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January 2017

Kentucky School Choice Rally: text of my comments

School choice kids

Today I was thrilled to join over 500 other Kentuckians on the steps of the state capitol to celebrate National School Choice Week. I was honored to join a large slate of speakers and enthusiastic supporters calling for more education options for Kentucky families.

The Kentucky legislature will consider at least two important school choice proposals in the remainder of its session next month - charter schools and scholarship tax credits. I've already written about SB 80, a watered-down charter bill that isn't worthy of support. House Bill 103 is a sweeping charter law that has many strong elements, but I expect at least one more charter bill to be filed before the session ends.

I'm especially hopeful about HB 162/SB 102, which creates a tax credit plan that encourages private donations to scholarship funds that support low-income families who want to send their children to tuition-based schools. This proposal has garnered bipartisan support from lawmakers in the past and has a good chance to succeed this session. Please contact your House and Senate representatives and encourage them to support this proposal. Go here for more information and see my previous and related posts here.

In my own comments at today's rally I tried to emphasize that school choice proposals pose no threat to high-quality public schools, but they do ask us to think more creatively about what "public schooling" really is. Here's the full text of my speech:

Good morning, everyone and thank you so much for being here today to celebrate school choice in Kentucky. I am so proud to speak to you as a long-time educator and advocate of public schools who also believes that every family, regardless of their income level or ZIP code, deserves their choice of great schools.

We have many outstanding district schools in Kentucky, filled with hard-working teachers and high-achieving students. My work as an education professor and my service on the Kentucky Board of Education regularly take me into terrific public schools where I see progress and success taking place. But one thing I’ve learned in my 20 years in education is that no school, no matter how good, can meet the needs of every single family. The needs of our students are just simply too diverse. We put an unfair burden on our great public school teachers by asking them to be all things to all students.

It’s time to recognize that all families should be able to choose from a wide variety of educational options, including district schools, charter schools, independent and parochial schools, and home schooling. By letting families choose the school setting that can best fit their child’s needs, we allow all schools to be more innovative, creative, and specialized in the kinds of learning experiences they offer students.

School choice is never a threat to great public schools, contrary to what you might hear. Research shows choice policies actually save taxpayers money and lead to better education outcomes for all students, regardless of the kinds of schools they attend.

But school choice does ask us to think bigger about what public schooling really is. Does supporting public education mean that only government run schools can educate our children? I don’t think so. Here’s what education scholar Rick Hess says about what makes a school “public:”

“Public schools should teach children the essential skills and knowledge that make for productive citizens, [should] teach them to respect the constitutional order, and [should] instruct them in a framework of rights and obligations that secure our democracy and protect our liberty. any school that does so should be regarded as serving public purposes.”

I agree with Rick Hess. We can have a rich array of schooling options in Kentucky and doing so does not compromise the goal and purpose of public education. We need charter schools, scholarship tax credits, education savings accounts, and supports for homeschooling families to make sure that school choice is not just for the rich, but is the right of every Kentucky family. And we can provide those options while supporting and encouraging the excellent work of great district-run schools as well.

Let’s stand up for all Kentucky kids, in all our schools, and finally bring education choice to the Commonwealth! Thank you!

Update: Here's video of my remarks, courtesy of our friends at Bluegrass Institute, where I serve on the Board of Scholars:

 

Usual disclaimer: All views expressed on this blog are mine alone and do not reflect the opinions of Western Kentucky University (my employer) or the Kentucky Board of Education (where I serve as a member).

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Why Knowledge Matters, Part II: Strengthening standards with a content-rich curriculum

Hirsch_cover_webIn my recent review, I argued that Why Knowledge Matters: Rescuing our Children From Failed Educational Theories by E.D. Hirsch was perhaps the most important education book of 2016. Indeed, I believe that Hirsch's call for a more rigorous and rich elementary school curriculum has significant implications for addressing persistent education problems like the historical achievement gap between poor and affluent students. In a series of follow-up posts I'd like to explore Why Knowledge Matters in greater depth, starting with a look at how Hirsch's ideas fit with our existing content frameworks like the Kentucky Academic Standards.

Standards versus curriculum

First, it's probably worth taking a moment to distinguish between "standards" and "curriculum," as this is a confusing and subtle distinction that even many educators have never pondered. Education standards, which are generally issued at the state level and apply to all public schools within their jurisdiction, are an expression of the goals of learning - what we want students to know and be able to do as a result of their schooling experience. Curriculum, on the other hand, includes the instructional materials used to help students achieve those goals. 

As the Excellence in Education Foundation puts it, "Standards are the end. Curriculum is the means." Or, as Robert Pondiscio recently described it in his excellent discussion of the controversial Common Core State Standards, standards can be thought of as the construction, plumbing, or electrical code to which an architect must adhere when designing a new building. As such, standards provide no more restriction on what and how teachers may teach than construction codes place as minimum standards of how a new building must function:

I would wager that when I.M. Pei was commissioned to design the Louvre Pyramid, his first move was not to reach for a copy of the Paris building codes for inspiration. It should be no different for teaching. First things first: What is it you want to teach? Which stories, poems, or novels are worth your students' precious time? What do you want students to know about art, science, history, and literature? Answer those questions, then reach for the standards and build your lessons and units "to code."

Essential to Hirsch's argument in Why Knowledge Matters is that the Common Core State Standards (CCSS) are insufficient by themselves to design a quality learning experience for students. This is explicitly noted in the CCSS documents themselves, which state "The Standards...do not - indeed cannot - enumerate all or even most of the content that students should learn. The Standards must therefore be complemented by a well-developed, content-rich curriculum." As Hirsch responds, "These are golden words. But no district I know of is paying attention to them - for they are words without consequences."

Why Knowledge Matters argues that schools need to be far more explicit about the actual curriculum that will deliver these standards. Schools rely too much on the narrow language of the standards and invest far too much time in focusing on certain standards-related skills to the exclusion of important content knowledge students need to know (via a specific and fairly detailed curriculum) for success in later grades and in life.

To illustrate Hirsch's case, I took some time to compare the Kentucky Academic Standards for English/language arts, science, and social studies in kindergarten through second grade with the Core Knowledge Sequence, a framework of content and skills promoted by Hirsch's Core Knowledge Foundation and used in over 1,200 schools (the Core Knowledge Sequence is available for free download via the Core Knowledge website). I focused specifically on the early grades because Why Knowledge Matters argues strongly that this is where curriculum has suffered the most in recent years, doing untold damage to students from low-income families who lack the access to cultural knowledge outside of school. Hirsch says that the Core Knowledge Sequence is not necessarily the best or only example of a specific curriculum schools should consider, but does meet his goals of being field-tested, topic-specific, well rounded, coherent, cumulative, and selective.

English/language arts

The Kentucky Academic Standards for English/language arts come directly from the Common Core State Standards. They include a description of grade-by-grade skills associated with reading literature and informational texts, foundational skills like understanding the sounds letters make, writing skills, and skills related to speaking and listening. There is a great deal of overlap the Kentucky ELA standards and the Core Knowledge Sequence, both in the organization of materials and in the specific skills and content described. For example, the Kentucky ELA Standards say that first graders should "use illustrations and details in a text to describe its key ideas." The Core Knowledge Sequence, meanwhile, says first graders should be able to "Answer questions requiring literal recall and understanding of the details and/or facts (i.e., who, what, when, where, etc.) about a text that has been read independently."

In most ways, the Kentucky ELA Standards and Core Knowledge Sequence seem compatible. The key difference is that Core Knowledge is much more explicit. For example, when the Kentucky ELA Standards say first graders will "know the spelling-sound correspondences for common consonant digraphs," the Core Knowledge Sequences specifically lists the digraphs (and other consonants sounds-spellings) that first graders will be taught: "/sh/ spelled 'sh' as in ship." Of course, Kentucky first grade teachers don't just pick the digraphs they teach willy-nilly. But those decisions do have to be made, either by individual teachers, or at the school level, in order for second grade teachers to have any reasonable way of knowing what their incoming students should theoretically be able to do. Hirsch's argument is not necessarily that Kentucky should dictate which digraphs should be taught when, but that those decisions are critical, and when and how they are made can have a huge impact on student learning.

Also of importance, the Core Knowledge Sequence offers a fairly lengthy list of poems, nursery rhymes, books, and other works of literature students should study at each grade level. The Kentucky ELA Standards do provide a list of recommended texts "illustrating complexity, quality, and range of student reading" in each grade (see page 90), but this is another great example of the difference between standards (where we're going) and curriculum (how we'll get there) that has to be navigated by educators. Hirsch argues we should be much more explicit - at least at the local level - about the curriculum that will be used to deliver these standards.

Science

If there is a fairly strong linkage between the Core Knowledge Sequence and the Kentucky ELA Standards, the differences become more stark when we consider science and social studies. Kentucky's uses the Next Generation Science Standards (NGSS) as its standards framework. NGSS structures each science topic around a combination of content knowledge, science practices (the kinds of activities scientists and engineers actually do when they use science content), and cross-cutting ideas that link content and skill across a variety of science fields, all of which contribute to performance expectations that students should be able to demonstrate as a result of learning.

The Kentucky Science Standards do not, however, break any of these concepts or skills down into specific grade level content, but rather group them into bands for grades K-2, 3-5, etc.. Again, teachers and schools are left to do this work, and if it is not done with great intentionality, there is a distinct possibility the ideas will simply not be taught in the early grades, especially if insufficient time is allocated for doing so (more on this below). The Core Knowledge Sequence, on the other hand, provides a very specific framework of science ideas that first graders should master, including living things and their environments, the human body, matter and its properties, an introduction to electricity, earth science concepts, and the biographies of scientists. A similar sequence of specific science concepts are articulated for every grade level, K through 8.

Social studies

Kentucky's Academic Standards for Social Studies have not been updated in many years. All efforts at establishing social studies standards via the Common Core have been politically unfeasible due to the highly controversial nature of many social studies concepts, though CCSS does include English/language arts standards as they are applied to social studies and science. Kentucky's social studies standards are organized into five "Big Ideas" (government and civics, cultures and society, economics, geography, and historical perspectives), each divided into "understandings" (broad concepts students should know) and "skills and concepts" (articulating how students should apply that knowledge).

These "understandings" and skills are indeed broad, and require the educator to add many layers of curriculum to make them meaningful. For example, students in the primary grades (individual grade levels are again not specified) should "explain why people move and settle in different places; explore the contributions of diverse groups." But this begs many questions educators have to answer: Which people? Which places? What groups? What contributions? The Kentucky social studies standards do not give guidance on these questions.

The Core Knowledge Sequence for each grade spells these matters out clearly. For example, first grade students should begin their study of American Westward expansion, including "Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road, the Louisiana Purchase, the explorations of Lewis and Clark, Sacagawea" and be able to locate specific geographic features on a map like the Appalachian Mountains, the Rocky Mountains, and the Mississippi River, among many other specific items of knowledge. When these things are left to chance, many schools lack a coherent framework of social studies knowledge to impart to students.

Where does the time go?

More importantly, when teachers rely too heavily on the standards without a sufficient attention to curriculum they have no guidance as to how much time to devote to particular concepts. As a result, we have the current situation that Hirsch describes so vividly in Why Knowledge Matters whereby elementary subject areas besides math and reading have experienced a 47 percent reduction in instructional time in recent years.

Teachers have mistakenly over-emphasized the skills-heavy standards because they think that's how students will be tested on annual statewide assessments. But Hirsch argues that even reading tests are ultimately tests of content knowledge. Test makers are forced to invent tests based on the content-anemic standards, but test items will invariably reward students who know more. By neglecting domain-specific content, teachers are in the long-run putting their students at a disadvantage on standardized tests. According to research cited by Hirsch, generic reading skills like finding the main idea of a passage can be taught in as little as two weeks, and then instructional time can be devoted to the exploration of specific, intentionally-selected texts that build students' content expertise.

Far more attention needs to be devoted to curriculum, and there's nothing stopping educators from doing so, including the ever-present shadow of "testing." It seems clear Hirsch would love to see states articulate curricula more clearly for all schools, but he acknowledges there is likely no collective will to do so. However, individual schools and districts can and should take the first step, especially in elementary grades, toward the renewal of a rich curriculum, a move that sets up the possibility for more instructionally valid tests. As Hirsch writes, "Will any large American locality be willing to institute a good, content-specific curriculum grade-by-grade throughout all the elementary schools in the district? If one single big district does so, it will be a watershed event in our educational history."

I am not a curriculum expert myself, but Hirsch's argument makes great sense to me and conforms to what I've observed about the dearth of subject matter and the over-emphasis of generic skills in the early grades. Schools all around me are paring back time devoted to social studies, science, the arts, and other areas, making it virtually impossible for teachers who want to expose their students to rich content to actually do so. I would encourage elementary teachers especially to read Why Knowledge Matters, reflect on these issues, and contribute to a wider discussion on our current curricular practices and how we can make improvements that will benefit students, especially those who come from impoverished backgrounds.

Usual disclaimer: All opinions expressed on this blog are mine alone and do not reflect the views of Western Kentucky University (my employer) or the Kentucky Board of Education (where I serve as a member).

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Educating "Hillbillies"

Hillbilly Elegy

Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis was one of the top non-fiction bestsellers of 2016. The page-turning story by J. D. Vance, which describes his volatile upbringing between the Appalachian coal country from whence his maternal grandparents migrated and the fast-declining Rust Belt city of Middletown, Ohio, has become an icon representing the neglected, White working class culture to which President-elect Donald Trump so successfully appealed in his campaign.

I reviewed Hillbilly Elegy for the Bowling Green Daily News back in October (you can read the review here). I'm pleased that a number of educators have also noticed the book and its troubling implications for how we address the learning needs of "hillbilly" children and their families. In this post I'd like to reflect a bit on those implications, both from a policy and a practice perspective. If you haven't read Hillbilly Elegy, then I encourage you to read my review and those of others for background on what follows.

First, a note about language: I use the word "hillbilly" here because it's the term Vance chooses to describe his people. As I wrote in the Daily News, "For Vance, hillbilly is not a pejorative term and does not necessarily describe people from a particular geographical region, but rather those who share a common set of values and habits of lifestyle that are simultaneously admirable and self-destructive." Vance's family was from Eastern Kentucky, but the hillbilly ethos is personally familiar to me from my own upbringing and family experiences in South Central Kentucky. Any readers who have lived or worked in the rural South or Rust Best cities and suburbs, especially if they grew up there, will recognize the hillbilly culture. It is characterized by virtues like fierce loyalty and a strong affinity for place and family, but can also exhibit a self-defeating close-mindedness, defensiveness, and even violence.

Hillbillies have suffered tremendously from the rapid globalization of the world economy. As coal mines and factories have closed, replaced either by low-paying manufacturing and retail jobs, or more commonly by nothing at all, the economic opportunity for their communities has withered. Underemployment, welfare dependency, drug addiction, and the rapid decline of traditional family structures have further accelerated the spiral of despair. Teachers and school leaders charged with educating the children of these families face an enormous challenge. Teachers throughout Kentucky know the great frustration of trying to educate kids like J. D. Vance, only to see families and culture undermine their progress and chances for success.

Hillbilly Elegy has left many educators pondering what can we do more of or differently to better reach these students. I must confess I don't have many ready answers, especially on the policy front. As I've noted before, top-down policies from the state and federal government cannot make up for the critical, day-to-day decision making of parents, teachers, and school leaders. And there are no single, "silver bullet" policies that are going to magically make student achievement skyrocket, especially in spite of economic and cultural factors over which educators have little control. If I have a proposed education policy agenda for "hillbilly" kids, it doesn't differ much from the reforms I'd like to see on behalf of all students: a more robust curriculum, especially in the elementary grades, more personalized learning environments, and expanded school choice policies that give parents new options and teachers more flexibility and autonomy.

My support for charter schools is well-known, and I do think there is more promise for charters in rural areas than many people realize, but I don't see charters making a huge educational impact in this regard (in Kentucky, hillbilly kids are almost entirely rural). Private school choice may provide a complementary policy strategy for rural families, especially through scholarship tax credits, but the bottom line is that the vast majority of rural students are going to be educated in traditional district schools.

For all schools (including charters and parochial schools), there is a great need for curricular improvement (this argument is best laid out in my recent review of E. D. Hirsch's new book, Why Knowledge Matters). Hillbilly kids, like most from low-income families, are not sufficiently exposed to the wide body of cultural knowledge they need for economic and personal success. These disadvantages are often exacerbated in the early grades where an over emphasis on skills (as opposed to content) further deprives them of knowledge they will need to read and understand many different content domains in later grades.

Improvements in curriculum, coupled with a more personalized instructional approach that meet students at their individual readiness levels, may have great leverage for improving learning, especially for those from underprivileged backgrounds (and for a promising experiment with personalized learning, see the innovative approaches being pioneered in the Metcalfe County Schools as part of their District of Innovation status).

But one of the clear lessons of Hillbilly Elegy is that the problems confronting hillbilly families are much more complex than straightforward policy solutions - or educational practices - can solve. J. D. Vance escaped the patterns of self-destruction that threatened his future, but he did not do it because his schooling experiences where exceptional. He acknowledges that his schools were decent enough, though his teachers seemed to have no sense of urgency or concern about the grim economic prospects confronting him and his peers. Rather, it was the network of people in his life who gave him encouragement and positive example. As I wrote in my review:

[Vance] attributes his success to a handful of vitally important - if inevitably flawed - people, including college professors and Marine Corps mentors, but also his grandparents and even his mother who, despite her host of problems, encouraged his love of learning. Vance says that he benefited from decent schools, Pell grants and his grandmother's Social Security, but all these programs can do is minimize the effects of poverty. There are no public policies that provide the kind of positive personal influences that tipped the scales for Vance... [Hillbilly Elegy] suggests there is no force more powerful for upward mobility than having a network of caring, encouraging people who can provide a personal example and empowering knowledge of the personal habits and decisions that make for a successful life.

Teachers, school social workers, and administrators can certainly be a part of that network. And schools can do more than they realize to promote the kinds of values and personal habits that give students a better shot at success. Perhaps it's time, as Ian Rowe recently argued, for schools to start explicitly teaching students the research-based "Success Sequence:" 1) graduate from high school, 2) get married before having children, 3) don't have kids until after age 21, 4) make sure at least one person in the family works full time. As Rowe points out, "Ninety-eight percent of Americans who follow the success sequence live above the poverty line, and 70 percent enjoy at least middle class incomes, defined as 300 percent or more above that cutoff. For Americans who don't follow that sequence, the picture is reversed."

Why don't we teach students the Success Sequence? Perhaps because in our culture of non-judgmentalism and pseudo-tolerance we shy away from being explicit about championing values like delayed gratification and hard work. But we are doing a great disservice to students by not teaching them the behaviors that clearly make a difference between success and failure in life.

Moreover, schools can do more to engage local communities to create positive social networks for students and families. This includes inviting civic organizations, business leaders, and religious groups into the life of the school, especially when they can engage with individual students who are struggling to be successful. As Yuval Levin lays out so ably in his book The Fractured Republic: Renewing America's Social Contract in the Age of Individualism (an excellent companion piece to Hillbilly Elegy, which I reviewed here), these "mediating institutions" are precisely the ones best able to address the needs of families and individuals who need a helping hand. Schools should take the lead in reinvigorating local communities on behalf of students and families.

We don't need to give up on public policies as mechanism for addressing economic opportunity and social mobility. Some of the most exciting work being done on this front is emerging from new think tanks and advocacy groups like the Foundation for Research on Equal Opportunity (FREOP), which focuses specifically on policies that have maximum benefit for the working class, but with an emphasis on subsidiarity, local solutions, and genuine choice and empowerment for low-income families. But one of the lessons of Hillbilly Elegy is that there is no substitute for the power of personal relationships and personal examples of successful living for helping a kid transcend his circumstances without coming to despise the very people who gave him life. While there may be limits to what schools can do in this regard, the sky is the limit in terms of how individual educators and engaged local communities can bring hope and possibility, even to hillbilly kids.

Usual disclaimer: Opinions expressed on this blog are mine alone and do not reflect the views of Western Kentucky University (my employer) or the Kentucky Board of Education (where I serve as a member).

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