couple of exceptions, the people I’ve recently connected with were classmates, but not friends. Some I had always wanted to know a little better. Some just hung with a different crowd. There are a couple I remember not always liking. I don’t think they liked me very much either, often with good reason.

Looking at their profiles, I realize how many opportunities I missed. They are interesting people now, which leads me to believe that they were interesting people back then as well. Among them is a theologian, photographer, musician, arena football player, law student, communications graduate student, analyst at a NGO, political activist, and of course a philosopher cum policy analyst. More than one of my classmates came out during the last decade. Some are married. Some have children. Jews, Christians, Atheists, and more. Conservatives, liberals, and those who are indifferent. I doubt that I will ever be surrounded with such authentic diversity, whether economic, political, religious, racial, or sexual, in my life. We were homogeneous only in that we had all at some time, whether due to good grades, a lucky test score, or a friendly guidance counselor, been placed into the most challenging classes the school could offer. It fairly well approximated the ideal of “common schooling," though perhaps without representation from the very rich or very poor.

It was generally known that AP and magnet courses were not just harder than regular courses, they were better. They had the best teachers, the most resources, and the benefit of the best classmates. I should point out that I thought that the AP courses were terrible. I can’t imagine how awful the other courses must have been.

As a group, we who were on the college track are doing well. I wonder how the other 130 or so students we graduated with are fairing.

A pat on the back

My proposal to the 2008 American Education Studies Association (AESA) annual conference was accepted. The title is, "Scientific Research in Education: Ethical and Epistemological Considerations."

The Awful State of Education Blogging #3

Today’s ASEB award goes to Liam Julian at Flypaper, the blog of “Fordham’s Gadfly Team.”

Liam Julian’s recent post displays such erudition that I cannot but assume that he is aware that the term “gadfly” comes to us from Socrates, who described himself as an annoying fly who pesters the giant horse (the Athenian polis) until it rises to action.

Oddly, the name of Fordham’s blog is “Flypaper,” something a gadfly might hope to avoid. The title suggests that this is where dialogue goes to die. The recent exchanges between Julian and his readers provide evidence that the blog may be aptly titled.

But I digress! Julian’s post violates one cardinal rule I try to pass on to my freshman students. Strength is demonstrated by the opponents one chooses. Nietzsche does not choose to banter with every street-corner pamphleteer, he contests with Plato, Mill, Shopenhaurer, and Kant. When attacking Christianity, he does not lampoon the bumbling and ill-spoken preacher, but Paul.

In arguing a point, it is best to choose the strongest representatives from other positions. What then should a self-certified Socratic (or Nietzschean) blogger do when an ill-prepared interlocutor casts insults? I recommend reconstructing the opponent’s position in the most flattering way possible. Nothing is gained by the argument:

Julian: Wow, this school sure has some terrible teachers. No wonder it’s such a bad school.

Readers: !

Julian: See, I told you so.

Aside from being logically specious, it is sophomoric and unproductive. Even the least-read blogs (such as this one) get the occasional response which misunderstands and insults the writer. I recently suffered a response in which the person misspelled my first name no less than ten times. It may be fine to joke privately about such things, but I’m confident that a sound position and an able writer can persuade by means other than public humiliation.

Now for a reflexive moment. I’ve chosen to respond to a rather weak post, so does this make me guilty of the very sin I bemoan? I hope not. I think that Finn, Julian, et al are among the most articulate advocates for something like a neo-liberal or market-based approach to education reform. There are many less articulate and well-informed advocates in the blogosphere. So, dear Flypaper, take the ASEB award as a sign of friendship and respect!