While in college studying linguistics and lit, I began working at a small software development company developing expert system-based artificial intelligence, specifically on the team developing infrastructure for semantic analysis of social media for political campaigns. Sooner or later and a few promotions here, an exodus or two there, and I found myself running the place.
In addition to our innovative (or, in technical jargon: amazesauce) essay grading software, we expanded into offering complete curriculum solutions including textbooks, course-packs, and a shoulder to cry on for teaching assistants having meltdowns due to out-of-control class sizes. There were other software projects, but nothing worth mentioning here (or, in technical terms: redacted for security purposes).
Fast forward, I’m teaching in my hometown. It’s been a wild ride so far. Good times, bad times. I am very grateful for the students I have had the privilege of teaching and I hope that I am able to make a difference, not only in their academic performance, but also in upholding our amazing community’s standards of character. But one thing is for sure: not all, but many of the kids are not alright.
In the fifth largest school district in the nation, with half as many Vermonters, but covering an area the size of Massachusetts, it is clear that our students are failing because our schools are failing them. Despite spending billions of dollars on more software, more technology, more curriculum, our kids aren’t learning. Why? It’s not the teachers. It’s everything else.
Most kids can’t learn from technology. They learn from teachers whom they respect and like. They learn from teachers who are preachers of their subject. They learn from teachers who have good morals and firm boundaries. They learn from teachers who want the world to be a better place. They learn from teachers who know more than a passing run-of-the-mill knowledge of their subject.
But, in my time in one of the largest school districts in the nation, as someone who has a deep passion for language, literature, and communication, I find that policy forces me to deliver a dull and insufficient curriculum with unwavering adherence. There is another term for that curriculum: minimum viable product. I should know, I used to make textbooks. Discipline is disconnected from the teachers, who are sidelined at nearly every opportunity by administrators, whether it be intentional or not.
Education reforms get passed. They fail. The kids fail. Rinse, repeat and public education gets another nail in its proverbial coffin. What few realize is that this democratic republic experiment founded by revolutionary men of the Enlightenment two hundred and fifty years ago does not work without two things: the common good and citizens who support it. Citizens, they knew, must be educated. In this way, if public education fails, so will the nation.
My fellow millennials might take note of the series of unprecedented events which have defined our entire adolescence and adulthood. Millennials would do well to take note that we were the last to receive a proper education and the last generation which saw its IQ rise. It’s up to us to solve this. This is one of those nexus points in civilization, sort of like when we went from antiquity to medieval Europe. I’d rather not live through the fever-dream of Neill Blomkamp and Margaret Atwood’s dystopian love child, thank you very much.
