Curriculum – Education Next https://www.educationnext.org A Journal of Opinion and Research About Education Policy Tue, 16 May 2023 19:36:35 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=5.4.2 https://www.educationnext.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/e-logo-1.png Curriculum – Education Next https://www.educationnext.org 32 32 181792879 California’s New Math Framework Doesn’t Add Up https://www.educationnext.org/californias-new-math-framework-doesnt-add-up/ Tue, 16 May 2023 09:00:12 +0000 https://www.educationnext.org/?p=49716646 It would place Golden State 6th graders years behind the rest of the world—and could eventually skew education in the rest of the U.S., too

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Rocks and mud cover HIghway 1 in California
A bumpy road is ahead for California’s proposed new math framework.

California’s proposed math curriculum framework has ignited a ferocious debate, touching off a revival of the 1990s math wars and attracting national media attention. Early drafts of the new framework faced a firestorm of criticism, with opponents charging that the guidelines sacrificed accelerated learning for high achievers in a misconceived attempt to promote equity.

The new framework, first released for public comment in 2021, called for all students to take the same math courses through 10th grade, a “detracking” policy that would effectively end the option of 8th graders taking algebra. A petition signed by nearly 6,000 STEM leaders argued that the framework “will have a significant adverse effect on gifted and advanced learners.” Rejecting the framework’s notions of social justice, an open letter with over 1,200 signatories, organized by the Independent Institute, accused the framework of “politicizing K–12 math in a potentially disastrous way” by trying “to build a mathless Brave New World on a foundation of unsound ideology.”

About once every eight years, the state of California convenes a group of math educators to revisit the framework that recommends how math will be taught in the public schools. The current proposal calls for a more conceptual approach toward math instruction, deemphasizing memorization and stressing problem solving and collaboration. After several delays, the framework is undergoing additional edits by the state department of education and is scheduled for consideration by the state board of education for approval sometime in 2023.

Why should anyone outside of California care? With almost six million public school students, the state constitutes the largest textbook market in the United States. Publishers are likely to cater to that market by producing instructional materials in accord with the state’s preferences. California was ground zero in the debate over K–12 math curriculum in the 1990s, a conflict that eventually spread coast to coast and around the world. A brief history will help set the stage.

Historical Context

Standards define what students are expected to learn—the knowledge, skills, and concepts that every student should master at a given grade level. Frameworks provide guidance for meeting the standards—including advice on curriculum, instruction, and assessments. The battle over the 1992 California state framework, a document admired by math reformers nationwide, started slowly, smoldered for a few years, and then burst into a full-scale, media-enthralling conflict by the end of the decade. That battle ended in 1997 when the math reformers’ opponents, often called math traditionalists, convinced state officials to adopt math standards that rejected the inquiry-based, constructivist philosophy of existing state math policy.

The traditionalists featured a unique coalition of parents and professional mathematicians—scholars in university mathematics departments, not education schools—who were organized via a new tool of political advocacy: the Internet.

The traditionalist standards lasted about a decade. By the end of the aughts, the standards were tarnished by their association with the unpopular No Child Left Behind Act, which mandated that schools show all students scoring at the “proficient” level on state tests by 2014 or face consequences. It was clear that virtually every school in the country would be deemed a failure, No Child Left Behind had plummeted in the public’s favor, and policymakers needed something new. Enter the Common Core State Standards.

The Common Core authors wanted to avoid a repeat of the 1990s math wars, and that meant compromise. Math reformers were satisfied by the standards’ recommendation that procedures (computation), conceptual understanding, and problem solving receive “equal emphasis.” Traditionalists were satisfied with the Common Core requirement that students had to master basic math facts for addition and multiplication and the standard algorithms (step-by-step computational procedures) for all four operations—addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division.

California is a Common Core state and, for the most part, has avoided the political backlash that many states experienced a few years after the standards’ widespread adoption. The first Common Core–oriented framework, published in 2013, was noncontroversial; however, compromises reflected in the careful wording of some learning objectives led to an unraveling when the framework was revised and presented for public comment in 2021.

Unlike most of the existing commentary on the revised framework, my analysis here focuses on the elementary grades and how the framework addresses two aspects of math: basic facts and standard algorithms. The two topics are longstanding sources of disagreement between math reformers and traditionalists. They were flashpoints in the 1990s math wars, and they are familiar to most parents from the kitchen-table math that comes home from school. In the case of the California framework, these two topics illustrate how reformers have diverged from the state’s content standards, ignored the best research on teaching and learning, and relied on questionable research to justify the framework’s approach.

Photo of Jo Boaler
Jo Boaler is a math education professor at Stanford and member of the California Math Framework writing committee.

Addition and Multiplication Facts

Fluency in mathematics usually refers to students’ ability to perform calculations quickly and accurately. The Common Core mathematics standards call for students to know addition and multiplication facts “from memory,” and the California math standards expect the same. The task of knowing basic facts in subtraction and division is made easier by those operations being the inverse, respectively, of addition and multiplication. If one knows that 5 + 6 = 11, then it logically follows that 11 – 6 = 5; and if 8 × 9 = 72, then surely 72 ÷ 9 = 8.

Cognitive psychologists have long pointed out the value of automaticity with number facts—the ability to retrieve facts immediately from long-term memory without even thinking about them. Working memory is limited; long-term memory is vast. In that way, math facts are to math as phonics is to reading. If these facts are learned and stored in long-term memory, they can be retrieved effortlessly when the student is tackling more-complex cognitive tasks. In a recent interview, Sal Khan, founder of Khan Academy, observed, “I visited a school in the Bronx a few months ago, and they were working on exponent properties like: two cubed, to the seventh power. So, you multiply the exponents, and it would be two to [the] 21st power. But the kids would get out the calculator to find out three times seven.” Even though they knew how to solve the exponent exercise itself, “the fluency gap was adding to the cognitive load, taking more time, and making things much more complex.”

California’s proposed framework mentions the words “memorize” and “memorization” 27 times, but all in a negative or downplaying way. For example, the framework states: “In the past, fluency has sometimes been equated with speed, which may account for the common, but counterproductive, use of timed tests for practicing facts. . . . Fluency is more than the memorization of facts or procedures, and more than understanding and having the ability to use one procedure for a given situation.” (All framework quotations here are from the most recent public version, a draft presented for the second field review, a 60-day public-comment period in 2022.)

One can find the intellectual origins of the framework on the website of Youcubed, a Stanford University math research center led by Jo Boaler, who is a math education professor at Stanford and member of the framework writing committee. Youcubed is cited 28 times in the framework, including Boaler’s essay on that site, “Fluency without Fear: Research Evidence on the Best Ways to Learn Math Facts.” The framework cites Boaler an additional 48 times.

The framework’s attempt to divorce fluency from speed (and from memory retrieval) leads it to distort the state’s math standards. “The acquisition of fluency with multiplication facts begins in third grade and development continues in grades four and five,” the framework states. Later it says, “Reaching fluency with multiplication and division within 100 represents a major portion of upper elementary grade students’ work.”

Both statements are inaccurate. The state’s 3rd-grade standard is that students will know multiplication facts “from memory,” not that they will begin fluency work and continue development in later grades. After 3rd grade, the standards do not mention multiplication facts again. In 4th grade, for example, the standards call for fluency with multidigit multiplication, a stipulation embedded within “understanding of place value to 1,000,000.” Students lacking automaticity with basic multiplication facts will be stopped cold. Parents who are concerned that their 4th graders don’t know the times tables, let alone how to multiply multidigit numbers, will be directed to the framework to justify children falling behind the standards’ expectations.

After the release of Common Core, the authors of the math standards published “Progressions” documents that fleshed out the standards in greater detail. The proposed framework notes approvingly, “The Progressions for the Common Core State Standards documents are a rich resource; they (McCallum, Daro, and Zimba, 2013) describe how students develop mathematical understanding from kindergarten through grade twelve.” But the Progressions contradict the framework on fluency. They state: “The word fluent is used in the Standards to mean ‘fast and accurate.’ Fluency in each grade involves a mixture of just knowing some answers, knowing some answers from patterns (e.g., ‘adding 0 yields the same number’), and knowing some answers from the use of strategies.”

Students progress toward fluency in a three-stage process: use strategies, apply patterns, and know from memory. Students who have attained automaticity with basic facts have reached the top step and just know them, but some students may take longer to commit facts to memory. As retrieval takes over, the possibility of error declines. Students who know 7 × 7 = 49 but must “count on” by 7 to confirm that 8 × 7 = 56 are vulnerable to errors to which students who “just know” that 7 × 8 = 56 are impervious. In terms of speed, the analogous process in reading is decoding text. Students who “just know” certain words because they have read them frequently are more fluent readers than students who must pause to sound out those words phonetically. This echoes the point Sal Khan made about students who know how to work with exponents raised to another power but still need a calculator for simple multiplication facts.

Photo of Sal Khan
Sal Khan, the founder of Khan Academy, observed that, “the fluency gap was adding to the cognitive load, taking more time, and making things much more complex.”

Standard Algorithms

Algorithms are methods for solving multi-digit calculations. Standard algorithms are simply those used conventionally. Learning the standard algorithms of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division allows students to extend single-digit knowledge to multi-digit computation, while being mindful of place value and the possible need for regrouping.

Barry Garelick, a math teacher and critic of Common Core, posted a series of blog posts about the standards and asked, “Can one teach only the standard algorithm and meet the Common Core State Standards?” Jason Zimba, who is one of three authors of the Common Core math standards, responded:

Provided the standards as a whole are being met, I would say that the answer to this question is yes. The basic reason for this is that the standard algorithm is “based on place value [and] properties of operations.” That means it qualifies. In short, the Common Core requires the standard algorithm; additional algorithms aren’t named, and they aren’t required.

Zimba provides a table showing how exclusively teaching the standard algorithms of addition and subtraction could be accomplished, presented not as a recommendation, but as “one way it could be done.” Zimba’s approach begins in 1st grade, with students—after receiving instruction in place value—learning the proper way to line up numbers vertically. “Whatever one thinks of the details in the table, I would think that if the culminating standard in grade 4 is realistically to be met, then one likely wants to introduce the standard algorithm pretty early in the addition and subtraction progression.”

Note the term “culminating standard.” That implies the endpoint of development. The framework, however, interprets 4th grade as the grade of first exposure, not the culmination—and extends that misinterpretation to all four operations with whole numbers. “The progression of instruction in standard algorithms begins with the standard algorithm for addition and subtraction in grade four; multiplication is addressed in grade five; the introduction of the standard algorithm for whole number division occurs in grade six,” the framework reads.

This advice would place California 6th graders years behind the rest of the world in learning algorithms. In Singapore, for example, division of whole numbers up to 10,000 is taught in 3rd grade. The justification for delay stated in the framework is: “Students who use invented strategies before learning standard algorithms understand base-ten concepts more fully and are better able to apply their understanding in new situations than students who learn standard algorithms first (Carpenter et al., 1997).”

The 1997 Carpenter study, however, is a poor reference for the framework’s assertion. That study’s authors declare, “Instruction was not a focus of this study, and the study says very little about how students actually learned to use invented strategies.” In addition, the study sample was not scientifically selected to be representative, and the authors warn, “The characterization of patterns of development observed in this study cannot be generalized to all students.”

As for the Progressions documents mentioned above, they do not prohibit learning standard algorithms before the grade level of the “culminating expectation.” Consistent with Jason Zimba’s approach, forms of the standard addition and subtraction algorithms are presented as 2nd grade topics, two years before students are required to demonstrate fluency.

The selective use of evidence extends beyond the examples above, as is clear from the research that is cited—and not cited—by the framework.

Research Cited by the Framework

On June 1, 2021, Jo Boaler issued a tweet asserting, “This 4 week camp increases student achievement by the equivalent of 2.8 years.” The tweet included information on a two-day workshop at Stanford for educators interested in holding a Youcubed-inspired summer camp. The Youcubed website promotes the summer camp with the same claim of additional years of learning.

Where did the 2.8 years come from? The first Youcubed math camp was held on the Stanford campus in 2015 with 83 6th and 7th graders. For 18 days, students spent mornings working on math problems and afternoons touring the campus in small groups, going on scavenger hunts, and taking photographs. The students also received instruction targeting their mathematical mindsets, learning that there is no such thing as “math people” and “nonmath people,” that being fast at math is not important, and that making mistakes and struggling, along with thinking visually and making connections between mathematical representations, promote brain growth. Big ideas, open-ended tasks, collaborative problem solving, lessons on mindset, and inquiry-based teaching—these are foundational to the framework. The camp offers a test run of the proposed framework, the document asserting that the camps “significantly increase achievement in a short period of time.”

The claim of growth is based on an assessment the researchers administered on the first and last days of the camp. The test consisted of four open-ended problems, called “tasks,” scored by a rubric, with both the problems and the rubric created by the Mathematical Assessment Research Service, or MARS. Students were given four tasks on the first day and the same four tasks on the final day of camp. An effect size of 0.91 was calculated by dividing the difference between the group’s pre- and post-test average scores by the pre-test standard deviation. How this effect size was converted into years of learning is not explained, but researchers usually do this based on typical rates of achievement growth among students taking standardized math tests in consecutive years.

In 2019, the Youcubed summer-camp program went national. An in-house study was conducted involving 10 school districts in five states where the camps served about 900 students in total and ranged from 10 to 28 days. The study concluded, “The average gain score for participating students across all sites was 0.52 standard deviation units (SD), equivalent to 1.6 years of growth in math.”

Let’s consider these reported gains in the context of recent NAEP math scores. The 2022 scores triggered nationwide concern as 4th graders’ scores fell to 236 scale score points from 241 in 2019, a decline of 0.16 standard deviations. Eighth graders’ scores declined to 274 from 282, equivalent to 0.21 standard deviations. Headlines proclaimed that two decades of learning had been wiped out by two years of pandemic. A McKinsey report estimated that NAEP scores might not return to 2019 levels until 2036.

If the Youcubed gains are to be believed, all pandemic learning losses can be restored, and additional gains achieved, by two to four weeks of summer school.

There are several reasons to doubt the study’s conclusions, the most notable of which is the lack of a comparison group to gauge the program’s effects as measured by the MARS outcome. School districts recruited students for the camps. No data are provided on the number of students approached, the number who refused, and the number who accepted but didn’t show up. The final group of participating students comprises the study’s treatment group. The claim that these students experienced 1.6 years of growth in math is based solely on the change in students’ scores on the MARS tasks between the first and last day of the program.

This is especially problematic because the researchers gave students the same four MARS tasks before and after the program. Using the exact same instrument to test and re-test students within four weeks could inflate post-treatment scores, especially if the students worked on similar problems during the camp. No data are provided confirming that the MARS tasks are suitable, in terms of technical quality, for use in estimating the summer camp’s effect. Nor do the authors demonstrate that the tasks are representative of the full range of math content that students are expected to master, which is essential to justify reporting students’ progress in terms of years of learning. Even the grade level of the tasks is unknown, although camp attendees spanned grades 5 to 7, and MARS offers three levels of tasks (novice, apprentice, and expert).

The study’s problems extend to its treatment of attrition from the treatment sample. For one of the participating school districts (#2), 47 students are reported enrolled, but the camp produces 234 test scores—a mystery that goes unexplained. When this district is omitted, the remaining nine districts are lacking pre- and post-test scores for about one-third of enrolled students, who presumably were absent on either the first or last day. The study reports attendance rates in each district as the percentage of students who attended 75 percent of the days or more, with the median district registering 84 percent. Four districts reported less than 70 percent of students meeting that attendance threshold. A conventional metric for attendance during a school year is that students who miss 10 percent of days are “chronically absent.” By that standard, attendance at the camps appears spotty at best, and in four of the 10 camps, quite poor.

These are serious weaknesses. Just as the camps serve as prototypes of the framework’s ideas about good curriculum and instruction, the studies of Youcubed summer camps are illustrative of what the framework considers compelling research. The studies do not meet minimal standards of causal evidence.

Photo of Brian Conrad
Brian Conrad, professor of mathematics at Stanford University, has analyzed the framework’s citations and documented many instances where the original findings of studies were distorted.

Research Omitted by the Framework

It is also informative to look at research that is not included in the California framework.

The What Works Clearinghouse, housed within the federal Institute of Education Sciences, publishes practice guides for educators. The guides aim to provide concise summaries of high-quality research on various topics. A panel of experts conducts a search of the research literature and screens studies for quality, following strict protocols. Experimental and quasi-experimental studies are favored because of their ability to estimate causal effects. The panel summarizes the results, linking each recommendation to supporting studies. The practice guides present the best scientifically sound evidence on causal relationships in teaching and learning.

How many of the studies cited in the practice guides are also cited in the framework? To find out, I searched the framework for citations to the studies cited by the four practice guides most relevant to K–12 math instruction. Here are the results:

Assisting Students Struggling with Mathematics: Intervention in the Elementary Grades
(2021) 0 out of 43 studies

Teaching Strategies for Improving Algebra Knowledge in Middle and High School Students
(2015, revised 2019) 0 out of 12 studies

Improving Mathematical Problem Solving in Grades 4 Through 8
(2012) 0 out of 37 studies

Developing Effective Fractions Instruction for Kindergarten Through 8th Grade
(2010) 1 out of 22 studies

Except for one study, involving teaching the number line to young children using games, the framework ignores the best research on K–12 mathematics. How could this happen?

One powerful clue: key recommendations in the practice guides directly refute the framework. Timed activities with basic facts, for example, are recommended to increase fluency, with the “Struggling Students” guide declaring “the expert panel assigned a strong level [emphasis original] of evidence to this recommendation based on 27 studies of the effectiveness of activities to support automatic retrieval of basic facts and fluid performance of other tasks involved in solving complex problems.” Calls for explicit or systematic instruction in the guides fly in the face of the inquiry methods endorsed in the framework. Worked examples, in which teachers guide students step by step from problem to solution, are encouraged in the guides but viewed skeptically by the framework for not allowing productive struggle.

Bumpy Road Ahead

The proposed California Math Framework not only ignores key expectations of the state’s math standards, but it also distorts or redefines them to serve a reform agenda. The standards call for students to know “from memory” basic addition facts by the end of 2nd grade and multiplication facts by the end of 3rd grade. But the framework refers to developing fluency with basic facts as a major topic of 4th through 6th grades. Fluency is redefined to disregard speed. Instruction on standard algorithms is delayed by interpreting the grades for culminating standards as the grades in which standard algorithms are first encountered. California’s students will be taught the standard algorithm for division years after the rest of the world.

The framework’s authors claim to base their recommendations on research, but it is unclear how—or even if—they conducted a literature search or what criteria they used to identify high-quality studies. The document serves as a manifesto for K–12 math reform, citing sources that support its arguments and ignoring those that do not, even if the omitted research includes the best scholarship on teaching and learning mathematics. Brian Conrad, professor of mathematics at Stanford University, has analyzed the framework’s citations and documented many instances where the original findings of studies were distorted. In some cases, the papers’ conclusions were the opposite of those presented in the framework.

The pandemic took a toll on math learning. To return to a path of achievement will require the effort of teachers, parents, and students. Unfortunately, if the state adopts the proposed framework in its current form, the document will offer little assistance in tackling the hard work ahead.

Tom Loveless, a former 6th-grade teacher and Harvard public policy professor, is an expert on student achievement, education policy, and reform in K–12 schools. He also was a member of the National Math Advisory Panel and U.S. representative to the General Assembly, International Association for the Evaluation of Educational Achievement, 2004–2012.

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Rethinking Math Education https://www.educationnext.org/rethinking-math-education-educators-differ-curriculum-methods-forum/ Tue, 12 Jul 2022 09:00:26 +0000 https://www.educationnext.org/?p=49715519 Educators differ on curriculum and methods

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Illustration

In 2021, California set off a national debate on the future of K–12 math education when the state unveiled new guidelines for teaching the subject. The proposed curriculum framework, though non-binding, calls for schools to: offer data-science courses in addition to algebra, pre-calculus, and calculus; have students take algebra in 9th grade rather than 8th; and ask teachers to infuse social-justice concepts into math lessons.

Should U.S. K–12 math curriculum change—and if so, how? Should schools emphasize “deeper understanding” or drilling and memorization? Should they shift their emphasis toward data science and away from calculus? What are the tradeoffs and risks of these different approaches, and which path will best prepare students to thrive as citizens and as workers in our ever-changing economy? In this forum, University of Chicago economist Steven Levitt and his colleague Jeffrey Severts advance one perspective, while Boaz Barak, computer science professor at Harvard, and Adrian Mims of The Calculus Project offer another.

Photo of Steven Levitt and Jeffrey Severts

 

Every Student Needs 21st-Century Data-Literacy Skills
By Steven Levitt and Jeffrey Severts

 

 

Photo of Boaz Barak and Adrian Mims

 

Data Science Is No Panacea for High-School Math Education
By Boaz Barak and Adrian Mims

 

This article appeared in the Fall 2022 issue of Education Next. Suggested citation format:

Levitt, S., Severts, J., Barak, B., and Mims, A. (2022). Rethinking Math Education: Educators differ on curriculum and methods. Education Next, 22(4), 66-71.

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Teaching about Slavery https://www.educationnext.org/teaching-about-slavery-forum-guelzo-berry-blight-rowe-stang-allen-maranto/ Tue, 21 Sep 2021 07:59:33 +0000 https://www.educationnext.org/?p=49713957 “Asking how to teach about slavery is a little like asking why we teach at all”

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Drana and Jack
Drana and Jack. About the art

Both race in the classroom and the New York Times’s 1619 Project have been the subject of recent state legislative efforts, heated debate, and extensive press coverage, both at Education Next (see, for example, “Critical Race Theory Collides with the Law,” legal beat, Fall 2021, and “The 1619 Project Enters American Classrooms,” features, Fall 2020) and elsewhere. The post-George Floyd racial reckoning and the new Juneteenth federal holiday have roused attention toward teaching the history of slavery in America. As part of our continuing coverage of these issues, we asked some of the nation’s foremost scholars and practitioners to respond to the prompt, “How should K–12 schools teach about slavery in America? What pitfalls should teachers and textbooks avoid? What facts and concepts should they stress? Are schools generally doing a good or bad job of this now?”

The forum contributors are:

  • Allen C. Guelzo, who is director of the James Madison Program Initiative on Politics and Statesmanship and senior research scholar in the Council of the Humanities at Princeton University.
  • Daina Ramey Berry, who is Oliver H. Radkey Regents Professor of History and chairperson of the History Department at the University of Texas at Austin.
  • David W. Blight, who is Sterling Professor of American History at Yale University and who wrote the introductory essay for the Southern Poverty Law Center’s 2019 report Teaching Hard History: Slavery, which he draws upon here.
  • Ian V. Rowe, who is a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute and a senior visiting fellow at the Woodson Center.
  • Adrienne Stang, who is director of social studies for the Cambridge, Massachusetts, public schools, and Danielle Allen, who is James Bryant Conant University Professor at Harvard University and a candidate for governor of Massachusetts.
  • Robert Maranto, who is the 21st Century Chair in Leadership in the Department of Education Reform at the University of Arkansas, and who from 2015–20 served on the Fayetteville School Board.

Their answers in some cases reached past the prompt to even higher-level questions about the purpose, or purposes, of history or social-studies education: To explode complacency among students and to “introduce them to the human condition, the drama, the travail of love and hate, and of exploitation and survival in history,” as David W. Blight puts it? To offer students “empowering narratives of personal and collective agency,” as Adrienne Stang and Danielle Allen put it? Or to “inspire a reverence for liberty and the American experiment,” as Ian Rowe says? The contentiousness around the questions about “how” and “what” in slavery education may well be related in part to the horrors of the underlying story and to the remnants of Civil War rifts. Perhaps too, though, the debates point to unresolved questions, or at least multiple answers, about the “why.”


Teaching “the Antislavery Project”

By Allen C. Guelzo, Princeton University

Photo of Allen GuelzoIn 2018, Harvard’s Donald Yacovone published in the Chronicle of Higher Education a review of 3,000 American-history textbooks stretching back into the 19th century. He was looking particularly for how these textbooks handled the subject of slavery—and was appalled (though not entirely surprised) that they depicted slavery as a benign institution where “untutored” blacks could “enjoy picnics, barbecues, singing, and dancing.” My own schooling, in the 1960s, mainly ignored the topic; the innovative American studies program I enjoyed at my public high school in Pennsylvania began with the Articles of Confederation and the Constitutional Convention and got to the Civil War in four weeks without a sideways glance at slavery.

We have preferred to diminish slavery because of the uneasiness with which it sits beside our founding propositions about equality and liberty, and for the price we fear we might have to pay for exhuming it for full pedagogical display. But I would suggest that neither anxiety is really justified, and we can best begin to understand that by looking at the early decades of the Confederation and the Constitution.

We should begin by helping students understand that the American economy of the 18th century—and the work people did in it—was barely emerging from the Middle Ages. As Robert J. Gordon documents in The Rise and Fall of American Growth, this was a world where 50 pounds of wood or coal had to be split or toted every day for every household, where 50 gallons of water had to be hauled every day from pumps or springs for washing or cooking, and where forced labor of varying kinds was the general solution. Servitude—in the form of redemptioners, inmates, convicts, slaves—pervaded societies; in colonial America, as many as 60 percent of people between the ages of 15 and 24 were servants, and even independent skilled artisans worked for patrons rather than customers. Legally, servants were “free,” unlike slaves, but only under very restrictive circumstances. Practically, the line between servants and slaves was thin, almost to the point of invisibility, except for the factor of race. Forced labor, in short, was the “normal” condition of most people in the Atlantic world on the eve of the American Revolution.

Drana
Drana. About the art

All this, however, was undergoing a major shift in the decades of the Confederation and the new Constitution. Between 1750 and 1850, service in America yielded to independence, patronage evaporated, and (as Alexis de Tocqueville noted in Democracy in America) “everyone works to live” and assumed that “work is a necessary, natural and honest condition of humanity.” And with these changes, slavery likewise lost the sense of being a normal or inevitable condition; hence, the rise for the first time of an abolition movement. The Constitution is a silent reflection of this change, simply because the Constitution contains no provisions for the regulation of labor apart from a single ambiguous direction that “No person held to service or labour in one state, under the laws thereof, escaping into another, shall, in consequence of any law or regulation therein, be discharged from such service or labour, but shall be delivered up on claim of the party to whom such service or labour may be due” (article 4, section 2) and the delegation of authority to Congress to terminate the “importation” of “persons” beginning in 1808 (article 1, section 9).

Although it is possible to view other provisions of the Constitution as implying a legitimatization of slavery, the document sedulously refuses to use the terms slave or slavery. As Roger Sherman, who sat in the Constitutional Convention for Connecticut, insisted, the Constitution must make no concession “acknowledging men to be property.” And this refusal to grant legal countenance to slavery was how subsequent generations understood the Constitution’s intent. It gave substance to what James Oakes has called “the Antislavery Project” and inspired abolitionist leaders, from Frederick Douglass to William Henry Seward, who insisted that the Constitution established freedom as the national norm. Abraham Lincoln believed, in 1860, that “this mode of alluding to slaves and slavery, instead of speaking of them, was employed on purpose to exclude from the Constitution the idea that there could be property in man.” Even Southern slaveholders squirmed to admit that, as one of them wrote in 1857, “without the need of infringing the letter of a single article of the Constitution . . . Negro slavery may be thus abolished, either directly or indirectly, gradually or immediately.”

We ignore slavery, and its catalog of horrors, only when we are careless or deceitful. At the same time, we should not lose sight of how the American founding coincided with a vast reconception of the meaning of work and labor, a reconception that signaled the beginning of the end of the varied forms of forced labor, from service to slavery, and that the Founders’ generation had already glimpsed, however distantly. It will be the task of today’s students not only to grasp the significance of that revolution but also to remain vigilant against the various modern forms in which forced labor seeks to regain a position in our world.


“Wake Up the Sleeper”

By David W. Blight, Yale University

Photo of David W. BlightIn his longform masterpiece of an autobiography My Bondage and My Freedom (1855), Frederick Douglass, the former slave turned internationally famed orator and writer, draws his reader in with a remembrance of a child’s question: “Why am I a slave? Why are some people slaves, and others masters?”

“Why am I a slave?” is an existential question that anticipates many others in human history. Why am I poor? Why is he so rich, and she only his servant or chattel? Why am I feared or hated for my religion, my race, my sexuality, the accident of my birth in this valley or on that side of the river or this side of the railroad tracks? Why am I a refugee with no home? Why does my neighborhood seem to determine my life chances? Or, indeed, why did those people write a constitution in the 1780s, or forge such a model higher-education system, or a reform movement for women’s equality? Douglass’s immortal story of his slave youth represents so many others, universally, over the ages. And don’t we want youth to ask this question why, and then provide them with knowledge out of which to forge answers?

Jack
Jack

Asking how to teach about slavery is a little like asking why we teach at all. We teach this subject because it is there, and it is so important. How can we not teach about this deeply human and American story and so many others like it? We do so not to forge a negative cast of mind in young people, but to introduce them to the human condition, the drama, the travail of love and hate, and of exploitation and survival in history. We teach them about American slavery because we have learned that this story helped shape the United States in fundamental ways, as personal experience and in the formation of the American nation, as well as its reformation in the wake of the Civil War and emancipation. Listening to Douglass ask, “Why am I a slave?” is similar to how we, nationally, are now asking, “Why is it that Reconstruction seems never to be over?” Out of conflict—“divisive issues” as some have branded it—comes great historical change, as we have learned over and again.

Slavery is not an aberration in the American past; it is at the heart of our history, a main event, a central foundational story. Slavery is also ancient; it has existed in all cultures and in all times. Slavery has always tended to evolve in circumstances of an abundance of land or resources along with a scarcity and demand for labor. It still exists today in myriad forms the world struggles to fight. The difference in the 21st century is that, in most countries, virtually all forms of trafficking and enslavement are illegal. For the two and a half centuries in which American slavery evolved, slavery operated largely as a thoroughly legal practice, buttressed by local law and in degrees by the U.S. Constitution.

In America, our preferred, deep national narratives tend to teach our young that, despite our problems in the past, we have been a nation of freedom-loving, inclusive people, accepting the immigrant into a land of multiethnic diversity. Our diversity has made us strong; that cannot be denied. But that “composite nation,” as Frederick Douglass called it in the 1870s—a dream and sometimes a reality—emerged from generations of what can best be called tyranny. When one studies slavery long enough, in the words of the great scholar David Brion Davis, “we come to realize that tyranny is a central theme of American history, that racial exploitation and racial conflict have been part of the DNA of American culture.” Freedom and tyranny, wrapped in the same historical bundle, feeding upon and making one another, had by the late 18th century created a remarkably original nation dedicated to Thomas Jefferson’s idea of the “truths” of natural rights, popular sovereignty, the right of revolution, and human equality, but also built as an edifice designed to protect and expand chattel slavery. Americans do not always like to face the contradictions in their past, but in so many ways, we are our contradictions, and we have to face them.

The biggest obstacle to teaching slavery effectively in America is the abiding American need to conceive of and understand our history as “progress,” as the story of a people and a nation that always sought the improvement of mankind, the advancement of liberty and justice, the broadening of pursuits of happiness for all. While there are many real threads to this story—about immigration, about our creeds and ideologies, and about race and emancipation and civil rights, there is also the broad, untidy underside.

The point is not to teach American history as a chronicle of shame and oppression. Far from it. The point is to tell American history as a story of real human beings, of power, of vast economic and geographical expansion, of great achievements as well as great dispossession, of human brutality and human reform. That goal can never be achieved without understanding the meanings and legacies of slavery.

The American writer James Baldwin was determined in season and out to make Americans face the pasts they preferred to ignore. In a 1962 essay, he said that the problem with the way Americans generally approach their past is that “words are mostly used to cover the sleeper, not to wake him up.” Exploding such complacency and teaching a real and informed history is the essential function of education. And we are always interested in keeping our students awake.


Understanding the “Many Degrees” of American Slavery

By Daina Ramey Berry, University of Texas at Austin

Photo of Daina Ramey Berry“I would rather die the death of the righteous than be a slave.”
—Stephen Pembroke

Stephen Pembroke attempted to liberate himself from a Maryland plantation in the 1850s with his teenaged sons, Robert and Jacob. Unfortunately, they were captured, chained, starved, separated, and sold. Stephen Pembroke eventually made it to freedom with the help of his brother. Speaking about his experiences, he said that slavery had “many degrees.” He spent 50 years enslaved, witnessing and experiencing “rigid and wicked,” “moderate,” and benevolent forms of captivity. Once freed, Pembroke had one request: “I would now like to have my sons out.” Unfortunately, his sons never attained their freedom.

Understanding the history of slavery through “many degrees” is an important lesson for those of us who teach this history today. By relying on the testimonies of the enslaved and the records of enslavers, we have an opportunity to learn about the degrees of slavery and freedom. Pembroke and countless others who lived through this institution have much to offer us. “The slave never knows when he is to be seized and scourged,” he continued, noting that his father was sold five times.

Drana
Drana

The best way to learn and teach this history with young people is to begin by studying the historical record from a variety of perspectives. However, with the latest political attacks on teaching accurate history in the United States—many launched through incorrect definitions of critical race theory—it’s important to take stock of how we are teaching students about slavery and identify areas that need improvement.

Contemporary Debates

Recent debates and proposed legislation confirm that our understanding of American slavery varies. Some educators did not learn about the institution in their academic training and may find it hard to imagine teaching it to their own elementary and high school students. Some may present misguided and insensitive classroom activities and exercises, such as one lesson at a Wisconsin middle school that asked students how they would punish an insubordinate slave. The politicization of history further complicates this knowledge gap, particularly pertaining to the importance of specific dates. For most trained historians, dates are important, but debates about their significance move us further away from the history that we ought to know. One example is the recent dispute over the dates marking America’s beginnings. Some, like Nikole Hannah-Jones, argue for the significance of 1619, the year the first Africans arrived in the colonies. Others claim 1776, the year of the Declaration of Independence, as the most important starting point for American history. Both dates overlook the early arrival of the Spanish and Portuguese in the 16th century and limit our opportunity to learn deeper and more inclusive histories. How can we teach a history that encompasses the experiences of enslaved people like Pembroke, who preferred death to slavery? The answer is simple: through an exploration of multiple perspectives, regions, work settings, and experiences using primary-source documents.

Slavery has been an integral part of global and American history. It was primarily an economic institution that had a hefty political and social impact on American society, particularly the lives and families of the enslaved as well as enslavers. In teaching this history, we must avoid objectifying enslaved people and reducing them to passive victims. They were human beings with incredibly strong wills who survived 12- to 18-hour workdays, yet still created and maintained family connections despite the constant threat of separation and sale. It is important to see enslaved people as individuals who rebelled and resisted at every stage of their experience—from the moment they were kidnapped and enslaved to their trans-Atlantic voyages to organized rebellions and individual acts of suicide, infanticide, or escape. Enslaved people also found strength in their families and communities and found moments of joy to cope with their pain. Their enslavers were also human and not a monolithic group. Some struggled with their enslaving practices, while others thrived and prospered. They had large plantations in rural areas as well as small- to middle-sized holdings in industrial or domestic settings. We must be prepared to teach the diversity of experiences during slavery.

Myths of Slavery

The vacuum created by our public-school teaching has been filled by many myths about slavery. Much of what we know has been taught exclusively from the perspective of enslavers and with the view that it was a Southern, plantation-based, cotton-producing enterprise. But slavery existed in all 13 colonies (the partial exception was the colony of Georgia, which had a ban on slavery for the first 20 years of its existence). As the system matured, enslaved people labored in a variety of settings large and small; urban and rural; industrial and agricultural; as well as at universities and in city municipalities. They produced cotton, of course, but they also produced sugar, rice, indigo, and wheat. Slave labor was used to build our U.S. Capitol and many state capitols around the country. An accurate study of slavery would emphasize the differences between the experiences of those enslaved on a farm in Mississippi and those forced to work in a shipyard in New York City.

Jack
Jack

Debunking the myths of slavery is a starting point. Understanding that slavery was a billion-dollar industry that impacted every aspect of the global economy and was not limited to the South is yet another place to begin our lessons. Many financial repercussions reverberate today through corporations and industries that were built on the wealth generated during slavery. In private settings, families have created intergenerational wealth from money earned during the era of slavery. The political impact of slavery is usually reduced to its role in the Civil War, but students also must learn that the framing of the U.S. Constitution included debates about slavery, and one of the legacies of slavery involves the creation of our modern criminal (in)justice system.

Educational Resources

Developers of traditional resources such as textbooks are making strides in incorporating the history of slavery into their new editions. However, there are few textbooks approved by school boards that present the subject in a well-rounded, thoughtful way. In fact, one middle-school textbook does not mention African Americans until it gets beyond the American Revolution and then discusses only the enslaved. This kind of treatment of the subject does not fully reflect the lived experience. Many teachers, correctly, rely on original documents. The best documents available are right under our noses on websites and in libraries. For example, first-person narratives are easily accessible via the Library of Congress website, as are the historical laws governing the institution of slavery, including slave codes and compromises.

We can learn more about slavery by looking to those who experienced and enforced it. Narratives such as Pembroke’s and countless others paint an accurate and vivid picture for students, as do plantation records that offer details about the exploitation and management of the enslaved. Until standardized testing, state standards, school boards, and curriculum fully incorporate the complex history of slavery, we will miss the history of “righteous slaves” and their “many degrees” of slavery that Pembroke shared and so many others tried to teach us.


Truth and Empowerment

A framework for teaching about enslavement

By Adrienne Stang, Cambridge Public Schools, and Danielle Allen, Harvard University

Photo of Adrienne Stang and Danielle AllenTeachers of U.S. history should aspire to engage students in history and civic learning that honestly represents the wrongs of our national past, without pulling us into cynicism—and that is equally truthful about our country’s accomplishments, without pivoting to adulation. In the case of the history of enslavement, this requires teachers and learners to make meaning together. Students enter discussions about enslavement from a wide range of starting points in terms of both historical content (or lack thereof) and emotional responses. Our hope for learners is that they will come to understand the past, including the whys and hows of people who did wrong to others, and how those who were wronged and their allies resisted oppressive structures. We recommend instruction that focuses on the agency and voices of those who were enslaved as fundamental to achieving that understanding and to ensuring that even hard histories can become sources of hope in the present.

To support 5th-grade teachers in this critical work, we developed lessons on enslavement built on the pedagogical tool of “co-processing.”  Co-processing captures the experience of children learning and making meaning of new information with the support of a caring classroom teacher or other empathic adult. When learning about enslavement and other difficult histories, the teacher begins by providing learners the opportunity to share what they know and how they feel. The educator validates students’ feelings and provides opportunities for students to question their ideas, when appropriate, and to deepen their knowledge through historical inquiry. Throughout the unit, teachers support students in building on prior knowledge and clarifying misconceptions. Ultimately, the teacher supports students in converting a variety of starting points into usable narratives that are truthful and empowering.

Delia
Delia

From the start of this process, teachers and learners understand that they will be learning, thinking, feeling, and evaluating together. Teachers explain that they will be doing this in relation to troubling historical material that may raise complicated emotions. Several lessons are structured around Glenn Singleton’s Courageous Conversations Compass for conversations about race. Singleton’s compass has four points—emotional, intellectual, moral, and relational—and reminds us that people process information about racism in different ways. Students will gravitate toward different compass points, and skillful teachers will help students explore all four elements as they learn about the history of enslavement.

In teaching about the realities of enslavement, we emphasize primary sources written by people who were enslaved themselves, including Olaudah Equiano, Harriet Jacobs, and Frederick Douglass. This approach underscores the humanity and individuality of enslaved African Americans and offers students empowering narratives of personal and collective agency.

After students learn the history of enslavement, they study the antebellum abolition movement by comparing and contrasting the life experiences of different abolitionists. This investigation helps students understand that abolitionists included men and women from different races and social classes. Some were born into enslavement; others were born free. They included politicians, public speakers, writers, and conductors on the Underground Railroad. Many worked for other causes, such as women’s rights. Many risked their lives to end enslavement. Abolitionists of varying backgrounds formed alliances to help bring an end to enslavement in the United States.

In teaching these lessons, the pitfalls are many. We seek to avoid victim-centered narratives of African American history without exculpating enslavers or sugarcoating the horrors of enslavement. Teachers must balance the brutality of enslavement with the developmental needs of their students; too much exposure to violence for younger learners is problematic, and we recommend avoiding images of the violence of enslavement prior to 8th grade. Also, the relation of past to present is an ever-present area of inquiry. Students learning about enslavement will typically make connections to anti-Black racism today. Teachers can support students in analyzing these connections when teaching about current events. Teachers will need to be attentive to the dynamics of their classroom community, including the racial dynamics. By sharing their own feelings about learning about the histories of enslavement, teachers can create a space where all students feel safe enough to share their experiences and feelings. Teachers will often need substantial professional development to become comfortable and competent in modeling this sensitive engagement with our hard histories of race and racism.

The story of racism in the United States did not end when the 13th Amendment abolished enslavement. It continued through the Jim Crow era and the terrorism of lynching. It is critical that the study of enslavement connects to our present-day realities, including the violent murder of George Floyd and too many others, as well as racial disparities in incarceration and health care. Singleton’s “relational” compass point asks us to reflect on what we will do with our knowledge. Exploring this question allows students not only to understand our shared history, but also to wrestle with what we should do now. By co-processing the difficult histories of enslavement and racism, classmates can build trust, civic friendship, and agency. Truthful and empowering history and civic learning should go hand in hand.


Inspire a Reverence for Liberty by Teaching the Full Story of American Slavery

By Ian V. Rowe, American Enterprise Institute, the Woodson Center

Photo of Ian V. RoweOn September 12, 1962, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke at the request of the New York Civil War Commission at the Centennial Celebration of the Emancipation Proclamation. In his remarks in New York City, King emphasized that the document that started the long process of ridding America of slavery was actually inspired by the core principle of equality embedded in the country’s founding document: “The Declaration of Independence proclaimed to a world, organized politically and spiritually around the concept of the inequality of man, that the dignity of human personality was inherent in man as a living being,” King said. “The Emancipation Proclamation was the offspring of the Declaration of Independence. It was a constructive use of the force of law to uproot a social order which sought to separate liberty from a segment of humanity.”

What King so eloquently revealed was that slavery, far from being a particular American atrocity, was an accepted, grotesque feature at the center of a world ordered around the normalcy of human bondage. Yet it was America’s Enlightenment principles that allowed it to “uproot a social order” and liberate millions of enslaved people in recognition of their inherent and individual human dignity.

As educators debate how best to teach K–12 students about slavery today, it is important to see its barbaric adoption in the United States as a dispiriting but common “oppressor versus oppressed” element of the human condition worldwide and to emphasize as uncommon America’s post-abolition march toward becoming a multiethnic society with an unprecedented combination of size, peacefulness, and prosperity. It is now accepted that America’s founders laid out inspiring ideals around life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness but also committed the original sin of not allowing all human beings the right to fully live up to those same ideals.

Delia
Delia

Yet despite that inherent contradiction, America has made steady progress dismantling laws that imposed a racial hierarchy. Educators today are trying to figure out how to portray slavery in America as an example of state-sanctioned oppression and one that is central to our history. Their challenge is to do that effectively while also celebrating how our nation’s enduring principles have provided the world an indispensable model of how formerly enslaved people came to regularly produce some of the country’s most influential leaders in virtually every facet of American life.

In 2020, I was proud to help found 1776 Unites, a project of the Woodson Center. Led by primarily Black activists, educators, and scholars, 1776 Unites acknowledges that “racial discrimination exists—and works towards diminishing it. But we dissent from contemporary groupthink and rhetoric about race, class, and American history that defames our national heritage, divides our people, and instills helplessness among those who already hold within themselves the grit and resilience to better their lot in life.”

1776 Unites has developed free K–12 lesson plans based on the 10 “Woodson Principles” of competence, integrity, transparency, resilience, witness, innovation, inspiration, agency, access, and grace. The curriculum offers lessons on Black excellence in the face of unimaginable adversity. Among such examples were the nearly 5,000 Rosenwald Schools built during the Jim Crow era that educated more than 700,000 Black children throughout 14 southern states. These 1776 Unites lessons are now used by educators in all 50 states in private, charter, district, and parochial schools, after-school programs, home schools, and prison ministries.

A hopeful and upwardly mobile future for Americans of all races must be built on a shared understanding of our past that is accurate and expansive, not falsely embellished and narrowly selective (a serious flaw of the New York Times’s 1619 Project). Educators must be encouraged to impart a more complete telling of the Black American experience, one that offers an empowering alternative to curricula that emphasize racial subjugation almost to the exclusion of Black resilience.

As King said on the 100th anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation: “If our nation had done nothing more in its whole history than to create just two documents, its contribution to civilization would be imperishable. The first of these documents is the Declaration of Independence and the other is that which we are here to honor tonight, the Emancipation Proclamation. All tyrants, past, present, and future, are powerless to bury the truths in these declarations, no matter how extensive their legions, how vast their power, and how malignant their evil.”

Those who seek to teach a sanitized version of history to achieve some false sense of patriotic education do our country and students a disservice, and, ironically, so do those who cherry-pick the most egregiously cruel acts to weave together a narrative of a permanent American malignancy of racism. It is through exposing “all the truths in these declarations” that we can best teach about U.S. slavery in K–12 schools, and, as a dividend, perhaps we will also inspire a reverence for liberty and the American experiment.


Confronting the New Lost Cause by Teaching Slavery in Context

By Robert Maranto, University of Arkansas

Photo of Robert MarantoWe cannot take the politics out of public schools, because decisions about what to teach and what to leave out are inherently political. Social-studies curricula seem the most political of all, since they lack the precision of math and combine history with heritage.

Though often wedded together, history and heritage differ. Like all tribes, the people of the United States have a shared heritage, the legends inspiring us to continue our nation. In contrast, the field of history is a Western invention seeking to portray what happened, warts and all. Heritage is Mason Weems’s myth that young George Washington confessed to chopping down the cherry tree because he couldn’t tell a lie. Arguably, history with a bit of heritage is Washington’s evolving discomfort with and eventual rejection of slavery.

Renty
Renty

These definitions matter, because the United States is a multicultural democracy where heritage influences the histories schools teach. As Jonathan Zimmerman observes in his classic Whose America? Culture Wars in the Public Schools, in the 1920s, Italians and Norwegians fought over whether Christopher Columbus or Leif Eriksson discovered America. Germans burnished their American credentials by inserting the historically unimportant but identifiably German Molly Pitcher into school textbooks; African Americans added Crispus Attucks. Marginalized groups thus married into the American heritage taught in schools.

In contrast, the early-20th-century Southern white activists promulgating the Lost Cause myths undermined both history and American heritage, creating a new Southern heritage through Southern schoolbooks whitewashing the Confederate cause. As Zimmerman details, the United Daughters of the Confederacy held student-essay contests defending slavery. One award winner portrayed slavery as “the happiest time of the negroes’ existence.” Zimmerman writes that “Confederate groups often challenged the entire concept of objectivity in history” by insisting that their lived experience offered unique insights that Northern scholars with their so-called objective historical methods could never uncover.

This should all sound familiar today. After suffering their own Appomattox with the fall of the Berlin Wall, Marxists became the new Confederates, supplanting scholarship with lived experience, stories, and now tweets. As Helen Pluckrose and James Lindsay detail in Cynical Theories: How Activist Scholarship Made Everything about Race, Gender, and Identity—and Why This Harms Everybody, in recent decades academic (and now journalistic) leftists replaced class politics with identity politics, retreating into postmodern rejection of universal truths. Accordingly, it would be a mistake in teaching about slavery to rely too much on tendentious sources such as the New York Times’s 1619 Project.

Some assert that American schools ignore slavery. This statement was probably accurate—in 1970. My children, one a high school senior and the other a recent graduate, agreed that our Arkansas public schools covered slavery and Jim Crow between six and eight times in 12 grades—far more than they covered the founding of the United States, the Constitution, or World War II; indeed, the latter made an appearance only once, or twice, counting a Holocaust unit. My kids also observed, however, that their schools’ treatment of slavery, like their coverage of history overall, was superficial. As one of my children put it, “They teach you slavery is bad, but not much else.” (This may characterize Arkansas standards generally. A recent Fordham Institute report rated them as “mediocre,” observing that, “strangely,” the topic of secession is not addressed in the state’s Arkansas history standard and that “the lack of direct references to slavery” in that standard was “notable.”) To the degree that our local teachers covered slavery, it was primarily through political history, as a key cause of the Missouri Compromise, the Compromise of 1850, and the Civil War, suggesting that state standards may bear little relation to what happens in class. Relatedly, Jim Crow is taught primarily through a matter of local interest, the integration of Little Rock Central. In fairness, as the Fordham Institute report makes clear, coverage of slavery and of history generally lacks depth in most states, not just in the South.

So what is to be done? You can’t beat something with nothing, so on the elementary level, schools might adopt the relatively specific Core Knowledge curricula, developed by E. D. Hirsch, in which knowledge builds on knowledge. To a far greater degree than is true of typical curricular approaches from education consultants, Core Knowledge focuses less on amorphous “skills” and more on facts, which provides the foundation for more knowledge and for interpretations. As Hirsch writes in The Schools We Need and Why We Don’t Have Them, psychological research shows that “the ability to learn something new depends on an ability to accommodate the new thing to the already known.” The more we already know, the easier it is to learn new information; hence better curricula can help. Teacher quality also matters. On the secondary level, where I do fieldwork, educators joke that every social-studies teacher has the same first name—“Coach”—suggesting the need to hire knowledgeable teachers, not those for whom teaching is a secondary priority and whose main expertise is athletics. Meanwhile, when educators teach about the owning of human beings, as indeed they should, they should teach within the context that slavery was not uniquely American but has existed in countries with every major religious tradition and on every inhabited continent. (Core Knowledge does this.) When teachers cover slavery, they should include discussions of which countries ended slavery, when, and why, perhaps using visual aids such as maps to help convey the information.

Educators could also make the broader point that nearly every country once had (and that some still have) slavery, but only America can claim the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the reconstruction of Europe and Japan after World War II, and an indispensable role in defeating the twin evils of fascism and communism. It is these uniquely American contributions that should define our nation for today’s schoolchildren and tomorrow’s citizens.

 

About the Art

The art accompanying this forum is by Jennifer Davis Carey. She writes: “This series was inspired by daguerreotypes commissioned by Professor Louis Agassiz to prove his theory that Blacks were a separate and lesser creation. The originals pose enslaved people from the Taylor Plantation in South Carolina unclad, positioned like biological specimens. The altered images humanize the subjects by clothing them and inviting the viewer to consider their faces, attire, and demeanor, and to redefine their relationship to Renty, Delia, Jack, Drana, and Fassena, and to this chapter in our shared history.” The artworks will be on display October 7 to November 8, 2021 at ArtsWorcester in Worcester, Massachusetts.

 

For more, please see “The Top 20 Education Next Articles of 2022.”

This article appeared in the Winter 2022 issue of Education Next. Suggested citation format:

Guelzo, A., Ramey Berry, D., Blight, D.W., Rowe, I.A., Stang, A., Allen, Maranto, R. (2022). Teaching about Slavery: “Asking how to teach about slavery is a little like asking why we teach at all” Education Next, 22(1), 64-74.

The post Teaching about Slavery appeared first on Education Next.

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Writing a Knowledge-Driven English Curriculum https://www.educationnext.org/writing-a-knowledge-driven-english-curriculum/ Thu, 12 Aug 2021 09:00:08 +0000 https://www.educationnext.org/?p=49713785 The limits of “Library Friday,” and the problem with the prompting guide—solved by putting the book back at the center of class.

The post Writing a Knowledge-Driven English Curriculum appeared first on Education Next.

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Illustration of many book covers

A few years ago, we started to re-imagine reading instruction, but the thought of writing a curriculum never entered our minds. There were things we thought reading teachers could do differently (some of which Doug described in his 2016 book written with Colleen Driggs and Erica Woolway, Reading Reconsidered), but we thought it would work to simply make the case to teachers directly. If we explained useful ideas and our case was convincing, teachers would apply the ideas, each in their own unique way, and better teaching would spread and evolve.

It turned out it wasn’t that simple.

Being knowledge-driven was a good example of “something we thought teachers could do differently.” Let’s say a class was reading Number the Stars, Lois Lowry’s novel set during the Nazi occupation of Copenhagen in 1943. A teacher who provided background knowledge on topics like the rationing of goods such as sugar and butter would help students to better comprehend key passages, like the one where the protagonist, Annemarie, scoffs dismissively at her little sister’s desire for a pink frosted cupcake. Understanding how rationing affected characters they had come to care about would cause students to comprehend the book more deeply and glean more knowledge for next time through their reading. They would come to understand both the psychology of rationing – the childish fixations of a younger sibling; the snappish responses of an older one – as much as the logistics – long-lines; distribution schedules; black market goods. They could apply this knowledge to other contexts in their future studies. Students would understand the text more deeply, in other words; but with the right reflections in the course of reading, they would also increase their knowledge far more quickly for next time. Add a dozen short articles on, say, resistance movements, how small children understand complex realities or how occupying armies interact with civilians, and suddenly not only would the book be a richer read, it could become a knowledge-generating machine. The knowledge might seem at first unique to the book’s setting but facts, understood deeply, don’t stay disconnected for long.

There were other things we believed about improving the teaching of English. For example:

  • Students should be comfortable with challenging texts and the idea of struggle. This would be one of the fundamental experiences of their lives at university and as professionals. They should have tools they use to attend to and unpack the written word when it proves complex. Proficiency with such tools can be improved through steady exposure and deliberate practice.
  • Reading a book should be a writing-intensive experience, and that writing should be a tool students use not just to express and justify existing opinions, but to discover what they think in the first And students should be taught to expand their syntactic control — their mastery of tools to help them write sentences that capture nuanced and sophisticated ideas — in a methodical way.
  • Reading a book is a social phenomenon. Reading a book together as a class means everyone laughing or gasping, together in a room, hearing and coming to understand both shared experience and how others may have viewed it differently. The power of this shared experience was a primary reason for the rise of written language as a source of enjoyment and wisdom rather than the mere transfer of technical information. Good classrooms could recreate that feeling of deeply shared experience. Perhaps if books are to survive in the age of the smartphone, they must.
  • Vocabulary is the single most important form of background knowledge and teaching it well requires constant opportunities to use and play with words in different settings, so good vocabulary instruction should start with, rather than end at, the definition.

Useful ideas, we hope, but even when teachers agreed with them, they struggled to implement them into their teaching. They weren’t able to go home and source short non-fiction passages about resistance movements in wartime, for example. Who knew where to find such an article; and once you found it, it needed editing – there were long digressions about less relevant topics, or part of the key information was in one article and part of it was in another. It took time teachers didn’t have, especially when preparing lessons after making dinner and just possibly putting their own children to bed.

Developing just the right writing prompts or the text-dependent questions that would allow for successful close reading of challenging books took time as well – more time than people teaching four preps and grading 150 papers had available on their lunch break when they were – whoops! – also supposed to be covering the lunch room. And it took expertise. Your 150th close-reading question is better than your 3rd, we have since discovered, especially when a team of colleagues gives you regular feedback on them.

Teachers rarely take courses in instructional design, Robert Pondiscio pointed out in a recent commentary. It’s a completely different skill from teaching a lesson, but one we assume teachers will naturally be able to do well. “It’s like expecting the waiter at your favorite restaurant to serve your meal attentively while simultaneously cooking for twenty-five other people – and doing all the shopping and prepping the night before. You’d be exhausted too,” Pondiscio writes.

It took us a long time to discover the wisdom in what Pondiscio was saying. Just because teachers believed in an idea didn’t make it feasible for them to do it. And just doing it didn’t guarantee anything about succeeding at it. We spent a lot of time talking about what kept teachers from having the lessons they wanted. Finally there was a meeting where someone said, “I’m just not sure there’s any way to do this without writing an actual curriculum with daily lesson plans and the like.”

After that, the room went absolutely silent.

One of the reasons the room went silent was that we’d seen a lot of the curriculums English teachers were being given – even in schools we loved and respected. Curriculum was done to teachers; it told them what to say and discouraged their own decision-making and precluded their own interests. Plans were unwieldy, dense documents, precisely scripted to make sure the teacher didn’t say the wrong thing. Emily had a colleague who burst into her room one morning, marked-up lesson plan in her hand. Twenty-two years old and desperate to do right by her students, she had spent hours memorizing the detailed lesson plan provided by the network. Like an actor’s script, her lesson plan was highlighted, annotated, dogeared. But her copy of the novel was blank. She was so busy trying to remember what she was supposed to say, she hadn’t had time to finish (or think much about) the book yet. How would she react when a student asked her something unexpected about a character or idea?

We wanted a curriculum that loved books and teachers, that supported them and could respond to where they were in their own teaching journey: question by question for a new teacher, with suitable autonomy and flexibility for a master. There had to be a way to help teachers without giving them a straitjacket. We were imagining something that gave teachers great lessons to use and that respected their knowledge even while supplementing it. If we wanted to help teachers approach teaching English differently, we’d have to make it so they were happy with the trade.

One of the ways we tried to do that was to rely on teachers like Emily as designers – people who had experienced a variety of approaches and would always see the lesson through the eyes of someone who had to stand up in front of 30 young people and bring it to life.

When Emily first started teaching, she remembers, her students often did everything she asked of them, but her classes still felt all wrong. Her pupils diligently annotated the texts they read and crafted written responses, memorizing five types of character inferences and eight steps to find the main idea. Anchor charts papered the walls; chants echoed down the hallway. Each of her lessons was organized around one transferable skill. The class would master it, and then (she hoped) they’d forever be able to infer a character’s motivation from their actions, dialogue, and thoughts. Over and over, text after text, they’d find a handy character and chart the relevant evidence, then dutifully slot the evidence into the rigid format of a paragraph response.

In discussion, Emily was taught to use a prompting guide, a spiral-bound document of questions aligned to each reading skill. The ideal discussion was one in which teachers asked no “text-specific” questions, the thinking being that universal prompts would be more broadly applicable to future texts. As student discussion veered off course, Emily would find herself flipping through the prompting guide, trying to diagnose the skill gap and find the perfect question to bring students back on track without asking about specific characters or plot points. In the midst of this process, the novel seemed to die. She and her students talked about the prompt and the evidence needed to answer it, but less often the book itself.

Their writing was just as troubling. It was painful to read. Tortured syntax, ideas crammed into strict frames supplemented by carefully copied but completely irrelevant evidence from the text.

The moments in class that felt electric were often accidental. One day, Emily and her students were reading the novel Chains, a beautifully written but challenging work of historical fiction set in 18th-century colonial America. In one scene, a servant attempts to explain the dynamics of the household to the protagonist, a young enslaved girl. About the master’s widowed aunt, the servant explains:

She’s old and rich, and owns land in three countries. The master hopes to inherit the lot when she dies, so they treat her like the Queen herself. To her face at least.

In their written responses, students had been struggling to make inferences about character motivation; asking, ‘What does the character want or need?’ led to blank stares. Out of ideas, Emily remembers closing the prompting guide and rereading the scene as a group, pausing to define the word ‘inherit’ and explaining whom the phrase “the Queen” alluded to. The resulting discussion was enthusiastic, accurate, and even fun. Students were able to live in the text in a different, richer way when they weren’t trying to force each scene into a tidy formula of Motivation + Obstacle = Conflict.

Curious about other approaches to teaching reading, Emily switched schools and, ironically, went from one flawed model to its opposite.

She began teaching at an arts-based, progressive charter school in Manhattan with a less structured approach to reading that she hoped would be more effective for students (and more sustainable for herself). The model was student- led and self-directed. The ideal lesson started on the carpet with Emily in the middle, occasionally reading aloud to students, who then created projects in groups based on the stories. While this model preserved the joy of reading and freed teachers and students from the pressure to support every argument with three pieces of evidence from the text, the emphasis on group work and self- directed learning had other costs.

The model valorized choice reading. Every week ended with “Library Friday,” an entire class period in which students read books of their choice, snuggled into bean bag chairs in the corner of the classroom. The thinking was that each child knows best what interests them, so students should be most motivated to read if they pursue their passions and select their own books. But it was hard to tell how much and how well each of 25 children was reading. And the model was strangely isolating. No one ever changed their opinion about a book because a classmate pushed them to see it differently. Kids rarely read something that they didn’t think they’d like at first but that moved and inspired them. It was a bit of an echo chamber; a monument to the idea that as long as kids were reading something, all was well. The students who already loved reading adored this time, devouring book after book. But for the students who didn’t love to read, or were easily distracted, or who struggled to read attentively, or who did not read on grade level but were embarrassed to choose easier texts, it was 60 minutes of idly flipping pages.

And project-based learning was fun, but was it teaching students to read deeply? Had a student really grappled with Island of the Blue Dolphins, for example, if their major project was to make their own version of Karana’s skirt out of paper feathers? Without a grounding in historical context to help them understand early contacts between native peoples and traders, without independent writing that caused them to think about loneliness and isolation, without a closer look at Karana’s decisions at the end of the book – the two marks she makes on her face, her acceptance of the western dress her rescuers make for her to wear – it was hard to say that students had fully read it.

The truth was, students had to write frequently to understand a text – and to be able to feel its full emotional resonance. They had to be able to unpack a thorny patch of resistant text instead of skipping over it. They got more things, unexpected things, out of shared reading but they had to learn to listen carefully during discussions. And hands-on experiences like role-playing or debating what a character should have done in a crucial scene were a lot more beneficial when they were grounded in knowledge (and therefore reality), so students weren’t guessing, often erroneously, about life in the 19th century. “I’d tell them to go away,” wasn’t an especially useful response to the arrival of the Russian traders in the opening scenes of Island of the Blue Dolphins, no matter how heartfelt. In other words, a funny thing happened when Emily started to design more rigorous and demanding activities for her students while also giving them knowledge to support their understanding: they liked reading more. A lot of the activities designed to motivate and engage students had the perverse effect of replacing the core act of reading. But there were moments that proved that reading, done differently, could be just as engaging and motivating as making posters or acting out key scenes.

Our first step was to build a model – a unit that tested all of the elements we wanted to include. For this, we used the book Esperanza Rising, a novel set equally in Mexico and California describing the journey of the daughter of a once wealthy rancher killed and dispossessed in the aftermath of the Mexican revolution as she migrates to the United States. It took us six tries to get our “knowledge organizer” – a summary of key background knowledge students would need to get the most out of the book – right. We included historical readings about the Mexican caste system. We included a study of Dorothea Lange’s photographs to understand the plight of the Okies who arrive later in the book but refined and tweaked the questions to create a wider range of writing experiences (e.g. “Write a page from Lange’s journal from the day she took this photo”). In asking students to unlock the symbolism of the produce for which chapters were named – figs, onions, roses – we provided background on how each was often used: people often referred to the layers of an onion, or to the fact that they made one cry in chopping them, or to the fact that onions were simple and cheap, often peasant fare. Did one of these meanings apply? Or something different.

Once our unit was built, we tried it out in the classrooms of four or five willing teachers. We observed and solicited feedback. They loved the vocabulary; the pacing was challenging. We guest-taught some lessons ourselves and then made changes, especially changes that teachers said would make the lessons easier to use. We developed support materials: an overview and a unit plan for each book; a curriculum guide to explain all the parts of the lessons; and we shot videos of quality implementation to show what ten minutes of vocabulary or close reading should look like so teachers could see and study models.

Our curriculum was always designed to be built around books – exploring and unpacking their layers, hearing the increasingly familiar mannerisms of an author’s voice and persistent echoes of a time period, getting the jokes and perceiving the subtle hints. These experiences form a relationship between students and books that shorter forms of text cannot replicate. It makes books an irreplaceable part of one’s schooling. Books get inside us and stay there. What’s more, the books themselves matter. Books like Animal Farm and Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass matter, not just because people will allude to them at university, but because of the way deeply reading a book can change who you are. To “pass over” into the mind of another person, to understand their perspective intellectually and emotionally, is to live part of their experience and to “return enlarged,” the scientist and philosopher of reading Maryanne Wolf writes.

With that in mind, we set out to choose the books. (Our curriculum has poetry and short story units, but these are designed to be “book length,” i.e. about six weeks in duration.) We thought a typical teacher could teach five or six books really well in a year – in a way that modeled what it meant to become immersed in a text, that is. That meant that a book was a scarce and precious resource. Each choice had to be of immensely high quality. But what were the right six books, the ones that let students read books of historical significance but that also represented a diversity of perspectives? Were the right six books for 30 seventh graders in Dallas the same as those for seventh graders in New York or Fresno – or Liverpool for that matter? Or for two teachers right down the hall from one another in Dallas but with different interests and passions? How could we balance the benefits of choice with the benefits of shared knowledge — the idea that if you wanted to make connections across texts, you couldn’t get — very far unless there were books you could reliably assume all of your students had read. We called this an “internal canon”: each school needed a balanced selection of shared books that everyone had read and could talk about. We looked for books that were diverse, challenging, important, and inspiring. Books that gave rise to rich conversations about knowledge and that were challenging enough that students could take on the best the English language had to offer without fear. And books that, brought to life in the classroom, would be unforgettable. We decided early on to make the curriculum “modular” to give schools and teachers an array of books to choose from and let them each choose their ideal six. The right decision in one school need not be the right decision in another.

Our design process is simple but, some might say, backwards. We start each lesson as an adult reader, rereading the day’s section of the book. What’s happening on the page? What moments in the text make us sit up a little straighter, reach for that highlighter, raise our eyebrows? Where is the language doing something interesting? Then, we interrogate those responses — what tiny choices, what turns of phrase, what buildups of tension made that moment happen? Why this word and not another? How can we break down the layers of nuance and connection that created our experience as adult readers, and, through a series of questions, guide a room of 12-year-olds to a similar insight?

This process might sound obvious but the core idea – that the objective for each lesson starts with and is driven by the book – is the opposite of what many curricula do. They start with a learning standard and attempt to make the book support that goal. Over time, we felt, this risks losing touch with the reason one is reading the book in the first place. We wanted to let the book guide us, to write a curriculum by and for people who love books, meant to create more people who love books.

In our curriculum, we draw on technical literary vocabulary: passive voice, alliteration, intrusive narration. We dive deeply into historical context: what would a student need to know about the life of a Victorian-era London cab driver to understand this scene in The Magician’s Nephew? What makes a boarding school uniform so significant in Lord of the Flies? (And for that matter, what is a boarding school uniform? Or even a boarding school?) We track down obscure allusions and references, looking for that grain of context that snaps meaning into place: a text on spiritual chanting to help students understand the power of the community’s chant in The Giver, an article on dissociation and trauma to make sense of fragmented narration in Freak the Mighty.

It isn’t easy, and we’re still figuring it out, but we believe in planning this way because this process – notice, wonder, dig deeper, step back – brings a text to life. We strive for balance: open to an emotional experience but grounded in knowledge. Digging into the granular, word-by-word choices an author makes, while remaining connected to other moments within and across books. Sharing a text with the class but grappling in writing on our own.

This planning process takes time, but it saves time for teachers – an observation that highlights the difference between lessons planning (the process described above) and lesson preparation (the process of getting ready to teach a lesson no matter who has written it). We believe that time spent in preparation is the most valuable a teacher can spend. Great close-reading questions only truly work with a teacher who has considered which students she’ll ask which questions of, who will read each section, and what additional questions she’ll ask when students struggle. We’re happy to research and write an article on the role of the planet Venus in science fiction if that means a teacher has more time to read student writing about Ray Bradbury.

We imagine that the accumulation of units taught in this way will create the bank of knowledge students need in high school and beyond. And then an allusion in Lord of the Flies reminds you of an allusion you read in The Magician’s Nephew years earlier. The feeling of reading a dense, thorny text that resists you, that makes no sense, and then gradually peeling back the layers to find a truth or nuance you would have missed – that doesn’t leave you. Even being able to recognize and name: this is an allusion to something I don’t understand yet. The author is using a metaphor here but I’m not sure why. Imagine how approaching reading in this way can change the narrative for students. What power in being able to shift from “I’m not a good reader” to “I don’t know about this yet.” From “I can’t make inferences” to “What do I need to learn more about?” The mental process of establishing meaning first, then shifting to analysis is replicable across units and years. Normalizing rereading, valorizing research, but above all, putting the book back at the center of class.

Because in our curriculum, the book is the thing – not the objectives and standards and skills and terms surrounding it. If you’re reading with a teacher who breathes life into the text, if you take the time to read closely and someone helps you build knowledge of the parts that are unfamiliar, we believe you will end the unit a stronger reader than when you began it, more attuned to the subtle choices authors make, and better able to live in the next book you open.

Emily Badillo received a bachelor’s degree in English from Stanford University and a master’s degree in education from Hunter College. She has eight years of experience teaching middle and elementary schools students in New York City, and joined the Teach Like a Champion team in 2018. She is currently one of the writers working on TLAC’s reading curriculum.

Doug Lemov is the author of Teach Like a Champion (now in its 2.0 version), Practice Perfect and Reading Reconsidered. He’s a former English teacher and school leader and is now the managing director of a team at Uncommon Schools that provides professional development and curriculum tools for schools.

This article is based on a chapter from The ResearchEd Guide to the Curriculum: An Evidence-Informed Guide for Teachers (John Catt Educational, 2020, $19.95 160 pages).

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Ethnic Studies in California https://www.educationnext.org/ethnic-studies-california-unsteady-jump-from-college-campuses-to-k-12-classrooms/ Tue, 23 Feb 2021 10:00:08 +0000 https://www.educationnext.org/?p=49713263 An unsteady jump from college campuses to K-12 classrooms

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IllustrationAmong California’s many distinctions, the state stands out for the minimal requirements it imposes for high-school graduation, among the most lenient in the United States. California is one of a handful of states that require just three years of English and two years of math to earn a high-school diploma. The last revision to the list of 13 required courses was back in 2003, when state lawmakers added Algebra I.

Now, educators and elected officials are engaged in a prolonged pedagogical, cultural, and political debate to amend those requirements again. In a move more in line with its trendsetting reputation, California is on the verge of becoming the first state in the country to require that every high-school student take an ethnic studies class to graduate.

By an overwhelming margin, the state legislature approved a bill in its 2020 session that would have added one semester of ethnic studies to the requirements for a high-school diploma, ensuring that students study the history and experiences of Blacks, Latinos, Asians, and Native Americans. Governor Gavin Newsom vetoed the measure. The veto was not due to objections to the mandate per se, but to concerns over the unfinished draft ethnic studies curriculum that will serve as a template for school districts as they create their own versions of the class. A K–12 ethnic studies bill is likely to end up on the governor’s desk again in 2021, and in all probability, the outcome this time will be different.

While some national conservative voices have denounced the entire concept as political indoctrination, support for some form of ethnic studies coursework has been widespread in California. Last year, the legislature mandated that all students in the California State University system complete a three-credit ethnic studies class to earn their degrees. The debate over the complex and often charged subject has focused not on whether ethnic studies is necessary, but on how best to define it. Whose stories will be told, and how?

California Governor Gavin Newsom
California Governor Gavin Newsom, a Democrat, vetoed an ethnic studies bill that had been passed by the state legislature. He said the proposed curriculum needed further revision.

Understanding Ethnic Studies

The case for ethnic studies is multipronged. It begins with the material itself: history and literature about the struggles and triumphs of people whose voices often have been omitted from traditional texts and classroom readings. That could mean people like Filipino leaders in the farmworker movement or Mexican guest workers participating in the Bracero Program, or topics like the systematic redlining of African Americans and the genocide of Native Americans. A second layer of argument stresses the need for students to understand and discuss how various racial and ethnic groups have been oppressed by a white ruling class, as well as the social movements and civil-rights struggles sparked by that oppression. Appreciating the history of different racial and ethnic groups, advocates argue, is vital to make students more engaged, responsible citizens.

Stanford University historian Albert Camarillo, a founder of the discipline of Chicano studies, harkens back to John Dewey’s arguments about the importance of civic education in a democracy. In the diverse society of California, Camarillo argues, ethnic studies “should be a fundamental component of California public education in the 21st century,” crucial to building the informed, socially conscious citizenry essential to democracy. Writing and speaking in support of mandatory ethnic studies for high-school students, Camarillo pointed to a passage in the state’s draft curriculum: “By affirming the identities and contributions of marginalized groups in our society, Ethnic Studies helps students see themselves and each other as part of the narrative of the United States.” Camarillo testified that he has seen the benefits firsthand, not only while teaching at Stanford but also in his work with social-studies teachers at two charter high schools in the San Francisco Bay Area that require ethnic studies.

Advocates concede the importance of using care when teaching material that can be politically controversial. Some of California’s early stumbles gave ammunition to those concerned that ethnic studies can easily morph into divisive political rhetoric or become a pretext for leftist indoctrination. But as the state nears consensus on a model high-school curriculum, the most persistent criticism has come from those who want to expand the definition beyond the four major groups traditionally considered the focus of the discipline—Blacks, Latinos, Asians and Pacific Islanders, and Native Americans. In a state that often boasts the largest population of immigrants from a host of countries, hundreds of complaints have been registered from groups seeking greater representation, including Sikhs, Armenians, and Arab Americans. The most vocal and organized opposition has come from some Jewish groups demanding a greater focus on antisemitism.

Another core argument for ethnic studies is that its benefits extend far beyond the coursework itself. In a state struggling to improve academic outcomes that remain relatively poor, with a high percentage of English-language learners and students from low-income families, ethnic studies is framed as crucial to closing persistent achievement gaps. Although the research is limited, it suggests that students of all races exposed to ethnic studies become more engaged in school and show significant improvement in general academic performance. In a widely cited journal article, Thomas Dee and Emily Penner examined the academic and attendance records of 1,400 struggling 9th-grade students in San Francisco and found that those assigned to a yearlong ethnic studies course showed significant, lasting improvement—a jump in attendance rates of 21 points and an increase in grade-point average of 1.4 points.

Stanford University historian Albert Camarillo
Stanford University historian Albert Camarillo, a founder of Chicano Studies, has supported an ethnic studies mandate for California schools.

Anecdotally, there are abundant testimonials to back up that data. Before José Medina was elected to the California Assembly in 2012, he taught social studies at Riverside Polytechnic High School in Riverside, a predominantly Latino city east of Los Angeles. One of his five classes was ethnic or Chicano studies. Medina supplemented the few available textbooks with literature, poetry, public-television documentaries, and field trips to see live theater by Chicano playwrights. “I really saw in my classes how turned on students were, how the light went on, and how they became engaged,” he said. “I know that for some of them it was the first time they had ever been so engaged.” He still runs into students he taught more than a decade ago who tell him how important the class was for them, he said. Now Medina, chair of the Assembly Higher Education committee, is the sponsor of the bill to make ethnic studies a graduation requirement.

Among the significant caveats in the bill is that it would only take effect if funding for new ethnic studies courses is included in the state budget. By law, the state is obligated to fund the mandates it imposes; in this case, legislative analysts estimated spending in the “low millions” of dollars annually and potentially more if school districts claim greater expenses. Funding a new mandate may be difficult in coming budget cycles, with longstanding fiscal crises exacerbated by the Covid-19 pandemic. Some districts have already made commitments to expand existing programs, but those commitments will be subject to fiscal pressures as well. Last year, the Los Angeles Unified Board of Education voted to make ethnic studies a graduation requirement by the 2023–24 school year. And Fresno Unified, the state’s third-largest district, plans to require two semesters of ethnic studies starting with the class of 2021–22.

A Diverse Heritage

That California may become the first state to mandate ethnic studies, increasingly taught as an elective around the country, stems in many ways from the state’s demographics and its history. From its earliest days of statehood in 1850, California has had a high percentage of foreign-born residents and an unusually diverse population. Today, its 6.2 million K–12 students are 55 percent Latino, 22 percent white, 12 percent Asian or Pacific Islander, and 5.3 percent African American.

The history of ethnic studies as a discipline is rooted in California. Demands for African American, Chicano, Asian, and Native American studies grew out of student movements in the Bay Area in the late 1960s. A five-month strike at San Francisco State University organized by a coalition known as the Third World Liberation Front ended in March 1969 with an agreement that included the first College of Ethnic Studies in the United States. Similar protests the same year across the Bay at the University of California, Berkeley, also ended with the establishment of a new Department of Ethnic Studies.

José Medina
Before José Medina was elected to the California Assembly in 2012, he taught social studies at Riverside Polytechnic High School.

In 1976, the California superintendent of public instruction released “An Analysis of Curriculum Materials for Ethnic Heritage Programs,” the culmination of a two-year project to help teachers incorporate ethnic studies in K–12 classrooms. In contrast to the current push for standalone ethnic studies classes, the approach then was to incorporate more diverse materials and content throughout the existing curriculum. But the goals were similar: “Afford students an opportunity to learn more about the nature of their own heritage and to study the contributions of other ethnic groups in the United States … Recognize the educational gains that can result from cultural pluralism in a multiethnic nation … Engender in the citizens of our pluralistic society intercultural competence: self-acceptance, acceptance of one’s culture, and acceptance of persons of other cultures.”

In the ensuing decades, ethnic studies courses expanded on college campuses across the United States, with more than 700 programs in existence by the early 1990s. But in California, budget constraints impeded much growth at the K–12 level. Ironically, it was a controversy across state lines in Arizona that sparked interest anew.

In 2010, Arizona lawmakers banned ethnic studies classes from the state’s K-12 public schools, spurred by a controversy over a Mexican American studies course in Tucson schools. After a court challenge, a federal judge ruled that Arizona had been motivated by racial discrimination rather a legitimate educational purpose and barred the state from enforcing the ban. The episode served as a catalyst for renewed interest in ethnic studies, particularly in California.

“My response, and the response of activists in Los Angeles, was, ‘If they shut it down over there, can we spring it up over here?’” recalled Jose Lara, then a teacher at Santee Education Complex in Los Angeles. Lara ran for school board in the small district of El Rancho, a working-class Mexican American community east of Los Angeles. He delivered on a campaign pledge in 2014, when El Rancho became the first district in California to adopt ethnic studies as a graduation requirement.

Lara credits his career as both a teacher and political leader to his exposure to ethnic studies at the University of California, Los Angeles, a campus he initially found foreign and intimidating as a low-income, Mexican American student from Orange County. “It was the first time in my life I saw myself as an intellectual,” he recalled about classes with scholar Juan Gómez-Quiñones. “I couldn’t believe this guy who looked like he sold oranges on the freeway was writing these massive books about Chicano history. It was a whole new world for me.”

A Black Students Union leader in front of a crowd of demonstrators at College in December 1968.
A Black Students Union leader in front of a crowd of demonstrators at College in December 1968. Ethnic studies were among the demands of students in the 1960s.

Evidence of Impact

Lara helped found the Ethnic Studies Now Coalition, which successfully lobbied the Los Angeles school board to adopt an ethnic studies graduation mandate in 2014. Then-Superintendent Ramón Cortines overruled the plan, saying the district could not afford the estimated $72 million expense. In 2016, Los Angeles opted instead to create a yearlong elective. About 40 of the city’s 150 public high schools already offered at least one related elective in fields such as Afro-American history, Afro-American literature, American Indian studies, Asian literature, Mexican American literature, or Mexican American studies.

Meanwhile, in San Francisco, 10 social-studies teachers who had worked for several years with faculty from San Francisco State University’s College of Ethnic Studies had launched an ethnic studies curriculum in five high schools in 2010. That pilot program, later expanded to all 19 high schools in the district, became the source of a significant research effort that would be widely cited in debates across the country.

The study grew out of the district’s longstanding partnership with Stanford University and the research of Thomas Dee, a professor at the Graduate School of Education and director of the Stanford Center for Education Policy Analysis. In 2014, he and a colleague began to study the impact on 1,405 9th graders who were at risk of dropping out and who had been assigned to an ethnic studies course. “To be honest, certainly I and some of the district officials went into this thinking, ‘Well, ethnic studies was sold as solving so many problems,’” Dee said. “Many of us were very skeptical about whether a close examination of the data would support that.”

The data surprised him. It showed that enrolling in the elective improved general academic performance, measured by attendance, grades, and credits earned. Dee’s analysis suggested a link to his earlier research, which looked at a group of Tennessee elementary-school students and found that students tended to do better on standardized tests when taught by a teacher of the same race. In particular, Black students earned higher test scores when they were taught by a Black teacher (see “The Race Connection,” research, Spring 2004). This helped forge a consensus around the benefits of teacher diversity, and Dee saw some of the same factors at work in his San Francisco study.

“Ethnic studies resembles an unusually intensive and sustained social-psychological intervention that kind of buffers student identities in the classroom,” Dee said. That intervention helps combat anxiety from perceived stereotyping, affirms students’ personal values, and promotes a growth mindset, he said. And unlike short-term interventions to address those problems, “it’s embedded in the course every day.”

Moving Toward a Mandate

As Dee released the results of the San Francisco study, legislators in Sacramento were advocating to increase ethnic studies offerings statewide. A 2016 state law—which passed overwhelmingly with virtually no organized opposition—directed the state board of education to adopt a model ethnic studies curriculum. The original deadline of March 2020 has since been extended by one year; the curriculum is now to be completed by March 2021. Though not directly linked to the idea of mandating ethnic studies for graduation, the curriculum has been a major stumbling block.

The first draft, written with input from an advisory committee of college professors, high-school teachers, and ethnic studies experts, was essentially dead on arrival. Commenters ridiculed the politically correct “glossary” of terms such as “herstory” and “hxrstory” and the politically charged definition of capitalism as a system of oppression and exploitation. The Los Angeles Times editorial board denounced the draft as an “impenetrable mélange of academic jargon and politically correct pronouncements.” Of the approximately 57,000 comments received by the state, more than 30,000 related to concerns about the absence of lessons on antisemitism, the lack of material relating to Jews, and the draft’s definition of a campaign to boycott Israel as a “global social movement that currently aims to establish freedom for Palestinians living under apartheid conditions.”

The state board of education president, Linda Darling-Hammond, rejected the draft before it could even move toward review by the board. “A model curriculum should be accurate, free of bias, appropriate for all learners in our diverse state,” she said in a statement. “The current draft model curriculum falls short and needs to be substantially redesigned.” Education-department officials began a yearlong process of soliciting and reviewing comments and rewriting the document, which culminated in a second draft released for public review on August 13, 2020.

By then, Medina was growing concerned about his bill despite its broad-based support. The move to require ethnic studies had passed the state Assembly in May. But it was stalled in the Senate, stuck in the Appropriations committee, where dozens of bills go to die. With just two weeks remaining in the session, Medina made a last push, summoning the momentum of the Black Lives Matter protests and the aftermath of the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis to lobby the legislative leadership to move the bill.

“You’ve heard people refer to a racial reckoning in our society or an inflection point,” historian Camarillo said in testimony about the state ethnic studies curriculum. “We will refer to this as a benchmark in American history … Democracy is at stake if we don’t equip our young people with the knowledge and the education so they can effectively navigate our diverse society.”

The bill made it out of committee and passed the full Senate on the last day of session, August 31. Medina had accepted amendments to meet concerns of the legislature’s Jewish caucus, of which he is a member. (He’s the only legislator in both the Latino and Jewish caucuses; his first wife is Jewish and was raised partly in Panama, and they raised their children in the Jewish faith.) Language in the bill specified that nothing in the curriculum would teach or promote religious doctrine. That met the concerns of legislators and all the Jewish caucus members voted in favor. The bill was supported by the California State PTA, the California Federation of Teachers, the California Teachers Association, the California Faculty Association, and numerous school districts. The only opposition on record came from the Sacramento-based Charter Schools Development Center, an advocacy group that objected to its members being subject to the requirement.

Curriculum Concerns

The mandate would not have applied until the graduating class of 2029–30, long after the deadline for the state to adopt a model curriculum. And the bill explicitly allowed districts to create their own lesson plans. But the measure’s fate was nevertheless tied to controversy over the state’s draft model curriculum.

“Last year, I expressed concern that the initial draft of the model curriculum was insufficiently balanced and inclusive and needed to be substantially amended,” the governor wrote in his veto message. “In my opinion, the latest draft, which is currently out for review, still needs revision.”

But Medina said that, in a subsequent conversation, Newsom was clear about the concerns he left vague in his veto. “The governor made it clear to me in conversation after his veto—it was about the Jewish community,” Medina said.

After a year of extensive feedback from the public as well as experts, the state education department posted a revised draft model curriculum. It was modified and approved in November by the Instructional Quality Commission, which advises the state board of education. Over two days and going line by line, the commission reviewed the proposed changes made by the education department. Members debated whether capitalism should be included in a list of forms of oppression and reviewed new sections on antisemitism. They agreed with a proposal to list in an appendix lesson plans that include a range of ethnic groups, including Arabs, Sikhs, and Armenians, to address complaints that they were omitted or marginalized in the document.

The curriculum is designed to be a guide for teachers and includes sections explaining thematic approaches to the concepts underlying the discipline, course outlines, sample lesson plans, primary-source documents, and lists of resources. The material is organized around the key themes of identity, history and movement, systems of power, and social movements and equity.

It remains centered on the four major groups: African Americans, Chicano/Latinos, Asian Americans, and Native Americans. But in response to complaints, the draft emphasizes that districts may adapt the curriculum to reflect the composition of their communities. “We believe that we have found a way to create a kind of balance of honoring with fidelity what core ethnic studies is but also creating a bridge to talk about interconnectivity of other groups whose stories need to be told,” said Tony Thurmond, the state superintendent of public instruction.

Assemblywoman Shirley Weber
Assemblywoman Shirley Weber, who created an ethnic studies program at San Diego State University, said the original focus was on “American racism,” not “the problems of the world.”

That tension remains central to the ongoing deliberations; the two hours of public comment at the commission meeting on the topic focused almost entirely on demands to broaden the curriculum’s focus. “We have a tendency to forget why we started the ethnic studies piece, and now it’s designed to solve all the problems of the world when it was very clear that it was an American thing focused on American racism and those kind of issues that exist in this country,” Assemblywoman Shirley Weber told fellow commission members. Weber, an academic who created an ethnic studies program at San Diego State University, said she understood why lesson plans on Jews, Arabs, Armenians, and other groups were included in the revised curriculum. But she stressed that they need to be connected strongly to the basic ideas and tenets of ethnic studies.

“This is a very political decision that’s being made, not necessarily an academic one,” Weber said. “And I don’t mind the politics of it, providing that the connections are clear.”

After another public comment period and proposed revisions by the state education department, the curriculum is expected to be voted on by the state board of education in March. Jewish groups that have lobbied and organized petition drives praised the recent revisions but are unhappy with the lack of a definition of antisemitism. “While the curriculum is headed in the right direction, there are still key changes we all have to fight for,” said Roz Rothstein, chief executive officer of StandWithUs, a Los Angeles-based organization dedicated to supporting Israel and fighting antisemitism, in a statement.

From Curriculum to the Classroom

A number of districts have not waited for the state to complete its work on the curriculum and are offering their own courses. The number of California high-school students enrolled in ethnic studies classes more than doubled between 2014 and 2016. Still, the 17,354 students who took classes at 555 schools was less than 1 percent of all high-school students in the state.

Districts also are not waiting for a state mandate but setting their own. In addition to Los Angeles and Fresno, Riverside, where Medina taught, has adopted a requirement to take effect in the 2023–24 school year.

Los Angeles, the nation’s second-largest school district, offered ethnic studies electives at about 100 high schools last year based on its own curriculum. The school board has directed the superintendent to report back with a strategic plan to enact the mandate by the 2023–24 school year. Noting that Los Angeles enrolls 90 percent students of color, the board said that “prolonged exposure to curricula that normalizes and perpetuates white supremacy, colonialism, and the erasure of minority groups can be alienating and traumatic for students of color and contribute to the opportunity and achievement gaps we see today.”

Implementation of the mandate will, again, depend on funding, at a time when the district is facing major budget challenges. “They’re never going to not have fiscal problems,” said Lara, now an assistant principal in Orange County. “It’s a matter of will.”

Thomas Dee
Thomas Dee’s research found that enrolling in an ethnic studies class improved students’ general academic performance.

At least eight other states—Connecticut, Indiana, Nevada, Oregon, Texas, Vermont, Virginia, and Washington—have enacted measures over the last decade to set standards and curriculum and require schools to offer some form of ethnic studies as an elective. Whether ethnic studies is intended to be a standalone class or incorporated into existing courses varies from state to state. In 2017, Indiana became one of the first states to require all high schools to offer an ethnic studies class under a bill signed by Republican Governor Eric Holcomb. In Oregon, a committee is developing ethnic studies standards to incorporate in its social-studies curriculum. And in Connecticut, all high schools will be required to offer courses in Black and Latino studies by the fall of 2022. Those classes will be based on a curriculum approved by the state education department under the direction of former commissioner Miguel Cardona, President Biden’s nominee to head the federal Department of Education.

Adding ethnic studies classes on a far more widespread basis creates a need for teachers, which poses a pedagogical concern as well as a financial one. Dee, who says he is “agnostic” on the question of instituting ethnic studies as a graduation requirement, has some concerns about the teacher training required for successful programs. His San Francisco research involved highly motivated teachers who had spent years constructing and refining the units they taught, he noted.

“I’ve been a little frustrated by the intense political focus on the state curriculum,” he said, referring to the discussions in California. “There are some broader lessons for pedagogy that kind of get lost in that mess. The debate over the curriculum was very much about culture wars and not, ‘what are we learning about pedagogy?’”

That’s where Dee thinks the focus should be: How to properly train the teachers who will be needed to scale up ethnic studies, especially in smaller districts that are not already teaching it. He hopes to see discussion on different ways to share knowledge and build instructional expertise, such as consortiums that could offer training and tailor curriculum for local regions. “By and large, I’m heartened that ethnic studies is getting more attention,” he said. “I just worry that the rush to implement at scale may at some level snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.”

Miriam Pawel is a 2020–21 Radcliffe Fellow and the author of The Browns of California: The Family Dynasty that Transformed a State and Shaped a Nation. Rachel Harris provided research assistance for this article.

For more, please see “The Top 20 Education Next Articles of 2022.”

This article appeared in the Summer 2021 issue of Education Next. Suggested citation format:

Pawel, M. (2021). Ethnic Studies in California: An unsteady jump from college campuses to K-12 classrooms. Education Next, 21(3), 24-31.

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EdStat: According to the 2017 EdNext Poll, 61 Percent of Respondents Support the General Concept of Standards that are the Same Across the States https://www.educationnext.org/edstat-according-2017-ednext-poll-61-percent-respondents-support-general-concept-standards-across-states/ Fri, 27 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000 http://www.educationnext.org/edstat-according-2017-ednext-poll-61-percent-respondents-support-general-concept-standards-across-states/ Far fewer support “Common Core.”

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According to our 2017 EdNext Poll, opposition to the Common Core partly reflects a tainted brand name, rather than antagonism to the concept of shared state standards. Support for using “standards for reading and math that are the same across states” is much higher when no mention is made of Common Core. We identify this effect by randomly assigning respondents either to a version of the question that explicitly refers to “Common Core” or to a version that leaves the name out. A substantial majority of the public (61%) support the general concept of standards that are the same across the states—20 percentage points higher than the share that supports “Common Core.” The effect is even larger among Republicans, boosting support by 32 percentage points, to 64%. Among Democrats, support increases by 12 percentage points, to 61%, when the phrase “Common Core” is dropped. Learn more about the general public’s view on education issues by reading our full article on the 2017 EdNext Poll, or check out our interactive tool to compare responses by population subgroup.

—Education Next

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EdNext Podcast: Curriculum Is Key in Louisiana https://www.educationnext.org/ednext-podcast-curriculum-key-louisiana/ Wed, 06 Sep 2017 00:00:00 +0000 http://www.educationnext.org/ednext-podcast-curriculum-key-louisiana/ Robert Pondiscio joins Marty West to discuss the curriculum-driven reform efforts led by the Louisiana Department of Education.

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Robert Pondiscio joins EdNext editor-in-chief Marty West to discuss the curriculum-driven reform efforts led by the Louisiana Department of Education.

Robert is the author of a new article, “Louisiana Threads the Needle on Ed Reform: Launching a coherent curriculum in a local-control state.”

The EdNext Podcast is available on Apple Podcasts, Google Play, Soundcloud, Stitcher and here every Wednesday

— Education Next

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A Common Core Curriculum Quandary https://www.educationnext.org/a-common-core-curriculum-quandary-eureka-math-open-source/ Tue, 07 Mar 2017 00:00:00 +0000 http://www.educationnext.org/a-common-core-curriculum-quandary-eureka-math-open-source/ For Eureka Math, open-source leads to a revenue stream

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Eureka Math Director Jill Diniz teaches a demonstration lesson on exponential decay to grade 9 students from Lafayette Parish School System.
Eureka Math Director Jill Diniz teaches a demonstration lesson on exponential decay to grade 9 students from Lafayette Parish School System.

One of the most ambitious educational improvement projects in recent years was the adoption of new, more rigorous college- and career-ready academic standards by more than 40 U.S. states. Though the Common Core label has suffered greatly from a populist backlash (see “Common Core Brand Taints Opinion on Standards,” features, Winter 2017), the reports of its death have been greatly exaggerated. The standards themselves remain largely intact, even in states that have renamed and tweaked them. The aligned PARCC and Smarter Balanced tests are also still in place in more than half of the states that adopted them. Despite the controversy, most U.S. states have raised the bar for what it means for students to be on track for success (see “After Common Core, States Set Rigorous Standards,” features, Summer 2016).

That’s all well and good, but what really matters is whether higher standards and tougher tests lead to positive changes in the classroom. And this is where there is still a ton of important, if unsexy, work to be done. As late as October 2016—more than six years after the first wave of states adopted the standards—fewer than one in five teachers said their instructional materials were well aligned to the Common Core, according to a national Education Week survey.

That’s a problem. A growing body of evidence indicates that the choice of a strong, aligned curriculum can have outsized impacts on student learning. In a 2012 review, Matthew Chingos and Grover Whitehurst found “strong evidence that the choice of instructional materials has large effects on student learning—effects that rival in size those that are associated with differences in teacher effectiveness.” A recent study by Cory Koedel and Morgan Polikoff of California math textbooks found similar effects.

The fast-moving adoption of Common Core was an unprecedented disruption to a curriculum and textbook market that’s long been dominated by a few major publishers. This is an area where reformers and foundations could make a big difference, by helping put new, high-quality instructional materials into teachers’ hands. This won’t require passing any new laws or enacting additional regulations. But it will take leadership and the willingness to support entrepreneurs working to develop resources that can address teachers’ needs. The story of Eureka Math offers hope, and something of a roadmap.

Eureka Math—and Great Minds, the nonprofit organization that created it—is the David to Pearson’s Goliath. Great Minds didn’t even exist 10 years ago, and only went into the curriculum-development business when it won a contract from New York State to build a set of free, online math lessons as part of the state’s Race to the Top (RTT) grant. The resulting curriculum, originally known as “EngageNY,” spread rapidly nationwide, and a 2015 RAND survey found that an astonishing 44 percent of elementary school teachers in Common Core states reported using EngageNY at least once a week, more than any other math program, and 13 percent said they used Eureka Math.

The Teach Eureka Video Series offers on-demand professional development videos to accompany the curriculum.
The Teach Eureka Video Series offers on-demand professional development videos to accompany the curriculum.

Great Minds’ pitch is that teachers and scholars specifically designed Eureka Math in response to the new standards, and the nonprofit curriculum reviewer EdReports.org has found it is well aligned. Unlike some other popular programs, Eureka Math doesn’t overlook the need to develop students’ fluency with mathematical procedures, especially in the early years. Elementary students are expected to know their addition and multiplication facts, for example, and practice them frequently. Another RAND analysis found that Eureka Math is particularly popular in Louisiana—where state officials strongly recommend its use—and speculated that it might help to explain the state’s impressive achievement gains of late.

On the surface, the lesson seems simple: if you build a great curriculum and make it available for free on the Internet, teachers will flock to it. That’s certainly what I heard from the organization’s president, Lynne Munson. “What we create are knowledge-rich instructional materials that are worthy of study,” she said. “Not scripts, but lessons that will reward teachers’ close reading and collaboration.”

To be sure, Great Minds holds high expectations for what teachers are capable of, and teachers have rewarded it with their enthusiasm for its curriculum. But crucially, its materials are of high quality, in part because its start-up budget was considerable: $14 million in federal RTT funds. Quality is easier to achieve with that kind of backing.

But why is Eureka Math so popular when other resources go begging for users? Eureka Math is hardly the first or only open educational resources (OER) available on the web. Nor is it the case that nobody has ever built a solid math program before. And its competition includes huge textbook companies with well-established distribution channels, including hundreds of former school superintendents buying steak dinners for their pals and getting them to purchase the latest series. What explains the program’s meteoric rise and continental reach?

Ironically, its success may be due in part to the fact that it isn’t entirely free. One source I spoke to said that part of Eureka’s genius was that it “filled the beast’s need to procure.”

While anyone can download the math modules from EngageNY, the OER version is available only via clumsy PDFs. To get an easier-to-use online interface, plus a rich library of training videos, schools need to purchase a subscription from Great Minds. And even then, most want print materials, plus professional development, which the organization also offers—for a fee.

And guess what? Schools are willing to pay. District administrators and procurement officers have budgets for materials and feel strange about not using them. The OER version gave them a low-risk way to try out the curriculum; the paid version gave them something to buy. This revenue stream has also allowed Great Minds to build out a network of regional sales representatives, though Munson says her people are busy simply responding to inquiries from educators: “we don’t cold call anyone, ever.” She said that interest
in the program has grown organically, from word of mouth, from the “free advertising” provided by EngageNY, and from the positive reviews by EdReports.org and others.

The Great Minds story should serve as an example of what comes next. Anyone interested in helping teachers and students innovate and meet new standards should support this type of marriage of top-down funding and bottom-up design. Those of us in education reform have a bad habit of not finishing what we started, of chasing a new shiny idea every few years. Doubling down on curriculum reform is one important way to get the Common Core job done. Who’s in?

Michael J. Petrilli is president of the Thomas B. Fordham Institute and executive editor at Education Next.

This article appeared in the Summer 2017 issue of Education Next. Suggested citation format:

Petrilli, M.J. (2017). A Common Core Curriculum Quandary: For Eureka Math, open-source leads to a revenue stream. Education Next, 17(3), 83-84.

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Lessons on Common Core https://www.educationnext.org/lessons-on-common-core-critical-books-pondiscio/ Thu, 05 Jan 2017 00:00:00 +0000 http://www.educationnext.org/lessons-on-common-core-critical-books-pondiscio/ Critical books offer more folly than wisdom

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Over the last several years, I’ve spent a fair amount of time defending the Common Core State Standards (CCSS) in my role as a senior fellow with the Thomas B. Fordham Institute, an education-policy think tank in Washington, D.C. Now, given president-elect Trump’s pledge to “end Common Core,” which he terms “a disaster,” I expect many more opportunities to defend high standards, at least for the foreseeable future. All that said, while I support the standards, I’m not a cheerleader for them. I could no sooner imagine summoning up a love for (or hatred of) Common Core than for, say, electrical codes or auto-safety standards. I reserve my heated passions for literature, history, and civic education. I will eagerly engage in pitched battles over what students should know, read, and grapple with, but standards? They are dry, dull, and unlovely things.

To be upset by academic standards is to invest them with a power they neither have nor deserve. In my five years of teaching fifth graders, I never—not even once—reached for English language arts standards when deciding what to teach. 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 with 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 and understand about art, science, history, and literature? Answer those questions, then reach for the standards and build your lessons and units “to code.”

Suffice it to say that Common Core’s many and vocal critics, perhaps including our president-elect, do not agree.

CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RL.11-12.1

Cite strong and thorough textual evidence to support analysis of what the text says explicitly as well as inferences drawn from the text, including determining where the text leaves matters uncertain.

Six years after Common Core’s debut, these critics have produced enough books to collapse a sturdy bookshelf. Few of them make any earnest attempt to persuade readers to reject Common Core on its merits or lack thereof. Some barely take up the content of the standards at all. Instead, they mainly traffic in fear mongering and paranoid conspiracy theories about corporate greed.

 In Children of the Core, Kris Nielsen claims that a nefarious cabal, which he terms the "Common Core Network," is pushing the Common Core on a gullible public.
In Children of the Core, Kris Nielsen claims that a nefarious cabal, which he terms the “Common Core Network,” is pushing the Common Core on a gullible public.

For instance, the teacher and activist Kris L. Nielsen announces on the very first page of his book Children of the Core: “Throughout this book, you will see me referring to something called the ‘Common Core Network.’ I use this phrase to describe a triad of players, corporations, and institutions that are working together to dismantle public education, as we know it (Common Core proponents, the testing regime, and the privatization movement).”

If you are not prepared to accept his proposition—that there is a nefarious cabal pushing Common Core on a gullible public—you will not find much value in Nielsen’s book or in other similar tomes.

In this same vein, Common Core and the Truth by Amy Skalicky simply asserts as fact that the standards are part of the movement to turn schools not merely into “new markets for corporations” but “centers of indoctrination to create ‘global citizens’ with all the right behaviors, attitudes and beliefs, otherwise known as puppets.” Terrence O. Moore’s The Story-Killers opens with an epigraph from Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. The title of Moore’s book comes from his belief that the standards are “deliberately killing off what is left of the great stories of Western literature.” Common Core is designed, Moore insists, “to smear the Western and American tradition with the brush of sexism, racism, and all the other charges we have come to expect from the Left against this country’s long history of freedom.” Colorado’s excellent Ridgeview Classical Schools, where Moore was the founding principal, “prides itself on the centrality of Socratic discussions, purposeful discussions of literary texts, conceptual approaches to mathematics and science, and a close scrutiny of primary source documents.” Ironically, so does Common Core.

For Common Core’s excitable enemies, there is no such thing as overreach. Brad McQueen, a teacher and “former Common Core insider” (whatever that might mean), wins the prize for hyperbole by comparing Common Core to the Holocaust in his book The Cult of Common Core: Obama’s Final Solution for Your Child’s Mind and Our Country’s Exceptionalism.

Who are the villains in this anti–Common Core narrative? Why, billionaires, of course—the faceless capitalist malefactors of great wealth. “We are increasingly teaching the skills that billionaires want their workforces to have in order to boost their profits,” Nielsen asserts knowingly. The logic escapes me. Clearly, whatever our schools have been doing for the last little while seems to be working out very well indeed for billionaires. Why mess with what’s working?

Sadly, the paranoia that infuses the anti–Common Core literature is particularly prominent in books written by teachers. On close examination, many of these books are not about the standards at all. Instead, they are broad-brush attacks on ed reform at large. Mercedes K. Schneider, a Louisiana teacher and anti–ed reform blogger, hammers the point home with the subtitle of her book Common Core Dilemma: Who Owns Our Schools?, which is riddled with scare quotes and sarcasm.

“The American education system is not evidencing the ‘crisis’ that modern corporate-minded education ‘reformers’ are pushing as the very foundation for promoting CCSS and its assessments,” she writes. Chapter titles include “Achieve: Who’s Your Daddy? Why, IBM CEO Louis Gerstner, Jr.” and “Bill Gates Likes the Idea.” Schneider’s true intent is not to evaluate the standards but to expose the “power grab” behind education reform. The roundup of usual suspects includes Bill Gates, Arne Duncan, the testing company Pearson Education, and even the Fordham Institute.

If teachers such as Schneider, Nielsen, and others are feeling put upon and use Common Core as a target for spleen venting over the excesses of ed reform, it is not entirely without reason. But it is entirely unpersuasive. Their books are not the stinging exposés their authors imagine, but hymnals from which the converted sing. Their obsession is self-marginalizing, doomed to be met with anger by the already angry and a shrug by the vast majority of noncombatants—parents and taxpayers alike—who simply want a decent education for their kids.

CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.CCRA.R.6

Assess how point of view or purpose shapes the content and style of a text.

If anyone has earned the right to vent her spleen over Common Core it’s Sandra Stotsky, who played a leading role in Massachusetts’s adoption of some of the nation’s strongest pre-CCSS academic standards, along with associated curriculum frameworks and teacher-licensing regulations. Massachusetts has long been the state to which others look with envy for its record of academic accomplishment, a record of which Stotsky can be justifiably proud. If she’s upset with Massachusetts turning its back on her work in favor of Common Core, she’s not easily dismissed as a woman scorned.

 Regrettably, the Common Core Wars have kept Sandra Stotsky and other contributors to Drilling through the Core from working with potential allies to fight for instructional reform.
Regrettably, the Common Core Wars have kept Sandra Stotsky and other contributors to Drilling through the Core from working with potential allies to fight for instructional reform.

Stotsky is the primary contributor to Drilling through the Core: Why Common Core Is Bad for American Education from the Pioneer Institute. This collection of essays from the Boston-based think tank is the best of the anti–Common Core books, a serious tome by sober and principled observers, including Mark Bauerlein, R. James Milgram, and Williamson Evers, in addition to Stotsky.

The introductory essay by Peter W. Wood, the president of the National Association of Scholars, immediately dismisses Common Core’s conspiratorially minded critics. Wood “puts up a fence” between his critique and those who suggest “that the advocates of the Common Core are acting in bad faith: that the proponents of the Common Core know that it is bad and want to impose it on the nation anyway out of self interest.”

Wood’s critique revolves around the standards’ development by private, nongovernmental bodies, including the National Governors Association and the Council of Chief State School Officers, and the heated rush with which the standards were adopted by states hoping to win federal funding under Race to the Top, which functionally demanded adoption of Common Core as the price of admission to the competition.

At nearly 100 pages, Wood’s takedown notes that Common Core critics cannot agree whether the new standards are too rigorous in K–12 or not rigorous enough, leaving students underprepared for college. “The standards are vague and ambiguous and invite manipulation by those who are charged with filling in the details,” he writes, noting Common Core is “ripe for hijacking.” Common Core also “takes control of our schools away from parents and communities,” leaving schools vulnerable to “a curriculum that has been profoundly shaped around the tests and teaching materials” of the two CCSS testing consortia, Smarter Balanced and PARCC.

Stotsky’s redoubtable thumbprints are evident on several of the volume’s essays, including ones lamenting the “fate of history” under Common Core; another on the “fate of poetry”; yet another on math, co-authored with R. James Milgram; and the volume’s lead essay, with Mark Bauerlein, titled, “How Common Core’s ELA Standards Place College Readiness at Risk.” Like Stotsky, the Pioneer Institute has earned the right to be deeply aggrieved by the Bay State’s adoption of Common Core. The logic of standards-based reform should dictate that other states should be adopting the Massachusetts standards and playbook, not vice versa. Pioneer is a leading intellectual center for reform thinking in the state. The Institute has a right to fear that its efforts to “make historic strides in improving its schools and establishing the highest performing charter sector in the nation,” to quote the book’s preface, are at risk of being diminished and diluted.

That said, even as a supporter of the standards, I would not claim as Peter W. Wood does in the book’s introduction that Common Core is “a far-reaching effort to transform American K–12 education.” However, if one accepts his assertion, then the profound disquiet over Common Core seems not entirely irrational. If the skeptics are right, Wood writes, Common Core “will damage the quality of K–12 education for many students; strip parents and local communities of meaningful influence over school curricula; centralize a great deal of power in the hands of federal bureaucrats and private interests; push for the aggregation and use of large amounts of personal data on students without the consent of parents; usher in an era of even more abundant and more intrusive standardized testing; and absorb enormous sums of public funding that could be spent to better effect on other aspects of education.”

Far more compelling arguments can be made not about how much Common Core matters, but how little. For several years now, Brookings Institution scholar Tom Loveless has examined National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP) scores and argued patiently that Common Core will have little to no effect on student achievement. Recently, Loveless wondered whether whatever gains Common Core has to offer have already been realized, thus pushing back against those (including me) who believe Common Core won’t bear fruit until professional development, curriculum, and instruction aligned to the standards take hold. Alas, no one thought to offer Loveless a book contract.

CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.SL.5.1.D

Review the key ideas expressed and draw conclusions in light of information and knowledge gained from the discussions.

I remain more sanguine than Loveless, but his sober analysis points to the bald fact that Common Core’s advocates elide and critics ignore: Standards by themselves accomplish little. They set a bar that can only be reached and cleared by means of strong curricula, exceptional teaching, fair and rigorous assessments, and meaningful accountability systems. The challenge, now and always, is not setting standards or even agreeing to them. The challenge is in meeting them. Ultimately, I suspect the primary contribution of CCSS will be not to fix what ails American education, but to reveal a disquieting lack of capacity at all levels of the nation’s K–12 system.

Academic standards cannot create anything close to a uniform experience for students in K–12 education in a country as large and diverse as the United States, any more than building codes force us into identical houses, or USDA standards compel us all to eat boiled eggs for breakfast. All standards can do—and it’s not nothing—is to create something close to uniform expectations. This is no more of a threat to local control of schools than the fact that a computer’s recharging cord can be plugged into a standard wall outlet in every one of the nation’s nearly 100,000 schools.

Principled critics largely concede this point. “Common Core’s English Language Arts Standards could raise literary-historical study to rigorous levels,” Stotsky and Bauerlein conclude in Drilling through the Core. “Much depends on how the states and local districts implement them.” Here, we agree. The great tragedy of the faux “debate” over Common Core is that some of the people most ideally suited to wisely guide its implementation—Stotsky, for instance—have opted instead to endlessly re-litigate the standards, at incalculable cost to students in classrooms today. The nation’s schools are poorer for the estrangement of Stotsky and others.

Notably, the authors of the Common Core ELA standards gave primacy to content, writing in the front matter of the document that literacy depends on students reading widely in history, science, and other disciplines: “Students can only gain this foundation when the curriculum is intentionally and coherently structured to develop rich content knowledge within and across grades.” Far from marginalizing teachers in content areas, Common Core establishes them as gatekeepers. Every Common Core critic who frets over loss of local control and nonexistent curricular-content mandates should be holding its authors and implementers to these words. Common Core’s ELA standards do not marginalize subject-area study. The road to meeting the standards passes through subject matter.

In the end, the most lamentable outcome of the overheated Common Core wars has been the estrangement of potential allies in a far more important struggle: the quest for instructional reform. To date, most ed-reform efforts have been aimed at mere structural change—expanding the reach of school choice and charter schools, improving teacher quality, or insisting on test-driven accountability. Yet reformers have tended to lose interest at the classroom threshold: an odd thing, if you think about it. In our zeal to measure educational output and teacher quality—to reward those who do it well and punish those who don’t measure up—we remain resolutely incurious about what exactly kids do in school all day. Unaccountably, those who see first-rate instructional materials and quality teaching as reform levers have been far more likely to fight Common Core than to insist upon it as a means to make instructional reform an education priority, a lost opportunity the likes of which we may never see again.

One can only imagine how much progress we might have made if, instead of attacking the standards, its principled critics had devoted their energies to helping the field choose materials, create curriculum, train teachers, and insist on implementation with fidelity. At a time when the nation’s 3.7 million teachers desperately needed help, when “What should we teach?” was at long last being asked in earnest, the worst of these critics used it as an excuse for bombast and dark mutterings while the best sat idly by, carping on the standards rather than using the occasion to guide thoughtful implementation.

Robert Pondiscio is a senior fellow at the Thomas B. Fordham Institute.

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What We’re Watching: Match Charter School Shares Its Curriculum https://www.educationnext.org/what-were-watching-match-charter-school-shares-its-curriculum/ Fri, 16 Sep 2016 00:00:00 +0000 http://www.educationnext.org/what-were-watching-match-charter-school-shares-its-curriculum/ Match Charter School, a high-performing preK-12 school in Boston, is making its curriculum available to teachers everywhere through Match Fishtank.

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Match Charter School, a high-performing preK-12 school in Boston, is making its curriculum available to teachers everywhere through Match Fishtank. The courses available for download so far are 7th grade English, 7th grade math, and 9th grade English.

ednext-sept2016-www-match-fishtankThe website explains

These materials have been developed and curated by our teachers and curriculum experts over many years.

At Match, we think teachers should spend more time planning how to teach — with the unique learning needs of their students in mind—and less time worrying about the basics of what to teach. Good baseline curriculum and assessments free teachers to do just that.

Match Fishtank is our effort to share our curriculum with teachers everywhere to lessen their load and help them on the road to amazing classroom learning.

The founder of Match Charter School, Michael Goldstein, wrote “Studying Teacher Moves: A practitioner’s take on what is blocking the research teachers need,” for Education Next.

– Education Next

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