The Seduction of Common Sense: How the Right Has Framed the Debate on America’s Schools

From the back cover:

“Timely, accessible, and thoroughly researched, The Seduction of Common Sense exposes the insidious nature of current educational reforms and offers promising directions for anti-oppressive change.”

Kevin K. Kumashiro is an associate professor of policy studies at the University of Illinois-Chicago, College of Education, and the founding director of the Center for Anti-Oppressive Education.

Series Foreword: William C. Ayers, University of Illinois-Chicago; Therese Quinn, The School of the Art Institute of Chicago

Foreword: Herbert Kohl

Spectacular Things Happen Along the Way

From the back cover:

What happens when a teacher resists the pressures of “teaching to the test” and creates a curriculum based on student needs, wants and desires? Brian Schultz did just that when he challenged his students from a housing project in Chicago to name a problem in their community that they wanted to solve. When the students unanimously focus on replacing their dilapidated school building, an unforgettable journey is put into motion. As his students examine the conditions of their blighted school and research the deeper causes of decay, they set off on a mission of remedy and repair. It is finally their own questions and activities that power their profound self-transformations. This moving story is a tribute to what determined teachers can achieve in the current stifling environment of high-stakes testing and standardization. Anyone who has faith in creativity, commitment, and the deep potential of inner-city children and youth will want to read this book.

Brian D. Schultz is an assistant professor of education and honors faculty at Northeastern Illinois University [NEIU] in Chicago. He also taught in the Chicago Public Schools and in 2005 received the Educator of the Year award from the Illinois Computing Educators.

Foreword: Carl A. Grant

Eduwonkette gives the Moneyball/education links in chronological order - my original entry is here.

I’m pleased that the issue is getting some attention. It’s a worthwhile discussion and there are important points on both sides.

The UFT’s Leo Casey responded to my post by telling us that teachers are not commodities. After waxing impotent on the romance of our national pastime, Casey advises that we gird ourselves before continuing:

“You will quickly find yourself waist deep in a big muddy [sic] of ad hominem arguments, which begin with an all-out Tabor assault on the distinguished New York Times sports columnist Murray Chass, the author of the column I cited as criticism of Beane’s statistical measures.”

Though Casey is talking about a post written by an Andrew Tabor, I’ll take responsibility and respond for Andy. He goes on:

“Chass is a baseball “traditionalist,” and for Tabor this means he is “obnoxiously wrong,” “grating,” “a crotchety, stubborn, pigheaded SOB,” …well you get the drift.”

At least Chass isn’t lonely in the “obnoxiously wrong” pen.

Murray Chass’ contributions to baseball journalism are rivaled by few; that’s why his 40+ years of insight earned him the Baseball Writers Association of America nod for the J.G. Taylor Spink award in 2003. He doesn’t have a plaque, but he’s got a permanent spot in the National Baseball Hall of Fame because he earned the respect of his colleagues. And, even though I find little of his current analysis compelling, I’d defend his place in the annals of baseball lore.

There’s no doubt that Chass is famous for rejecting many statistical measures of the game - he thinks that they have had, are having, and will continue to have a negative effect on how baseball is played and how fans regard baseball. His Wikipedia entry has a decent line describing his philosophy:

“Chass is a noted baseball traditionalist who laments the shift in baseball news coverage from daily beat-report biographies (the common purview of columnists like Chass) to more statistics-driven analysis (sometimes called sabermetrics), exemplified by Baseball Prospectus and used by both fantasy baseball leagues and, increasingly, Major League Baseball team management.”

He might be right. But, as I showed in his Feb. 27, 2007 Times piece, he is often crotchety, stubborn, pigheaded, etc. about his stance. It’s part of his charm; it’s the niche he’s chosen to carve. Some love him, some love to hate him, but he generates passion and discussion on both sides.

In a striking, but not uncommon, display of intellectual irresponsibility, Casey cherrypicked those words with the hope - or more likely, the certainty - that readers wouldn’t click through to see my original text. In describing Chass’ stance, I said:

“That’s fine, because Murray Chass is a traditionalist to a fault and I’m used to him being obnoxiously wrong about some things. He’s grating and charming at the same time and sportswriting would be less interesting without him. Every sector needs a crotchety, stubborn, pigheaded SOB here and there, and Chass is one of baseball’s.”

Chass is obnoxiously wrong about some things, which implies that he’s quite right about others. Casey omitted “charming” and my comment that sportswriting would be lesser without his contributions. Casey did this because it was convenient for him to do so. He shamelessly betrayed my clear intent to bolster a poor argument he couldn’t otherwise support.

I truly believe that we need Chasses in every sector [and I’ll probably be one eventually]. We all need Andy Rooneys, Jonathan Kozols and the like. Sometimes they seem irrational and crazy; other times they give us sober, sound commentary that snaps us back to reality when we need it most.

And, like Chass, I’m a traditionalist. I don’t equate traditionalism or conservatism with “bad,” and Casey’s implication that I do is inexcusable and unsupportable. Traditionalism can, however, be a problem when it causes one to be willfully blind to potential progress - or resisting exploration that might result in that progress.

I also take umbrage with Casey’s characterization of my comments re: Chass as cheap ad hominem tactics. They aren’t. An ad hominem strategy is one that discounts an argument by pointing to personal attributes, characteristics, beliefs, etc. that are unrelated to that argument. Saying that Chass’ thoughts on baseball mean less because he’s a rotten father [hypothetical] would qualify as ad hominem. Suggesting that Chass’ points are invalid because he’s dumb, fat [both hypothetical] or looks funny [always debatable] are ad hominems.

Citing Chass’ body of professional work - statements made by him about his refusal to investigate in good faith the merits of an argument he summarily struck down - is anything but ad hominem. I exposed a deficiency in his reasoning - the reasoning that Leo Casey championed in what he thought was a refutation of Kevin Carey’s argument. Laying bare the flaws in Casey’s or Chass’ dialectic might make them feel bad, but they aren’t ad hominem attacks. He goes on:

“And that’s only the half of it. It seems that the fact I cited Murray Chass is grounds for another wave of ad hominems aimed in my direction: this proves that I am “witless” and “engaging in disingenuous propaganda.” “Very UFT of you,” he writes about me, as I were supposed to take this as the supreme insult.”

Casey’s use of Chass was a poor way to support his argument, as I showed in my original post. In his response, Casey willfully and knowledgeably twisted information for the benefit of his argument.

I said “Very UFT of you,” and referenced “disingenuous propaganda,” because Casey has, in addition to the offenses detailed above, persistently engaged in irresponsible, all-around intellectual slovenliness:

• Accused Disney of engaging in a conspiracy to erase the record of his past award [debunked here];
• Accused unjustly a rival organization of using Nazi symbolism - involving historically-common workers’ rights imagery, no less;
• Asked for “open, lively debate” in education, while censoring comments by his own union’s members on Edwize, deleting/denying trackbacks from critical posts, etc.

Casey accuses me of setting up straw men, then reduces my position to suggesting that teachers are no better than slaves, simply, “commodities, property to be bought and sold on a marketplace, waiting to be exploited.” Then he references the landmark labor case Flood v. Kuhn, saying that Flood “spoke eloquently on this very subject [workers as commodities].” Teachers can change jobs while MLB players were subject to the reserve clause; LAUSD can’t trade a teacher against his will to NYC Schools; etc.

Once again, ignorance trumps fact and does a disservice to both sides of the argument.

Mercifully, his last paragraph:

“Tabor’s suggestion that reducing teachers to commodities has anything to do with improving education is a perspective only possible from outside of actual classrooms and schools. Ever since Socrates, teachers have known that at its core, education is a matter of human relationship and human dialogue, between ourselves and our students. It is about the development — not the exploitation — of human potential.”

Casey exploits another fallacy [and seizes upon only the most heinous definition of exploit]: the emotional appeal. How dare I - or anyone else - criticize the development of mankind? Or suppress human relationships and dialogue? [I’m such a heartless guy that I argued here and elsewhere that we need to respect the dignity of the profession.]

If I were Casey’s superior at the UFT [or a corresponding superior at the AFT], I’d be embarrassed. I would be ashamed that a man previously lauded for teaching - one who is surrounded by educators and works on their behalf - presents arguments like a petty, particularly unremarkable 8th grader. I’d suspend his work on the Edwize blog and enroll him in community college classes in both Composition and Reasoning/Argumentation. It’s a start.

If I were paying dues to the UFT, I’d be outraged - and I wouldn’t put up with it anymore.

For some brief commentary [that has some merit] on using value-added metrics to evaluate teaching, see Ed Muir’s short response on the AFT’s NCLBlog or Steve Koss’s [less compelling to me, but still worth reading] piece at NYC Public School Parents.

For knee-jerk, partisan pouting based on fallacies - unburdened by even 30 seconds of Google research - by all means, continue to read Edwize.

Learn Me Good, John Pearson

211 pages, 2006; ISBN-13: 978-1-4116-6589-7

Jack Woodson isn’t your typical elementary school teacher. First, he’s a man; second, he’s not an idealist fresh out of college; and third, he “has forty children, and all of them have different mothers.”

But that’s education blogger John Pearson’s identity in Learn Me Good, an irreverent, anecdotal look at life as a first-year elementary teacher.

Jack Woodson was the unfortunate victim of job cuts at Heat Pumps Unlimited. Faced with finding a new job that made use of his engineering credentials, Woodson decides to take a hard right turn into the world of third grade mathematics. What he discovered, endured and laughed about during that first year in the trenches is the basis for Learn Me Good.

Woodson would want you to know that in those trenches he’s a Lieutenant commanding a platoon of rag-tag 8 and 9 year olds, all of whom are armed to the teeth with four-function math skills. Oh, and he’s got the weirdest case of trenchfoot anyone has ever seen. Who knew that graham cracker crumb residue could manifest itself into an infection? At least it’s a sweet-smelling infection…

Such is the style and tone of Woodson’s e-mails to former colleague Fred Bommerson, greeted throughout the book as F-Bomm, Fredster, and Big Poppa Heat Pump, to name a few. In e-mail after e-mail, Woodson describes classroom scenarios that cause him to shake his head, drop his jaw, laugh out loud and everything in between.

The supporting cast of characters in Learn Me Good give Woodson plenty of opportunity to reflect on the quirks of teaching in an elementary school. There are adult oddballs like the district employee who checks Woodson’s students for vision problems - but not before selling the third-graders on the coolness of glasses by proclaiming, “I think glasses are SEXY!” Though Woodson takes the surprise in stride, he can’t help but tell Fred that it was awkward and nothing short of “airing a commercial for Bacardi rum in the middle of an episode of Sesame Street.”

But Woodson doesn’t just pluck the low-hanging comical fruits. He humanizes – or is it humorizes? – students like Esteban, an energetic kid who enthusiastically yells answer after answer without stopping to think whether they’re right [he also has a penchant for filling in test bubbles randomly]. And even the terrors such as the “clinically insane” Chandra, whom Woodson affectionately nicknames “Lucifer,” are regarded no worse than “bad data points” when they clearly have earned the status of a public school urban legend.

It’s not all humor and pop culture references, though. Pearson exposes his energy, command of pedagogy, and curriculum on nearly every page. He doesn’t sweat the small stuff. His blood pressure is largely stable. He isn’t political, doesn’t wail out diatribes on No Child Left Behind and isn’t out to reform the American education system.

Woodson wants to understand the quiet ones, the Spanish speakers and the hyperactive-but-harmless. He just wants to teach and love his kids the best he can and he’s going to do it with a smile.

Purists of the written word may lament the e-mail structure of the book. Pearson avoids a novel-like progression and goes with a unique schema that, while fresh and surprisingly effective, lends itself to reading in short bursts instead of chapter sessions. A particular omission in that structure is the lack of replies from Fred Bommerson; though the character of Woodson sums up Fred’s reactions in the beginning of his e-mails, a few notes directly from Fred might break up the series of familiar blueprints.

Learn Me Good has a place on shelves in all levels of the edusphere from the boiler room to the penthouse in the Ivory Tower. Policy wonks will find that it cures frequent heartburn related to frustration, albeit temporarily; parents will be refreshed as they read candid reactions from a teacher who they’d want to befriend in real life; teachers with this book on their desk will find that its good-natured but relevant anecdotes will invigorate even the most atrophied smiling muscles.

But there’s a caveat to those teachers: be prepared for the longing you’ll feel en route to the teachers’ lounge when you think, “Why can’t I have a Jack Woodson at my school?”

John Pearson’s Learn Me Good is available for purchase at www.amazon.com.

Tested: One American School Struggles to Make the Grade, Linda Perlstein

302 pages, Henry Holt and Co., July 2007

Critics of No Child Left Behind rejoice! Educators, policy analysts and parents who have devoted the last few years lamenting that the provisions of NCLB - namely a focus on standardized testing to measure school-wide achievement - have stifled our nation’s best teachers and eliminated imagination and creativity from the minds of American children finally have their bible. Linda Perlstein’s Tested: One American School Struggles to Make the Grade is, for them, 12 ounces of hardcover “I told you so!”

Unfortunately for those same protesters, Tested’s superficial analysis of NCLB implementation begs a hard, critical look at two champions of their movement: the well-meaning but wayward teachers and administrators who have failed to respond adequately to NCLB’s requirements.

Perlstein, a former education writer for The Washington Post, followed up her examination of the social life of middle schoolers (Not Much Just Chillin’) with an in-depth look at the climate of Tyler Heights Elementary in Annapolis, Maryland. In 2000, Tyler Heights was a low-achieving school by state standards: only 17% of its students passed the Maryland State Assessment (MSA). Enter Tina McKnight, an energetic principal who transformed her school into a NCLB success story.

Tested opens with a mixed blessing; through McKnight’s and the district’s efforts, Tyler Heights has raised achievement to startling levels with its primarily black and Hispanic student population combining for reading and math scores flirting on both sides of 80%. But therein rests the problem. Are these scores a statistical anomaly? Can McKnight and the Anne Arundel County District administration handle the pressure to repeat - even improve on - last year’s success? Can teachers, those daily practitioners who are largely held responsible for a student’s success or failure, meet such high, seemingly-impossible expectations? And what if they don’t?

Perlstein parked herself at Tyler Heights for the following year to absorb and analyze the effects of NCLB success. Her direct observation and interviews with students, parents and staff weave a rich tapestry that presents accurately the complexity of a disadvantaged school. Most of the students live in depraved projects with a single parent and are almost wholly divorced from the culture beyond their city block. They enter school not knowing colors, shapes or numbers. Their ability to socialize normally is nearly non-existent. Harming their development further, students come and go through TylerHeights at an alarming rate - and so do the teachers, most of whom are young and inexperienced. The situation in which Tyler Heights finds itself is remarkable because it is so painfully common.

How, then, can McKnight, her superiors and her staff prepare these students adequately for the MSA? They begin by reforming the curriculum - Saxon Math and Open Court for reading - to build fundamental English and quantitative skills, the foundation on which these students will build the rest of their lives.

And this is when the friction starts. Teachers resent following highly-structured curricula tailored to Maryland’s assessment. Students are required to practice endlessly the written BCR (Basic Constructed Response), a short paragraph that demonstrates a student’s reading comprehension with no emphasis on writing skills. Perlstein sympathizes generously with the teachers who feel forced to teach to the test and with students who would rather act out plays than churn widgets from the Tyler Heights BCR factory. She writes:

“Think about your favorite teachers from your youth: the ones who changed your life. The ones who taught you lessons you carry with you decades later. Chances are, these were teachers with a gift for improvisation, artists of the classroom who brought a spark of life to the most mundane subjects. Chances are, they didn’t teach from a script.” [p. 50]

While Perlstein interjects personal judgment about Tyler Heights’ stifling curriculum - judgment not cited or based on any empirical, verifiable evidence - she fails to hold the teachers accountable for perpetuating a disconnect between MSA requirements and a meaningful curriculum.

Do you know BATS? Can you identify hundred-dollar words? What does Mr. Trickster have to do with the MSA? Have you used your whisper-phone? It’s ok, just follow YoJo’s advice. [These terms are explained at the end of the article.]

If the last paragraph didn’t make any sense to you, you’re not alone. Tyler Heights’ parents don’t have a clue what it means, either. These are the confusing, irrelevant testing strategies pushed on Tyler Heights’ students in an attempt to master the MSA. How, then, can we expect a parent to understand the incomprehensible jargon associated with their third-grader’s daily approach to reading? I pity both the parent and student who, in that rare case of the two minds coming together in the evening to complete homework, are unable to communicate in a meaningful way because of the obtuse, non-transferable jargon perpetuated by McKnight and her staff. (After months of MSA-focused preparation, a presentation in which these phrases were explained was finally given to parents 18 days before the test.) Further alienating already-disengaged parents from their child’s education runs counter to the well-documented needs of Tyler Heights, but Perlstein either fails to realize that or ignores it purposely.

Perlstein half-heartedly indicts educrats throughout the book by showing the absurdity of jargon and an unwavering insistence on learning outcomes (ribbing “Develop expressive and receptive vocabulary to begin to classify things found in the home environment,” for example). She is right to do that; Tyler Heights is subjected to (and subjects itself to via several consultants) such meaningless analyses in every chapter. But Perlstein would have you believe that only these enemies of the child, those who insist on NCLB-mandated achievement at all costs and have the same warmth for children as Matilda’s Miss Trunchbull, practice these strategies. Where she thinks Tyler Heights’ staff are educated is beyond me; it doesn’t occur to her that their methods and approaches to teaching are the banal products of the irrelevant learning outcomes that she decries.

Tyler Heights’ staff exposes a nationwide allergy to accountability among teachers and administrators. They, like so many public educators, are simply ill-equipped to integrate accountability measures into curriculum in a way that engages students and delivers relevant skills. Ironically, these teachers and Perlstein see NCLB provisions as transforming Tyler Heights’ young into automatons. They fail to realize that they themselves are unable to give the students basic skills in any other way.

Perlstein constantly tries to humanize the staff, apologetically distancing them from accountability practices and masking their inability to educate. If only teachers could direct plays written by 7-year olds and performed in ice cream castles floating on clouds. If only teachers could dance around a classroom with a perpetual smile, all students sitting in “learning position” [p. 44] as they composed the great American novel (and a full symphonic score to go with the stage version, I imagine). If only, Perlstein seems to wish.

Policy wonks will be disappointed. Though much of Tested is a veiled indictment of our new age of accountability, Perlstein never makes an explicit determination on NCLB. Had she tried, Tested would be a total failure; her demonstrated lack of understanding regarding education, further complicated by an even-worse understanding of scholarship (Perlstein tends to cherry-pick her citations/evidence and rely too heavily on EdWeek articles), would make for unconvincing conclusions regardless of her position.

Perlstein is at her best when profiling the personalities of Tyler Heights. Her understanding of the thoughts, feelings and responses of the stakeholders in Tyler Heights portrays them in remarkable depth; she interprets her subjects with uncommon clarity and compassion. The emotions exhibited by students and staff - ranging from hope to despair and including everything in between - are touching, a difficult feat for which Perlstein deserves praise.

The flaws in Tested make it a necessary read for all stakeholders in education. It provides a detailed glimpse into the minds of many on the fringe of education who, through faulty logic, commitments to Hollywood-style education Utopias and a selective focus on problems, criticize advances and clamor for unrealistic or ineffectual reforms. Perlstein has unwittingly sacrificed her dignity to do the education world a great service by exposing bootless teacher/administrator education programs, a situation that, if ignored, will hinder further the closing of the achievement gap.

Tested unintentionally lays bare pressing problems in teaching and how we approach public education. For the sake of Tyler Heights’ future students – and those throughout the nation – let’s hope that the next book offers some solutions.

Terminology:

BATS: Borrow from the question, Answer the question, use Text supports, Stretch analysis [p.87]. An example of BATS in action: “Damon and Pythias is a play because it has the elements of a play. Some elements of a play are that plays have stage directions. Also, there is a narrator. This play also has a lot of characters. So I know this play has all the features it needs.” [p. 127]

Hundred-dollar words: Words important to include in BCRs. Transitions such as “because” or “so I think” and MSA vocabulary words such as “character trait” and “dialogue” [p.87]

Mr. Trickster: A process of elimination for multiple choice questions [p. 183]

Whisper-phone: A “C-shaped section of PVC pipe held to [the] ears” through which a student reads aloud their BCR response to check for meaning [p. 127]

YoJo: A large, sports mascot-style character who gave a test-taking strategies performance at a Tyler Heights assembly [p. 172]

The United States has long viewed British public education as stodgy but benevolent, a system steeped in history, relevance and genuine national identity. Though this attitude endures, it is largely because of our ignorance of the recent emasculation of Britain’s curricula.

Little attention has been given in the US to the Qualifications and Curriculum Authority’s successful drive to eliminate rigor from British secondary education. This is not a surprise; American educators are overwhelmed with confusing national standards of our own and few are familiar enough with the details of the British system to make sense of more than a headline.

But Westerners, particularly those in the United States, should take heed. The QCA’s sapping of national education standards serves as the writing on the wall for curricular development in the US. Unfortunately, this writing is more like yobbish graffiti than the verses of Shakespeare.

Changes in the UK’s national curriculum for 11 to 14-year-olds have been implemented to align public schooling with necessary skills for adulthood. In addition to these “life skills,” teachers will be given more flexibility with their course material and more freedom with how to present it. Touting relevance and autonomy presents on the surface a convincing argument for overhauling an outdated curriculum. Students will be allowed - and encouraged - to tweak their studies to fit better their personalities, abilities and interests.

This means that studies in healthy cooking can replace chemistry, understanding mortgages can bump trigonometry identities, and a student will be more likely to read Louis Sachar’s “Holes” than anything by Edmund Burke. Most disturbing is that a young Briton will be better versed in a peculiar guilt for his forefather’s misdeeds than in the proud history of the West’s pre-eminent society. That guilt will further compromise the shoddy foundation of constructed British identity the QCA has built into the curriculum.

The QCA’s penchant for combining flawed constructivist philosophy with Burger King’s “Have It Your Way” slogan will create a generation of Britons who will not only be ill-equipped for further studies, but also filled with contempt for any content that doesn’t have obvious and immediate relevance to their individual lives. While some lament rightly the proliferation of the “me first” culture in the United Kingdom, the QCA is pipelining fuel into the “I ain’t bovvered” fire. I pity not only their future employers and professors, but also the young British ladies who will be frustrated in their search to find a mate whose long-term view in life extends beyond the calendar year.

As the United States‘ most trusted ally, the fate of your public education is important to us. Secretary Balls, educators and Britons need to commit to reinvigorating the national curriculum with content that reflects a seriousness of purpose and the historical rigor of Western culture. We in the US have long understood that scratching the skin of an Englishman reveals hair; regrettably, the skeleton below that hair appears to be weakening rapidly.

One can only hope that knowing that an American educator is embarrassed and ashamed for the future of your public education system will resonate throughout the isle.

For a deeper look into the current state of British education, I recommend The Corruption of the Curriculum [Robert Whelen, ed., Civitas, 2007]. Jeffrey Howard of the Thomas B. Fordham Foundation writes:

U.S. concerns over the hijacking of public school curricula by anti-American progressives find a mirror in Britain, where ridiculous reforms have plundered from public schools both tradition and rigor–and left a radically leftist agenda in their place. So says a new compilation, edited by Robert Whelan, deputy director of the British think tank Civitas, in which six prominent essayists (scholars, mostly) address these problems. The reader doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh while reading chapters such as “Geography Used to be About Maps,” by Professor Alex Standish. Truth becomes farce. Standish, for example, describes a British education official who argued that the purpose of geography education was to “further … the activities of the United Nations.” Mathematics instruction in the UK has, according to this volume, become incoherent and plagued by goofy pedagogical theories, and the alleged need to situate scientific learning in the context of pressing social problems has deflated what was once a rigorous curriculum in biology, physics, and chemistry. The book’s message suffers a bit, though, from inconsistency: one chapter laments that “critical thinking about ethnicity” rather than national solidarity was the curricular response to the July 7 terrorist attacks. But the very next chapter preaches how foreign-language education has done much good by “breaking down barriers between people and countries and promoting a sense of universalism in an individualised world.” Nonetheless, the book is a welcome (albeit troubling) stare into America’s curricular mirror across the Pond.

This reminds me of something about Britain and physics…

Garrard McClendon, professor of Education at Calumet College of St. Joseph in Indiana, wrote “Ax or Ask? The African-American Guide to Better English,” to “teach African Americans how to speak mainstream American English in order to avoid employment and educational discrimination and exclusion due to dialect.” His site www.blackenglish.com deserves every view it gets.

The book’s description:

This book is a must for teachers and parents of African American students. Used as a text and reference book in 9 school systems, the book explores how Blacks can improve their speaking and writing skills, avoiding educational and occupational exclusion. Why do many Blacks say “finna, skrimps, ax, skrate, and fixin’ to”? Why don’t teachers correct Black English in primary classrooms? Why do African Americans have the lowest standardized test scores? The African American Guide to Better English increases awareness, improves student achievement, and provides advocacy for those wanting to speak mainstream English.

It’s a common sense approach to communicative English that works professionally and socially. In the video below, he says that, “… people are losing out on opportunities every day because of the way they speak. I gotta do this.” Those opportunities include everything from great jobs to second dates.

Why does McClendon have to do this? Because no one else has. If you don’t believe me, just listen to the testimony from the kids near the end of the video. They’re willing and excited to learn how to represent themselves well - it’s just that no one has shown them how to do it before. They’ll need these skills for rare, high-stakes occasions like job interviews, professional lunches, etc, but the important part are the skills that reflect everyday, every minute professionalism. They’ll be happier and more productive people.

McClendon recognized a problem, created a solution and is working his tail off to implement it - that’s how we make positive, meaningful changes in education. Check out the video:

Sure, he’s taking some heat [as Dr. Cosby has, too] for the dose of benevolent realism that he’s injected into the classroom. But wouldn’t you want his energy, attitude and expertise in front of your kids?

UPDATE at 6/14/07, 8.16pm:

For some good reading, check out Black English: Pro or Con? on Garrard’s blog - great discussion.

The Nonist pointed us to Libraries, Candida Höfer’s incredible collection of photographs of book-buildings. Though I wasn’t familiar with her work, I’m embarrassingly interested in this book after seeing a few of the shots. Hofer’s Wikipedia entry is brief:

Candida Höfer (born 1944) is a German photographer, a former student of Bernd and Hilla Becher and specializing in large-format photographs of empty interiors and social spaces that capture the “psychology of social architecture”.

Höfer lives and works in Cologne.

Nonist says:

Yesterday I came across a truly gorgeous book of photographs by Candida Höfer titled, Libraries, a title which pretty much says it all, because that is just exactly what it is, one rich, sumptuous, photo of a library interior after another.

Sound absurd? Check out a few of these shots and you’ll understand the interest.

Maybe I’ll treat myself when the exchange rate is more friendly.

Fred Burns, candidate for Hillsborough County School Board District 3 [Florida], injected some work into his vacation:

I finished reading Five Habits of High-Impact School Boards by Doug Eadie. I’ll be writing about each one, but thought I’d at least introduce you to the top five. They are:

1. Concentrate on governing above all else.
2. Develop the capacity to govern.
3. Actively participate in leading the district’s innovation and leadership change.
4. Pay close attention to a healthy board-superintendent partnership.
5. Reach out internally and externally.

I’ll just leave it at that for now. I’ll tell you about each one after I catch my breath and unwind for a day.

Looks like Fred’s on the right track. I’ve been impressed with his campaign so far - it’s important that candidates for our school boards tell us not just what they do, but why they choose to do it and all the thoughts in between [well, most of them].

I look forward to Fred’s take on each of these five seminal habits.