If you live in the New York City area, you might have heard about the recent student protests against cuts to the arts programs at LaGuardia High School (aka the “Fame” school).
I don’t normally focus on local news, but in this case, I think the real story is much larger than what’s getting reported; in fact, I think that it’s getting overlooked entirely. I happen to have some insider knowledge of the school (colleagues, former students), and although it’s unique in many regards, some of the changes it’s undergone are actually reflective of a much larger trend involving the creeping privatization of public education.
In case you haven’t been following the events, here are the basics:
LaGuardia is one of NYC’s elite public specialized schools, offering both strong academics and pre-conservatory-level training in fine arts, music, drama, and dance. Unlike the other specialized high schools (e.g., Stuyvesant and Bronx Science), to which admission is based solely on SHSAT scores, LaGuardia selects students via a combination of auditions/portfolios and academic achievement (the SHSAT is not required).
Since Dr. Lisa Mars became principal in 2013, there has been a substantial push to increase the focus on academics, and a corresponding decrease in the school’s traditional focus on the arts. Rehearsal time for the musical, for example, has been cut in half since 2017, and studio teachers are claiming that students who would have been accepted in previous years, based on the strength of their auditions, are now being denied because their academic credentials fall short.
Unsurprisingly, this state of affairs has generated a good deal of backlash from both students and parents, who are calling for Dr. Mars’s ouster. As the headline of a NY Times article put it, “Should algebra really matter [at LaGuardia]?”
But in fact, the question is posed in a misleading way here; framing the issue in terms of aspiring artistes forced to learn pointless, boring, soul-destroying horrors like algebra plays nicely into the narrative of schools sacrificing student creativity on the altar of achievement. That makes for a good headline, but it also misses the bigger picture.
To be fair, the insistence that all students achieve at an advanced academic level is in fact unreasonable at a place like LaGuardia, but there’s another, larger dimension to the issue: the real question isn’t whether students who have no interest in pursuing STEM careers should be required to take basic algebra (it is high school, after all)—the question is whether such students should be pushed to take calculus. AP calculus, that is, emphasis on the AP part. Not, in this case, because the class is excessively rigorous for an aspiring painter, but rather because it’s a product of the College Board.
And I do mean *product* in the most literal sense, as in something that gets bought and sold.
Over the last decade or so, the curricular structure at LaGuardia has undergone a type of shift that’s become increasingly common. In the past, students who were headed for college but who were not academic superstars had the option of enrolling in honors classes if they didn’t feel they were quite up to the challenge of college-level work. Now, however, many such classes have been eliminated; for the college-bound, APs are the essentially only option since the non-AP alternatives are taught at a much, much lower level. So even if students don’t want to be taking a lot of APs, they really have no choice. (When I hear reports of students piling up ridiculous numbers of AP classes, I often wonder what other options are available to them.)
The result is that students are more likely to end up in advanced classes when they don’t have a solid foundation, and then find themselves in way over their heads academically—something I repeatedly saw in the LaGuardia students I tutored (only a couple of whom, incidentally, intended to pursue careers in the arts). Working with them was often frustrating for me because most of them genuinely liked French and wanted to do well, but the best I could do was to patch things up around the edges; I couldn’t offer them the kind of grounding in the subject they really needed.
The question, then, is why high schools are so eager to promote AP classes at the expense of internally developed alternatives.
I think there are a few reasons: first, in the current data-driven environment, AP participation provides an easily obtainable metric that can be used to improve rankings. In contrast, honors classes offer no possibility of adding to a centralized store of data.
Notably, schools are rarely judged on actual student performance on AP exams; rather, the focus is almost invariably on participation. Because the College Board collects the exam fee regardless of how students perform, the push is simply to sign up as many students as possible, regardless of whether they have the necessary background to do well. Indeed, between 1999 and 2018, AP participation ballooned from about 700,000 students at just under 13,000 schools to nearly 3,000,000 at around 22,600 schools.
In service of that goal, the College Board has done an exceptional job of promoting the narrative that taking an AP class is in itself 1) a worthwhile experience, regardless of how a student actually does; and 2) that the AP program effectively has a monopoly on rigor—by definition, a class without the AP label cannot be as rigorous or prepare students for—everyone’s favorite buzzword, c’mon say it with me—college and career readiness.
As one article notes, Laguardia’s “college readiness” score—a metric that the school has been under pressure from the DOE to improve—has risen from 89% to 98% since 2015. That’s a remarkably high jump in a very short period, and given that the composition of the student body has not changed dramatically in that time period, it is hard to imagine that those numbers correspond to an actual increase in student achievement (particularly when I’ve heard from teachers there that students can no longer handle the level of work that they routinely assigned just a few years ago).
Much fuss has been made about school privatization in the form of charters (despite the rhetorical trick of referring to them “public charter schools,” they are only public in the sense that they receive tax dollars) and voucher programs, but far less attention has been paid to the creeping privatization of public school curricula.
In fact, the systematic replacement of teacher-designed honors-level classes with pay-to-play College-Board- (or, to a lesser extent, IB-) designed AP classes is creating a hybrid system in which a school itself may be public but the classes are increasingly a product of the private sector—and the final exam comes at a price. Yes, there are fee waivers, but what about students above the cutoff line, for whom $94/exam represents a real sacrifice? Give that a $500 emergency would put most Americans in debt, that’s probably a significant percentage of the high-school population.
The College Board’s recent imposition of a $40 penalty for late registration and/or canceled exams will only exacerbate the problem. Regardless of whether the CB’s new rule requiring students to sign up for AP exams in the fall does in fact result in more students sitting for the tests, it is not hard to see how this could unlevel the play field even further: for a wealthy student, the forfeiture fee amounts to crumbs—essentially, the exam is just as optional for a student whose family earns $250,000 as it was before. For a poorer student who misses the exam, however, that’s not an insignificant amount of money for a family to lose.
If the CB were actually serious about leveling the playing field, they would, at the very least, find ways to bring costs down rather than increase them. It requires quite a feat of doublethink to accept that the College Board is doing students a favor by adding on charges.
This issue has provoked some outcry, but I also think that the extent to which the AP program has taken over the college-prep curriculum at some high schools has flown largely under the radar—backlash only emerged at LaGuardia because the school has such a focused, arts-driven mission, and for that reason the systemic aspect of the problem has been missed.
I also have the impression that when the College Board comes under fire, it generally does so for the SAT since that’s the exam most people still associate with the organization. And whereas the SAT is inevitably a source of controversy, the AP program is somewhat less tainted in the public mind—first, because the tests have always been clearly aligned with specific subjects rather than some fuzzy notion of “aptitude”; and second, because with the cost of college so high, the prospect of using AP exams to earn credits and save on tuition dollars is so enticing. In that context, $94 seems like a steal.
Moreover, since college admissions has become so competitive—in no small part because of grade and score inflation—students are under intense pressure to distinguish themselves academically. For many of them, signing up for large numbers of AP classes is the obvious solution. And again, AP has become synonymous with rigor; for many students aiming for top schools, not piling on AP classes would be unthinkable. Given that context, any sort of meaningful pushback against the program is unlikely at any but a handful of elite (mostly private) high schools that are already so well known to admissions officers at top colleges that their (non-)participation in the AP program is effectively moot. Elsewhere, it’s the College Board that drives the narrative and, increasingly, sets the terms and the consequences.
Considering that a large part of my job revolves around grammar, I’m somewhat more laid-back about certain rules than one might expect. Or rather, like most people who traffic professionally in the English language, I have a set of rather idiosyncratic preferences that may or may not align with what most people imagine a member of the grammar police would take people to task over.
If, for example, someone assures me that they would never, ever end a sentence with a preposition or split an infinitive, my response is, well, “meh.”
One of my biggest pet peeves, however, involves dependent clauses—specifically, ones begun by subordinating conjunctions—and commas. Or rather, the lack thereof. (more…)
Photo credit: Tricia Koning Photography
For this interview, we are happy to present Gerald Graff and Cathy Birkenstein Graff, professors at the University of Illinois-Chicago. They are the authors of They Say/I Say: The Moves that Matter in Academic Writing, one of the most widely used college composition texts in the United States. In addition, their work has had an incalculable influence on both the original version of The Critical Reader and the AP Language and Composition edition of that book. We are enormously grateful for their participation in this series.
Gerald Graff, a Professor of English and Education at the University of Illinois at Chicago adn 2008 President of the Modern Language Association of America, has had a major impact on teachers through such books as Professing Literature: An Institutional History, Beyond the Culture Wars: How Teaching the Conflicts Can Revitalize American Education, and, most recently, Clueless in Academe: How Schooling Obscures the Life of the Mind.
Cathy Birkenstein, who first developed the templates used in They Say/I Say: The Moves that Matter in Academic Writing, is a Lecturer in English at the University of Illinois at Chicago. She received her PhD in American literature and is currently working on a study of Booker T. Washington. Together Gerald and Cathy teach courses in composition and conduct campus workshops on writing. They live with their son, Aaron, in Chicago.
How did you come to write They Say/I Say? Did it develop organically from your teaching over an extended period, or were there specific incidents that inspired you to write it?
It was more of a slow process that developed over time in the 1990S as we compared our experiences as college teachers. What struck us most vividly at this time was our students’ widespread confusion over how to write an academic paper. To us, this confusion seemed largely unnecessary since, in our view, academic writing follows a rather conventional, elemental pattern that students could readily learn. As we thought about our own struggles with writing, and about what successful writers do, we came to believe that, despite its many moving parts, academic writing has one big constant: the move of entering a conversation, which is usually done by summarizing what other people have said or are saying about your subject and then using that summary to launch your own view, whether to agree, disagree, or some combination of both. (more…)
Over the last few days, chatter about the release of the College Board’s new “adversity index”—a number designed to encapsulate the amount of socioeconomic disadvantage applicants have faced—has finally eclipsed talk of the college admissions scandal (well, mostly).
As the NY Times reports:
The College Board announced on Thursday that it will include a new rating, which is widely being referred to as an “adversity score,” of between 1 and 100 on students’ test results. An average score is 50, and higher numbers mean more disadvantage. The score will be calculated using 15 factors, including the relative quality of the student’s high school and the crime rate and poverty level of the student’s neighborhood.
I think I may be the only person having this reaction, but honestly, I think that this is a whole lot of fuss over what is in some ways a nothingburger. Not a complete nothingburger, mind you—there are some genuinely concerning implications—but also a smaller deal than many people are making it out to be. (more…)
Just when I thought I had a grip on how unpredictable the college admissions process has become, I was told the following story by an acquaintance whose son is a senior in a very top suburban district outside of New York City.
It sounded a bit improbable, but his mother assured me that this is actually what happened.
Dipping my toe gingerly into the “whole language vs. phonics” debate again. I was scrolling through my Instagram feed the other day when I came across an image that made me stop and do a double take (and not in a good way):
Now, I’m admittedly not an expert in reading pedagogy for young children, but even I can tell that there’s something wrong with this picture.
It seems obvious that is should be treated as a sight word because, well, it’s one of the most common words in the entire language and because it follows a semi-irregular phonetic pattern that most beginning readers won’t have mastered.
Had is a different story altogether. Yes, it’s short, and yes, it’s super common, but the differences end there. There are a lot of words that end in -ad and that follow the exact same phonetic pattern:
To name just a handful.
If teachers are actually requiring students to memorize had without ensuring that they master its component sounds, they are passing up an opportunity to help children identify scads (!) of common words—on their own, even without obvious context clues.
To me that just seems like common sense.
Now, to be fair, in a blog post for Scholastic, veteran kindergarten teacher Brian K. Smith makes the point that a teacher might choose to initially treat certain more complex phonetically regular words as sight words in order to help students read slightly more challenging texts. He advises, however, that teachers make clear to students when they are doing so, and why, because otherwise:
Telling students they simply need to memorize these words can create misconceptions and mistrust. For students who struggle with reading, these misconceptions can create even more misunderstanding of the code that words follow.
That strikes me as an entirely reasonable approach, one that an experienced teacher can adapt to the particulars of the students involved. But that is a best-case scenario, managed by someone who knows how to look at the whole picture and head off problems before they begin. Suffice it to say that an increasingly small number of teachers have the expertise for this kind of global thinking.
Moreover, in this case the logic doesn’t hold up: had is far too simple to get treated as a sight word for the sake of pushing students ahead. Furthermore, -ad is a such a high-frequency ending that children probably aren’t at the point where they can really read books independently at all until they know it.
I actually wonder if there’s a sort of categorization problem going on here with teachers, similar to something I used to observe in my ACT students.
Let me explain: one of the most commonly tested errors on the ACT involves the incorrect placement of a comma before a preposition. In order to identify this error securely—as opposed to just thinking “that sounds weird” or “you don’t need to pause there”—it is of course necessary to know what a preposition is.
I didn’t learn much grammar in elementary school, but one of the few things I did learn was what prepositions were: “location” or “time” words. To figure out whether a word was a preposition, we were encouraged to place it before the tree, e.g., in the tree, on the tree, around the tree, etc. Using that little trick, I was able to form an abstract category called “prepositions” and easily determine whether new words fit into it, without ever having to memorize long lists of words individually.
When I started tutoring, however, I quickly discovered that many of my students (though not all) had an inordinate amount of difficulty with that task: they did not seem able to form a general category for prepositions. As a result, I was forced to spend ridiculous amount of time drilling them on individual prepositions.
I really disliked doing this, and it struck me as a hideously inefficient way to teach, but because they could not reliably apply a big-picture, conceptual understanding of prepositions to terms we hadn’t explicitly discussed, or had discussed in another context, it was the only way I could get them to correctly answer questions involving commas and prepositions. (Luckily, most such questions involved only 10-12 or so common examples. But still.)
The difficulty, from what I could eventually gather, lay in the length of the words. Prepositions were usually short, but then again, so were other kinds of words, like, say, conjunctions. You could say to the tree, but you could also say and the tree. So why wasn’t and a preposition? To make matters worse, some prepositions also doubled as conjunctions. Trying to recall an abstract categorization like “position” when differentiating between to and and was too much of a strain on their working memories, given how many other new concepts they were also trying to digest.
Essentially, they had difficulty distinguishing between appearance and function.
I suspect that something roughly comparable may be going on with teachers and sight words.
One website I looked at pointed out, for example, that “oftentimes the terms sight words and high-frequency words are used interchangeably.”
If that’s in fact the case—and I’m going to assume it is—then there’s a real conceptual muddle being promoted. Essentially, “short and common” is being confused with “phonetically irregular.” But those are two completely different things.
In any case, if new teachers are writing in to random education websites asking what sight words are, then it’s fair to assume that there’s a lot of really, really poor training going on. (Balanced Literacy in practice, not theory.) And if teachers are selling/buying sight-word worksheets with had on Teachers Pay Teachers, that’s a very concerning sign. Curious about this, I checked with Richard McManus of The Fluency Factory, and he confirmed that yes, things are actually are that bad.
One of the things I eventually learned to do as a tutor was to focus on concepts that could be transferred to the greatest number of other questions, and to more or less ignore those that applied only to the particular question at hand.
For example, I spent a huge amount of time going over questions that tested things like subject-verb and pronoun agreement (concepts that, once mastered, could be used to answer many new questions) and almost no time on questions that tested things like idioms (you either know them or you don’t, and there’s no way to transfer the knowledge).
I would also regularly ask students to explain to me how else a question might have been asked, the point being that could be tested in many possible ways and that they were responsible for understanding the underlying ideas well enough to apply them regardless.
When I trained tutors, however, I almost invariably noticed that they had a tendency to get caught up (over-)explaining questions with very low general applicability. The result was that they wasted a lot of time on material that could not be transferred to other situations, or explained answers in ways that did not emphasize their applicability to other questions. The entire discussion remained focus only on the particular question at hand.
I confess that watching this drove me positively up the wall.
It would not surprise me in the least if novice kindergarten/first-grade teachers—and probably some more experienced ones as well—were falling into a similar trap. They’re looking at individual common words but not thinking about what else students can get out of learning them.
So, words that are short and common may be phonetically irregular, like one or door were, but they may also be perfectly regular, like sad or mad. However, it may not even occur to an inexperienced teacher that the question when determining what should count as a sight word should not be, “Is this word short and common”? but rather, “Will learning this word help students learn lots of other words”? (Or, more simply, “Is this word phonetically regular with lots of rhymes”?) They may not even realize that the question needs to be asked.
And if they don’t, children are essentially being asked to treat phonetically regular words—easily decodable words—the way my former students treated prepositions: as discrete, isolated units, disconnected from the larger universe of sounds and words.
A couple of days ago (4/21/19), the New York Times ran an article about a Kansas community’s rebellion against the Summit Learning platform, a controversial ed-tech initiative funded in large part by the Chan-Zuckerberg foundation.
Normally, I try to hold myself at as much of a distance as possible from the ed-tech world, but in this case, I seem to have acquired an inadvertent stake in things: last school year, while looking at my analytics (see, I’m data-driven!), I suddenly noticed that I was receiving regular traffic from summit.org and that, moreover, the number of daily referrals from that site corresponded almost exactly to the number of hits on my “how to use a dash” post.
Obviously, a link to the piece had been incorporated into the Summit platform.
When I first discovered this, my curiosity was piqued, and so I spent some time on the main Summit website trying to figure out where my blog was linked to. (Is it just me, or is the ransom-note motif not positively creepy?) Predictably, aside from a handful of vague, weak sample lessons that could be downloaded, I was unable to access anything more substantive. Still, I assumed that more real lessons—even really poorly constructed ones—had to exist…right? At that point, I didn’t really have the time or the inclination to investigate further.
Then, as I was reading the Times article, I came across this:
I recently came across an Atlantic article by the child psychologist Erica Christakis, in which she discusses a concept she terms “adultification”—that is, the attribution of adult traits and behaviors and ways of thinking to children. On its surface, the article—which focuses on active shooter drills in elementary schools, of all things—seems very far removed from things like test prep and college admissions; however, as I read through the piece, I couldn’t help but notice a link. I think Christakis really nails this phenomenon in a way I haven’t seen elsewhere. As she writes: (more…)
In the social sciences, there is a principle known as Campbell’s Law, which states the following:
“The more any quantitative social indicator is used for social decision-making, the more subject it will be to corruption pressures and the more apt it will be to distort and corrupt the social processes it is intended to monitor.”
Or, said more simply, “When a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure.”
Although selective colleges assess applicants holistically rather than according to strict numerical metrics, I think that a modified version of this rule is in fact very relevant to the admissions process. (more…)
Tell us about your company.
My company is named LarryPrep. It consists of just one person – me!
How did you get started in tutoring and what is your favorite part about it?
We have to turn the clock back to 1992 in Edison, New Jersey. At that time I was the Social Studies Supervisor for the Edison Public Schools. Dr. Kresky, the Assistant Superintendent for Curriculum, called an emergency meeting of all supervisors to develop an action plan to counter the decline in district SAT scores. The other supervisors blamed a variety of factors ranging from harsh scoring scales to unmotivated students. Finally, I volunteered to teach an after school “Crash Course.” That afternoon I drove to nearby Princeton and bought a number of SAT prep books including a College Board book with 10 real SATs. I spent the next week poring over the books. I then created a series of after school lessons focusing on vocabulary and critical reading. Verbal scores rose an average of 40 points! As the expression goes, the rest is history. Soon Dr. K scheduled me to teach a Crash Course at both high schools and during the summer. I love the challenge of working with students to achieve a common goal of mastering a difficult test. I especially enjoy working with high school students. Their energy and commitment are contagious! (more…)
One of the side effects of the Harvard Admissions lawsuit has been a greater public awareness of the Z-list, a program in which certain candidates—primarily ones whose families can afford full tuition, as well as many legacies—who don’t quite make the regular cut are given the option of entering the following year. Similar practices, involving both year- and semester-long deferrals, exist at other highly selective schools. Cornell and Brown are among the other universities also known for these schemes, but they are quietly carried out at many additional schools.
One of the primary benefits of this arrangement is that it allows colleges to lock in a certain number of full-pay students without having to include them in official freshman admission statistics, thus lowering the officially reported acceptance rate. (It does, however, have the side effect of reducing the number of spots available in the following year’s class.)
In the past, this practice has been largely associated with elite private colleges, but the other day a colleague who teaches high school happened to mention to me that, for the first time she could recall, students were only being offered spring admission at their state flagship—an excellent school although not quite elite, and one that’s making a play to hoist itself into the next tier up.
So I’m wondering: in addition to encouraging applications from far too many students who don’t stand a remotely realistic chance of admission, is deferred admission going to be the next big thing in working the rankings? (more…)
Update (3/28/19): The Critical Reader received the books purchased from third-party sellers and confirmed that they were in fact counterfeits. A complaint was filed with Amazon, and the offending sellers now appear to have been removed.
3/22/19: If you are planning to purchase The Ultimate Guide to SAT Grammar, 4th Edition, from Amazon, please be aware that the main listing is being periodically given to third-party sellers who may be exploiting the Fulfilled by Amazon option to sell illegally printed copies of the book.
As a result of changes in 2017 to Amazon’s selling policy, The Critical Reader no longer supplies to most wholesalers or third-party Amazon resellers. As a result, there is no legal way for Amazon resellers to obtain our books in large quantities. (To read about my ongoing battle with Amazon over the Buy Box, click here.)
My colleague Michael Cerro, author of For the Love of ACT Science, recently had his Amazon account hijacked this way; the books sold were clearly reproduced from scans. I am waiting to see to see whether this is the case for my books as well, but in the meantime, if you want to guarantee receipt of an authentic book that contains the most up-to-date content, please make sure that the seller is listed as Amazon or The Critical Reader.
At this time, only the main grammar guide seems to be affected; Amazon is still listed as the main seller for the grammar workbook and the reading book.
In the meantime, if you plan to purchase this item from Amazon, please take the extra 30 seconds to check that Amazon is listed as the main seller. If it isn’t, go to”More buying choices,” click on the “New” link and select either Amazon or The Critical Reader. You can also purchase directly from The Critical Reader via the Books page.
Since the whole rest of the world has by now weighed in the college admissions-bribery scandal involving, among others, the children of Felicity Huffman and former Full House star Lori Loughlin (aka Aunt Becky), I’m going to throw in my two cents as well. Actually, it’s more like a dollar, but you get the point.
In case you’ve been living under a rock for the past few weeks, a number of extremely wealthy parents have been implicated in a scandal involving passing their children off as athletic recruits to a variety of prestigious colleges (including USC, Yale, NYU, Stanford, and Georgetown) in order to guarantee their admission. The scam also involved procuring extra time for standardized tests and then falsifying test results (either paying a third party to sit for the exam or enlisting a proctor who changed incorrect answers).
At the center of the scandal is William Singer, a college consultant in Newport Beach, CA, who bribed athletic department members in order to place students—who in many cases did not even play the sport they were supposedly being recruited for—onto the coach’s list, an act of fakery that at its most absurd involved photoshopping students’ heads onto pictures of athletes’ bodies. The various admissions offices subjected the applicants to no real scrutiny, and the ploy was only uncovered by chance, as part of an unrelated investigation. (If you’d like a complete rundown of the players involved, The Daily Intelligencer has compiled a very helpful list.)
Now, for anyone who has even a passing familiarity with how cutthroat the elite college admissions process has become, none of this should come as any surprise. Any loophole, no matter how small, will eventually be exploited by those savvy and rich enough. But aside from that, permit me some additional thoughts. (more…)
Richard McManus is a committed behavioral executive who has designed and delivered training programs for executives, managers and teachers. His mission is to increase the ability of USA schools and teachers to teach reading to all students.
Richard founded The Fluency Factory after 20 years of dreaming, thinking and planning. He is and always will be committed to serving all students — both struggling students and high achieving students. He created a system of fluency charts to measure skills and build the love of learning. The charts provide a direct measurement that can be communicated immediately to the student. They can see their learning from minute to minute, day to day, week to week, in clear, graphic terms. Seeing this progress gives the student the confidence that he or she can do more, and that learning does not have to stop, or be bound by present skill deficits (more…)
Back around 2013, when I was writing the original edition of The Critical Reader, I happened across research showing that one of the primary differences between teenagers’ writing and that of adults lies in the use of concessions—words like however and nevertheless and until, which are used to signal the introduction of an objection or a conflicting point. The adult writers used these types of words consistently, but they were largely absent from the students’ papers. I’ve thought about the implications of that fact in a general way before, but as I’ve recently come to realize, I’ve never really thought them through. This post is my attempt to do so. (more…)
In discussions about reading instruction, a commonly raised point is that students with reading disabilities—particularly dyslexia—suffer disproportionately when deprived of systematic instruction in phonics. In fact, this is virtually impossible to dispute—whereas many students in whole language classrooms do manage to figure out enough of the rules to become reasonably proficient readers, students who cannot make sense out of word/sound relationships have no way of keeping up. And if their difficulties are not noticed in time, or they lack access to competent reading specialists, either through their schools or privately, the consequences can indeed be extremely dire. (The percent of prison inmates with reading disabilities is, for example, astronomical.)
I’m saying this upfront because I do not want in any way to minimize the difficulties faced by these students and their parents. But what I’m interested in examining here is how some of the rhetoric surrounding reading pedagogy operates—how concepts like “normal” and “abnormal” are defined and how, in some cases, the recognition of the importance of phonics for students with reading disabilities like dyslexia can become a tool for reinforcing naturalistic ideas about reading. (more…)
I’ve been stunned by the reaction my previous post, “Unbalanced Literacy,” has generated (a couple of people have informed that I’m all over Twitter, a platform from which I remain willfully absent—let’s just say that pithy isn’t really my thing); had I known that the debate over phonics was still capable of generating such passion, I would have written something about it a long time ago! The piece took me hours and hours to write, and I’m gratified that it’s gotten such a great response.
That said, in light of some of the queries/interview requests I’ve received, I’d like to follow up on one of the points I made in the original piece, namely the fact that some teachers are suspicious of the push for increased phonics because they believe it represents an attempt by the ed-tech industry to exploit students for financial gain—essentially, that phonics will be marketed as the One Great Solution to magically boost reading scores, and that it will be used as an excuse to create all sorts of highly profitable apps and programs that can be marketed to school districts. (more…)
Over the last year or so, an education reporter named Emily Hanford has published a series of exceedingly important articles about the state of phonics instruction (or rather the lack thereof) in American schools. The most in-depth piece appeared on the American Public Media project website, but what are effectively condensed versions of it have also run on NPR and the NY Times op-ed page.
If you have any interest in how reading gets taught, I highly recommend taking the time for the full-length piece in APM: it’s eye-opening and fairly disquieting. While it reiterates a number of important findings regarding the importance of phonics, its originality lies in the fact that Hanford takes on the uneasy truce between phonics and whole language that supposedly put an end to the reading wars of the 1980s and ‘90s, and points out that so-called “balanced literacy” programs often exist in name only.
In principle, this approach recognizes that both development of sound-letter relationships and consistent exposure to high-quality literature are necessary ingredients in helping students become proficient readers. What Hanford does, however, is expose just how vast a chasm exists between theory and reality. In many schools, phonics is largely neglected, or even ignored entirely, while discredited and ineffective whole-language approaches continue to dominate. (more…)