tuesday afternoon thoughts on education

Over the past few days I've been reflecting on my years in high school - that three years of awkwardness between the ages of fifteen and eighteen - and trying to remember some of the things that I learned in my classes.

I have to admit that I cannot really remember anything that I learned in my classes. No single fact or statistic, no particular skill, no way of thinking.

Same with college and university - other than that 'Tacitus was a republican' I can tell you nothing about the material from my courses.

What I can tell you is my opinion on every teacher or professor I ever had, whether or not I enjoyed the material, and why I took that course.

Which leads me to the conclusion that school, or at least the courses we require students to take, is a waste of time.

"Um, Stu," you ask, "Isn't that sort of a dumb thing for you to say, being a teacher and all? Are you trying to work yourself out of a job?"

Dear reader, fear not, for everything will become clear.

Education is intrinsically valuable - a belief that I will always hold to be true, but what we are offering is not really education at all.

Any school system that emphasizes calculus, physics, and classes of that ilk over communication, civics, or the arts is not educating students - it is manufacturing the illusion of education.

Our schools emphasize quantity over quality, and students pay the price. We force them to undergo twelve years of busy work and then wonder why they are inept when they graduate.

Just like the movements to slow down other areas of our lives, we need to slow down our schools - give students a chance to breathe and internalize some of what we try to teach them.

"So Stu," you ask, "Do you really think that this little rant will fix anything?"

No, dear reader, I don't. But maybe it will help start something.

Mark Twain said that he never let his schooling interfere with his education.

Smart man, that Sam Clemens - I think I'll see what I can do with his advice.

Captain Ludd calls, are you listenin'?

Ned Ludd was a good and honorable man.

Over the past few weeks I've been thinking about our obsession with technology and speed.

I've come to a conclusion – to a great extent technology and speed suck.

As a teacher and farmer I have an idea about what it feels like when someone tries to replace you with a machine.

It doesn't feel good.

Just a generation ago the majority of the work done on farms still required a certain amount of physical fitness and critical thought. On some farms now, workers do little more than read the computer monitor in the tractor cab. As tractors get bigger the farms do too - pretty soon the family farm becomes another footnote in a textbook.

When I was in university we had an entire course to demonstrate the technologies coming into schools. Now that I'm in the school system I see these same technologies being used to eliminate teachers in the classroom. It seems that, besides being cheaper, computers have the added benefit of doing as they're told and not discussing pesky ideas like critical thought.

“But Stu,” you inquire, “Aren't you writing this very entry on a computer?”

Ah, you have me there. Yes, dear reader, I am, but let me say this – just because I am writing this on a laptop does not mean that I do not handwrite everyday, and it in no way eliminates the careful consideration used when putting thoughts into words.

But the desire for ever greater speed, greater technology makes me want to take my sabot to the nearest available silicon chip.

When I look at my students - students who have no idea how to think without a keyboard in front of them - I can't help but feel we've lost something. True, they do need to learn how to use computer skills and computers can do incredible things, but what happens when the computer isn't there?

When I look at the farmers I know - people who traditionally knew how to do most anything – you can see that the repositories of ancient knowledge are disappearing and I know that they will probably never be replaced.

But remember this: when Ned Ludd was made obsolete by a steam-powered loom, he knew just what to do – he destroyed the machine that had replaced him.

It's time to lend an ear again to Mr. Ludd. He knew that a life spent hanging on the fringes of the cogs in the system was no life at all.

Thoreau said that “men have become the tools of their tools.” If he'd been born a century or so later he would have turned his ire on the worship of speed. It would seem that the two go hand in hand.

So I pay heed now to good and honorable men. I will close this computer walk down to do some chores, probably do most of the work by hand. I think I'll take my time.

Think your life is too fast, too plagued by machines? Just ask your self this one question:

What would Captain Ludd do?