James Blew: Pushing More Headscratching Arguments for USED

These days, James Blew's official title is Assistant Secretary for Planning, Evaluation and Policy Development at the US Department of Education. He's held that job since the Senate confirmed him in July of 2018.

This guy.

That confirmation was a narrow 50-49 party line vote, perhaps because Blew's previous history is focused on dismantling US public education. He was director of Student Success California, part of the 50CAN reformy network, and he served a stint as president of StudentsFirst, the national reform advocacy group founded by Michelle Rhee, former DC chancellor and ed reform's Kim Kardashian. He was the director of the Walton family Foundation's K-12 "reform investments" for 11 years. His background is, of course, not education, but business, politics and "communications."

In short, he's a solid part of the team of foxes guarding the US education hen house.

In late July, he showed (virtually) up at the annual national (virtual) seminar held by the Education Writers Association. The session underlines the current batch of talking points being used by the department, in particular capturing some of the serious cognitive dissonance and headscratching involved. Beth Hawkins covered the interview, and did a handy job.

Blew joined in the declaration that Covid-19 highlights the need for choice, because parents might like to shop around for a school that's opening when they want it to. Blew seems to presume that the school that isn't opening is a public school, which fits nicely with the department's threat to strip funding from districts that don't open up in a manner that suits the department (aka, all the way, right now). Consider that context as you read this boggling paragraph:

“We believe that the local authorities, with health authorities, need to make the decisions about what happens in their schools,” Blew said. “We just wanted to even out the debate a little bit to let everyone know children are better off in school. They’re far better off in school, and there won’t be money coming from the federal taxpayer to support it unless they are."

So local authorities can have a choice, but the feds will only fund the choice that they like. So remember-- choice is good, but only choice that the Secretary approves of. Also, Arne Duncan was evil and awful when he used federal funding as leverage for imposing his own policy ideas on local authorities.

So can we just stop pretending that the DeVos USED has any policy ideas other than "Whatever Will Allow Us To Give Public Tax Dollars To Private Schools"?

Also, note that the department just wants to "even out the debate" like they're just a bunch of bystanders and not the federal agency that should be offering some guidance, leadership and support for the nation's public schools. Meanwhile, some DeVosian aid keeps tweeting about the need for choice, as if the pandemic problems could be solved by choice, as if there are special private schools where the coronavirus can't reach.

Blew's other moments including blaming the failure of ed reform in Detroit on absolutely everybody except the woman who worked tireless to create the regulatory framework (or lack thereof) that made all that possible. Hats off to NPR's Steve Drummond for pointing out what has been obvious all along--that Betsy DeVos has a list of things she wants for the nation's system, and she already got to have all of that list made real in Michigan, where it failed hard.

Blew also tossed out the old baloney about public schools being locked in a factory model that hasn't changed for 100 years, an argument that can only be seriously made by someone who hasn't seriously studied education history and has not set foot in a public school for decades. Oh, and that fact that it persists is the union's fault. It's all baloney, but baloney that has long legs as a talking point.

Just for fun, Blew also accused reporters of being elites. When reminded of the kind of money that reporters actually make, Blew swiftly pivoted to the usual bad guys:

“I have lots of friends who are reporters and I understand the salary pressures on all of you right now,” he said. “I would, by the way, contrast that with the average salary of a teacher in this country.”

Yup, it's the teachers that are the elites, and it takes ordinary everyday salt-of-the-earth millionaires and their well-paid minions to fight back. Consider my head scratched.

Why Isn't AI More Widely Used?

That's the question that Wired asked last month, and it's important to consider because even as a truckload of ed tech folks are "predicting" (aka "marketing") a future in which ed tech is awash in shiny Artificial Intelligence features that read students minds and develop instantaneous perfectly personalized instructional materials. Why is it, do you supposed, that AI is being thrust at education even as private industry is slow to embrace it?

The article looks at a study of data from a 2018 US Census survey. What they found was that only 2.8% of companies had adopted any form of "machine learning," the magical AI process by which computers are supposed to be able to teach themselves. The big advanced tech winner was touchscreens, which are considerably more friendly than AI, and even those only clocked in at 5.9%, so I suspect that schools are ahead of the game on that one. Total share of companies using any kind of AI (which included voice recognition and self-driving vehicles) was a mere 8.9%.

Adoption was heavily tilted toward big companies, aka companies that can afford to buy shiny things that may or may not actually work, aka companies where the distance between those who buy the stuff and those who use the stuff is the greatest.

Another finding of the study is that, shockingly, that many previous "estimates" of AI use were seriously overstated. For instance, consulting giant McKinsey (a company that has steamy dreams about computerized classrooms) claimed that 30% of executives were piloting some AI. Of course, to do that kind of survey, you have to talk only to companies that have "executives" and not just an owner or a boss.

Wired doesn't really doesn't have an answer. It offers a charming contrast between a big-time beer brewing corporation that uses an AI algorithm to monitor its filtration process, and a small beer company where "We sit around tasting beer and thinking about what to make next."

But perhaps AI isn't more widespread because it doesn't work all that well. "AI" often just means "complicated algorithm," and that algorithm has been written by a human--most often, a human with a computer background and not a background in the field being affected.

This leads to problems like the widely noted tendency of AI to be racist--the attitudes and biases or programmers are transferred directly into the programs that they write.

So do their other failings. In her "Introduction to Artificial Intelligence in Education," Sarah Hampton offers some examples of what is or is not an AI program. In the "is" column we find Grammarly. The thing about Grammarly, though, is that this software that is supposed to magically offer useful editorial guidance for your writing--well, it's not very good at its job. In fact, one question that Wired didn't ask was about the success of the companies that did use AI, but consider this report that 1 in 4 AI projects fail. You can surf the net reading about AI failures all day. And some of them have really serious consequences (like being jailed because of a botched AI facial identification).

The answer to the Wired question is twofold. AI isn't more widely used because 1) it doesn't do anything that can't be done as well (often at lower cost) by actual expert humans and 2) because much of what it does, it doesn't do very well. Despite its many, many, many unfulfilled promises, AI continues to be boosted mostly by people who want to make money from it, and not by the people who actually have to work with it. Yes, AI fans, including those in ed tech, will continue to make shiny promises based on what the program would do if it worked perfectly to achieve what its designers imagined it would do in a perfect world, but that's a vision from some other world. In this world, AI still has little to offer the classroom teacher.

To Teachers Contemplating Retirement

This fall marks the beginning of my third go round of starting the school year as a retiree. Thanks to the pandemic, it's in some ways the hardest year so far. I get that the pandemic is also giving many teachers pause to consider whether or not to go back. Here (expanded from a twitter thread) are my thoughts.

One of the hard parts of retirement is managing the guilt. You're leaving your friends and colleagues to continue the work. And it's important work, work you value. And they're going to keep doing it while you walk away.

This is unavoidable, because the work in schools is never done, ever. Every year some stories end, and some other stories begin, and most of the stories continue somewhere in the middle. There will never be a moment when you can brush your hands together and declare, "Okay, everything's wrapped up, so this is the perfect moment for me to peace out." Never going to happen.

So to retire, you have to shake the notion that you should really stick around and help (it took me months to shake the notion that I should run for school board). You know, intellectually, that you are not indispensable or irreplaceable. You moved into someone's spot, and someone will move into yours. In the meantime, your actual legacy is out in the world. You taught a bunch of students, and now someone else will teach another bunch of students, differently. You know all this. But you still get the guilt-flavored feels.

If you dig down deeper, you may even find a layer that doesn't want to see how easily you can be replaced. By the day your time has come around, you've seen the process. A teacher is a post sunk into the bed of a flowing river, important and influential while there, but once removed, leaving no new trace. It's a little humbling.

This year is, of course, different. I imagine that the guilt factor is now increased by a factor of 100. To retire must feel like leaving not just work, but a burning building just as your friends and colleagues (and, in my case, my wife) are being made to run into it. I know because three years out I can feel it myself (Maybe I should sign up to substitute. Maybe I should email my old colleagues and offer myself as some kind of supplemental aid.) But this set of extraordinary circumstances doesn't really change the calculus of retirement.

You retire when you think it's time. Sometimes that's the result of a thousand tiny things. That's how it was for me; at some point in my career I imagined I would teach forever, that they would eventually stuff and animatronically mount me in front of a classroom. But things happened, like children and boss changes and financial realities, and the grinding realization that instead of growing every year as a teacher, I was putting much of my energy into keeping my work from being worn away from all that outside-the-classroom crap. How much of your energy is going into fighting against the conditions that surround your teaching, as opposed to the work itself? That's a factor worth considering (and it's okay if Covid-19 is part of that factor.)

Plus--and only in retrospect am I realizing how much this weighed--realizing what teaching until I died would really look like. And that, of course, is the only alternative--you can either teach until you die, or you can retire sometime before then. If you have things you want to do someday, Teach Till I Die likely means that someday will never come.

So the question becomes, when do I go?

That has to be one of the most personal questions in the world. People will ask why, and you may want to come up with a simple answer for them, but the answer is probably not simple, and it will be yours. Most retirees I know just knew. It was time to go. They had other stuff to go and do.

But the guilt. The Covid. The students. Your colleagues. The huge mess.

There's no shame in walking away when you know it is your time. Know that the guilt, the pang of walking away from unfinished work--that's all normal in even the best of times. Know that you aren't doing anyone any favors by staying past your time--everyone has known that one teacher who stayed past when it was time for her to go, just kind of taking up space halfheartedly in her classroom.

If it's time, it's time. If you have other things to do, go ahead and tap out.

I won't pretend that it doesn't come with all the feels. Along with the twinges of guilt, you will never not miss being in a classroom with students. But when it's time, it's time.

ICYMI: Rising Anxiety Edition (8/9)

Just trying to hold it together? Join the very large and ever-growing club. Here's some reading to pass the time.

Kindergarten Reading Push: Still Problematic During the Pandemic 

Nancy Bailey with a reminder that the attempts to force littles to read before they're ready is still a bad idea.

Re: My Nomination for US Secretary of Education 

I said what I meant and I meant what I said. A while ago I nominated some folks for the post of Secretary of Education, including the JLV. Here he leans in and discusses his possible platform for the office, thereby further convincing me that he would be a good choice.

An Open Letter To American Society 

In McSweeney's, but nothing funny here. A teacher tallies off the many requests society has made of her.

An Open Letter To Teachers 

Mitchell Robinson offers some thoughts to teachers about returning in these angry times.

Parents are Flocking to Virtual Schools and Homeschooling. They'll Find a Minefield.

Sarah Jones at the New York magazine looks at the problems lurking out there for parents ready to make the leap away from public schools.

Should We Be Worried About Learning Loss In Early Childhood? 

I love this Rae Pica piece so much, I'm going to share a paragraph from it:

I’m sorry, but how devastating could it be? What learning, specifically, is being lost? The ability to meet unrealistic standards imposed on them by people who don’t understand child development, including the ridiculous expectation that they read and write by the end of kindergarten? The capacity to fill in worksheets or stare at a computer screen, or to take useless tests? The ability to handle pressure they should never have been exposed to in the first place?

Ed Reform Now spends $57,000 on Memphis election

Chalkbeat offers the tale of how this wing of DFER is still busy trying to buy school board elections.

Betsy DeVos: The Fox in the Hen House 

Retired teacher Tom Gotsill offers an op-ed in the Cape Cod Times. Includes a good capsule history of ed reform.

The Misguided Push To Reintroduce Standardized Testing During the Pandemic 

The NEPC newsletter offers a response to all those crazy policymakers calling for testing when we hit the ground.

Report: Are Charter Schools a Big Risk for Families  

This is me at Forbes. I offer it as a gateway to the Network for Public Education report on charter school closings. I've long said that one of the drawbacks of charters is their instability; here are some numbers to back that up.

"Test, trace and isolate" will be a fiasco in schools 

Op ed from NJ.com, includes some of the same sort of thing I've heard often in my region--that people will absolutely refuse to cooperate with contact tracing.

The broken windows approach to teaching is breaking our schools.  

Victoria Theisen-Horner is over at Alternet talking about how no excuses schooling is bad news for everyone.

Pandemic Pods: Parents, Privilege, Power and Politics 

The latest Have You Heard podcast (there's a transcript too) looks at how the new pod fad looks a lot like the same old exercise of privilege by those who have it (and another tool for those who want to dismantle public ed).

It's time to debunk the myth of school choice   

Jen Gibson is in the Charleston (SC) City Paper pointing out that using the pandemic to defund public ed is not great, adding to problems that South Carolina has already had inflicted upon it.

Penn State Clamps Down On Covid

Pity the poor colleges and universities. If they can't entice students to return to campus in the next few weeks, they may face a financial armageddon. For many students, a gap year is looking pretty good right now. But colleges and universities have to somehow navigate the gap between "I'm not writing huge checks and taking out tons of loans just to cyber school" and "I am not ready to risk me life just to hang out on campus."

Penn State appears poised to take a fairly aggressive approach. Their plan calls for campus to open for in-person classes, though after the Thanksgiving break, students will stay out and finish the semester (including finals) virtually.

Also, students have to sign a pledge.

The pledge has attracted some attention for being a sort of waiver, a "if I get Covid it's not Penn State's fault," sort of liability shield. And that's certainly part of it-- "I assume any and all risk of exposure to COVID-19 that may result from attending Penn State" plus acknowledging that such exposure could result in injury, illness, disability or death.

What's more striking is how strictly the university demands student follow a tight set of protocols. If you are wondering what a university looks like when they are trying to take control of the pandemic in ways beyond what we've seen from, say, elected government officials, here it is.

* Students must self-quarantine for seven days before coming to campus.

* Students must agree to be tested by the university at any time.

* They must fully and "candidly" cooperate with any contact tracing (this is turning out to be a problem in some places).

* Face coverings in buildings at all time and outside when distancing isn't possible.

* Observe distancing requirements in any on-campus or off-campus settings.

* If the student tests positive, they must isolate and "explicitly follow the University's instructions."

* Follow good hand hygiene.

The actual pledging part involves lots of acknowledgement of the situation and the student's personal responsibility for helping to keep Covid-19 at bay.

If, at any time, I am unable or unwilling to sustain these commitments to my fellow students and our community, I shall remove myself from the campus and complete the semester remotely.

Consequences for refusing to live by these rules on campus include suspension and expulsion. Penn State is apparently intent on signalling that they mean business; nobody in Happy Valley is saying, "Yes, well, masks are a personal choice." Despite the forcefulness, the document (which students must virtually sign before returning) does feel a bit sad and not-entirely-hopeful. The introductory paragraph notes that "Our return is tenuous and could be brief."

The whole thing is an interesting stance for an institution that has had long-standing problems in addressing its hard-drinking culture.

Penn State is supposed to start up again at the end of the month. We'll see how well a message of responsibility, accountability and "you'd better by God follow the rules" actually plays out, and if there are any lessons for other schools.

There Are No Writing Prodigies: What That Means For Writing Instruction

Mozart was composing and performing at the age of 4. Shirley Temple made her first film appearance at age 3, and within two years was a film star. Pascal wrote a treatise on vibrating bodies at age 9. Trombone Shorty was leading his own band at age 6.

But there are no child prodigies in writing. No classic novels composed by a six year old. No world-altering essays written by some young person in second grade.

That means that every writer starts out at the same level of skill and quality—somewhere between very low and none. Every author you have ever admired, enjoyed, or been inspired by started out as a not-very-good writer.

And that means that the path of a writer is always one of continuous growth, an unending journey that takes each individual across a variety of landscapes. Each path is a little different, featuring different obstacles and rewards. Each path varies in length, not because everyone is born with a pre-determined destination, but because so many people say, “That’s it. I’m done trying to go down this path.” Some people are better equipped to make the journey than others, but you’d be hard pressed to find a great writer who says, “Yes, I stopped working on growing as a writer because I figured I simply had no room for improvement.” Nobody arrives at the top of the mountain because they somehow had the gift of magically transporting there.

The implications for teachers of writing are important. Teachers are going to meet students who are somewhere on this journey, and teachers should not mistake the students’ location on the path for their ability to make the journey. The fact that the student has not progressed very far yet does not mean she can never travel far down the path.

So the teacher has to meet the students where they are and provide what they need to continue their journey. It may be support. It may be a critical eye. It may be additions to the students’ background of knowledge; it’s almost impossible to write well about things you know nothing about (even fantasy and SF writers are taking what they know and examining it from a different lens).

It is meaningless to look at a young student and declare she is a “bad” writer. She may be a bad writer today, but she may be an awesome writer five years from now. It’s the teacher’s job to make that journey possible for her.

It’s also meaningless to try to break the craft of writing down into a battery of skills and declare that the student has “mastered” some of them. It’s no more useful than dissecting the golden goose and breaking down and evaluating each goosely muscle; that’s not how this works. The ability to write a “topic sentence” in isolation may satisfy a test, but it has little to do with crafting an effective piece of writing. A piece of writing is an organic whole. The basic building block is not a sentence, but an idea.

Writing is one of the hardest things to teach, because it is complex and messy. Any attempt to reduce it to something simple and clear will lose the essential heart of the work. And seeing students as people who either do or don’t have some kind of writer gene misses the vast reservoir of potential that is in each and every classroom.

Originally posted at Forbes.com

GA: Bad Cover-Up Management In Times Of Crisis

For years, I worked for an administration whose philosophy about any problematic or controversial issue was, "If we don't talk about it, the public won't notice and this will all blow over in a while."

It was a terrible management philosophy, not just because it was dishonest and unfair, but because it failed. It failed hard. Every. Single. Time.

See? Doesn't everything look better now?

People always found out, and they always got upset about the exact things administration was afraid they'd get upset about. And on top of that, they were upset that administration had been trying to hide problems instead of solve them or share them with the affected parties, which in turn meant that they had zero trust in leadership moving forward. It just always ended poorly, and yet, administration never learned.

We're seeing some of that already with the news out of Georgia, where a couple of photos of unmasked students crowded wall to wall in the hall made Paulding County schools look pretty--well, not good. Buzzfeed (yes, you really have to start taking them seriously as a news outlet) has the whole story so far.

The school's nurse had already quit over the policy. Football players at North Paulding had already tested positive. And the first day of school was a scary mess. The superintendent responded to the photo by offering "context" i.e. saying, "Hey, it happens. Not really anything we can do." The district has characterized mask wearing as a "personal choice," though students have reportedly pointed out that the school is perfectly comfortable with enforcing the length of shorts and the visibility of bra straps. The school has also reportedly been clear that staying home from school could result in suspension or expulsion.

Of course, only one other bad management move was missing, and that shoe dropped today-- the school suspended students who posted pictures of the opening clusterfarpfegnugen, and threatened the student body if anyone dared to be critical of the school on social media. The suspensions were rationalized by a school policy against posting pictures of minors on social media, which is fairly common and sensible policy, though as one student pointed out, not enforced every single time the issue comes up. The "no criticism" rule has, at present, not been justified-- nor will it ever be, because the law is mighty clear on the issues of student personal expression, even if that expression makes schools sad. Twitter posts today say that teachers have also been warned not to be critical of the school on social media. Good luck with that.

The school's position is bullshit from just about every angle, but I expect that North Paulding will be the last school we hear defend a policy of "Just shut up and try not to make our bad choices look bad."