The unveiling of David Coleman's New, Improved SAT Suite is just around the corner, and that means its time to ramp up the marketing blitz for this great new product.
The College Board website is freshly festooned with a festive font that shows that the new SAT Suite is ready to hang with the cool kids. I mean, you can follow the SAT on twitter! All the young persons are following the twitter, right?
The whole business seems charmingly cheesy in its commercial crassness, but it stands as one more part of David Coleman's crusade to redefine what it means to be an educated person in this country. We've been watching this come down the pike for a while; what can we spot now that it's almost here?
I Can Has Skillz
The new SAT comes complete with a new motto-- "skilled it." And copywriters have made sure that theme permeates the site. "Bank on skills." "Show off your skills." "Let's talk skills." "Skill Mail." "Calling all skills." "U of Skill." "Skilled in class. Skilled for college." "Take the test that measures the real skills you've learned in class to show colleges you've got what it takes." Can you spot the unifying feature here? Only one of the blurby graphics mentions the K word-- "Show off the skills and knowledge colleges want most."
The SAT suite has been brought in line with the many unappealing qualities of the Common Core-- a disregard bordering on antipathy when it comes to actual content knowledge.
Granted, the SAT has always been a soul-sucking hypocrite when it comes to this issue, subjecting generations of students to verbal tests that claimed to measure reasoning while actually just being expensive, complicated vocabulary tests. But our new goal seems to be to turn the SAT into PARCC's step-brother. I could, if I wished, prepare my students for the Big Standardized Core test by doing nothing all year but reading newspaper articles and pages from storybooks, followed by multiple choice questions. Coleman wants to take the SAT to that place-- the place where a student's worth is judged by their ability to perform the right tricks.
This is the Coleman vision of education. An educated person doesn't Know Things. And educated person can Do Things. After all, what's the point in knowing things if you can't turn your knowledge into deliverables, use it to add value, grab it like a might crowbar that you can use to pry open the secret moneybanks of the world. Do you think Coleman had to know anything to write the Core or re-configure the SAT? Of course not-- he just had to Get Things Done. An educated person has marketable skills. What else do you need?
Co-opting Khan
Part of the new SAT initiative has been to try to shut down the lucrative SAT prep industry, and to that end, the College Board has teamed up with Khan Academy to provide free test prep of their own. There's even a nifty video of Coleman and Khan videoconferencing about how swell it all is; Coleman seems to think that the Khan academy stuff will achieve college and career readiness all on its own (because that's the core of what it's all about now).
Free seems like an excellent price, especially to build such brand recognition. I'm just going to go ahead and type "There's been such a demand for more tools that give more in depth preparation that we are pleased to make these available for a small fee" now so that I can link back to it a year from now when I want to show off my prognostication skills.
Not For Stupid Eggheads
The new SAT push has been weirdly anti-intellectual. The website is repeatedly clear about how it has thrown off the shambling shackles of smarmy smartitude, pointing out that the test will measure what you learned in high school (provided your school followed Coleman's blueprints) and what you need to succeed in college (a bullshit claim that's not backed up with anything concrete for the same reason that Coleman can list the tools you need to trap a Yeti). And this:
If you think the key to a high score is memorizing words and facts you’ll never use in the real world, think again. You don’t have to discover secret tricks or cram the night before.
Yup. They list the secrets of success: take hard courses, do your homework, prepare for tests (but not with test prep?) and ask and answer lots of questions.
So What's Inside?
In addition to links to the Khan stuff, the site has samples and explanations for each of the test sections. A page gives a general description, noting once again that cramming facts and flashcards won't be necessary, and takes a chatty tone, even using the word "stuff."
Reading
The reading intro includes a sideways definition of reading, opening with the lilting line, "A lot more goes into reading than you might realize — and the Reading Test measures a range of reading skills." That includes Command of Evidence, Words in Context, and Analysis in History/Social Studies and in Science.
A quick look at the sample questions shows selections including Ethan Frome, a piece about commuting's cost in productivity, a piece about turtles navigating sea migration, and a 1974 speech by Barbara Jordan (all excerpts, of course). The intro to the Jordan speech lets us know that it was delivered in the context of impeachment hearings against Richard Nixon, and it opens with this paragraph:
Today I am an inquisitor. An hyperbole would not be fictional and would not overstate the solemnness that I feel right now. My faith in the Constitution as a whole, it is complete, it is total. And I am not going to sit here and be an idle spectator to the diminution, the subversion, the destruction of the Constitution.
It also includes a quote from Federalist No. 65. Then it asks what the best description of Jordan's stance would be (correct answer-- an idealist setting forth principles). And, as seems required in standardized reading tests, a couple of question require the test-taker to speculate on the author's thoughts, feelings, and intent. This test is well-aligned with all the other BS Tests that Common Core has inflicted on us.
Writing and Language
Well, now I just want to punch myself in the brain. This is basically an editing exercise, with a certain amount of spelling, punctuation and usage questions, along with a few tasks that involve making the stylistic choice preferred by the kind of boring white-bread dull writers whose work is favored by test manufacturers. The goal is to insure that nobody on earth could have prior knowledge of the content, so the work is often selected from the Big Book of the Most Boring Damn Pieces of Writing Ever Written, so that it's a chore just to look at their lifeless prose spread out against the page like a patient etherized upon a table.
SAT Essay
I have a sneaking suspicion that Coleman oversaw this makeover personally. You'll read a passage, explain how the author builds an argument to persuade the audience, support your explanation with evidence from the text. You have fifty whole minutes to do it and--
You won't be asked to agree or disagree with a position on a topic or to write about your personal experience.
In other words, the top scoring essays should all be close to identical.
Worst. Standardized. Writing. Test. Ever.
The only good part is that it's optional. Somehow, I don't see any colleges finding this particularly useful.
Key Content Differences
So what's actually different about the test? Well, the College Board says these are the key changes--
Words in context-- "Many questions on the new SAT focus on important, widely used words and phrases found in texts in many different subjects." I'm not sure how the College Board measures importance of words and phrases, but I do know that description sounds like part of the cover copy for the dozens of new test prep books about to come out so that people know what to put on their flashcards when they're cramming the night before.
Command of evidence-- The College Board already knows what the point of a selection is, and they already know which words and phrases in the selection are the important evidence. In effect, the College Board has figured out how to turn a multi-paragraph excerpt into a larger, trickier multiple choice question. As always, no personal thinking or interpreting allowed. Read the selection and come up with the right answer, supported by the right evidence for the right reasons.
That's exactly how college works, right??
Math that matters most-- You know I'm not a math teacher. The CB tells us what Most Important Mat is on the test. But the methodology described seems... well... "Current research shows that these areas are used disproportionately in a wide range of majors and careers." So, you know-- know only the things that will help you get a job. College is High Class Vocational Training, right? That's what an educated person is, right-- someone who knows how to leverage what they can do into a nice payday?
Also, they repeat their line about how all this will be real-world related. You know, like Ethan Fromme and Barbara Jordan's 1974 speech quoting the Federalist papers in regards to Nixon's impeachment.
Oh-- that last part goes with the new SAT focus on US Founding Documents and the Great Global Conversation they started. Really.
Expanding the market
Of course, the context of all this is not just David Coleman's desire to impose his own vision of education on the entire country. The context is also that the College Board needs to get revenue rolling into their cash-strapped coffers.
Some of this they have accomplished by conning some states into making every student take the test. And they've had government-backed success with other products, like the AP tests that are part of some schools' evaluation. I know I'm just a simple English teacher, but I would love to sit in on the conversation where a corporate rep convinces elected representatives that it's a good idea to make all the citizens of a state buy his product. It's impressive and unprecedented.
But that's not enough-- the SAT folks are also expanding their reach by adding new testy treats, like the PSAT 8/9, "a test that will help you and your teachers figure out what you need to work on most so that you're ready for college when you graduate from high school." It tests the same stuff as the SAT, PSAT and PSAT 10 (Oh, yeah-- there's a PSAT 10, too) so that your students can be using our products throughout their entire career. Ka-ching!! And what could be better test prep than taking the test manufacturers test prep test annually?
Not enough cross-marketing? Don't forget-- the PSAT will now give you recommendations for which AP courses you should be taking! Ka-chingggggggg!!
College Board's Big Roll of the Dice
This could go great for the CB. Just as the PARCC made noises about encroaching on their territory (why don't colleges just go ahead and use Core Test scores for college admission), the SAT is now positioned to push the various Common Core Big Standardized Tests right out of the market. They've already got the product, they have the experience, and they're run by the guy who wrote half the standards you're trying to test. Plus, they already have a long standing (if unfounded) claim to being monumental measurers of post-secondary preparedness.
With so much product and government backing, they could do the Coke and Pepsi trick of pushing all other colas off the grocery store shelves.
On the other hand, even more colleges could decide to do the right thing and stop holding their future students hostage to a money-sucking test industry that still, after years of playing this game, does not predict future college success better than a student's high school grade point average. The rewrite of the SAT could be David Coleman's New Coke, finally highlighting just how obsolete and useless his product is. This could finally kill the beast.
We shall wait and see. In the meantime, I will stay obnoxiously optimistic and partially positive. Also, I'll grudgingly round up test prep materials for my suffering juniors.
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
AP, Please Do Your CCSS Homework
Sally Ho, who works the Nevada/Utah beat for the Associated Press, tried her hand at a Common Core Big Standardized Test Explainer. She needed to do a little more homework, including a few more things not written by Common Core Testing flacks.
She sets out with a good question. Last year students were supposed to be taking super-duper adaptive tests that would generate lots of super-duper data. But in many states the computerized on-line testing was a giant cluster farfegnugen, and in many other states there was an "unprecedented spread of refusals."
So what is the impact of the incomplete data?
Common Core History
Ho's research skills fail her here, and she goes with the Core's classic PR line: The Core is standards, not curriculum. Also, it was totally developed by governors and state school superintendents "with the input of teachers, experts and community members." It's pretty easy to locate the actual list of people in the room when the Core was written.
Ho locates the opposition to the Core strictly in the right wing, reacting to Obama's involvement and a perceived federal overreach. Granted, she's a Nevada-Utah reporter, but at this point it's not that hard to note the large number of people all across the political spectrum who have found reasons to dislike the Core.
What Happened Last Year?
Ho's general outline is accurate, though her generous use of passive voice (the Clark County School District "was crippled") lets the test manufacturers and states off the hook for their spectacular bollixing of the on-line testing. She also notes the widespread test refusal (go get 'em, New York).
She also dips into the history of incomplete data, noting Kansas in 2014 and Wyoming in 2010. She might have spared a sentence or two to note that nothing like this has happened before because nobody has tried data generation and collection on this scale before.
How Are Test Scores Usually Used?
States are required to test all students and use their scores to determine how the school systems are doing, which can affect funding. Some states use the data for a "ratings" system. A few are using it as a part of teacher evaluations. In the classroom, schools generally share the data with teachers who use it to guide curriculum decisions and measure individual students.
True-ish, true (particularly with air quotes around "ratings"), true-ish, and false. We can call it etra false because it's not possible to effectively do all of those things with a single test. Tests are designed for a particular purpose. Trying to use them for other purposes just produces junk data.
How Will Incomplete Scores Affect the Classroom?
Ho has a wry and understated answer to this question: "Direct impacts on the classroom are likely to be minimal." I think that's a safe prediction from an instructional standpoint, though she rather blithely slides past "most states aren't using it for teacher evaluations yet," which strikes me as rather blandly vague, considering we're talking about the use of junk data to decide individual teachers' fates.
Still it's true that, since the test data never provided anything useful for classroom, having less of a useless thing doesn't really interfere with anyone's teaching. And if there's a teacher out there saying, "But how shall I design my instruction without a full Big Standardized Test Data profile of my students," that teacher needs to get out of the profession.
Ho might also have addressed the issue that in most states the data, incomplete or otherwise, doesn't arrive before the start of the school year, anyway.
She also claims that everyone says that test scores don't make the final call on grade promotion, which will come as news to all those states that have a Third Grade Reading Test Retention policy.
Oh No She Didn't
Ho answers the question of "Why even bother to test" with the hoariest of chestnuts, the Bathroom Scale Analogy-- "a school district trying to tackle chronic problems without standardize test scores can be like trying to diet without a scale." It is a dumb analogy. I have ranted about this before, so let me just quote me on this:
The bathroom scale image is brave, given the number of times folks in the resistance have pointed out that you do not change the weight of a pig by repeatedly measuring it. But I am wondering now-- why do I have to have scales or a mirror to lose weight? Will the weight loss occur if it is not caught in data? If a tree's weight falls in the forest but nobody measures it, does it shake a pound?
This could be an interesting new application of quantum physics, or it could be another inadvertent revelation about reformster (and economist) biases. Because I do not need a bathroom scale to lose weight. I don't even need a bathroom scale to know I'm losing weight-- I can see the difference in how my clothes fit, I can feel the easier step, the increase in energy. I only need a bathroom scale if I don't trust my own senses, or because I have somehow been required to prove to someone else that I have lost weight. Or if I believe that things are only real when Important People measure them.
Ho tries to hedge her bets by going on to say that of course you need other data, but the basic analogy is still just bad.
What's Next?
Studies looking at the validity of scores that states do have, which is kind of hilarious given that most of the BS Tests have never been proven valid in the first place.* So I guess states will try to find out if their partial unvalidated junk is as valid as a full truckload of unvalidated junk. That is almost as wacky as the next line:
For the next testing cycle, states say they don't expect problems.
Ho might want to check the files and see if the states expected problems this last time. You know, the time with all the unexpected problems. But Nevada has a new test manufacturer, Montana has no Plan B, and New York is leaning on parents. So everything should be awesome soon. And anyway, there's plenty of year left before it's time for the next puff piece on Common Core testing. Can I please request that AP reporters use that time to do some reading?
*I originally wrote that they have never been studied for validity; that's not true. Studies are out there. I and others remain unconvinced by them.
She sets out with a good question. Last year students were supposed to be taking super-duper adaptive tests that would generate lots of super-duper data. But in many states the computerized on-line testing was a giant cluster farfegnugen, and in many other states there was an "unprecedented spread of refusals."
So what is the impact of the incomplete data?
Common Core History
Ho's research skills fail her here, and she goes with the Core's classic PR line: The Core is standards, not curriculum. Also, it was totally developed by governors and state school superintendents "with the input of teachers, experts and community members." It's pretty easy to locate the actual list of people in the room when the Core was written.
Ho locates the opposition to the Core strictly in the right wing, reacting to Obama's involvement and a perceived federal overreach. Granted, she's a Nevada-Utah reporter, but at this point it's not that hard to note the large number of people all across the political spectrum who have found reasons to dislike the Core.
What Happened Last Year?
Ho's general outline is accurate, though her generous use of passive voice (the Clark County School District "was crippled") lets the test manufacturers and states off the hook for their spectacular bollixing of the on-line testing. She also notes the widespread test refusal (go get 'em, New York).
She also dips into the history of incomplete data, noting Kansas in 2014 and Wyoming in 2010. She might have spared a sentence or two to note that nothing like this has happened before because nobody has tried data generation and collection on this scale before.
How Are Test Scores Usually Used?
States are required to test all students and use their scores to determine how the school systems are doing, which can affect funding. Some states use the data for a "ratings" system. A few are using it as a part of teacher evaluations. In the classroom, schools generally share the data with teachers who use it to guide curriculum decisions and measure individual students.
True-ish, true (particularly with air quotes around "ratings"), true-ish, and false. We can call it etra false because it's not possible to effectively do all of those things with a single test. Tests are designed for a particular purpose. Trying to use them for other purposes just produces junk data.
How Will Incomplete Scores Affect the Classroom?
Ho has a wry and understated answer to this question: "Direct impacts on the classroom are likely to be minimal." I think that's a safe prediction from an instructional standpoint, though she rather blithely slides past "most states aren't using it for teacher evaluations yet," which strikes me as rather blandly vague, considering we're talking about the use of junk data to decide individual teachers' fates.
Still it's true that, since the test data never provided anything useful for classroom, having less of a useless thing doesn't really interfere with anyone's teaching. And if there's a teacher out there saying, "But how shall I design my instruction without a full Big Standardized Test Data profile of my students," that teacher needs to get out of the profession.
Ho might also have addressed the issue that in most states the data, incomplete or otherwise, doesn't arrive before the start of the school year, anyway.
She also claims that everyone says that test scores don't make the final call on grade promotion, which will come as news to all those states that have a Third Grade Reading Test Retention policy.
Oh No She Didn't
Ho answers the question of "Why even bother to test" with the hoariest of chestnuts, the Bathroom Scale Analogy-- "a school district trying to tackle chronic problems without standardize test scores can be like trying to diet without a scale." It is a dumb analogy. I have ranted about this before, so let me just quote me on this:
The bathroom scale image is brave, given the number of times folks in the resistance have pointed out that you do not change the weight of a pig by repeatedly measuring it. But I am wondering now-- why do I have to have scales or a mirror to lose weight? Will the weight loss occur if it is not caught in data? If a tree's weight falls in the forest but nobody measures it, does it shake a pound?
This could be an interesting new application of quantum physics, or it could be another inadvertent revelation about reformster (and economist) biases. Because I do not need a bathroom scale to lose weight. I don't even need a bathroom scale to know I'm losing weight-- I can see the difference in how my clothes fit, I can feel the easier step, the increase in energy. I only need a bathroom scale if I don't trust my own senses, or because I have somehow been required to prove to someone else that I have lost weight. Or if I believe that things are only real when Important People measure them.
Ho tries to hedge her bets by going on to say that of course you need other data, but the basic analogy is still just bad.
What's Next?
Studies looking at the validity of scores that states do have, which is kind of hilarious given that most of the BS Tests have never been proven valid in the first place.* So I guess states will try to find out if their partial unvalidated junk is as valid as a full truckload of unvalidated junk. That is almost as wacky as the next line:
For the next testing cycle, states say they don't expect problems.
Ho might want to check the files and see if the states expected problems this last time. You know, the time with all the unexpected problems. But Nevada has a new test manufacturer, Montana has no Plan B, and New York is leaning on parents. So everything should be awesome soon. And anyway, there's plenty of year left before it's time for the next puff piece on Common Core testing. Can I please request that AP reporters use that time to do some reading?
*I originally wrote that they have never been studied for validity; that's not true. Studies are out there. I and others remain unconvinced by them.
Don't Fix Your Building
Up a floor from the publishing offices of the Journal of Obvious Conclusions, we find the Journal of Dumb Questions, which probably wants dibs on this working paper from the National Bureau of Economic Research-- "Investing in Schools: Capital Spending, Facility Conditions, and StudentAchievement."
I should probably be less hard on these guys-- after all, they are economists. And this is exactly the kind of stupid question we'll waste time on as long as we think the purpose of schools is to "raise student achievement" (aka "get higher test scores").
Here's the premise:
Public investments in repairs, modernization, and construction of schools cost billions. However, little is known about the nature of school facility investments, whether it actually changes the physical condition of public schools, and the subsequent causal impacts on student achievement.
Yup. The roof in your school may be leaking, the bathrooms may be crumbling, and the heaters might not work, but before you go throwing a lot of money at the problems, let's ask the important question-- will fixing any of those things raise test scores?
The answer is, apparently, no. Now, I don't know how you pretend to research this. I could buy the paper on-line, but I can think of almost anything that might be a better use of my money (though I guess spending it on school improvement would not be on that list). The suggestion of the summary seems to be that they studied only schools that underwent big capital spending programs and looked to see if their students suddenly got better test scores. In related research, studies show that food does not make people healthy because today I ate a meal and I'm not any healthier than I was a week ago, so clearly eating food doesn't improve my health.
In other words, not only research that addresses a stupid question, but which "researches" it in a stupid way. Kudos to you, NBEC. But they persevere to arrive at this conclusion:
Thus, locally financed school capital campaigns – the predominant method through which facility investments are made – may represent a limited tool for realizing substantial gains in student achievement or closing achievement gaps.
Also, a bicycle, because a vest has no sleeves.
Yes, I can imagine school boards across the country, meeting in emergency session. The superintendent tells them that the students are cramped, the floors are sagging, the pipes have burst, and there are alligators in the basement. "We need to make some major improvements to the building," she says. But now, armed with this research, the board members will be able to look her in the eye and ask, "Yes, but will repairs raise test scores."
This is the kind of foolishness you get when you start using one bad metric for your measure of success. Should we buy a new book series? Should we paint the crumbling walls? Should we offer ice cream in the cafeteria? Should we lower class sizes? Should we let teachers wear blue jeans? Should we make an effort to be nice to students? Should we have a new anti-bullying policy? Should we have an art show? Should we take a field trip? Should the principal let me send Alice to the office when she's having trouble getting over the death of her grandfather?
There are so many questions that a school needs to answer, and so many questions for which "But will it raise test scores" is not a useful part of the conversation. This research may be a big slice of stupid, but it's a big slice of stupid that is right in line with the times.
I should probably be less hard on these guys-- after all, they are economists. And this is exactly the kind of stupid question we'll waste time on as long as we think the purpose of schools is to "raise student achievement" (aka "get higher test scores").
Here's the premise:
Public investments in repairs, modernization, and construction of schools cost billions. However, little is known about the nature of school facility investments, whether it actually changes the physical condition of public schools, and the subsequent causal impacts on student achievement.
Yup. The roof in your school may be leaking, the bathrooms may be crumbling, and the heaters might not work, but before you go throwing a lot of money at the problems, let's ask the important question-- will fixing any of those things raise test scores?
The answer is, apparently, no. Now, I don't know how you pretend to research this. I could buy the paper on-line, but I can think of almost anything that might be a better use of my money (though I guess spending it on school improvement would not be on that list). The suggestion of the summary seems to be that they studied only schools that underwent big capital spending programs and looked to see if their students suddenly got better test scores. In related research, studies show that food does not make people healthy because today I ate a meal and I'm not any healthier than I was a week ago, so clearly eating food doesn't improve my health.
In other words, not only research that addresses a stupid question, but which "researches" it in a stupid way. Kudos to you, NBEC. But they persevere to arrive at this conclusion:
Thus, locally financed school capital campaigns – the predominant method through which facility investments are made – may represent a limited tool for realizing substantial gains in student achievement or closing achievement gaps.
Also, a bicycle, because a vest has no sleeves.
Yes, I can imagine school boards across the country, meeting in emergency session. The superintendent tells them that the students are cramped, the floors are sagging, the pipes have burst, and there are alligators in the basement. "We need to make some major improvements to the building," she says. But now, armed with this research, the board members will be able to look her in the eye and ask, "Yes, but will repairs raise test scores."
This is the kind of foolishness you get when you start using one bad metric for your measure of success. Should we buy a new book series? Should we paint the crumbling walls? Should we offer ice cream in the cafeteria? Should we lower class sizes? Should we let teachers wear blue jeans? Should we make an effort to be nice to students? Should we have a new anti-bullying policy? Should we have an art show? Should we take a field trip? Should the principal let me send Alice to the office when she's having trouble getting over the death of her grandfather?
There are so many questions that a school needs to answer, and so many questions for which "But will it raise test scores" is not a useful part of the conversation. This research may be a big slice of stupid, but it's a big slice of stupid that is right in line with the times.
No Zip Code Tyranny
A John Hopkins researcher says that the wealthy do not choose choice.
The conclusion comes from research by Julia Burdick-Will who has a joint appointment in Sociology and the School of Education. "Neighbors but not Classmates" has just been published, and while the conclusions we can draw from it are pretty narrow, it offers an interesting tidbit of anti-conventional wisdom.
Burdick-Will took a look at 24,000 rising ninth graders in Chicago. In neighborhoods with median income over $75,000, the students attended one of two or three schools. In neighborhoods with median income under $25,000, students were divied up among around thirteen different schools. This chart from the news release about the report pretty well gets the idea:
I find the travel distance most notable-- the more wealthy students get to stay close to home. The non-wealthy get to tromp all over the city. The average travel distance in wealthy neighborhoods was 1.7 miles, and in non-wealthy neighborhoods it was 2.7.
Burdick-Will gets in a couple of good quotes:
We think of children in poor neighborhoods as ‘stuck.’ But they’re not stuck in one geographic place. They’re stuck navigating a complicated and far-flung school system.
I see a couple of caveats for this report. One is that we're only looking at one high school grade, and only in Chicago. The much larger one is that we're looking at 2009. On the one hand, the landscape may have changed in some significant ways in the six years since then. On the other hand, as Burdick-Will notes, that also means that all the talk we've been subjected to about how the poor are "trapped" in their "failing" neighborhood schools has been, at least in Chicago, high grade baloney.
Burdick-Will notes the costs in social capital (something that poor neighborhoods already lack) that come with students who have to navigate cross town, often alone, to schools where they know few folks. And she also underlines the obvious-- what the wealthy really want, and get, is a good school in their neighborhood.
“We think of choice as a thing of privilege,” she said. “But what we see is that there is a privilege of not having to choose.”
The conclusion comes from research by Julia Burdick-Will who has a joint appointment in Sociology and the School of Education. "Neighbors but not Classmates" has just been published, and while the conclusions we can draw from it are pretty narrow, it offers an interesting tidbit of anti-conventional wisdom.
Burdick-Will took a look at 24,000 rising ninth graders in Chicago. In neighborhoods with median income over $75,000, the students attended one of two or three schools. In neighborhoods with median income under $25,000, students were divied up among around thirteen different schools. This chart from the news release about the report pretty well gets the idea:
I find the travel distance most notable-- the more wealthy students get to stay close to home. The non-wealthy get to tromp all over the city. The average travel distance in wealthy neighborhoods was 1.7 miles, and in non-wealthy neighborhoods it was 2.7.
Burdick-Will gets in a couple of good quotes:
We think of children in poor neighborhoods as ‘stuck.’ But they’re not stuck in one geographic place. They’re stuck navigating a complicated and far-flung school system.
I see a couple of caveats for this report. One is that we're only looking at one high school grade, and only in Chicago. The much larger one is that we're looking at 2009. On the one hand, the landscape may have changed in some significant ways in the six years since then. On the other hand, as Burdick-Will notes, that also means that all the talk we've been subjected to about how the poor are "trapped" in their "failing" neighborhood schools has been, at least in Chicago, high grade baloney.
Burdick-Will notes the costs in social capital (something that poor neighborhoods already lack) that come with students who have to navigate cross town, often alone, to schools where they know few folks. And she also underlines the obvious-- what the wealthy really want, and get, is a good school in their neighborhood.
“We think of choice as a thing of privilege,” she said. “But what we see is that there is a privilege of not having to choose.”
Monday, September 7, 2015
River To Classroom
I've finished off my first two weeks with students, and as usual I'm pushing back against a combination of general chaos, the inertia that has to be overcome to get students moving again, and my own sense of urgency about What Must Be Done (in the time I don't have to do it).
So it's this time of year that I particularly appreciate my kayak.
I live in a small town, and my back yard butts right up against a river. I will throw in some pictures of the view at the end here so that you can be appropriately jealous. I'm also a short walk from a rails-to-trail bike path, but it's kayaking on the river that I find head-clearing.
Because I put in and take out in my back yard, and because I'm not crazy about physically and psychologically punishing myself, I always start by heading upriver. And at this time of year, every stroke reminds me of teaching and the work that I'm starting again.
I've done the trip a hundred times over now, and yet every trip is different. It's different both because, of course, the waters in a river are always new, so the river is never the same in that kind of deep thinky kind of way. But the river is also never the same from year to year in more specific ways-- sand bars appear and disappear, trees rise further above or collapse into the water. And the river changes from day to day as well, levels rising and dropping with the weather. This passage may be deep enough to move through today, but next week the water may be too low and the rough bottom bed will bar the way.
Because my small journey will be affected by the river and the weather and the wind, it's pointless to plan in any exactlingly careful way. Certainly the path is predictable in a general sort of way. I know I'm going that way, upriver. But hug the right bank, tack across the center, pass up the left bank and slip up in the quiet space below the island--? I can't predict any of the steps with accuracy until I'm there, on the river. I may have a rough idea, and then change it when I see a barrier of rough ripples thrown up in my path.
I may take some side trips. When the water is high enough, I can cut up behind the big island and into a series of channels and lagoons that are sweet and quiet and beautiful. I may encounter herons or a flock of geese or deer on the bank and decide to stay and look before pressing on.
The hardest, zenniest part for me is staying focused on where I am. About a half mile up river is a small island, and there the current squeezes through to become both fast and rough, and pushing up past that is always tough-- I know a half dozen paths to slip past the island, and it's always hard to know which one will work (sometimes it comes down to something as simple as a small series of rocks in the wrong place). But if I clear the island, about a mile up the water piles up, waiting to shoot into the narrows, and there is what amounts to a mile-long lake in the middle of the river. If I can make it there, then the next part of the trip is easy going.
But I can't think about any of that. Particularly in the rough places, my focus has to be on the next several feet of river, not the next half mile. I can't suddenly jump ahead, skip forward. I have to put my energy and focus into where I am. For the same reason, it's not always a good idea to start the journey with a specific upriver destination in mind. If I set a goal of two miles upriver, and I can't make it, I turn whatever I do accomplish into failure. Instead, I commit to keep going as long as I can, and then I go goal by goal-- to that next tree, to that next rock, to that ripple. Sure, I have a direction and a purpose, but I have to focus my energy on where I am, not some place far out ahead. I cannot force it. I cannot bend the river to my will, but I can listen to it, pay attention, make use of its particular currents and eddies.
Eventually, I've gone far enough. I usually don't know where that will be ahead of time, but I know it when I get there. I've been out on the river long enough and it's time to get home. I'm out of energy for another big push. The wind is not on my side today and it's kicking my ass.
So I turn around and finish the trip-- still focusing on where I am. There's no way to skip over the space between me and home-- I have to travel that stroke by stroke just as I did upstream. I'm never not aware of the big picture, the stretch of the valley, the green spread across the hills, the silky sliding surface of the water, the river winding out before me and behind me. But my focus has to be on the next stroke, the next obstacle, the river bed sliding past me, a foot or two at a time.
Every trip is different. Every trip brings its own set of circumstances, its own issues and opportunities, and each time, the river and I work out today's definition of success. No matter my hopes and dreams, on any given day, I can only accomplish what I can accomplish, but if I keep my focus, I often find myself traveling farther than I imagined I would.
That all feels like the work of teaching. Focus on the here and now. Know where I am. Know where we're headed. Be patient but push hard. Hear and see what my students bring into my classroom. Remember that I cannot dictate, cannot force the exact journey; the trip we take this year is one that we'll work out together.
So it's this time of year that I particularly appreciate my kayak.
I live in a small town, and my back yard butts right up against a river. I will throw in some pictures of the view at the end here so that you can be appropriately jealous. I'm also a short walk from a rails-to-trail bike path, but it's kayaking on the river that I find head-clearing.
Because I put in and take out in my back yard, and because I'm not crazy about physically and psychologically punishing myself, I always start by heading upriver. And at this time of year, every stroke reminds me of teaching and the work that I'm starting again.
I've done the trip a hundred times over now, and yet every trip is different. It's different both because, of course, the waters in a river are always new, so the river is never the same in that kind of deep thinky kind of way. But the river is also never the same from year to year in more specific ways-- sand bars appear and disappear, trees rise further above or collapse into the water. And the river changes from day to day as well, levels rising and dropping with the weather. This passage may be deep enough to move through today, but next week the water may be too low and the rough bottom bed will bar the way.
Because my small journey will be affected by the river and the weather and the wind, it's pointless to plan in any exactlingly careful way. Certainly the path is predictable in a general sort of way. I know I'm going that way, upriver. But hug the right bank, tack across the center, pass up the left bank and slip up in the quiet space below the island--? I can't predict any of the steps with accuracy until I'm there, on the river. I may have a rough idea, and then change it when I see a barrier of rough ripples thrown up in my path.
I may take some side trips. When the water is high enough, I can cut up behind the big island and into a series of channels and lagoons that are sweet and quiet and beautiful. I may encounter herons or a flock of geese or deer on the bank and decide to stay and look before pressing on.
The hardest, zenniest part for me is staying focused on where I am. About a half mile up river is a small island, and there the current squeezes through to become both fast and rough, and pushing up past that is always tough-- I know a half dozen paths to slip past the island, and it's always hard to know which one will work (sometimes it comes down to something as simple as a small series of rocks in the wrong place). But if I clear the island, about a mile up the water piles up, waiting to shoot into the narrows, and there is what amounts to a mile-long lake in the middle of the river. If I can make it there, then the next part of the trip is easy going.
But I can't think about any of that. Particularly in the rough places, my focus has to be on the next several feet of river, not the next half mile. I can't suddenly jump ahead, skip forward. I have to put my energy and focus into where I am. For the same reason, it's not always a good idea to start the journey with a specific upriver destination in mind. If I set a goal of two miles upriver, and I can't make it, I turn whatever I do accomplish into failure. Instead, I commit to keep going as long as I can, and then I go goal by goal-- to that next tree, to that next rock, to that ripple. Sure, I have a direction and a purpose, but I have to focus my energy on where I am, not some place far out ahead. I cannot force it. I cannot bend the river to my will, but I can listen to it, pay attention, make use of its particular currents and eddies.
Eventually, I've gone far enough. I usually don't know where that will be ahead of time, but I know it when I get there. I've been out on the river long enough and it's time to get home. I'm out of energy for another big push. The wind is not on my side today and it's kicking my ass.
So I turn around and finish the trip-- still focusing on where I am. There's no way to skip over the space between me and home-- I have to travel that stroke by stroke just as I did upstream. I'm never not aware of the big picture, the stretch of the valley, the green spread across the hills, the silky sliding surface of the water, the river winding out before me and behind me. But my focus has to be on the next stroke, the next obstacle, the river bed sliding past me, a foot or two at a time.
Every trip is different. Every trip brings its own set of circumstances, its own issues and opportunities, and each time, the river and I work out today's definition of success. No matter my hopes and dreams, on any given day, I can only accomplish what I can accomplish, but if I keep my focus, I often find myself traveling farther than I imagined I would.
That all feels like the work of teaching. Focus on the here and now. Know where I am. Know where we're headed. Be patient but push hard. Hear and see what my students bring into my classroom. Remember that I cannot dictate, cannot force the exact journey; the trip we take this year is one that we'll work out together.
Why Dyett Still Matters
First, just in case you missed it in the PR flurry-- no, the Dyett hunger strikers did not "win," and yes, the hunger strike is still going on.
The twelve parents and community members who began going without solid foods over three weeks ago are still standing up for the same issues they were standing up for when this began. The Chicago school system, run by the mayor and not by any sort of elected school board, would like to close the school and replace it with one more privatized education. Or maybe they would really just like to replace it with a nice parking lot for the Coming Someday Obama Presidential Library.
What they don't want to do is listen to the community. So last week they announced that Dyett would stay open as a "compromise" school in a process that would continue to lock out community voices (which was aptly symbolized at the big press conference when the strikers were literally locked outside). This is a loose definition of "compromise," like a mugger who says, "Well, if you don't want to give me all your money, let's compromise and you can just give me most of your money."
The hope was that the public would listen as far as "Dyett will remain open..." and then just stop paying attention, which is the kind of cynical bullshit that gives Chicago politics a bad name. But it was at least marginally successful for five or ten minutes. Supporters were posting links to the news and tagging them "Victory." Eric Zorn, who unleashed a Trib column's worth of asshattery on the strikers, followed up with a non-retraction retraction that declared the strikers victorious and advising them to enjoy their big win and go home, which pretty well exemplified the reaction that Chicago Big Cheeses were angling for.
In retrospect, it seems likely that school chief's hint earlier that Dyett wasn't even necessary was a bargaining tactic, a set-up so that taking the school away from the community instead of flat-out closing it would seem like a generous concession by CPS, and not simply what they had intended to do (and what the organizers had been striking about) in the first place.
So why should those of us around the rest of the country be paying attention? Because this is a bald-faced, shameless display of everything wrong with the reformster privatization movement. It's not simply that non-educators will hand over a public school to other non-educators to commit amateur-hour educational malpractice. The handling of Dyett also displays plainly how the privatization movement is not just an attack on education, but an attack on the democratic rights of people who are not white, not wealthy, and not well-connected.
This is about shutting the community out of the process, about making sure that the people of Bronzeville have no say in any of this, about a political process so devoted to locking community members outside that it considers giving them half-assed lip service as a major concession.
Peter Cunningham, former Arne Duncan mouthpiece and an old Chicago hand, took to his $12 million website to tut-tut at the strikers, suggesting that they "honor the public process," a variation on the old "why don't these protesters just work within the system." But that's what's particularly notable about the Dyett community members-- they have done absolutely everything that the system asked of them. They have played by the rules for years and years, from developing a solid plan backed by community members, respectable institutions, and capable professionals. They submitted a formal proposal (and they did it on time) and they waited patiently while Chicago Public Schools hemmed and hawed and stalled (in a process that wasn't very public at all). Even when the Dyett strikers finally took action, it was not disruptive or destructive to anything but their own bodies.
If anybody can offer advice about what the Dyett folks could have done better, differently, I'd be thrilled to hear it. But the only other option that folks seem to want them to exercise is "Shut up, go home, and let your Betters decide the fate of your neighborhood school without all your yammering in the background."
Dyett cuts straight to the central question of turnovers, takeovers, achievement school districts, charterization, and privatization-- why, exactly, should rich and powerful people with no real ties to the community have more say in how the community's schools are run than the people who actually live there?
Jitu Brown put it pretty plainly--
You are not better than us. You are not smarter than us. And you do not love these children more than we do.
And so we have to ask reformsters: Do you want to argue one of those three point? Because that should be an interesting conversation. And if you don't contest any of those assertions, then on what basis are you taking over the community's school? Even if we let the assertion that the school is failing slide, the question remains-- why are you stripping the community of a voice in its own school? Because you're better, you're smarter, or you love the students more? And if it's not one of those three, then what is it?
What gives you the right to suspend democracy for a community?
Dyett still matters because the issue is not resolved and the strikers have not yet won. Dyett still matters because the fate of Dyett will have a huge impact on that community. And Dyett still matters because the issues being battled there are the same issues faced by every community in this country where the rich and powerful have decided to suspend democracy for certain communities.
Follow #FightForDyett on twitter. Check in with websites like this one. You can donate to the organization here. You can get a national perspective from articles like this one. And if you're in the area, there's a Labor Day rally at 5:00 PM. Spread the word. Speak out. Dyett matters, and the folks who are standing up for that school are standing up for all of us.
The twelve parents and community members who began going without solid foods over three weeks ago are still standing up for the same issues they were standing up for when this began. The Chicago school system, run by the mayor and not by any sort of elected school board, would like to close the school and replace it with one more privatized education. Or maybe they would really just like to replace it with a nice parking lot for the Coming Someday Obama Presidential Library.
What they don't want to do is listen to the community. So last week they announced that Dyett would stay open as a "compromise" school in a process that would continue to lock out community voices (which was aptly symbolized at the big press conference when the strikers were literally locked outside). This is a loose definition of "compromise," like a mugger who says, "Well, if you don't want to give me all your money, let's compromise and you can just give me most of your money."
The hope was that the public would listen as far as "Dyett will remain open..." and then just stop paying attention, which is the kind of cynical bullshit that gives Chicago politics a bad name. But it was at least marginally successful for five or ten minutes. Supporters were posting links to the news and tagging them "Victory." Eric Zorn, who unleashed a Trib column's worth of asshattery on the strikers, followed up with a non-retraction retraction that declared the strikers victorious and advising them to enjoy their big win and go home, which pretty well exemplified the reaction that Chicago Big Cheeses were angling for.
In retrospect, it seems likely that school chief's hint earlier that Dyett wasn't even necessary was a bargaining tactic, a set-up so that taking the school away from the community instead of flat-out closing it would seem like a generous concession by CPS, and not simply what they had intended to do (and what the organizers had been striking about) in the first place.
So why should those of us around the rest of the country be paying attention? Because this is a bald-faced, shameless display of everything wrong with the reformster privatization movement. It's not simply that non-educators will hand over a public school to other non-educators to commit amateur-hour educational malpractice. The handling of Dyett also displays plainly how the privatization movement is not just an attack on education, but an attack on the democratic rights of people who are not white, not wealthy, and not well-connected.
This is about shutting the community out of the process, about making sure that the people of Bronzeville have no say in any of this, about a political process so devoted to locking community members outside that it considers giving them half-assed lip service as a major concession.
Peter Cunningham, former Arne Duncan mouthpiece and an old Chicago hand, took to his $12 million website to tut-tut at the strikers, suggesting that they "honor the public process," a variation on the old "why don't these protesters just work within the system." But that's what's particularly notable about the Dyett community members-- they have done absolutely everything that the system asked of them. They have played by the rules for years and years, from developing a solid plan backed by community members, respectable institutions, and capable professionals. They submitted a formal proposal (and they did it on time) and they waited patiently while Chicago Public Schools hemmed and hawed and stalled (in a process that wasn't very public at all). Even when the Dyett strikers finally took action, it was not disruptive or destructive to anything but their own bodies.
If anybody can offer advice about what the Dyett folks could have done better, differently, I'd be thrilled to hear it. But the only other option that folks seem to want them to exercise is "Shut up, go home, and let your Betters decide the fate of your neighborhood school without all your yammering in the background."
Dyett cuts straight to the central question of turnovers, takeovers, achievement school districts, charterization, and privatization-- why, exactly, should rich and powerful people with no real ties to the community have more say in how the community's schools are run than the people who actually live there?
Jitu Brown put it pretty plainly--
You are not better than us. You are not smarter than us. And you do not love these children more than we do.
And so we have to ask reformsters: Do you want to argue one of those three point? Because that should be an interesting conversation. And if you don't contest any of those assertions, then on what basis are you taking over the community's school? Even if we let the assertion that the school is failing slide, the question remains-- why are you stripping the community of a voice in its own school? Because you're better, you're smarter, or you love the students more? And if it's not one of those three, then what is it?
What gives you the right to suspend democracy for a community?
Dyett still matters because the issue is not resolved and the strikers have not yet won. Dyett still matters because the fate of Dyett will have a huge impact on that community. And Dyett still matters because the issues being battled there are the same issues faced by every community in this country where the rich and powerful have decided to suspend democracy for certain communities.
Follow #FightForDyett on twitter. Check in with websites like this one. You can donate to the organization here. You can get a national perspective from articles like this one. And if you're in the area, there's a Labor Day rally at 5:00 PM. Spread the word. Speak out. Dyett matters, and the folks who are standing up for that school are standing up for all of us.
Sunday, September 6, 2015
Nobody Really Wants Choice
Families need a choice. Parents want a choice. Poor students deserve a choice. We hear the rhetoric over and over again, but I remain convinced that it's baloney.
People do not want choice.
When I sit down in a restaurant and order my favorite meal, the one I've been craving all day, I don't sit there eating it thinking, "Oh, if only there were more choices. If only, in addition to the meal I'm eating, there was a wider variety of other meals for me to not eat."
When I look across the room at my wife, as my heart fills up with love, I don't think, "If only there were an assortment of women that I could have married, but didn't. That would make my marriage way better."
If I'm watching a movie in a multiplex, my enjoyment is not enhanced by knowledge that there are many swell movies playing on the other screens that I am not watching.
And if my child is in a great school, I don't think, "Oh, if only there were other excellent schools that she wasn't attending."
Furthermore, the corporate guys who tout choice as a value don't believe it, either.
No business says, "It's really important that the consumers have a choice. Let's get one of our competitors into this neighborhood." Ronald McDonald does not give the Burger King a stack of money and say, "Hey, come open a store across the street from me so the consumers can have a choice." No group of suits sits in a boardroom and says, "Boy, if all the consumers became our customers, that would be awful because it would wipe out choice."
When corporate types extol choice, what they always mean is "We want more customers to choose us."
But nobody wants choice.
What do people actually want? They want to have what they want to have.
"I want more choices," never means, "I have chosen what I want, but I want to know that the options I didn't choose are all great."
"I want choice," really means "I do not like the available options. I want to be offered the option of having what I actually want." If my favorite restaurant has my favorite meal, I don't care if the entire rest of the menu is blank. But if I look at a menu and see nothing that interests me, I'd like more choice. Either way, at the end of the day, I am only going to eat one meal. What difference does it make if the meals that I don't eat are appealing or unappealing to me?
Do parents want school choice? I doubt it. Maybe there are some folks who want to know that while their child is in a great school, there are other schools she could be going to instead. But I'm doubtful.
Do parents want school choice? I doubt it. What parents want is for their child to be in a great school, and if their child is in a great school, they aren't going to care if that school is the only school or one school out of a thousand. Some are going to say that choice will drive excellence, but again-- what's the real goal? Would you really be unhappy if your child were in an outstanding school that didn't get that way through competition? I don't think so.
Why do lots of parents in poor, neglected school districts like the idea of choice? It's not because they love the idea of choices. It's because their local menu offers the prospect of a terrible meal. They want more choices because they are hoping that one of those choices, finally, will be an excellent education for their children.
Nobody really wants choice. What people want is to have what they want. What they want from education is for their children to be in good schools.
But focusing on choice instead of school quality leads to focusing on the wrong thing, sometimes to the detriment of the real goal. Providing choice on a thin budget makes excellence that much harder to achieve. And it completely blinds us to the reformy option that charter/choice fans never want to talk about:
What would happen if we took all the time and energy and money poured into pushing charter/choice and focused it on turning the local schools into schools of excellence.
Some reformsters are going to claim we tried that. I don't believe that's true, for a variety of reasons that would stretch this post from Too Long to Way Too Long.
Some folks have decided that our model for school reform should be like a guy who finds his car filled up with fast food wrappers and in need of new tires-- so instead of working on the car, he goes out and buys three new cars. It's a waste of resources-- and he can only drive one car, anyway. School choice and charter systems have turned out to be hella expensive, costing not only money but community ties and stability, and only rarely delivering excellence-- and that only for a small percentage of students.
People want excellence (or at least their idea of excellence). Some people push choice as a way to get there. But what if it isn't? What if there are better ways to get to excellence?
Look, we know why some people love the idea of choice-- because it is a great way for them to get their hands on bundles of that sweet sweet public tax money. But for people who have a sincere interest in school choice, my request is that they step back and ask themselves what their real goal is, and if it's having each child in the nation in an excellent school, let's talk about that. If you think that choice is a path to that goal, well, you and I have some serious disagreements ahead of us. But the discussion will be much more useful and productive if we focus on the real goal and not get distracted by mistaking means for an end.
People do not want choice.
When I sit down in a restaurant and order my favorite meal, the one I've been craving all day, I don't sit there eating it thinking, "Oh, if only there were more choices. If only, in addition to the meal I'm eating, there was a wider variety of other meals for me to not eat."
When I look across the room at my wife, as my heart fills up with love, I don't think, "If only there were an assortment of women that I could have married, but didn't. That would make my marriage way better."
If I'm watching a movie in a multiplex, my enjoyment is not enhanced by knowledge that there are many swell movies playing on the other screens that I am not watching.
And if my child is in a great school, I don't think, "Oh, if only there were other excellent schools that she wasn't attending."
Furthermore, the corporate guys who tout choice as a value don't believe it, either.
No business says, "It's really important that the consumers have a choice. Let's get one of our competitors into this neighborhood." Ronald McDonald does not give the Burger King a stack of money and say, "Hey, come open a store across the street from me so the consumers can have a choice." No group of suits sits in a boardroom and says, "Boy, if all the consumers became our customers, that would be awful because it would wipe out choice."
When corporate types extol choice, what they always mean is "We want more customers to choose us."
But nobody wants choice.
What do people actually want? They want to have what they want to have.
"I want more choices," never means, "I have chosen what I want, but I want to know that the options I didn't choose are all great."
"I want choice," really means "I do not like the available options. I want to be offered the option of having what I actually want." If my favorite restaurant has my favorite meal, I don't care if the entire rest of the menu is blank. But if I look at a menu and see nothing that interests me, I'd like more choice. Either way, at the end of the day, I am only going to eat one meal. What difference does it make if the meals that I don't eat are appealing or unappealing to me?
Do parents want school choice? I doubt it. Maybe there are some folks who want to know that while their child is in a great school, there are other schools she could be going to instead. But I'm doubtful.
Do parents want school choice? I doubt it. What parents want is for their child to be in a great school, and if their child is in a great school, they aren't going to care if that school is the only school or one school out of a thousand. Some are going to say that choice will drive excellence, but again-- what's the real goal? Would you really be unhappy if your child were in an outstanding school that didn't get that way through competition? I don't think so.
Why do lots of parents in poor, neglected school districts like the idea of choice? It's not because they love the idea of choices. It's because their local menu offers the prospect of a terrible meal. They want more choices because they are hoping that one of those choices, finally, will be an excellent education for their children.
Nobody really wants choice. What people want is to have what they want. What they want from education is for their children to be in good schools.
But focusing on choice instead of school quality leads to focusing on the wrong thing, sometimes to the detriment of the real goal. Providing choice on a thin budget makes excellence that much harder to achieve. And it completely blinds us to the reformy option that charter/choice fans never want to talk about:
What would happen if we took all the time and energy and money poured into pushing charter/choice and focused it on turning the local schools into schools of excellence.
Some reformsters are going to claim we tried that. I don't believe that's true, for a variety of reasons that would stretch this post from Too Long to Way Too Long.
Some folks have decided that our model for school reform should be like a guy who finds his car filled up with fast food wrappers and in need of new tires-- so instead of working on the car, he goes out and buys three new cars. It's a waste of resources-- and he can only drive one car, anyway. School choice and charter systems have turned out to be hella expensive, costing not only money but community ties and stability, and only rarely delivering excellence-- and that only for a small percentage of students.
People want excellence (or at least their idea of excellence). Some people push choice as a way to get there. But what if it isn't? What if there are better ways to get to excellence?
Look, we know why some people love the idea of choice-- because it is a great way for them to get their hands on bundles of that sweet sweet public tax money. But for people who have a sincere interest in school choice, my request is that they step back and ask themselves what their real goal is, and if it's having each child in the nation in an excellent school, let's talk about that. If you think that choice is a path to that goal, well, you and I have some serious disagreements ahead of us. But the discussion will be much more useful and productive if we focus on the real goal and not get distracted by mistaking means for an end.
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