Education experts seem to know too much. I know, this doesn’t seem to make much sense,
but bear with me a minute and I think you will agree.
When people have sought answers they realize how little they
know. Their first question gives an
answer, but it also includes many more questions. In the field of education we have gone from
chalkboards with pencil and paper, to Smart Boards and digital tablets. In order to get from the old way to the new
way we went through a million options, questions, and ideas. But, what do we really know about what works
best and what else is possible? How did
we get here? Was it politics? Was it budgetary? Was it provable science?
If we move from paper bound text books to digital text
books, how does this change the homework?
What is the cost differential for the publisher? Can they make profit by killing less
trees? Are editorial versions easier to
update and distribute? Can the text be
used in course authorware? Are tests
easier to develop, distribute and grade if done through a web-based
database? Do these databases allow for interstate
comparisons? Can we compare various
teachers, teaching styles, teaching experience, teaching colleges, and the
impact of district training (professional development) programs?
As soon as we improve one aspect of education we must
automatically wonder – what else is possible, how do we know what’s best, and how
can we prove it to others. Science
methods teach us to look for answers and to use methodologies that allow us to
document and prove what we’ve learned.
When experts of science state what they have learned we know that they
can prove it. Scientifically proven
results become added to the foundations of human knowledge and eventually
somebody else will come along and build on it.
This is true progress.
In the world of education there is no science to the changes
being made, and therefore there is no way to compare what is being done one way
against what someone else does. Science
is a deliberate and managed way of learning.
Yet, it seems education experts would rather argue and stand on
rhetorical analysis than deliberately manage a comparative study. As a result, these education experts become easily satisfied that their latest
revelation is an improvement without any real proof. Perhaps it is simply some confidence and a
whim that is required. With these rules
in place anyone can be an expert simply by saying so.
The people who have worked their way up in the industry
should be congratulated for surviving a journey of huge attrition, low morale,
and a starvation of passion, but they are not really experts on what’s best or
possible. They are merely experts on how
to work within the very machine they are charged with maintaining. To change the machine they would actually be
endangering their own future careers because no one would be able to predict
what else might change, what will grow in importance, what will become irrelevant
and disposable, and what change is worth the money of today’s competitive
choices and the needs tomorrow will demand of it. Without clear answers there is little room
for certainty and too high a risk for guessing wisely.
So, education experts,
without relying upon science, conjure their ideas creatively, surmise some sort
of theory, and add pragmatic functions to make it work. It seems ingenious when we compare it to
yesterday’s ideas, but are we really improving education? What proof do we have?
In the business world where everything is measured against competitive
profitability, there is a constant call for proof. Every department head must justify their
decisions against the bottom line. As a
result their approach to learning – as a necessary and important function of
success – is a combination of effectiveness, efficiency, and leveraged
outcome. Did their people learn it? Was the knowledge transfer done quickly and
cheaply? Are they using it to improve the
company’s competitive ability?
The driving force of profits is just an alternative
measurement for comparison and whether or not success is being attained. In sports we have scores. In medicine we have survival rates. In politics we have votes. In education we have standardized tests that
measure student ability, but no measure of specific methods. Is this teacher’s
college bringing better results to students in life than that teacher’s
college? Who’s measuring these things? Why aren’t specific instruction methods,
theories, and forms of technology integration the object of exploration,
measurement, and comparison? Why don’t
education experts dig into the pile of possible choices and perform scientific
comparisons?
We all seek the mountain top; the place supreme where we
know we have scaled the cliffs of change, strained against the gravity of
institutionalized bureaucracies, and arrived at a place where we can both – see
the horizon better than anyone else – and be “looked up to” by others who want
what we have found. To reach the
mountain top one must dig. We must look
under every stone. We must dig into the
work of establishing scientific protocols, improving those protocols over time,
and sweat our way through the analysis of data.
Learning is about digging into the body of knowledge and exploring what
is found. Only when the pile of options
has been thoroughly dug through and sorted can we know that we know. Only when what we found is proven to be the
top choice can we rest at the mountain top and enjoy the view for a few moments
before we begin again.
Only those who think they know enough will refuse to dig. This is because being an expert without proof
allows one to lean on his or her shovel, happily not digging anymore; happily
feeling the contentment of their ignorance.
How can that person really be a leader of learning?
Learners dig.
Grab a shovel.
