Archives for category: Real Education

Brian Brady is the grandson of Marion Brady, a progressive educator who has been critical of typical school subject-based curricula for many decades. Benjamin asks questions that his grandfather Marion has asked and puts them into the context of the 21st century, where information is easily accessible but hard to put into context as “knowledge.”

Brian has done his grandfather proud, as folks used to say.

Brian Brady writes:

The crisis is no longer information. It is orientation.

My grandfather Marion Brady is 99 years old. For most of his life he has been asking a single question that feels larger now than when he first asked it:

What is worth learning?

Not what is easiest to test.

Not what breaks neatly into standards and benchmarks.

Not what helps institutions sort children into rows, percentiles, and predictions.

What is actually worth learning?

It sounds like a school question. It is not. It is a civilizational question.

If you take it seriously, it does not just expose the limits of school. It exposes the limits of the world school was built to serve.

Modern education was designed for an industrial age. Its task was not wisdom, but coordination, standardization, and legibility. It divided knowledge into subjects, time into periods, children into age groups, achievement into grades, and called that order an education.

For the world that built it, this made sense. Industrial society needed people who could move through prearranged sequences, follow instructions, tolerate fragmentation, and mistake compliance for progress. School served that machine well.

The problem is that the structure remained after its justification expired.

And still we teach as if reality itself were divided into compartments. Math at nine. History at ten. Science after lunch. Literature here. Economics there. A little civics. A little technology. Each subject kept in its lane as though the world itself respected those borders.

It does not.

Life does not arrive in subjects.

A financial crisis is not economics. It is psychology, history, incentives, propaganda, institutional failure, and fear operating at once. Illness is not biology. It is money, labor, family, bureaucracy, grief, and mortality arriving together. Loneliness is not merely a private feeling. It is architecture, technology, work, romance, status, community, and meaning breaking down in a recognizable pattern.

Reality is not modular. It is entangled.

That is part of why so many people leave school with a disappointment they cannot quite name. They did what they were told. Learned the material. Passed the tests. Moved through the sequence. Then they entered adult life and discovered that reality does not present itself as a worksheet.

It presents itself as consequence.

That is the betrayal inside modern schooling. Not that it teaches facts, but that it too often mistakes fragmentation for understanding. Students are given pieces without pattern, procedures without orientation, answers without structure. They are trained to perform knowledge before they are taught how to organize reality.

For a long time, institutions could hide this weakness by controlling access to information. That was the old bargain. Sit still. Absorb the fragments. Repeat them back. We will certify that you know something.

That bargain is collapsing.

Information is everywhere. Explanation is instant. Summary is on demand. Generation is cheap. If education is merely the transfer of information, then large parts of the inherited model are about to be exposed by machines with humiliating ease.

This does not make my grandfather’s question obsolete. It makes it unavoidable.

What is worth learning when information is cheap?

The crisis is no longer information. It is orientation.

The central problem is no longer whether a person can retrieve facts, generate prose, summarize an argument, produce an image, or assemble code. The machine can assist with all of that. The deeper problem is whether a person can judge what is worth knowing, what is worth building, what is worth preserving, what is worth resisting, and what kind of intelligence a civilization should trust itself to become.

The machine is a tool. A powerful one. A dangerous one. Not because it thinks for us in some dramatic science-fiction sense, but because it amplifies whatever confusion already exists upstream.

The machine can generate almost anything. It cannot tell us what is worth becoming.

A culture that cannot answer questions of value will use powerful tools to accelerate its own disorientation. It will confuse fluency with understanding, output with insight, scale with wisdom, optimization with purpose. It will become more capable and less clear about why any of that capability should exist.

That is why my grandfather’s question now reaches far beyond school.

What is worth learning?

A person should learn how systems behave. How incentives bend institutions. How language hides power. How metrics deform the things they claim to measure. How technology reshapes attention, memory, and desire. How emotion alters perception. How to distinguish causes from symptoms. How to think across domains, across timescales, and across consequences. How to remain inwardly free inside environments built to colonize thought.

These are not luxuries. They are survival skills.

And they are difficult to teach inside the model we inherited because they do not belong neatly to any single subject. They live between subjects, across domains, inside relationships and consequences. They require synthesis, context, pattern recognition, and judgment.

That is the real educational question now.

Not how to cram more content into the pipeline.
Not how to optimize test performance.
Not how to produce students who can generate the approved answer in the approved format.

How do we cultivate minds that can actually perceive reality?

That was always the deeper force inside my grandfather’s work.

What is worth learning?

In an age of infinite information and machine generation, it may be the most important question we have.

Randi Weingarten, president of the American Federation of Teachers, delivered a speech about the role of technology in schooling on Wednesday.

She urged the teaching profession to set limits on technology in the classroom. She understands that some technology propagandists would like to replace the need for teachers. But she recognized that learning is driven by human interactions and that technology has negative effects on children’s attention span and interest in learning.

Randi has given many speeches. This is one of her best. And most important, although I think she’s wrong about “the science of reading,” for reasons I have explained here many times.

This is the full text of her speech:

We are in an era of massive disruption.

Artificial intelligence is triggering seismic shifts in virtually every aspect of society. The affordability crisis is squeezing working- and middle-class families and pushing those living in poverty over the edge. Addictive technology and social media platforms are deepening anxiety and depression—especially among our youth. People with enormous resources and power are stoking division. And the democracy we have built over 250 years is being assaulted from within.

Teachers are no strangers to disruption; we’re often the first responders to it. Time and again, teachers provide stability amid chaos, and the human connection which is at the heart of the student-teacher relationship. We help our students navigate a changing world. But this turbulent moment requires a concerted national response to prepare our young people for life’s opportunities and challenges.

Public education in the United States has always been a state and local responsibility. But the federal government has a unique and vital role to play. When the federal government is doing its job, it helps level the playing field by providing funding and support for low-income students and those with disabilities; it enforces civil rights laws, supports college- and career-readiness programs, and oversees research into the best education practices. But the Trump administration is walking away from those core responsibilities. And by slashing funds children rely on for food, healthcare, housing and mental health services, it is not only undermining students’ well-being: It is threatening the survival of untold thousands.

This administration is actively undermining public education—from its massive new federal school tax credit, to its constant attempts to gut education funding and civil rights, to pushing private school voucher programs that hollow out public schools. It is more focused on erasing history, punishing people with student debt and stripping the Department of Education for parts, than on helping every child thrive. It is certainly not articulating a vision for how to prepare students to succeed in this new world.

It’s not just the president and his fellow Republicans who are to blame. While Democrats are still among the strongest advocates of strengthening public education, too few Democratic leaders speak clearly about the fundamental importance of public education as a national priority. And too many want to resurrect the failures of high-stakes testing, are pushing privatization or are frankly AWOL from efforts to make public schools, which 90 percent of American children attend, the very best they can be.

A Strong Foundation for Students in a Changing World

So today, I present a vision for America’s public schools to provide a strong foundation for our children in this changing world. It’s informed by listening to and learning from parents, educators, students, researchers, and business and community leaders, and by countless school visits here and abroad. It’s one I hope both Democrats and Republicans will adopt.

Whatever the future holds for students, they need:

* A broad base of foundational knowledge, starting with literacy and numeracy skills.

* Curriculum that is relevant, engaging and fosters curiosity, including subjects like the arts, athletics and civics.

* An emphasis on active learning through meaningful projects and opportunities to apply knowledge in ways that connect learning to real life.

* Safe and welcoming classrooms and campuses where young people feel seen, supported and ready to learn. That includes promoting well-being and protecting students from gun violence, immigration raids and bullying.

These basics equip students for the deeper learning and problem-solving that will be crucial throughout their lives. They help make students more confident and more engaged learners. It’s how we promote curiosity and critical thinking and ensure all our students have the agency and persistence they need to confront challenges.

I want to underscore why laying this foundation is urgently needed.

Our students are already feeling the impacts of this disruption. Young people are resilient, but too often, the kids are not all right. A major reason is that they are drowning in tech.

When I started teaching in the ’90s, education technology was just being introduced. School computers were glorified typewriters with no internet connection. Students had to go to the office to make a phone call. In the 2010s, many schools began providing laptops to students; in this decade, the COVID-19 pandemic accelerated the tech takeover. Today, many school systems provide every student—some as young as 5—with a device. More than half of 11-year-olds have a smartphone ever-ready at their fingertips, soaring to 95 percent of 13- to 17-year-olds. Four in 10 teens say they are online “almost constantly.” The pace of this tech revolution has been blisteringly fast—and kids are getting burned.

As professor and author of “The Anxious Generation,” Jonathan Haidt, says, cellphones and social media are making our kids sedentary, solitary, anxious and depressed. On top of that, there are growing concerns about the adverse effects of all this tech on students’ cognition, attention and achievement.

Jared Cooney Horvath, a leading neuroscientist, recently analyzed how reading and math trends shifted after state-by-state expansion of education technology. Prior to large-scale digital adoption, fourth and eighth graders’ scores on the National Assessment of Educational Progress had been rising steadily for years. After adoption, the trajectory shifted, often sharply, toward decline.

Correlation is not causation, but Horvath cites research indicating that this pattern appears across states, countries, grade levels, subjects and years. The recently released Education Scorecard, which draws on a huge amount of student data, identifies the same correlation.

And in this era of TikTok and YouTube, which drive rapid shifts of attention, there is growing concern about students’ ability to sustain focus and to persist through challenging learning tasks. In one survey of 3,000 teachers, 88 percent reported that their students’ attention spans were getting shorter.

Cognitive scientist Dan Willingham notes that it’s not that students can’t pay attention, but likely that they are less willing to pay attention. They are so accustomed to the immediate rewards they get online that they find schoolwork comparatively boring. Fortunately, that’s a problem we can deal with.

But before we turn to solutions, we need to talk about artificial intelligence. We are at a crossroads that will define the future of work and society. Without proper oversight and strong guardrails, there will be real dangers to our safety and privacy, to the climate and the very fabric of society.

One thing the AI revolution does not change is the essential purpose of education: teaching students how to think, how to connect, and giving them enough knowledge to do both well.

In fact, the ubiquity of AI makes critical thinking and applying knowledge even more important.

Students need to go beyond memorizing facts and learn how to verify them, challenge them and synthesize them into new ideas. Some of the most valuable skills in the AI age—like problem- solving, communication, collaboration, adaptability and ethical judgment—depend on the ability to apply knowledge. But AI is increasing so-called cognitive offloading; rather than working through a challenge, students can turn to an AI chatbot for an effortless answer.

Research has established that less tech can produce better outcomes. For example, people learn more from hard-copy than digital text and by taking notes on paper. And learning is a deeply human endeavor; the student-teacher relationship produces one of the largest effects in educational research. Yet best practices in education, brain research and the science of learning too often take a backseat to market forces and political influence. The global education technology market was estimated at $187 billion in 2025, and the industry is seeking more. And that’s just ed tech, not all tech.

And they have friends at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. The Trump administration has given Big Tech carte blanche. And Melania Trump’s White House stroll with the humanoid robot to tout using robots to replace teachers spoke volumes. So did the responses from teachers wondering how a robot was going to build trust with students or know when someone was having a bad day. There’s no algorithm for that. Students need their teachers—real human beings, not robots and not chatbots.

Remember Michelle Rhee? She couldn’t reduce teachers to algorithms, and Melania Trump will not replace teachers with robots.

I’m not calling for an AI ban or a Chromebook bonfire. What I am calling for is getting the balance right to harness the benefits of technology while mitigating the harms. I’m wary of the dangers of AI, but it is here to stay. We need enforceable guardrails and help to cushion the disruption to people’s lives. But that’s not enough. It is equally essential to make sure educators understand AI and have a say in its use in education and our profession.

That’s why the AFT created the National Academy for AI Instruction last year, to help teachers master AI so that AI doesn’t master them. It’s a training hub designed and run by educators, grounded in trust, safety and people-first technology. It builds on the work our members did starting after ChatGPT was first announced to develop and continuously update the AFT’s “Commonsense Guardrails for Using Advanced Technology in Schools.”

Parents must have a real say, as well. They know firsthand the impacts of social media and other technology on their children. Together with parent groups, we released our “Likes vs. Learning” report with clear principles to keep children safe on social media and protect their privacy. And we continue to work with these groups for policy changes to protect children.

A New Vision to Boost Teaching and Learning in the AI Era

Today I am proposing a 10-point plan addressing all of this, to boost student learning and success in the age of AI:

1. No screens (including online assessments) for students in prekindergarten through second grade, unless there is a compelling reason, such as to most effectively support a student with special needs.

2. No student-facing AI in elementary schools—not only to prevent harm, but to build children’s skills like relationship-building and persistence. All other student-facing AI, including digital literacy efforts, must be supervised by educators. And until at least age 16, there should be a total ban on so-called “social companion” chatbots, computer programs that simulate human relationships.

3. Redesign schooling so active learning, including project-based, experiential and career-connected learning, is the norm across all grade levels. That means redesigning accountability as well.

4. Ensure students have a solid foundation in literacy, numeracy and civic engagement.

5. Focus on well-being, so that students and their families have their basic needs met and students are prepared to learn, as community schools do so successfully.

6. Protect intellectual property and academic freedom, and support educators to understand, effectively use and make classroom-based decisions about technology integration.

7. Establish a new gold standard for safety and privacy for the use of AI in schools. Providers that cannot meet these requirements should not be eligible to serve K-12 education.

8. Establish an independent research consortium to build a strong knowledge base for effective education practices that can be sustained and scaled. The research should include the effects of AI, screens and technology on students, and should not be paid for by the industries whose products are being researched.

9. Ensure adequate funding of education by states and the federal government. This means reversing the trend of disinvestment since the Great Recession and targeting funding to level the playing field and promote opportunity for all students—and not letting AI and vouchers further defund public education.

10. A “tech tax” on Big Tech’s earnings and on some business operations, to ensure they pay their fair share for the adverse and disruptive consequences of this technology on American families, such as workers being displaced by AI.

Ten points. To ensure our students are prepared for the future, we need a “devices-down, eyes-up, hands-on” strategy.

John Dewey was a pioneering advocate of learning by doing. He believed the most effective

We are on the threshold of a staggering shake-up of society. Who will pay for this massive AI disruption? The 16,000 workers estimated to lose their jobs each month? Retirees whose spiking energy bills eat up more of their fixed incomes? Who will pay for the harms to the environment—from toxic waste to greenhouse gas emissions to grid strain to water shortages that threaten to make our taps run dry? A tech tax would ensure that Big Tech companies pay their fair share for the adverse consequences of AI. The tax could be on earnings, some business operations, hardware or data processing.

Artificial intelligence is accelerating the steepest upward transfer of wealth in modern history. Tech titans are amassing mind-blowing wealth, while ordinary people are paying enormous costs for living in the AI age. Tech kingpins and corporations can afford to pay a fair tech tax; workers, communities and the earth can’t afford for them not to.

The guardrails and other protections that can help cushion the disruption are vital. The safety and privacy concerns are obvious, as is (or should be) the need to protect intellectual property and academic freedom for faculty and so many others. The federal government must update intellectual property laws to protect human-generated work, and employers must protect workers’ intellectual property in contracts they negotiate with AI companies.

The AFL-CIO has proposed a bold AI agenda to harness the benefits of technological change while preventing the annihilation of countless workers’ jobs. We support our federation’s recommendations.

No less an authority than Pope Leo this week warned that AI must serve humanity, not the powerful few. Leo condemned the use of AI in warfare, and he underscored that teaching and learning are human endeavors. He wrote that schools offer what “the digital sphere by itself cannot provide, namely a shared time for learning and developing trustworthy relationships.”

That vision underscores key aspects of our devices-down, eyes-up, hands-on 10-point plan. Some of what I’ve laid out is already starting to take hold.

Take the bans on phones during the school day, which we support and which 31 states have implemented. What are educators seeing? That kids are noticeably more engaged, and hallways and lunchrooms bustle with chatter and laughter again now that students aren’t heads-down, eyes on their phones.

One year into its bell-to-bell cellphone ban, Dallas schools are seeing a 24 percent increase in library book checkouts. Imagine if kids started reading whole books again.

After years of promoting classroom technology, last month the Los Angeles Unified School District initiated a sharp reversal. Screens are prohibited for students in kindergarten and first grade, and usage is capped for older students.

Several countries that pioneered the shift to ed tech are reversing course after precipitous drops in student achievement. Sweden is shifting back to printed textbooks and limiting screens. In Estonia, research showed that higher screen time for young children was associated with diminished language skills; they’re calling for more human-to-human interaction. And Italy has returned to emphasizing handwriting, paper materials and traditional teaching methods.

And now at least some Trump officials, like the acting surgeon general, are issuing warnings that too much screen time for children is a public health concern.

Intentional or not, all this tech has been a huge experiment on kids, and experiments can go wrong.

We need to take stock so we can do what we know is right. But teachers, parents and school districts cannot manage the tech juggernaut on our own.

And yet, with this administration, we are on our own. I’m not a detective, but I see some clues that there’s a connection between the Trump administration’s laissez-faire approach to addressing the harms of technology and the tech titans who are funding the president’s ballroom, presidential library and political action committees.

Laissez-faire doesn’t cut it, given the shockwaves AI is setting off. That is why, in the absence of federal legislation, we are working through our AI Academy to negotiate a gold standard that sets out industry best practices for safety and privacy in the use of AI in schools. We are seeking a binding agreement between America’s K-12 schools and any provider that offers AI-driven services to educators or students. Companies that refuse to abide by such a standard must be prohibited from working in our schools.

Microsoft, OpenAI and Anthropic—our partners in the AI Academy—have agreed in principle to our overarching tenets and standards. But as any negotiator knows, it’s not done until it’s done.

Our 10-point plan also calls for a research consortium. It simply does not make any sense for the 50 states, or the 13,000 school districts in the U.S., to each research the most effective reading strategies, or how much and what type of screen time is appropriate for children at various ages.

It does make sense for the federal government to do this—as our country has done historically in healthcare, science and, at times, education—but the Trump administration refuses. It has decimated the research arm of the Education Department. It has even refused to distribute $289 million appropriated by Congress for education research.

We need deep research to guide us to scalable and sustainable solutions. So why not launch a research consortium, independent from politics and industry? Maybe it’s a brand-new entity with pooled public and philanthropic funding. Or maybe it’s the Institute for Education Sciences, as President George W. Bush originally conceived, giving contracts to high-quality researchers and projects. I’d put the impact of screens, tech and AI at the top of that list.

Research already attests to the value of engaged and active learning. It’s a pedagogy we know works, especially when students are solving real-world problems and receiving meaningful feedback.

And in the AI era, it is more important than ever.

John Dewey was a pioneering advocate of learning by doing. He believed the most effective education was about not just imparting information to students but also actively engaging students with their environments and real-world situations.

Today this learning goes by many names: active, project-based or experiential. Whatever we call it, it works. And it needs to be the way every student can learn, in an age-appropriate way in every grade.

This does not replace the need for a broad foundation of knowledge starting with literacy and numeracy. But today, students need a new set of basics built on the ability to think critically, communicate, collaborate and apply knowledge.

When so much information is only a prompt away, acquiring trustworthy knowledge is just the first step. To be useful, that knowledge must be applied. Still, successful application of knowledge is just the second step. To really prepare young people for complex challenges, our true goal is to have students who can work together and problem solve. They must be able to pool their collective knowledge, strengths and perspectives, because today’s problems are greater than each of us, but they are not greater than the sum of us.

So the crux of this 10-point plan is what this will look like at the school level. What happens when we put devices down? What does “eyes up, hands-on” really mean?

It means prioritizing active learning through meaningful projects—which can range from students creating an eco-friendly garden, to planning and budgeting for a school event, to developing a policy solution to a local issue and presenting it to town officials, to keeping a diary from the perspective of a historical figure. From play for our littlest ones, to debate for older kids, to music and art for all—this is meaningful learning.

When I was a civics teacher at Clara Barton High School in Brooklyn, N.Y., my students and I delved into all sorts of lessons—about the Bill of Rights, efforts to change the Constitution such as the women’s suffrage movement, and lessons about street law. They memorized plenty of important information. But where they really shined was in applying their knowledge and in collaborating with each other, like in “We the People” debate competitions.

This kind of learning is the opposite of drill-and-kill, of students memorizing and regurgitating content. And active learning is the antidote to cognitive offloading—that is, outsourcing thinking to AI.

Where active learning is the norm is career and technical education. CTE is learning by doing. It prepares high school students for both higher education and in-demand career pathways. They do this in places like Thomas A. Edison CTE High School and the Harbor School in New York, RioTECH in New Mexico, the New Lexington School District in Ohio, and the countless other great career-connected learning programs I have visited. Students engage in programs from skilled trades to healthcare to advanced manufacturing. They take part in internships and work-based learning, they receive industry certification in their areas of study, and many earn college credits.

I recently had an incredible full-circle moment. In 2016, Westinghouse Academy in Pittsburgh was threatened with closure. The AFT, through our Innovation Fund, gave the Pittsburgh Federation of Teachers a grant to work with the district to start an emergency medical services program at Westinghouse. I recently returned to Westinghouse; today it’s thriving and offering students pathways into firefighting, law enforcement and EMS.

CTE students build things. They troubleshoot and fix things. They work in teams. They can explain what they’re doing and why they’re doing it. No wonder they have great job prospects, whether or not they go to college.

This is why the AFT is such an evangelist for career-connected learning. More than 90 percent of students who concentrate in CTE graduate, and about three-quarters of them continue their education after high school. This pedagogy prepares students as much for college as it does for career. Let’s make it the norm for all students.

The rethinking of teaching and learning I have described today must be accompanied by a rethinking of the accountability systems we use to measure our students’ progress.

Career-connected education and other types of active learning are suited to assessment by doing—via portfolios, capstone projects or performances, or by living civics the way I taught my students.

But for schools to integrate active learning, accountability systems have to be designed to assess such learning—and to incentivize it. No Child Left Behind’s best legacy was to highlight systemic disparities in our extremely diverse country. But the standardized, narrow content assessments it relied on don’t help with this challenge. On their own, standardized tests are of little use for school improvement, much less for the teaching and learning of individual students.

For more than 25 years, the New York Performance Standards Consortium has been a shining example of rigorous, relevant assessment at the school level. More recently, the School Superintendents Association has been working to help districts measure what matters. The bipartisan reauthorization of federal education laws led by Sens. Lamar Alexander and Patty Murray was a good first step in giving states the freedom to pursue this. And now, more than 20 states haveframeworks for their graduates to measure something meaningful beyond test scores. But there is much more to be done if we are to have assessment and accountability systems that measure and support the active learning I think we all want for our young people.

Addressing Student Well-Being and Investing in Students and Schools

Well-being and readiness to learn go hand in hand with active learning, starting with creating an environment that is safe and welcoming.

Brain science tells us that kids can’t learn unless they feel safe, and unless school is a welcoming environment where they feel they belong. Students can’t learn if they are hungry, or copingwith stress from home, or don’t have a home. One way to support student and family needs is through community schools, which connect services and activities to the school itself. Like the Oyler Community Learning Center in Cincinnati, a long-established community school that has continuously evolved to meet the needs of its community. The nearby Oyler House community center has tackled the local housing crisis by working with banks, developers and Habitat for Humanity to get families into homes. It has an onsite health center that provides students and the community with mental and physical health services. The school’s graduation readiness program has helped it achieve among the best graduation and college acceptance rates in Ohio.

This is why I keep repeating the same proposal I made in my first speech as AFT president, 18 years ago—a vast expansion of community schools. Since then, the AFT has supported more than 1,000 community schools.

The results speak for themselves. Multiple studies show that community schools reduce chronic absenteeism, improve discipline rates and increase academic achievement—including robust outcomes for students of color and English language learners. And community schools produce among the best returns on investment in the research record—an average of $7 to $15 for every $1 spent. And they are places that students, educators and families want to be.

Speaking of investment, over the past 20 years, study after study has shown that money matters in education, and it matters a lot; investment in schools improves student outcomes, while funding cuts hurt those outcomes. Yet 42 states devote a smaller share of their economies to their K-12 public schools than they did in 2006, representing a loss of hundreds of billions of dollars. This disinvestment is particularly acute in states such as Arizona, Florida and Texas, where recent voucher expansions will exacerbate the cycle of underfunding and underachievement. And it’s worse in higher education.

We must stop the runaway train that private school vouchers are becoming. Vouchers have produced some of the largest declines in student learning in the research record. They take vital funding away from students in public schools. And they divert taxpayer dollars to wealthy families and familieswhose children never attended public schools. These facts are well-established by independent research. But voucher proponents are not deterred.

Florida’s voucher program, for example, diverts $5 billion in public tax dollars from kids in public schools each year. The state already ranks among the bottom 10 for per-student spending. Our Florida affiliate recently filed a lawsuit challenging the constitutionality of the state’s voucher program, including the fact that the state has not held nonpublic schools to the same standards and oversight.

At the federal level, Trump’s school tax credit could cost taxpayers more than $50 billion a year.

That’s double what the federal government spends on helping poor kids and students with disabilities.

I’ve covered a lot of priorities today. But these aren’t the only things we should be doing.

This should go without saying, but we need to follow best educational practices everywhere, such as the science of reading. That includes learning from consistent top performers like Massachusetts and New Jersey, and from the more recent successes in Mississippi and Louisiana.

Another given is that we must increase educators’ salaries, which remain woefully low. That includes the assistants and aides who are the backbone of helping students with disabilities. And we must reduce class sizes, which remain incredibly high.

Supporting the public schools that 90 percent of America’s students attend should be a bipartisan priority. We have tried to engage President Trump and his secretary of education. Last December, I sent the president a letter suggesting that we work together on an area I believed we both prioritized—CTE. He didn’t bother to respond.

The Urgent Need to Revitalize and Reimagine Public Schools to Help All Students Thrive

I wish this administration cared about this crucial moment for our children, but it doesn’t, and we can’t wait. The vision I’ve laid out today still can be realized in every district in every state across our country. And the AFT—and America’s educators, healthcare workers and public employees— will be willing partners with anyone who will join us in helping our students thrive during this transformational moment.

As we celebrate the 250th anniversary of our nation, public schools remain—as the founders argued—essential to forging a pluralistic, unified nation that is stronger tomorrow than today. Indeed, I just wrote a book about this. By bringing together children of different races, religions, languages and cultures, public school classrooms are laboratories of democracy that forge bonds and bridgeour differences—if we support and nourish them.

The 10-point plan I laid out today is grounded in what I’ve witnessed firsthand over the last three decades. The plan addresses the enormity of the tech earthquake, dealing with screens and student-facing AI; creating an enforceable privacy standard for the use of AI in schools; calling for deep,classroom-relevant research in education; insisting on protections for intellectual property andacademic freedom; and demanding a tech tax to compensate the country for the consequences.

We need a relentless, intentional focus on what our young people need: greater literacy, numeracy and civic engagement, and active learning that excites and engages them—all while ensuring theirsocial and mental well-being and ability to form healthy relationships. Devices down, eyes up, hands-on.

Parents want their kids to be engaged and well-prepared. Young people want school to be relevant and interesting. Employers are desperate for talent. And America is crying out for a unifying vision.

America’s teachers—as they always have—are doing noble work; they’re showing up every day to helpyoung people realize their potential and build our collective future.

Today’s students will be the ones who heal, help and lead us. They will be the environmental stewards, the innovators, the artists, the first responders and the teachers of tomorrow. The other side is trying to exploit the current crisis to destroy public education and pluralism as we know it. We have a different vision: to revitalize and reimagine public schools so every one of our students can harness their future and build the country they dream of.

Jared Cooney Horvath is highly critical of digital tools in the classroom. Horvath is a neuroscientist who studies learning, memory, and cognition. His most recent book is The Digital Delusion.

On January 15, 2026, he testified before a Senate Committee, where he linked the use of technology to declining academic performance, not just in the U.S. but in other countries.

Here is his written testimony with graphs, footnotes, and other evidence to support his thesis.

Take five minutes and watch.

What do you think?

I have said before that I love Peter Greene. He has turned his four decades of experience as a high school English teacher into a compendium of wisdom. He knows when to listen carefully to new ideas and when to throw them out with the garbage. He usually says what I have been thinking, but writes it up better than I could. This is one of those wonderful pieces that are trademark Peter Greene.

He writes:

Last week I had a bluesky post blow up, a simply referral to Dana Goldstein’s New York Times pieceabout how nobody reads whole books in school any more. It’s a good piece, pretty fairly balanced even as it points out the role of technology, Common Core, and testing in the decline of whole-book reading (and allows some folks to try to defend the not-very-defensible). 

The article itself drew well over a thousand comments, most of them supportive of the idea of reading whole books. The responses to my post were a more mixed bag, with responses that included variations on “Students would read more books if they were assigned good stuff like [insert your fave here] and not crap like [insert author who bugs you and/or Shakespeare here].” Also variations on “Aren’t books over, really?” and its cousin “I didn’t read any books and I am just swell.”

Goldstein gives Common Core a few graphs of defense, because the world still includes people who think it’s great. I am not one of those people, and I have filled up a lot of space explaining why. But in the drop in book reading we can see a couple of the long-term ill effects of the Core (including all the versions hiding in states under an assumed name).

One problem is the Core’s focus on reading as a set of discrete skills that exist in some sort of vacuum absent any content, like waves without water or air. The Core imagined reading as a means of building those skills, and imagined in that context that it doesn’t matter what or how much you read. If today’s lesson is on Drawing Inferences, it doesn’t matter whether you read a scene from Hamlet or a page from a description of 12th century pottery techniques. You certainly don’t need to read the entire work that either of those excerpts came from. Read a page, answer some questions about inferences. Quick and efficient.

And that emphasis on speed and efficiency is another problem.

The Big Standardized Test doesn’t just demand that students get the right answer. It demands that they come up with the right answer RIGHT NOW! And that scaffolds its way backwards through the whole classroom process. The test prep emphasizes picking the One Correct Answer to the question about the one page slice o’writing, and it emphasizes picking it quickly. There is no time allotted for mulling over the reading, no time for putting it in the context of a larger work, certainly no time for considering what other folks have thought about the larger work.

To read and grapple with a whole book takes time. It takes reflection, and it can be enhanced by taking in the reactions of other readers (including both fancy pants scholars and your own peers). I reread Hamlet every year for twenty-some years, each time with a different audience, and I was still unpacking layers of ideas and language and understanding at the end. I taught Nickel and Dimed for years, and the book would lend itself very easily to being excerpted so that one only taught a single chapter from it; but the many chapters taken together add up to more than the sum of their parts. And it takes a while to get through all of it.

If you think there is more value in reading complete works than simply test prep for reading “skills,” then you have to take the time to pursue it.

It is easy as a teacher to get caught up on the treadmill. There is so much you need to cover, and only so much time. There were many times in my career when I had to take a deep breath and walk myself back from hammering forward at breakneck speed. And education leaders tend only to add to the problem and pressure (the people who want you to put something else on your classroom plate rarely offer any ideas about taking something off to make room).

And look– I don’t want to fetshize books here. We English teachers love our novels, but it’s worth remembering that the novel as we understand is a relatively recent development in human history. Some works that we think of as novels weren’t even first published as books; Dickens published his works as magazine serials. And reading novels was, at times, considered bad for Young People These Days. For that matter, complaints about how Kids These Days don’t read full works takes me back to a college class where we learned that pre-literate cultures would sometimes bemoan the rise of literacy– “Kids These Days don’t remember the old songs and stories any more.”

Reading entire works is not automatically magical or transformative. But there is a problem that comes with approaches to comprehending the world that emphasize speed rather than understanding, superficial “skills” over grappling with the ponderable complexities of life. The most rewarding relationships of your life will probably not be the ones that are fast and superficial. And I am reflexively suspicious of anyone who does not themselves want to be seen, heard, or understood on anything beyond a swift and shallow read.

If education is about helping young humans grasp the better version of themselves while understanding what it means to be fully human in the world (and I think it is) then students need the opportunity to grapple with works that mimic the depth and size and complexity of real humans in the real world.

The case has been made for slow school, analogous to the slow food movement, and it can have its problems, like fetishizing a selective view of tradition. But I like the basic idea, the concept of slowing down enough to be able to take in and digest large slices of the world. That should certainly take the form of engaging students with complete works, but I expect that it can take other forms as well.

Test-centric schooling has narrowed and shallowed our concept of education in this country, and while there has never been a reason to stop discussing this issue over the last twenty years, much of the conversation has moved on to other issues, like the current emphasis on culture panic and dismantling the system. But we can do better, dig deeper, tap richer educational veins, if we are just honest about our goals and our obstacles. I hope we’ll get there before my children and grandchildren get too much older.

Our allies at Pastors for Texas Chuldren fought courageously against the passage of voucher legislation but were ultimately defeated by Governor Abbott’s plan to oust moderate Republicans from the legislature.

Funded by Pennsylvania billionaire Jeff Yass and Texas billionaires Farris Wilks and Tim Dunn, both of whom are Christian pastors and nationalists, Abbott managed to defeat the moderate Republicans who worked with Democrats to beat vouchers.

Now the Pastors have set their sights on minimizing the damage done to children by standardized testing. For many years, Texas legislators have been obsessed with test scores. They never consider the harms done by the tests to students, teachers, and the love of learning.

The Pastors did, and they issued this statement:

At Pastors for Texas Children, we believe every child is a precious gift of God, created with unique abilities and potential. Yet for decades, our public schools have been forced to rely on standardized testing as the primary measure of learning and progress. These tests were designed with good intentions, but in practice, they have done real harm to our children, our teachers, and our schools.

Standardized testing narrows the curriculum, reducing education to what can be measured on a multiple-choice exam. It discourages creativity, critical thinking, and the joy of learning. Instead of nurturing a child’s individual talents, testing forces them into a one-size-fits-all mold. For many students, especially those from vulnerable communities, these tests add unnecessary stress and stigma, often labeling children by a single score rather than recognizing their God-given worth.

Teachers, too, are burdened. Their ability to teach with passion and flexibility is restricted when their professional value is tied to test results. Entire classrooms are transformed into test-prep factories, rather than places of discovery, curiosity, and growth. Public schools—the foundation of our democracy—are weakened when accountability is reduced to a number on a page.

HB 8 purports to mitigate the damages of standardized testing and fails. The version advancing out of the Senate is even worse. There is still time to fix this bill, but the clock is ticking. Call your State Representative now and tell them to remove high stakes from these assessments and strip TEA of its authority to administer them. 

Our faith calls us to see children as whole beings, not data points. We must move toward assessments that encourage true learning, affirm student progress, and honor the dedicated work of educators. Texas children deserve classrooms that inspire and equip them, not testing regimes that drain and demean them.

We urge you to join us in advocating for an end to the overreliance on standardized testing in Texas public schools. Let us stand together for education that celebrates the fullness of every child’s potential.

Jennifer Berkshire is a veteran education journalist who understands the importance of public schools. She has a podcast called “Have You Heard?” She is the co-author of two books with historian Jack Schneider:

A Wolf at the Schoolhouse Door: The Dismantling of Public Education and the Future of School. And: The Education Wars: A Citizen’s Guide and Defense Manual.

Berkshire wrote the following brilliant article about the failure of the Democratic Party to recognize that most people send their children to public schools and don’t want them to be privatized. Some prominent Democrats support charter schools, which the radical right has used as a stepping stone to vouchers.

She wrote on her Substack blog “The Education Wars”:

And just like that, the Trump Administration has released the billions in funds for public schools it had suddenly, and illegally, frozen earlier this summer. The administration’s trademark combo of chaos and cruelty has been stemmed, at least temporarily. That Trump caved on this is notable in part because his hand was forced by his own party—the first time this has happened in the endless six months since his second term began. Make that the second time. Since I posted this piece, key senators from both parties decisively rejected the administration’s proposals to slash investments in K-12. Which raises an obvious question: of all of the unpopular policies being rolled out by the administration why would school funding be the one that forced a retreat?

“Do they really care more about public schools than about…Medicaid?” is how historian Adam Laats posed the question. In a word, yes. That’s because Medicaid is a program utilized by poor people, a constituency that however vast enjoys neither a forceful lobby nor the patronage of a friendly billionaire. Public education, despite the increasingly aggressive efforts to dismantle it, remains one of our only remaining institutions that serves rich and poor alike. (For an excellent and highly readable history of how this came to be, check out Democracy’s Schools: the Rise of Public Education in America by historian Johann Neem.)

This enduring cross-class alliance behind public schools, by the way, is a big part of why public education has been in the cross hairs of anti-tax zealots for so long. It’s also why school voucher programs keeps accidentally benefiting the most affluent families. Offering them a coupon for private school tuition is a nifty way to drive a stake through, not just this cross-class coalition that consistently supports things like more school funding and higher teacher pay, but the entire project of public education.

A winning issue

As David Pepper pointed out recently, the Trump Administration was forced to back down on school funding because of the bipartisan nature of support for public schools—part of what he calls a “clear and consistent pattern” that we’ve witnessed again and again in recent years.

Whether we’re talking about the overwhelming votes against vouchers in red states in November or the bottom-of-the-barrell poll numbers for the Trump education agenda, public education defies the usual logic of these hyper-partisan times. Which makes it all remarkable that so few Democrats seem to understand the potency of the issue. Whither the Democrats is a question that Pepper, one of our most astute political commentators, has been asking too:

I’m talking about an unflinching embrace of the value of public schools to kids, families and communities, and a blunt calling out of the damage being done to those schools by the reckless privatization schemes of recent years.

It’s not coincidence, I’d argue, that rising stars in the Democratic Party including Kentucky governor Andy Beshear or Texas state representative James Talarico played key roles battling vouchers in their states. And before Tim Walz was muffled by the Harris campaign, we heard him start to articulate a sort of prairie populist case for public education, in which rural schools are the centers of their communities and today’s school privatizers are the equivalent of nineteenth-century robber barrons. The master class on how Democrats should talk about education, though, comes via Talarico’s recent appearance on Joe Rogan’s podcast.

Clocking in at two hours and 44 minutes, the conversation shows why Talarico is ascendant. But it was handling of the school voucher issue that truly demonstrated his chops. He deftly explained to Rogan that Texas has essentially been captured by conservative billionaires, and that despite their deep pockets and political sway, the anti-voucher coalition had nearly won anyway.

Ultimately we didn’t win. [It] kind of came down to a photo finish, but it did to me provide a template for what happens if we actually loved our enemies, if we rebuilt these relationships. Like who could we take on if we did it together? Democrats and Republicans, conservatives and progressives. Like, I don’t know, sometimes I sound a little Pollyanna.

Rogan’s response was just as instructive. “It’s not us versus them. It’s the top versus the bottom.”

The dud brigade

Having interviewed countless Republicans who oppose vouchers over the past year, I remain utterly convinced that there is no other issue that both resonates across party lines and exposes the influences of billionaires behind school privatization. Which makes it all the more remarkable that Democrats like Talarico and Beshear remain such a minority in the party. Especially at the national level, candidates and commentators largely view public education with disdain. Indeed, as the endless battles play out over the future of the Democratic Party, we can look forward to a full-court press pressuring blue state governors to opt in to the new federal voucher program. And while the school choice lobby will be leading the charge, influential voices from within the party—like this guy or this guy—will be making the case that vouchers = ‘kids-first policy’ and that Democrats need to get on board or be left behind.

Part of what has been so refreshing about listening to Talarico, Beshear, Walz and other rising stars like Florida’s Maxwell Frost, is that they’re not just opposing school privatization but making a bold case for why we have public schools in the first place. They’re rising to the challenge that David Pepper throws down in which Democrats unflinchingly “embrace the value of public schools to kids, families and communities” and bluntly call out “the damage being done to those schools by the reckless privatization schemes of recent years.”

Now contrast that with the way that so many influential Democrats talk about education—the bloodless rhetoric of ‘achievement,’ ‘data,’ and ‘workforce preparation’ that resonates with almost no one these days. Here’s Colorado governor Jared Polis, for example, rolling out the National Governor’s Association’s Let’s Get Ready Initiative, an impossibly dreary vision of K-12 education that hinges on a “cradle-to-career coordination system that tracks how kids are doing, longitudinally, from pre-K through high school into higher education and the workforce.” If you want a bold case for why we have public schools, you won’t find it here. Deftly combining right-wing talking points (the kids are socialists!) with the same corporate pablum that centrist Democrats have been peddling for years (the skills gap!), this is a vision that is a profound mismatch for our times. I read a sentence like this one—“Competition between schools, districts and states will lead to more students being ready for whatever the future might hold”—and I die a little inside.

Back in 2023, Jacobin magazine and the Center for Working-Class Politics released a study called “Trump’s Kryptonite” about how progressives can win back the working class. Among its many interesting findings was this: the candidate best equipped to appeal to working class voters with a populist message was a middle school teacher. I’ve referenced this study endlessly in my writing and opinonating but it wasn’t until I listened to the Rogan episode with James Talarico that I really reflected on why a middle school teacher might make such an effective candidate. The exchange consists largely of Rogan peppering Talarico with the sorts of endlessly curious queries that a bright seventh grader might fire off. To which Talarico, an actual former middle school teacher, responds patiently and without condescension, largely steering clear of the sorts of policy weeds that are incomprensible to regular people.

In the coming months, we’ll be told endlessly that the future of the Democratic Party belongs to Rahm Emanuel, Cory Booker, Gina Raimondo or Jared Polis—all of whom represent the identical brand of ‘straight talk’ about the nation’s schools that Democrats have been trying—and failing—to sell to voters for decades. That same Jacobin study, by the way, found that the very worst candidates that Democrats can run are corporate executives and lawyers. I’d add one more category to this list: corporate education reformer.

Peter Greene warns teachers not to fall for the cheap and lazy artificial intelligence (AI) that designs lesson plans. He explains why in this post:

Some Brooklyn schools are piloting an AI assistant that will create lesson plans for them. 

Superintendent Janice Ross explains it this way. “Teachers spend hours creating lesson plans. They should not be doing that anymore.”

The product is YourWai (get it?) courtesy of The Learning Innovation Catalyst (LINC), a company that specializes in “learning for educators that works/inspires/motivates/empowers.” They’re the kind of company that says things like “shift to impactful professional learning focused on targeted outcomes” unironically. Their LinkedIn profile says “Shaping the Future of Learning: LINC supports the development of equitable, student-centered learning by helping educators successfully shift to blended, project-based, and other innovative learning models.” You get the idea.

LINC was co-founded by Tiffany Wycoff, who logged a couple of decades in the private school world before writing a book, launching a speaking career, and co-founding LINC in 2017. Co-founder Jaime Pales used to work for Redbird Advanced Learning as executive director for Puerto Rico and Latin America and before that “developed next-generation learning programs” at some company. 

LINC has offices in Florida and Colombia. 

YourWai promises to do lots of things so that teachers can get “90% of your work done in 10% of the time.” Sure. Ross told her audience that teachers just enter students’ needs and the standards they want to hit and the app will spit out a lesson plan. It’s a “game changer” that will give teachers more time to “think creatively.” 

These stories are going to crop up over and over again, and every story ought to include this quote from Cory Doctorow:

We’re nowhere near the point where an AI can do your job, but we’re well past the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job.

Look, if you ask AI to write a lesson plan for instructing students about major themes in Hamlet, the AI is not going to read Hamlet, analyze the themes, consider how best to guide students through those themes, and design an assessment that will faithfully measure those outcomes. What it’s going to do is look at a bunch of Hamlet lesson plans that it found on line (some of which may have been written by humans, some of which may have been cranked out by some amateur writing for online corner-cutting site, and some of which will have been created by other AI) and mush them all together. Oh, and throw in shit that it just made up. 

There are undoubtedly lessons for which AI can be useful–cut and dried stuff like times tables and preposition use. But do not imagine that the AI has any idea at all of what it is doing, nor that it has any particular ability to discern junk from quality in the stuff it sweeps up on line. Certainly the AI has zero knowledge of pedagogy or instructional techniques.

But this “solution” will appeal because it’s way cheaper than, say, hiring enough teachers so that individual courseloads are not so heavy that paperwork and planning take a gazillion hours. 

Bob Shepherd, author, editor, assessment developer, story-teller, and teacher, read a book that he loved. He hopes—and I hope—that you will love it too.

He writes:

Like much of Europe between 1939 and 1945, education in the United States, at every level, is now under occupation. The occupation is led by Bill Gates and the Gates Foundation and abetted by countless collaborators like those paid by Gates to create the puerile and failed Common Core (which was not core—that is, central, key, or foundational—and was common only in the sense of being vulgar. The bean counting under the occupation via its demonstrably invalid, pseudoscientific testing regime has made of schooling in the U.S. a diminished thing, with debased and devolved test preppy curricula (teaching materials) and pedagogy (teaching methods).

In the midst of this, Gayle Greene, a renowned Shakespeare scholar and Professor Emerita at Scripps University, has engaged in some delightful bomb throwing for the Resistance. Her weapon? A new book called Immeasurable Outcomes: Teaching Shakespeare in the Age of the Algorithm.

OK. Maybe I’ve pushed the occupation/resistance metaphor to the edge of its usefulness. Let’s try another. If Gates’s test-and-punish movement, ludicrously called “Education Reform,” is a metastasizing cancer on our educational system, and it is, then Professor Greene’s book is a prescription for how to reverse course and then practice prevention to end the stultification of education and keep it from coming back. The book is a full-throated defense of the Liberal Arts and of traditional, humane, in-person, discussion-based education in a time when Liberal Arts schools and programs are being more than decimated, are being damned-near destroyed by bean counters and champions of ed tech. Here’s the beauty and value of this book: contra the “Reformers,” Greene details the extraordinary benefits of the broad, liberal educations that built in the United States people capable of creating the most powerful, vibrant, and diverse economy in history. She makes the case (I know. It’s bizarre that one would have to) for not taking a wrecking ball to what has worked. And best of all, she does so not at some high level of abstraction, but backs up any generalizations with concrete, vivid, fascinating, moving, delightful examples from her classrooms. How do you build a world-class human? Well, you give him or her the benefits of a broad, humane, liberal arts education that confers judgment, wisdom, vision, and generosity. Greene shows us, from her own classes over three decades, exactly how that happens.

And she shows us how, under the “standards”-and-testing occupation, all that is being lost.

Years ago, I knew a fellow who retired after a lucrative, successful career. But a couple months later, he was back at his old job. I asked him why he had decided not simply to enjoy his retirement. He certainly had the money to do so.

“Well, Bob,” he said, “there’s only so much playing solitaire one can do.”

I found this answer depressing. I wondered if it were the case that over the years, the fellow had given so much time to work that when he no longer had that to occupy him, he was bored to tears. Had he not built up the internal resources he needed to keep himself happy and engaged ON HIS OWN? Greene quotes, in her book, Judith Shapiro, former president of Barnard College, saying, “You want the inside of your head to be an interesting place to spend the rest of your life.” The French novelist Honoré de Balzac put it this way: “The cultured man is never bored.” Humane learning leads to engagement with ideas and with the world, to fulfillment, to flourishing over a lifetime, to what the ancient Greeks calledeudaimonia—wellness of spirit. Kinda important, that.

In a time when Gates and his minions, including his impressive collection of political and bureaucratic action figures and bobble-head dolls, are arguing that colleges should become worker factories and do away with programs and requirements not directly related to particular jobs, it turns out that the people happiest in their jobs are ones with well-rounded liberal arts educations, and are the ones who are best at what they do. And it turns out that people taught how to read and think and communicate and be creative and flexible, people who gain a broad base of knowledge of sciences, history, mathematics, arts, literature, and philosophy, are self-directed learners who can figure out what they need to know in a particular situation and acquire that knowledge. Philosophy students turn out to be great lawyers, doctors, politicians, and political operatives. Traditional liberal arts instruction creates intrinsically motivated people.

All this and more about the value of liberal arts education Professor Greene makes abundantly clear, and she does so in prose that is sometimes witty, sometimes hilarious, sometimes annoyed, sometimes incredulous (as in, “I can’t believe I even have to protest this shit”); always engaging, human and humane, compassionate, wise, authentic/real; and often profound. As much memoir as polemic, the book is a delight to read in addition to being important politically and culturally.

Gates and his ilk, little men with big money to throw around, look at the liberal arts and don’t see any immediate application to, say, writing code in Python or figuring out how many pallets per hour a warehouse can move. What could possibly be the value of reading Gilgamesh and Lear? Well, what one encounters in these is the familiar in the unfamiliar. As I have said numerous times elsewhere, all real learning is unlearning. You have to step through the wardrobe or fall down the rabbit hole or pass through the portal in the space/time continuum to a place beyond your interpellations, beyond the collective fantasies that go by the name of common sense. Real learning requires a period of estrangement from the familiar. You return to find the ordinary transmuted and wondrous and replete with possibility. You become a flexible, creative thinker. You see the world anew, as on the first day of creation, as though for the first time. Vietnam Veterans would often say, “You wouldn’t know because you weren’t there, man.” Well, people who haven’t had those experiences via liberal arts educations don’t know this because they haven’t been there, man.

Gayle Greene has spent a lifetime, Maria Sabina-like, guiding young people through such experiences. Her classroom trip reports alone are worth your time and the modest price of this book. At one point, Professor Greene rifs on the meaning of the word bounty. This is a book by a bounteous mind/spirit about the bountifulness of her beloved liberal arts. Go ahead. Buy it. Treat yourself.  

Jan Resseger writes brilliantly about the importance of education in a democracy. She reads widely in the work of authors who understand why education should not be privatized and turned into a consumer good. You will enjoy reading this essay.

She writes:

I find myself struggling these days to understand how those of us who prize our U.S. system of public education seem to have lost the narrative. As I listen to the rhetoric of today’s critics of public schooling—people who distrust or disdain the work of school teachers and who believe test scores are the only way to understand education, I worry about the seeming collapse of the values I grew up with as a child in a small Montana town whose citizens paid so much attention to the experiences its public schools offered for the community’s children. The schools in my hometown provided a solid core curriculum plus a strong school music program, ambitious high school drama and speech and debate programs, athletics, a school newspaper, and an American Field Service international student every single year at the high school. While many of us continue to support our public schools, what are the factors that have caused so many to abandon their confidence in public education?

It is in this context that I found myself reading “Education and the Challenges for Democracy,” the introductory essay in the current issue of Education Policy Analysis Archives. In his essay, Fernando M. Reimers, a professor in the graduate school of education at Harvard University, explores the interconnection of public education and democracy itself. Reimers explains, for example, that the expansion of our democracy to include more fully those who have previously been marginalized is likely to impact the public schools in many ways and that these changes in the schools will inspire their own political response:

“(T)he expansion of political rights to groups of the population previously denied rights (e.g. women, members of racial or religious minorities) may lead to increased access for these groups to educational institutions and a curriculum that prepares them for political participation. These changes, in turn, feed back into the political process, fostering increased demands for participation and new forms of representation as a result of the new skills and dispositions these groups gained by educational and political changes. But these increases in representation may activate political backlash from groups who seek to preserve the status quo. These forces may translate into efforts to constrain the manner in which schools prepare new groups for political participation. In this way, the relationship between democratic politics and democratic education is never static, but in perpetual, dynamic, dialectical motion that leads to new structures and processes. The acknowledgement of this relationship as one that requires resolution of tensions and contradictions, of course, does not imply an inevitable cycle of continuous democratic improvement, as there can be setbacks—both in democracy itself, and in education for democracy.”

Reimers continues: “Democracy—a social contract intended to balance freedom and justice—is not only fluid and imperfect but fragile. This fragility has become evident in recent years… In order to challenge the forces undermining democracy, schools and universities need to recognize these challenges and their systemic impact and reimagine what they must do to prepare students to address them.” While Reimers explains that the goal of his article is not only, “to examine how democratic setbacks can lead to setbacks in democratic education, but also how education can resist those challenges to democracy,” he presents no easy solutions. He does, however sort out the issues to which we should all be paying attention—naming five specific challenges for American democracy:

“The five traditional challenges to democracy are corruption, inequality, intolerance, polarization, and populism… The democratic social contract establishes that all persons are fundamentally equal, and therefore have the same right to participate in the political process and demand accountability. Democracy is challenged when those elected to govern abuse the public trust through corruption, or capturing public resources to advance private ends… Democracy is also challenged by social and economic inequality and by the political inequalitythey may engender… One result of political intolerance is political polarization… Political intolerance is augmented by Populism, an ideology which challenges the idea that the interests of ordinary people can be represented by political elites.” (emphasis in the original)

Reimers considers how these threats to democracy endanger our public schools: “The first order of effects of these forces undermining democracy is to constrain the ability of education institutions to educate for democracy. But a second order of effects results from the conflicts and tensions generated by these forces….” As the need for schools and educators to prepare students for democratic citizenship becomes ever more essential, political backlash may threaten schools’ capacity to help students challenge the threats to democracy.

In their 2017 book, These Schools Belong to You and Me, Deborah Meier and Emily Gasoi articulate in concrete terms what Reimers explains abstractly as one of the imperatives that public schools must accomplish today: “(W)e need a means of ensuring that we educate all future citizens, not only to be well versed in the three Rs, and other traditional school subjects, but also to be able to see from multiple perspectives and to be intellectually curious and incisive enough to see through and resist the lure of con artists and autocrats, whether in the voting booth, the marketplace, or in their social dealings.” (These Schools Belong to You and Me, p. 25) Schools imagined as preparing critical thinkers—schools that focus on more than basic drilling in language arts and math—are necessary to combat two of the threats Reimers lists: corruption and populism.

But what about Reimers’ other threats? How can schools, in our current polarized climate, push back against intolerance, inequality, and polarization? Isn’t today’s attack on “diversity, equity and inclusion” in some sense an expression of a widespread desire to give up on our principle of equality of opportunity—to merely accept segregation, inequality and exclusion? This is the old, old struggle Derek Black traces in Schoolhouse Burning—the effort during Reconstruction to develop state constitutions that protect the right to education for all children including the children of slaves—followed by Jim Crow segregation—followed by the Civil Rights Movement and Brown v. Board of Education—followed by myriad efforts since then to keep on segregating schools. Isn’t the attempt to discredit critical race theory really the old fight about whose cultures should be affirmed or hidden at school, and isn’t this fight reminiscent of the struggle to eliminate the American Indian boarding schools whose purpose was extinguishing American Indian children’s languages and cultures altogether? Isn’t the battle over inclusion the same conflict that excluded disabled children from public school services until Congress passed the Individuals with Disability Education Act in 1975? And what about the battle that ended in 1982, when, in Plyler v. Doe, the U.S. Supreme Court protected the right to a free, K-12 public education for children of undocumented immigrants? Our society has continued to struggle to accept the responsibility for protecting the right to equal opportunity. As Reimers explains, action to address inequality has inevitably spawned a reaction.

Educators and political philosophers, however, have persistently reminded us of our obligation to make real the promise of public schooling. In 1899, our most prominent philosopher of education, John Dewey, declared: “What the best and wisest parent wants for his own child, that must the community want for all of its children… Only by being true to the full growth of all the individuals who make it up, can society by any chance be true to itself.” (The School and Society, p. 1)

In 1992, political theorist Benjamin Barber advocated for the very kind of public schooling Reimers would like to see today: “(T)he true democratic premise encompasses… the acquired virtues and skills necessary to living freely, living democratically, and living well. It assumes that every human being, given half a chance, is capable of the self-government that is his or her natural right, and thus capable of acquiring the judgment, foresight, and knowledge that self-government demands.… The fundamental assumption of democratic life is not that we are all automatically capable of living both freely and responsibly, but that we are all potentially susceptible to education for freedom and responsibility. Democracy is less the enabler of education than education is the enabler of democracy.” (An Aristocracy of Everyone, pp. 13-14)

In a 1998 essay, Barber declared: “America is not a private club defined by one group’s historical hegemony. Consequently, multicultural education is not discretionary; it defines demographic and pedagogical necessity. If we want youngsters from Los Angeles whose families speak more than 160 languages to be ‘Americans,’ we must first acknowledge their diversity and honor their distinctiveness. English will thrive as the first language in America only when those for whom it is a second language feel safe enough in their own language and culture to venture into and participate in the dominant culture. For what we share in common is not some singular ethnic or religious or racial unity but precisely our respect for our differences: that is the secret to our strength as a nation, and is the key to democratic education.” (“Education for Democracy,” in A Passion for Democracy: American Essays, p. 231)

These same principles are prophetically restated by William Ayers in his final essay in the 2022 book, Public Education: Defending a Cornerstone of American Democracy: “In a free society education must focus on the production—not of things, but—of free people capable of developing minds of their own even as they recognize the importance of learning to live with others. It’s based, then, on a common faith in the incalculable value of every human being, constructed on the principle that the fullest development of all is the condition for the full development of each, and conversely, that the fullest development of each is the condition for the full development of all… Schools don’t exist outside of history or culture: they are, rather, at the heart of each. Schools serve societies; societies shape schools. Schools, then, are both mirror and window—they tell us who we are and who we want to become, and they show us what we value and what we ignore, what is precious and what is venal.” (Public Education: Defending a Cornerstone of American Democracy, p. 315)

Please open the link to complete the reading.

Steve Nelson, retired educator, objects to the simulated experiences that young people are increasingly exposed to. Technology has become a means of depriving them of direct encounters with life. Life should not be a simulation. It should be real. For the reasons he describes, I do not write about ChatGPT or AI. Sometimes it’s inevitable, but I don’t consider these technological gimmicks to be educational.

He writes:

“This car climbed Mt. Washington.”

This bumper sticker is commonly seen in New England and refers to the highest peak in the East. As implied, there is a winding road to the summit. These bumper stickers never fail to irritate, as the “achievement” is remarkably unremarkable. It’s rather like having a CD player with a label reading, “This electronic device played the Brahms Violin Concerto.”

This long-standing pet peeve was rekindled by the explosion (one can wish) of the e-bike phenomenon. Many areas in Colorado are allowing the use of e-bikes on mountain bike trails and in wilderness areas. On my local single track trails it is now common to be passed on uphills by rather smug looking riders half my age and half again my weight.

There are legitimate benefits to the e-bike phenomenon, including emission-free commuting and expanded opportunities for the elderly or impaired. I suppose riding an e-bike is a notch above a recliner and a beer – but only a notch.

But I come to bury, not praise.

I admit to being a physical purist. There are certain experiences that should be earned, at least if the “earning” is possible. At the very least, if one chooses ease and convenience over commitment and effort, don’t brag about it, whether Mt. Washington or Brahms.

Most alarming, at least in my community, is the proliferation of e-bikes among young folks. Many riders are careless, helmet-less, and riding far too fast for conditions. I expect a rapid increase in head injuries. I suspect that the serious injury curve is lagging just behind the soaring sales curve.

The segue from e-bikes to AI or ChatGPT should be obvious. Like an e-bike, ChatGPT produces results that are disproportionate to effort. Perhaps the analogy is a bit tortured, but creating cogent prose demands conscious effort resulting in real satisfaction , just as pedaling with your own effort to the top of single track trails elevates one’s heart rate and spirit.

I worry that in these ways and many others we are denying children the experiences they most need. They can sit on an e-bike to get to school, use a calculator to calculate, write an essay with a few prompts, “paint” a picture on a computer screen, “play” music on a pre-programmed electronic keyboard, create a cinematic masterpiece on an iPhone and go home to a dinner prepared by scanning a QR code.

As an educator I often ranted about the digital representation of life. Such representations are not life, although advances in technology can make one hard to distinguish from the other. The conveniences and efficiencies of technology have benefits, I suppose, but technology can also deprive children (and adults) of the most valuable and meaningful learning experiences – and life experiences.

A central principle of progressive education is learning by doing. It is not merely a philosophical slogan. It is rooted in the most sophisticated understanding of neurobiology and cognition. A mathematical concept is better understood through using all senses. Truly making music is finding perfect bow speed on a violin string, adjusting lip position to turn futile blowing into a glorious tone on a flute or feeling the deep sonorities of a cello in your bones. The feeling of a brush stroke transmits emotion directly to the canvas.

The phrase “no pain, no gain” is trite but true, although perhaps more aptly phrased, “no effort, no gain.” My life and the lives of most people have been immeasurably enriched by striving. (It is a concept that should be untethered from its more toxic companion, achievement.) At age 76, partially impaired and slowed by age, I still feel great satisfaction from summiting a small peak or charging down a pump track on a mountain bike, knowing I earned the gift of gravity by investing effort. The pace and duration are irrelevant. The feeling is undiminished from decades ago.

Years ago, the cardiologist/writer George Sheehan wrote that we are, at the core, simply mammals and that our first responsibility is to be a good animal. That means running, playing, sucking air deep into your lungs, reaching a destination by dint of your own power and knowing the joy of exhaustion.

I am sufficiently self-aware to know that I may be seen as a strident romanticist. I plead guilty. But I fervently believe that children must be exposed to real things, not their convenient digital or electric doppelgänger. They should pedal bikes, not just sit on them. (And wear helmets!!) They should climb mountains, not ride up in the family car. They should play instruments, finger paint, and bake cookies.

When small humans have real experiences they will prefer them to technologically-enhanced imposters. Providing those experiences is our primary responsibility as parents, grandparents and educators.