Joy Hakim

     Digging through old books I came across The Great Constitution: A Book for Young Americans by Henry Steele Commager. First written in 1961, and republished in 1981 by the Eastern National Park & Monument Association, it is now out of print.  Commager’s book is the very best description of the making of our nation, for young readers, of which I know. To repeat, it is out of print.  And therein lies one of the reasons we are struggling with our schools and our whole education edifice. Our schools have been waylaid by a publishing industry whose purpose, like that of all big business, is to make money. Which it does—schoolbooks account for billion dollar revenues for a few megapublishers. The values and goals of education are not a serious part of the equation. Keeping a few really good books in print is not a way to make big profits. Churning out new series in constantly changing rotation is.  Feed children a diet of French fries and coke and you have health and obesity issues. Feed them mental junk food, as we do with most of the commercial texts we use in our schools, and you have an education problem. Fill our school with great books—classic children’s books, the best of today’s writing, and rarities like The Great Constitution, and our children will bask in the intellectual excitement that comes with reading wonderful thoughtful idea-rich prose.

After many years living near the ocean in Virginia Beach we are packing up and moving on. Our house, perched high on an old sand dune, is rimmed by tall pines, bay laurel, and holly trees. It is filled with memories, but I have only a little time for their distraction. In almost every room, including the kitchen, books are stacked nose high. I am culling: deciding which ones to give away and which to keep. Yesterday I picked up Mortimer Adler’s How to Read A Book. I have told myself not to get waylaid by a book, but this one, published in 1940, addresses a subject that seems to obsess me. So I took it as bedtime reading.

     Adler, a 20^th century University of Chicago professor, was a prime force behind the “Great Books” movement. He cared about schools, and education, and especially about what we today call “critical reading.” Adler spends much of his book bemoaning the state of education in 1940 and what he saw then as a reading crisis that needed addressing, or it would only get worse. He believed that the United States, which had a tradition of widespread literacy, was losing that edge.

       Adler makes several points worth considering:

       In each generation there are only a few great books written. So reading current literature means spending  time with a fair amount of trivia, or at best, inconsequential thinking.

      Great books are almost always challenging. They are often not easy to read. To do so takes sophistication and skill. That process, which usually demands more than one reading of a book, can be taught. It trains the mind.

     Read easy books, books that aren’t challenging, books that are on your “ reading level,” and you don’t learn much.

     Great teachers change lives, but they are rare; great books make the best teachers of the past available, all you have to do is be able to read them.

     Literacy means more than reading words; it means understanding the complex ideas found in most great writing.

     There’s a whole lot more to Adler’s book. But I have packing to do.

Last week 8,000 microbiologists gathered under one roof (a big one) in San Diego. I was with them at an annual convention, carrying a 350-page schedule of events. Thumbing through that monster catalogue I found sessions with titles like this: Use of Luminescent Trypanosomes to Explore the Pathogenesis and Treatment of Chagas Disease and African Sleeping Sickness.

I didn’t make that one.

I did go to a forum on “Telling the Story of Science,” which (no surprise) resonated with me. This was the subject chosen by the president of the American Society of Microbiology, Roberto Kolter of Harvard Medical School, for his President’s Forum. (ASM has 42,000 members worldwide.)

Moselio Schaechter, from San Diego State, hyped the ASM blog (he’s in charge of it). If you have any interest in microbes, the little critters that outnumber us by zillions, that blog, called “Small Things Considered,” is worth a look.

Carl Zimmer spoke on science in the age of new media. Zimmer, who teaches science writing at Yale, often has articles in Science Times, which is included in each Tuesday’s edition of the New York Times (I never miss it). He has written a bunch of books on science and is very good at explaining complexities in simple terms. Why don’t more schools use books by terrific writers, like Zimmer, instead of using unintelligible turn-off texts? For no good reason: a few behemoth textbook houses, paralleling some Wall Street firms, knowingly producing mind-numbing garbage; and wax fat and rich in the process. It doesn’t have to be. It’s educational malpractice to spend good money on bad textbooks.

Back to Zimmer who, when I went to shake his hand after his talk, saw my name badge and insisted on taking my picture. Seems he is reading A History of US to his two daughters and wanted to show them he had met the author! (That’s part of the fun of what I do.)

Larry Bock, who is responsible for some terrific science festivals around the country spoke about the enthusiasm for the subject they bring, especially to children. Shock and aahh, is the way he described it.

I spent time with Ed Bassett, a teacher from the state of Washington. When I was in high school I was lucky enough to have a great English teacher; she changed my life. Ed is a science teacher who impacts young lives in ways they will never forget. He helped me understand a lot of what was going on at the conference.

The sessions were full of references to Carl Woese, a towering figure who, after checking their RNA, realized that all microbes are not bacteria. (That was back in 1977 and he has transformed the field.) Today the microbial story is more interesting, and complex, and important, than most people understand. Lynn Margulis, another celebrity in the field, doesn’t quite agree with Woese’s insights, and says so with gusto. Which was a bit of intrigue that added spice to the conference kettle.

I’m now writing about biology and find myself especially fascinated by those tiny creatures that we just became aware of a few hundred years ago.

University of Washington microbiologist and brain theorist John J. Medina spoke to a group of educators in Denver recently.

He described the way the brain stores information, which got me thinking about the way schools work.  According to Medina, most information that we learn needs to be revisited within a two-hour window, or it is lost.  If the goal is to take knowledge from our fluid memory banks and put it into long-term memory storage, that isn’t likely to happen unless the information gets repeated—usually more than once.

Medina suggested school schedules that allow for immediate repetition: for instance, homework done after a lesson, not hours later when it often needs to be relearned.  He spoke of repeating some subjects, like algebra, several times in a school career and not assuming that one teaching is enough.

I thought of the way we used to teach American history, and the way we do it now.

Until the mid-20^th century, American schools taught U.S. history—all of it––three times: in 5^th grade, in 8^th grade, and in 11^th.  But with each passing year there was more to teach, hardly anyone made it to current times, so curricula changed. U.S. history was sliced in thirds: with the first third, usually up to the Civil War, often taught in 5^th grade, the Civil War to World War I in 8^th grade, and the 20^th century to now in 11^th grade.

So today many of our students get just one take—in three parts—of American history.  If Medina is right, without repetition, few will remember that history.

What do I think we should do? Consider history as a reading discipline. History—idea centered well-written history–is the best subject I know for teaching critical thinking and analytical reading.  Nonfiction reading is in the doldrums. Mostly it means paragraph analysis, not thoughtful reading. Given a three times history curriculum we could make our national story central to school learning and at the same time let our students read real books about real issues.  Politics gets most of us riled up and ready to argue, with good history we have the politics of the past with its conflicting ideas and dilemmas to talk and write about.

In the elementary grades the focus can be on biographies and true adventures. In middle school, U.S. history works as a two-year chronological story, giving students an overall picture of our development from a virgin land to one filled with people from all over the rest of the world. (Even the Native Americans came from somewhere else; we are all immigrants.) It’s an approach that naturally combines environmental and people issues. In high school, multidisciplinary history, partnering civics, geography, economics, and the arts—offers a broad perspective.  Three times and, according to Medina, we might just be informed and remember our national story.

As I tell my readers, everything that happens today—from baseball to jazz—will be history tomorrow.  It’s the mother discipline. It helps make sense of all the others. History as a litany of facts to be memorized for a test is quickly forgotten, but that’s the way it’s presented in most curricula.

History dull? The very idea is absurd. History is a story, it’s our story, it’s not dull; it’s just been made so by a chopped up narrow approach.

Because of what I do, I meet great teachers. They are the ones who come to conferences and booksignings, who seek out a writer. California’s Jim Bentley is one of those great ones. He teaches fifth grade and, in addition to having his students read history, he has them actively participate in civic activities.

I asked him some questions recently and, as I expected, he gave me much to think about.

What is the proper role of civic education in America?

Here are Jim’s words:

“When we look at the Northwest Ordinance of 1787 at the requirement for new states admitted to the union to guarantee a portion of their lands be dedicated to public schools, my understanding is that the measure was designed to educate young adults to take their place at the leadership table. It wasn’t necessarily to teach just the three R’s of reading, ‘riting, and ‘rithmetic. It wasn’t to promote sports over academics. It was to try and create a skilled, learned electorate.

“We’ve abandoned that charge today in large measure. Today’s educators should be focused on providing their students with three things in equal measures when it comes to civics: 1) knowledge 2) skills 3) dispositions.

“Students need a working knowledge of how their government was designed, the processes involved, and most importantly the “big ideas” behind it all. Kids need access to core concepts such as limited government, representative democracy, natural rights philosophy, the role and responsibilities of citizens, the differences between positive and negative rights, the purpose of government, how a citizen can become involved.

“Knowledge quickly evaporates unless it’s applied. That’s where skills come in. If kids learn how the political/civic process is supposed to work, they next need to obtain the skills to interact with it. Kids are taught “to do” math or “to do” science or “to do” physical education or art or music, yet kids in public schools are too often not provided the chance “to do” civics. That’s where programs like Project Citizen come in. This is a program created by the Center for Civic Education, designed to teach students about public policy and how to monitor and influence it. Students are encouraged to tackle community problems, apply their knowledge of civics to them, and offer a public policy solution to the problem. It involves reading, research, writing, math, critical thinking skills, communication and presentation skills, and civics. . . Knowledge not applied is like a set of gloves not worn; both are quickly forgotten.

Finally, kids need their teachers to instill within them the dispositions, the attitudes, that they rightfully have a role to play as young people and later as adults.

If kids gain knowledge of civics, if they are encouraged to experiment with it in the laboratory of the classroom, and if they are taught to believe that their voice counts, they just might develop a sense of passion rather than apathy when it comes to political life. My students two years ago lobbied the 5th largest school district in the State of California to spend money to purchase 17 running tracks at older elementary schools so that kids and teachers can promote aerobic conditioning. They gathered a large body of knowledge about how a school district works and finances projects. They refined their presentation skills and powers of persuasion. The presented their case, had a few setbacks, and ultimately were told “no” by a superintendent. When that happened, they didn’t give up. They had developed several key attitudes: resiliency, efficacy, self-confidence. When they told the superintendent they appreciated his time and that they were going to go to the school board, the administrator changed his mind. Perhaps he understood that 10 year old kids with the knowledge and presentation skills and dispositions they possessed would be a very difficult force to say “no” to in public. My students gained 17 running tracks for 17 old schools at a cost of about $2 million dollars that had been raised almost a decade before from bond sales. When kids learn they can make a difference, it’s hard to stop them.

The test scores keep rolling in: Reading scores stay “flat” as the gap between rich and poor becomes a chasm. In science we rank somewhere in the middle of the international scene, gazing wistfully at places like Singapore and Finland where students excel in math and physics. Are their kids smarter than ours? Are their teachers more skilled? I don’t think so.  But I do think we are off-course in some of our teaching methods.

The teaching of reading is not rocket science. But we’ve become obsessed with methodology, focusing on paragraph analysis and test prep, forgetting why most people read. Which is for pleasure, or to learn.

Nonfiction, well-written enlightening nonfiction, is reading made for an Information Age.  Good nonfiction is literature, fully equal to fiction. Yet studies seem to show that most schools equate nonfiction with dreary textbooks and that the average American student never reads a whole nonfiction book in either middle or high school. What are we thinking when we design curricula? The young people I know want to learn about black holes. They are fascinated by quantum weirdness. They are in need of solid heroes, and of villains too. History is where you find their stories.  So what are we doing to satisfy those needs? Having them analyze paragraphs.

I’m trying to upset the educational apple cart with, of all things, information-packed books. In an age of easy twitter-talk, solid absorbing reading may be the real balancing innovation. Traditionally, the best way to pass on information, and make it stick, has been through stories. (Read educational psychologist Kieran Egan to learn of the power of stories.)
     Since the days of the ancients, civilizations have always conveyed their important ideas through stories. (Check out the Bible; check Homer.) Somehow in our time we traded in stories for litanies of facts. We put those litanies in textbooks and school learning tanked. Now we’re setting those lists of facts on discs and on the web. But dull is dull. Stories have been and are the way to go.
     So I’ve been writing story-based books that, yes, are meant to teach history and science-but also to change some current educational thinking. Reading is essential if we are to produce thinking citizens; those who don’t read don’t have the in-depth knowledge to do a whole lot of thinking. Books are not the problem; it’s dreary books that are a turn-off.
     Read a tale from “Making Thirteen Colonies” (in the Oxford University Press’s American history series, A History of US) and see if you’ve learned some U.S. history. Or try a chapter from “Einstein Adds A New Dimension” and see if you’ve acquired insights into modern physics, along with some world history (from Smithsonian Books/NSTA’s The Story of Science.  In our world science should be for everyone, not just for scientists. (As it happens, we have some eloquent scientists writing stories of their craft.)
Back to that apple cart: Today, narrative learning books really are innovative: if you call going back to an old model innovation. This goes beyond subject matter. The idea is to create environments where teachers, pupils, and parents all learn together. The teacher as the purveyor of knowledge is an out-of-date model in a world where information is growing at exponential rates. No one, not even a great teacher, can be a know it all. So good absorbing books feed an environment where everyone can explore and learn together. It takes new thinking. It’s innovative. It’s fun.

Albert Einstein famously said, “Imagination is more important than knowledge.” Now it’s easy to agree with that, but I lived with Albert for almost ten years so I know he expected his thoughts to be questioned. I fell for the guy-as did quite a few women of his time-but I think that he was being a bit disingenuous with that statement.
    Einstein’s fantastic imagination-the key to his creativity-rested on a solid knowledge base. This was a man who lived in his head, and there was a whole lot to keep him occupied. It was his imagination that gave him the power to visualize, which he did amazingly well. That ability helped him hatch his theories.
    He wasn’t a conventional scientist:  he was clumsy and often mucked up when he tried to experiment. His were gendanken experiments, which means thought experiments. Many great scientists do them. Einstein went farther than most; when asked where his lab was he pointed to his pen.
    There aren’t many Einsteins: people with amazing intellectual skills, a fair bit of knowledge, and a sense of fun. So I believe it’s useful for us, as educators, to consider his schooling, and then to think about that balance between knowledge and imagination.
    Einstein was a product of strict German schools.  That structured school environment was balanced at home by parents who read broadly, talked about books, played music, and doted on their children-taking their questions seriously. An uncle taught Albert algebra, explaining that x was a merry fellow who needed chasing until he was found. Einstein had a popular series of science books-written by a woman-that he read avidly and discussed with his parents. Once a week, the Einsteins invited a college student for dinner, and that young man talked math and philosophy with the boy. Because German law said all children were to have religious training-and the school didn’t provide it for Jewish children-a relative was brought in to teach him Hebrew and Jewish tradition. For a while, he became intensely religious.
    His father was a sweet man; his son called him “wise,” but he wasn’t much of a businessman. He and Albert’s uncle ran a company that built dynamos. Cities were just turning on lights; dynamos were cutting edge. So Albert learned the latest technology at home. It may have been like having parents today who are involved with space science. It was an exciting environment, especially for a young boy with a good mind and a lot of imagination.
    Here we are back to imagination. Einstein was right. It is the key to creativity and the creative leaps that we all admire and aspire to. Interestingly, both Albert Einstein and Isaac Newton described themselves as little boys who never really grew up, who kept a child-like curiosity all their lives.
    So what are we as educators to make of this? You only get one Einstein a century, but maybe we’d have a few more if we could successfully nourish imagination and at the same time provide young minds with a knowledge base to feed their imaginations. Right now we’re involved in test-crazy times. Of course we need evaluations to tell us where we are and how each student is responding. But spending time on rote memorization of expected test questions doesn’t teach much of anything lasting-we all know that.
    We’ll get beyond this to a better testing process. In the meantime, the transition to today’s information age is a bumpy process. In good part our schools are still industrial-age relics. Many are embracing technology, as if it were more than just a method of delivery.
   As we make changes, I believe we should look at classical models of learning. Those German schools didn’t cherish imagination, but they did give their students great literature, languages, solid mathematics, and sound science: all tools for reasoning. Why can’t our kids have all that, along with an environment that nurtures imagination?