Recently I posed an interrogative to a 52,000-member-strong
group of ed reform resisters. The query was and is a question weighing heavily
upon me as I navigate what it means to be involved in American education in the
early 21st Century:
“Is implementation of Common Core State
Standards child abuse?”
Posed as a likert scale-styled poll with options of Yes, Probably, Unsure, Probably Not, and
No, the question was such a hot-button
topic the group’s moderators swarmed to delete the post. Their general worry
seemed to be the question implied teachers were guilty of child abuse. As if
teachers are the only parties responsible for CCSS implementation.
But if implementation of CCSS is child abuse, aren’t they guilty
of it every time they use a CCSS-aligned text or approved, pre-purchased
curricular device? Every time they administer a CCSS-mandated standardized
test? And not just teachers, but administrators, governors, presidents,
parents, teacher educators, and financiers?
Aren’t all of us not actively fighting for the removal of
CCSS and other corporate-style ed reforms, or doing so while we also have to
use them, guilty as well?
Though I’m not a classroom teacher in K12 schools anymore
and am a few weeks removed from being a teacher educator who once did have to
help pre-service teachers know how to navigate the new standards and the
hullaballoo associated with them, I’m still a parent of two children in public
schools, the husband of a public school teacher, a member of the local PTO, and
an American citizen who is informed, experienced, and educated regarding most
things teaching.
I worry I’m accomplice
to the crime. My livelihood, at the moment, though, does not depend on denying
this possible truth, as might be the case for most employees in public schools.
I’m not alone in considering the worrisome possibility. A Boolean
Google search returns 315,000 results for terms “common core” and “child
abuse.” Top links appear from The Daily
Mail, Diane Ravitch’s blog, The Blaze, RightWingNews, and New York Daily News.
If common core is child abuse, though, under what
definition?
According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services,
“The Federal Child
Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act (CAPTA) (42 U.S.C.A. § 5106g), as amended by
the CAPTA Reauthorization Act of 2010, defines child abuse and neglect as, at
minimum:
‘Any recent act or
failure to act on the part of a parent or caretaker which results in death,
serious physical or emotional harm, sexual abuse or exploitation’;
or
‘An act or failure to
act which presents an imminent risk of serious harm.’
This definition of
child abuse and neglect refers specifically to parents and other caregivers.
A
"child" under this definition generally means a person who is younger
than age 18 or who is not an emancipated minor.”
With that definition in mind, I draw from my understanding
of literacy to answer the question.
Kylene Beers and others suggest there are three major levels
of reading development, all along a continuum and stages to which a reader can
return depending on text, situation, and ability.
The three levels of readership are: the independent reading
level, the dependent reading level, and the frustration reading level, which I
call the failure reading level.
Students need little instruction when they read at their
independent level. Teachers help access what Vygotsky calls students’ zones of
proximal development when they offer adequate assistance (scaffolds) at the
instructional level. This is the level where reading growth might best and most
easily be studied and measured. The teaching/learning level.
At the frustration
level, though, texts are simply too difficult for students to comprehend, with
or without effective scaffolding. Anyone at any time can find themselves at
frustration level. Consider how poorly you might read and understand tax
documents, for example, despite an
advanced degree in Literature, or how many well-educated teacher educators say
they can’t understand comics texts because of lack of familiarity with form,
language, etc.
Students without teachers who know how to access and grow
kids’ zones of proximal development may find themselves stuck in the frustration
level, unable to successfully expand their literacy because they are asked
constantly to do that which, developmentally, they’re just not ready and able
to do yet.
And that is why the frustration level is synonymous, to me,
with the “failure level.”
Students consistently
asked to do what they are not yet capable of doing feel like failures, like
they are not good at reading, at school, at thinking or living, even, and may
decide to inhabit the outskirts of classrooms or schools. Many, understandably
tired of being asked year in, year out to fail, essentially, stop coming to
school all together.
I believe with all my heart that failure level teaching is
child abuse and neglect. Abuse and neglect I’ve probably propagated as a K12
teacher. Maybe even at the college level. Again, while I’m suggesting a broad-brush
level of complicity, I do not remove myself from the list of offenders.
Do you think students who dropped out due to repeated
requests to define themselves as failures were neglected or experienced long-term
harm when they dropped out? But, isn’t it possible they dropped out because of
the repeated harm and neglect by those unable to – or worse, unwilling to --
access their zones of proximal development too? Because the harm was imminent?
Perhaps they were exploited by pre-packaged programs like
Accelerated Reader, or at least by those who bought the programs and bought in
to narrow notions of literacy. Perhaps
their self-esteem, and, worse, self worth dropped to points where they could
not handle the emotional harm. Maybe the harm wasn't imminent tangibly, but,
and forgive me for waxing poetic, that which can’t be touched can still be
felt.
I carry my understanding of independent, dependent, and
frustration/failure reading with me when I consider the Common Core State
Standards. It may be true the math standards are less rigorous than what some
states had before; it may be true ELA standards for middle and high school
grades, while not elegant, are workable, at least. But I also note CCSS were
backwards designed “from the top down,” with creators thinking first of what
would make a senior “college or career ready” rather than simultaneously
considering early grades students’ developmental abilities and proclivities.
Indeed, it is well known no early childhood educators were
part of CCSS development and many within the early childhood community have
expressed concerns about the inappropriateness of those standards. See here, here, here, and here.
They might have drawn a line at calling the early grades
CCSS abuse, but clearly they feel harm is imminent and appropriate expectations
neglected.
I believe CCSS does constitute abuse and neglect. Even if
one only cares to admit the K-3 standards are harmful, currently CCSS is a
package deal. Not fighting against all of them while knowing they’re aligned
does not excuse one’s guilt. Nor does being a middle school English teacher who
can’t be guilty of the abuses forced upon second grade teacher because s/he
teaches seventh grade.
I think most K12 teachers who are forced to implement CCSS believe
it is abusive, too, though I admit not having statistical data to back up the
claim (hey, I tried). I think that’s why the poll question was acerbic to the
batty men and women moderating on behalf of the 52,000. They know every day
they work to offer students the best they can, but they do so while also asked
to implement abusive, exploitative policies they feel powerless to correct.
I’m reminded many abuse situations are rooted in cycles yet
unbroken.
As well, there are dangerous implications to admitting to
this kind of abuse, of course.
Could parental stakeholders sue, bring charges against, or encourage the arrest of individual teachers or principals or districts or
companies or think-tanks or Secretaries of Education or POTUSes who all play a
part on the cycle, the trickle-down circle of this kind of abuse and neglect?
Is that what it will take to turn the tide against Common
Core, even if a few teachers or superintendents get thrown behind bars or
otherwise have their careers destroyed so the rest can finally work to the absolutely
best interests of students, something CCSS surely does not do?
Goodness knows veteran teachers and those seeking less
abusive environments are having a terrible go of finding new work. Is it just a
matter of deciding for which cause we need the sacrificial lambs?
Enough questions. Let’s turn to answers. Possible solutions:
I believe parents are
the ones, ultimately, who will bring down CCSS, if it is defeated. Parents armed with knowledge of the CCSS,
knowledge of definitions of abuse, and knowledge of early childhood development
could become the most powerful force in the nation against CCSS by simply doing
what parents are supposed to do: Protect their children from harm.
I see real change in
American education if parents accept a definition of abuse and neglect that
allows acknowledging CCSS as abusive and harmful, if they demand of their districts they not abuse their children.
If some of those parent warriors are capable
of sustaining legal action, I see instant national attention to the matter of
education once they take it.
I do hope, though, these new Uber-advocate parents might be sympathetic
but not all-forgiving of those who know better than to accept what they have to
accept to earn money to take care of their own
families.
Furthermore, I see teacher educators as central to the
mission of eradicating CCSS-imposed abuses, manipulations, exploitations, and neglecting
of that which is actually helpful and appropriate for all students.
I suggest teacher
educators organize a moratorium on the regular wars they battle – those of
earning tenure or full professor status, scratching and clawing to get into the
top-tier journals and conferences, one-upping one another and sycophanting the
deans and granting agencies and the fields’ various power players – and
instead work wholly and completely on removing CCSS standards and accouterments in two years’ time.
Besides for teaching,
of course, I suggest teacher educators make eradication of Common Core State Standards
their singular goal, helping their leaders see why it is their most important task
and having the gumption to expose or call out those leaders when they resist.
K12 teachers are in a more precarious position. I hope they join ed reform resistance movements
when and wherever they can, batty-based or otherwise. But I encourage K12 teachers not to shy away from truths
which hurt their souls. Change can’t come by denying them or ignoring them.
The truth is, as I’ve come to see it, abusive, manipulative, monied enablers
have turned the majority of America’s school teachers into co-abusers,
co-enablers. Perhaps principals and central office personnel too. Teacher
educators are not doing nearly enough to advocate for and empower these less privileged
stakeholders, and those with the most power to enact real change are likely the
people best positioned to gain from CCSS’s survival. I want to make clear that I am not teacher bashing. I wish with all my heart teachers had job security and national respect enough to feel they could end the trickle-down audacity known as today's national curriculum, standards, and assessments.
I don’t ask anyone to
admit being complicit without admitting I’m guilty too. But I’m not going to
fight that truth. So long as I allow
CCSS to touch my children, I’m an abuser, an enabler at the very least. Even if
I were to get CCSS removed from my kids’ school, I’d still be guilty of neglecting
your kids. So long as Arne Duncan pads Bill Gates’ pockets, they are abusers.
As long as the President continues to support his extension of Bush era
education policies….
So, stake holders, now what?
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