Having majored in education is an endless series of surprises. Not only do you get to learn thing about education, you also get to learn about how to treat people who have not learnt about education and who are not wont to learn about education.
Since you have an education about education, people come to you with questions about education. It's a reasonable thing to do, tautologically speaking - if education works, then the effects of education should be present in those with education. Conversely, if education didn't work, then seeking out those educated about education would be the very definition of folly.
You do not think these things before majoring in education. Because that's what they teach education majors.
This might seem like a roundabout introduction to a text on the efficiency on education, but it isn't. It is at the heart of the question what it means for education to be "efficient", and just at what education is supposed to be efficient.
It is very common in everyday discourse (political and otherwise) to depict educational practices as in some way deficient or inefficient, and to propose alternate practices which just happen to alleviate or eliminate these flaws that were presented moments ago. Everyone wants efficiency, and if someone with a confident demeanor says that something is more efficient than what we've already got, than it's probably true.
Otherwise they wouldn't be so confident, right?
Thing is, being efficient is not a standalone quality. There is always an implicit "at something" at work whenever the word is used, and being able to discern what this "something" is, is a key part of being able to tell generic confidence from actual, trusty knowledge.
Economists, who for some reason are extremely keen on applying generic confidence in political debates about education in particular, are prone to use statistics to show that education has become more and/or less efficient. The typical example is to compile the numbers on grades and how they've fluctuated over time. A move in any direction is interpreted as signs of (in)efficiency, and boldly proclaimed as such.
There are several peculiar unexamined assumptions at work here. One is that higher average grades guarantee some quality of excellence within an individual, and that educational systems that produce higher average grades also produce more of this excellence. Higher grades thus equal higher efficiency, which is the desired result.
The obvious counterpoint to this is of course to just give everyone the highest grades possible, thus guaranteeing maximum efficiency. Which is false on the face of it (although a case can be made that the absence of grades might have positive effects on learning environments), but it highlights the next unexamined assumption.
The second assumption is that this quality of excellence is a uniform quality that expresses itself equally in every student. It might seem counterintuitive, but it follows from the assumption that grades in and of themselves measure the same thing across individuals. It's subtle, but it obscures differences between individuals and - more crucially - curricula.
A third assumption is that the current curricula are adequate with regards to producing the desired outcome. The fact that the desired outcome is left undefined during the argumentation does not leave the assumption empty - it simply leaves it in the default mode, which is the current policies in play. Unless you specifically frame a different desired outcome, you're more or less forced to agree with the standard documents and their valuations of different skill sets and competencies.
Status quo has the advantage of actually being implemented, and does not need further explication to keep being implemented. Quite the opposite.
As you can see, you very quickly get into these deep nested layers of assumptions that follow from previous assumptions, ad infinitum. Sorting out what is assumed where and how these assumptions interact with others on the various levels takes both dedication and hard work, and an explication of any given boast that x is more efficient than y is bound to take up exponentially more verbiage than anyone really ought to read. Generic confidence is a powerful tool, able to convey a whole world of effort into a brief "it's all very simple, really".
But not to worry. We can deal with it. We are taught these things as education majors.
It's super effective.
Friday, July 29, 2016
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
An oppositional read of Ghostbusters
The new Ghostbusters movie is out and about, and there are no lack of reactions to it. From what I've gathered, those who saw it without any particular expectations (other than the busting of ghosts) kinda liked it but had some minor complaints here and there. Others, however, claim that the movie ruined their childhood, and that they now face years of heavy duty therapy to recover from the loss of their past selves.
While the phrase "ruined my childhood" is hyperbolic to the extreme in this context - it's hard to imagine how such a thing could occur because of a ghost busting movie - it does however open up for some interesting possibilities. If we take it as possible for a movie to ruin a childhood, it should logically follow that an equal and opposite effect is possible. If childhoods are somehow open to retroactive alterations, then it ought to be possible to produce movies that in some way enhance these very same childhoods.
An opposite Ghostbusters, as it were.
This line of reasoning opens up a whole range of therapeutic treatments of many actually existing shitty childhoods. Indeed, avid entrepreneurs might want to get to work right away on retroactively prophylactic cinema products, before the market is flooded with happy memories and fondly remembered daydreams of the future we now ended up in.
I can't wait to see it happen.
While the phrase "ruined my childhood" is hyperbolic to the extreme in this context - it's hard to imagine how such a thing could occur because of a ghost busting movie - it does however open up for some interesting possibilities. If we take it as possible for a movie to ruin a childhood, it should logically follow that an equal and opposite effect is possible. If childhoods are somehow open to retroactive alterations, then it ought to be possible to produce movies that in some way enhance these very same childhoods.
An opposite Ghostbusters, as it were.
This line of reasoning opens up a whole range of therapeutic treatments of many actually existing shitty childhoods. Indeed, avid entrepreneurs might want to get to work right away on retroactively prophylactic cinema products, before the market is flooded with happy memories and fondly remembered daydreams of the future we now ended up in.
I can't wait to see it happen.
Thursday, June 30, 2016
What even is remain?
Recently, I did some very late editing to an earlier post, that on modern ruins. Like all of my translations, it suffers from the fact that it is a rework of a piece I wrote when I was less language. Revisiting them means noticing that they do other things in text than in retrospect. The temptation is always there to edit them so that grammar and sentiment align.
I keep them around for the sake of archaeological preservation. No sense pretending the past isn't affected by learning and personal growth. Old writing always happened before the learning that came afterwards.
Thing is. It is possible to look upon contemporary architecture as modern ruins, and read it as such. Certain time periods had certain architectural norms and standards, and built accordingly. These norms and standards have mostly faded away, but the buildings remain, and with an astute enough eye it's possible to read past sentiments off the walls. Sometimes literally - either by design or later additions, such as graffiti - but mostly in implicit terms. Either the writing is on the wall, or the wall is the writing.
It always amazes me how much can be conveyed through architecture. It's never just about keeping the roofs supported and the walls upright. A whole aesthetic is conveyed by just standing around. This is the way things are, the walls say. Because they are.
There is a literacy to these things. Knowing the mindset and zeitgeist of the times that built the buildings around you lets you decode them more skillfully. You can see the optimistic bureaucratic 70s peering at you from the brick boxes, and the 00s from the confused rectangles that looked worn the day after the construction crews left. The past is on display. It remains.
These buildings weren't meant to be ruins. They were meant to perform functions in the present. To house, to store, to home. To present, as it were.
Nowhere is this as apparent as in abandoned buildings. Every part has a specific function, a designated task to be performed within. The fact that it hasn't, and hasn't for a long time, only underscores this intentionality. Dusty conveyor belts convey more than dust. Past design insists itself. It remains.
The question does insist itself. How far-fetched would it be to propose that not all ruins are physical, and that some are ideological, political, social?
It is a question to live by.
I keep them around for the sake of archaeological preservation. No sense pretending the past isn't affected by learning and personal growth. Old writing always happened before the learning that came afterwards.
Thing is. It is possible to look upon contemporary architecture as modern ruins, and read it as such. Certain time periods had certain architectural norms and standards, and built accordingly. These norms and standards have mostly faded away, but the buildings remain, and with an astute enough eye it's possible to read past sentiments off the walls. Sometimes literally - either by design or later additions, such as graffiti - but mostly in implicit terms. Either the writing is on the wall, or the wall is the writing.
It always amazes me how much can be conveyed through architecture. It's never just about keeping the roofs supported and the walls upright. A whole aesthetic is conveyed by just standing around. This is the way things are, the walls say. Because they are.
There is a literacy to these things. Knowing the mindset and zeitgeist of the times that built the buildings around you lets you decode them more skillfully. You can see the optimistic bureaucratic 70s peering at you from the brick boxes, and the 00s from the confused rectangles that looked worn the day after the construction crews left. The past is on display. It remains.
These buildings weren't meant to be ruins. They were meant to perform functions in the present. To house, to store, to home. To present, as it were.
Nowhere is this as apparent as in abandoned buildings. Every part has a specific function, a designated task to be performed within. The fact that it hasn't, and hasn't for a long time, only underscores this intentionality. Dusty conveyor belts convey more than dust. Past design insists itself. It remains.
The question does insist itself. How far-fetched would it be to propose that not all ruins are physical, and that some are ideological, political, social?
It is a question to live by.
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Some inspiring words about brexit
Before the brexit election happened, I wrote a blog post about post-electoral practices. About the inherent absurdity of showing up the day after an election, dressed in electoral garments and keeping on the electoral shenanigans as if nothing had happened. The point was, as you might imagine, to point out the seemingly inherent ridiculousness of such a course of action.
And then to turn it on its head and suggest that a more long-term virtuous approach to electoral campaigning, where you can actually just keep going after the election day without changing too much. The main point being that if your company is both pleasant and convincing, there'd be no need for electoral excesses. You could just comfortably speak your convictions and have listeners accept them by sheer force of personality. Quintilian style.
But then the election happened, and about five minutes after it became clear that leave won, its chief campaigners instareversed and declared everything one big lie. They never meant it, they only suggested possibilities, the impression that they actually wanted to leave is mistaken.
As electoral excesses go, this sure takes the cake. All the cakes. Especially those cakes that are lies.
Let the liars get the just deserts they deserve.
This whole ordeal underscores the point I was trying to make, though. There are a lot of elections going on, and you're likely to be involved in some of them. If something is to be salvaged from this epic clusterfuck of an election, let it be this: campaign in such a way that you can keep going with pride and confidence afterwards, regardless of outcome. And, more importantly, that you can remain on good terms with those who happen to disagree with you in the matter of who or what to vote for.
I'm sure you can understand the rationale behind this, seeing its opposite on prominent display.
The post I originally wrote turned out to be in exceptionally bad taste, given that it assumed a remain victory. But but. There are still things to be learnt and salvaged from this mess. -
And then to turn it on its head and suggest that a more long-term virtuous approach to electoral campaigning, where you can actually just keep going after the election day without changing too much. The main point being that if your company is both pleasant and convincing, there'd be no need for electoral excesses. You could just comfortably speak your convictions and have listeners accept them by sheer force of personality. Quintilian style.
But then the election happened, and about five minutes after it became clear that leave won, its chief campaigners instareversed and declared everything one big lie. They never meant it, they only suggested possibilities, the impression that they actually wanted to leave is mistaken.
As electoral excesses go, this sure takes the cake. All the cakes. Especially those cakes that are lies.
Let the liars get the just deserts they deserve.
This whole ordeal underscores the point I was trying to make, though. There are a lot of elections going on, and you're likely to be involved in some of them. If something is to be salvaged from this epic clusterfuck of an election, let it be this: campaign in such a way that you can keep going with pride and confidence afterwards, regardless of outcome. And, more importantly, that you can remain on good terms with those who happen to disagree with you in the matter of who or what to vote for.
I'm sure you can understand the rationale behind this, seeing its opposite on prominent display.
The post I originally wrote turned out to be in exceptionally bad taste, given that it assumed a remain victory. But but. There are still things to be learnt and salvaged from this mess. -
Saturday, June 25, 2016
Some uninspiring words about brexit
Brexit happened. No one really wanted it to happen. Not those who set it in motion, not those who for months shouted about it with alacrity and, least of all, those who voted for it on a lark. But despite everyone, here it is, and it opens up a vast range of possible futures that are slightly less optimal than remaining.
One possible future is that some arcane part of the British body politics mobilizes and declares the whole thing null and void. It's unlikely, but it could happen.
Another possible future is that things tumble around for a bit, and then settles into a situation akin to that of Switzerland or Norway. While not formally part of the EU, they're not not parts of it either, and for most intents and purposes the difference is metaphysical.
A third possible future is that things break down completely, and the EU starts to treat the UK much like it treats Syria. No one is allowed to enter, and those who try are discouraged in the most direct of ways. Economic cooperation is severed completely, and the Brits are left to fend for themselves on their imperial isle. No matter how miserable they become.
The future that will actually take place is likely to fall somewhere in between. But it is worth noting that the EU contains the possibility of both possibilities, as it were. And any analysis of the EU as it actually exists - with and without the UK - needs to take both possibilities into account. The EU is both, in potentiality and actuality.
As it stands, brutal negotiation await those unfortunate government officials who have to hammer out the details. The EU has the capacity and incentive to not give two flying figs about the plight of the British people, in an effort to discourage further withdrawals from the union. As such, they will play the hardest balls right in the faces of the UK officials, who neither wanted nor prepared for the task foisted upon them by their supposed leaders.
It is not a pretty sight, and I do not envy those involved.
Especially not the Syrians.
One possible future is that some arcane part of the British body politics mobilizes and declares the whole thing null and void. It's unlikely, but it could happen.
Another possible future is that things tumble around for a bit, and then settles into a situation akin to that of Switzerland or Norway. While not formally part of the EU, they're not not parts of it either, and for most intents and purposes the difference is metaphysical.
A third possible future is that things break down completely, and the EU starts to treat the UK much like it treats Syria. No one is allowed to enter, and those who try are discouraged in the most direct of ways. Economic cooperation is severed completely, and the Brits are left to fend for themselves on their imperial isle. No matter how miserable they become.
The future that will actually take place is likely to fall somewhere in between. But it is worth noting that the EU contains the possibility of both possibilities, as it were. And any analysis of the EU as it actually exists - with and without the UK - needs to take both possibilities into account. The EU is both, in potentiality and actuality.
As it stands, brutal negotiation await those unfortunate government officials who have to hammer out the details. The EU has the capacity and incentive to not give two flying figs about the plight of the British people, in an effort to discourage further withdrawals from the union. As such, they will play the hardest balls right in the faces of the UK officials, who neither wanted nor prepared for the task foisted upon them by their supposed leaders.
It is not a pretty sight, and I do not envy those involved.
Especially not the Syrians.
Thursday, June 16, 2016
When rhetoricians and pedagogues clash
I operate by the rule of three. If I see something referenced three times, I look it up. If three persons, independently of each other, ask me to do something, I give this something serious consideration. It's a simple rule that leads to interesting new avenues, and if you ever find yourself bored, try it out.
The reason you're reading this is that three persons, independently of each other, asked about the BA thesis in education (Swedish: pedagogik) I outlined in passing the other day. So here goes. The most technical document you're likely to encounter on this here blog. If you're not an educator or a rhetorician, you might find this somewhat orthogonal to your interests. It would be quite alright to skim this one.
(If you're entering from Twitter and lived through the Thesis Livetweetage, be aware that this is not the memetic fanfic online literacy MA thesis of awesome you've heard so much about. That one is still under evaluation, and will hopefully pass soon.)
My writing partner (bless 'em) and I wanted to analyze an ancient series of rhetorical exercises, the progymnasmata, and how these relate to modern educational practices. Our reasoning was that there seemed to be some very tangible skillsets taught by this series, and that it would be enlightening to see if and where these same skillsets were taught today. And, subsequently, if any insights could be brought to bear from knowing these ifs and wheres.
Which, as you might imagine, is a very broad question, in need of being brought down to earth in terms of scope and analytic feasibility. Specifically, two things needed to be operationalized: the skillsets taught by the progymnasmata, and those skillsets taught in schools today. Only by breaking these skillsets down to their basic elements (the skills that make up the set, as it were) could we compare and contrast them with sufficient detail to say anything interesting about them.
At first, we thought that simply looking at the various exercises outlined in the progymnasmata would be sufficient to get a handle on what they're supposed to teach. However, we soon found that while they certainly built up to something, this something was underarticulated. After being frustrated by lack of context, we realized we'd better get some context. This we found in the form of Quintilian, the famous Roman rhetorician and educator, who both used the progymnasmata and had a whole philosophy regarding what they're supposed to teach.
(A technical rhetorical note: it is both possible and common to apply the progymnasmata [or variants thereof] as a kind of vocational training, where those who undergo the exercises emerge afterwards with newfound abilities to give presentations and suchlike. If all you want to do is to make sure your employees/students are able to give interesting talks, then it works well towards that end. However, this is somewhat barren in terms of comparative educational insights. Thus, we brought in bad boy Quintilian.)
I'm going to skip the tedious details about how we settled upon the five key skills taught by Quintilian's version of these exercises, and get straight to them. These are as follows: critical thinking, the ability to actualize oneself as a social subject, the fast organization of information, to have a good orientation in literature, and to establish good and enduring habits early on. The first three follow from the exercises, and the last two are emphasized by Quintilian. They all point towards the same goal: to become a good orator. Or, to quote: "we are to form, then, the perfect orator, who cannot exist unless he is above all a good man".
Being able to think critically means to not take things at face value, and to see things from multiple points of view. The ability to actualize oneself as a social subject is a complex matter, but it can be summarized as knowing what to say to whom in order to get results (especially in matters of state and law, the traditional arenas of rhetoric). The fast organization of information relates to being creative in finding things to say (topoi). Having a good orientation in literature means both to have read the classics, and to constantly be on the lookout for new nuggets of insight (or turns of phrases) to use when the rhetorical need arise. The good habits - the virtues, if you will - are rather straightforward.
Together, these five skills form what Quintilian named a hexis. This is more than just the ability to do something - it's more akin to having your whole way of thinking based on or shaped by an ability to do something. Learning something - in this case rhetoric and speaking in public - is not just a "learn and forget" kind of thing. You emerge a different person from the experience of learning, and by virtue of this you apply your new insights automatically to all aspects of your life. The knowledge is integrated into your character, and thus you know it intimately.
When Quintilian says that a good rhetor must also be a good person, this is part of what he means. Simply learning some detail or aspect is not sufficient. The art of rhetoric has to become an integrated, instinctive response to new situations - only then has the educational process been effective. You are not just someone who knows rhetoric - you are a rhetor. Your whole being as a person is involved.
(Another technical rhetorical note: the other part of this - the good part - has to do with the conditions of persuasion. If you are not a good person, and use your rhetorical powers to evil ends, those you try to convince will remember this in the future, and so become less inclined to listen to you. Conversely, if you at every point try to do what's good, this too will be remembered. Being a good person means you're in good standing with your peers, and your words thus carry more weight. The counterexample, of course, being Donald Trump.)
If you've followed so far, you have probably gathered why we sought to find if anything of this remained in contemporary educational practices. Both in terms of the explicit aim of educating good/virtuous persons, and in terms of the deep kind of knowing emphasized throughout. Regardless of the subject to be taught, there might be potential advantages to this line of thinking when applied to contemporary educational institutions.
Fortunately for my writing partner and me, we didn't have to ponder the morass of actually implementing or changing anything (at least not within the context of the thesis). Instead, we moved on to the second part of our analysis: the state of our current educational institutions.
Of course, this could stand with some narrowing and specification. Examining the entirety of a school system isn't very expedient, so we had to settle for some part of some aspect of it. We chose the time honored strategy of reading the manual, so to speak: curriculum analysis. Specifically, we read those parts that relate to the subject of Swedish. (The subject is very similar to English in English-speaking contexts. However, since English is also a subject in Swedish schools, calling it "English" would confuse things.)
Since the Swedish school system recently got a brand new curriculum, we decided to compare the old version with the new version, using the framework built from reading Quintilian. I'll spare you the tedious details of how we went about this, and get right to the interesting parts.
The curriculum of '94 (aka the old version) focused on the acquisition of "skills" or "abilities" [the term "förmågor"can go either way]. The curriculum of '11 (aka the new version) focused on the successful internalization and application of strategies. This might seem a subtle difference, but it has dramatic effects when applied in educational practice. For example, the ability to utilize a library and its resources is different from applying a strategy of utilizing the library. The former implies some sort of familiarity and affinity with the library as an institution; the latter implies that libraries are one strategically viable option among many equally viable options.
Now, this is not to say that abilities are better than strategies, educationally speaking. But depending on which framework you use, you end up emphasizing different aspects of the problem at hand, and different solutions to solving it. Being aware of the strengths and weaknesses of your framework gives you the option to compensate for the weaknesses and play into the strengths.
One of the strengths of Quintilian's hexis approach is that it's comprehensive. It teaches, and it teaches well, and brings with it the potential of further deep learning based on the learner's own interests. It has a corresponding drawback of being time-intensive, and requiring a not insignificant amount of dedication from both teacher and learner. You end up immersed in the subject matter, but it takes a while to get there; being oriented in literature only happens one book at a time. (This approach also brings with it the risk of alienating you from your peers, but that's another thesis.)
The abilities approach gives you the understanding you need to act in certain situations, such as in the library example above. It gives you what you need to move along, should interest motivate you. However, if such interest doesn't motivate, you end up with a partial understanding of a particular situation, without the appropriate context to act on this understanding. Such as, say, having a library card and a mechanical understanding of how to use it, but not really knowing or caring as to why you'd want to use it. Or, indeed, why libraries exist.
The strategies approach has the advantage of being fast and efficient. It identifies the desired outcome and the way(s) to get there, and it's easy to control if the educational goal has been achieved. Particularly when the situation only requires that you teach one particular thing. It does, however, run the risk of becoming fragmentary. Clever learners can game the system by quickly identifying the desired strategies, perform them sufficiently enough to pass muster, and then forget all about it. (Interestingly, both studying AND teaching for the test follows this pattern. But, again, another thesis.)
Rhetorically speaking, this would be the place to write that we ended up advocating a particular approach over all others. But, being an exploratory thesis, we didn't arrive at fire and brimstone clear-cut solutions or conclusions. The point was to be able to think about these things in clearer and more nuanced terms. There are advantages and disadvantages to each approach, and each are used in different settings depending on which learning outcome is sought. Some of them within traditional educational institutions, some without.
By sharing these findings with you (all three of you who asked), I hope you'll be able to ask better questions about education in the future. More so, I hope that it has become clearer that education isn't just one standardized thing that can be performed better or worse, and that the goal of educational policy isn't to choose the option that performs better (by any arbitrary definition of better) than the others. There are nuances to these things, and perhaps - just perhaps - bad boy Quintilian still has a thing or two to teach us.
Thank you for reading.
The reason you're reading this is that three persons, independently of each other, asked about the BA thesis in education (Swedish: pedagogik) I outlined in passing the other day. So here goes. The most technical document you're likely to encounter on this here blog. If you're not an educator or a rhetorician, you might find this somewhat orthogonal to your interests. It would be quite alright to skim this one.(If you're entering from Twitter and lived through the Thesis Livetweetage, be aware that this is not the memetic fanfic online literacy MA thesis of awesome you've heard so much about. That one is still under evaluation, and will hopefully pass soon.)
My writing partner (bless 'em) and I wanted to analyze an ancient series of rhetorical exercises, the progymnasmata, and how these relate to modern educational practices. Our reasoning was that there seemed to be some very tangible skillsets taught by this series, and that it would be enlightening to see if and where these same skillsets were taught today. And, subsequently, if any insights could be brought to bear from knowing these ifs and wheres.
Which, as you might imagine, is a very broad question, in need of being brought down to earth in terms of scope and analytic feasibility. Specifically, two things needed to be operationalized: the skillsets taught by the progymnasmata, and those skillsets taught in schools today. Only by breaking these skillsets down to their basic elements (the skills that make up the set, as it were) could we compare and contrast them with sufficient detail to say anything interesting about them.
At first, we thought that simply looking at the various exercises outlined in the progymnasmata would be sufficient to get a handle on what they're supposed to teach. However, we soon found that while they certainly built up to something, this something was underarticulated. After being frustrated by lack of context, we realized we'd better get some context. This we found in the form of Quintilian, the famous Roman rhetorician and educator, who both used the progymnasmata and had a whole philosophy regarding what they're supposed to teach.
(A technical rhetorical note: it is both possible and common to apply the progymnasmata [or variants thereof] as a kind of vocational training, where those who undergo the exercises emerge afterwards with newfound abilities to give presentations and suchlike. If all you want to do is to make sure your employees/students are able to give interesting talks, then it works well towards that end. However, this is somewhat barren in terms of comparative educational insights. Thus, we brought in bad boy Quintilian.)
I'm going to skip the tedious details about how we settled upon the five key skills taught by Quintilian's version of these exercises, and get straight to them. These are as follows: critical thinking, the ability to actualize oneself as a social subject, the fast organization of information, to have a good orientation in literature, and to establish good and enduring habits early on. The first three follow from the exercises, and the last two are emphasized by Quintilian. They all point towards the same goal: to become a good orator. Or, to quote: "we are to form, then, the perfect orator, who cannot exist unless he is above all a good man".
Being able to think critically means to not take things at face value, and to see things from multiple points of view. The ability to actualize oneself as a social subject is a complex matter, but it can be summarized as knowing what to say to whom in order to get results (especially in matters of state and law, the traditional arenas of rhetoric). The fast organization of information relates to being creative in finding things to say (topoi). Having a good orientation in literature means both to have read the classics, and to constantly be on the lookout for new nuggets of insight (or turns of phrases) to use when the rhetorical need arise. The good habits - the virtues, if you will - are rather straightforward.
Together, these five skills form what Quintilian named a hexis. This is more than just the ability to do something - it's more akin to having your whole way of thinking based on or shaped by an ability to do something. Learning something - in this case rhetoric and speaking in public - is not just a "learn and forget" kind of thing. You emerge a different person from the experience of learning, and by virtue of this you apply your new insights automatically to all aspects of your life. The knowledge is integrated into your character, and thus you know it intimately.
When Quintilian says that a good rhetor must also be a good person, this is part of what he means. Simply learning some detail or aspect is not sufficient. The art of rhetoric has to become an integrated, instinctive response to new situations - only then has the educational process been effective. You are not just someone who knows rhetoric - you are a rhetor. Your whole being as a person is involved.
(Another technical rhetorical note: the other part of this - the good part - has to do with the conditions of persuasion. If you are not a good person, and use your rhetorical powers to evil ends, those you try to convince will remember this in the future, and so become less inclined to listen to you. Conversely, if you at every point try to do what's good, this too will be remembered. Being a good person means you're in good standing with your peers, and your words thus carry more weight. The counterexample, of course, being Donald Trump.)
If you've followed so far, you have probably gathered why we sought to find if anything of this remained in contemporary educational practices. Both in terms of the explicit aim of educating good/virtuous persons, and in terms of the deep kind of knowing emphasized throughout. Regardless of the subject to be taught, there might be potential advantages to this line of thinking when applied to contemporary educational institutions.
Fortunately for my writing partner and me, we didn't have to ponder the morass of actually implementing or changing anything (at least not within the context of the thesis). Instead, we moved on to the second part of our analysis: the state of our current educational institutions.
Of course, this could stand with some narrowing and specification. Examining the entirety of a school system isn't very expedient, so we had to settle for some part of some aspect of it. We chose the time honored strategy of reading the manual, so to speak: curriculum analysis. Specifically, we read those parts that relate to the subject of Swedish. (The subject is very similar to English in English-speaking contexts. However, since English is also a subject in Swedish schools, calling it "English" would confuse things.)
Since the Swedish school system recently got a brand new curriculum, we decided to compare the old version with the new version, using the framework built from reading Quintilian. I'll spare you the tedious details of how we went about this, and get right to the interesting parts.
The curriculum of '94 (aka the old version) focused on the acquisition of "skills" or "abilities" [the term "förmågor"can go either way]. The curriculum of '11 (aka the new version) focused on the successful internalization and application of strategies. This might seem a subtle difference, but it has dramatic effects when applied in educational practice. For example, the ability to utilize a library and its resources is different from applying a strategy of utilizing the library. The former implies some sort of familiarity and affinity with the library as an institution; the latter implies that libraries are one strategically viable option among many equally viable options.
Now, this is not to say that abilities are better than strategies, educationally speaking. But depending on which framework you use, you end up emphasizing different aspects of the problem at hand, and different solutions to solving it. Being aware of the strengths and weaknesses of your framework gives you the option to compensate for the weaknesses and play into the strengths.
One of the strengths of Quintilian's hexis approach is that it's comprehensive. It teaches, and it teaches well, and brings with it the potential of further deep learning based on the learner's own interests. It has a corresponding drawback of being time-intensive, and requiring a not insignificant amount of dedication from both teacher and learner. You end up immersed in the subject matter, but it takes a while to get there; being oriented in literature only happens one book at a time. (This approach also brings with it the risk of alienating you from your peers, but that's another thesis.)
The abilities approach gives you the understanding you need to act in certain situations, such as in the library example above. It gives you what you need to move along, should interest motivate you. However, if such interest doesn't motivate, you end up with a partial understanding of a particular situation, without the appropriate context to act on this understanding. Such as, say, having a library card and a mechanical understanding of how to use it, but not really knowing or caring as to why you'd want to use it. Or, indeed, why libraries exist.
The strategies approach has the advantage of being fast and efficient. It identifies the desired outcome and the way(s) to get there, and it's easy to control if the educational goal has been achieved. Particularly when the situation only requires that you teach one particular thing. It does, however, run the risk of becoming fragmentary. Clever learners can game the system by quickly identifying the desired strategies, perform them sufficiently enough to pass muster, and then forget all about it. (Interestingly, both studying AND teaching for the test follows this pattern. But, again, another thesis.)
Rhetorically speaking, this would be the place to write that we ended up advocating a particular approach over all others. But, being an exploratory thesis, we didn't arrive at fire and brimstone clear-cut solutions or conclusions. The point was to be able to think about these things in clearer and more nuanced terms. There are advantages and disadvantages to each approach, and each are used in different settings depending on which learning outcome is sought. Some of them within traditional educational institutions, some without.
By sharing these findings with you (all three of you who asked), I hope you'll be able to ask better questions about education in the future. More so, I hope that it has become clearer that education isn't just one standardized thing that can be performed better or worse, and that the goal of educational policy isn't to choose the option that performs better (by any arbitrary definition of better) than the others. There are nuances to these things, and perhaps - just perhaps - bad boy Quintilian still has a thing or two to teach us.
Thank you for reading.
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Don't say that all lives matter
At times like these, a temptation grips those who want to comment on recent events. A sentiment. An urge to proclaim, in solidarity will all of humanity, that all lives matter.
If you feel this, in any way, shape or form: don't. Resist. Abstain.
It's not a wrong sentiment to have, but it's a wrong sentiment to express. It does not help. At best, it adds nothing to the discussion, and only wastes the time it takes to express it. At worst, it causes all kinds of additional harm and strife, which is the opposite of what you wanted to achieve by expressing it. Expressing it will not improve the situation.
The reason for this comes down to one word: bandwidth.
Social situations have a very limited amount of bandwidth. Only a few things can be socially processed at once. In the cool, calm and collected moments between situations, things can be compared and contrasted and analyzed though larger perspectives. But when the situation unfolds, only a few key items that can be processed at a time. The fewer, the faster and better.
Saying "all lives matters" in a situation where some lives clearly matter less than others introduces a whole range of issues that cannot be processed there and then. There simply isn't enough bandwidth. Insisting that some of this limited resource is diverged is both counterproductive and - dare I say it - rude.
There is a time and a place for all things. Sometimes, tact and discretion are in order.
If you feel this, in any way, shape or form: don't. Resist. Abstain.
It's not a wrong sentiment to have, but it's a wrong sentiment to express. It does not help. At best, it adds nothing to the discussion, and only wastes the time it takes to express it. At worst, it causes all kinds of additional harm and strife, which is the opposite of what you wanted to achieve by expressing it. Expressing it will not improve the situation.
The reason for this comes down to one word: bandwidth.
Social situations have a very limited amount of bandwidth. Only a few things can be socially processed at once. In the cool, calm and collected moments between situations, things can be compared and contrasted and analyzed though larger perspectives. But when the situation unfolds, only a few key items that can be processed at a time. The fewer, the faster and better.
Saying "all lives matters" in a situation where some lives clearly matter less than others introduces a whole range of issues that cannot be processed there and then. There simply isn't enough bandwidth. Insisting that some of this limited resource is diverged is both counterproductive and - dare I say it - rude.
There is a time and a place for all things. Sometimes, tact and discretion are in order.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)