Charlotte's Web Blog

Caught in a Community College Stereotype

I am a ravenous Pac-Man when it comes to education. Instead of gobbling up arcade dots, I devour community college (CC) credits and spit them into some anonymous education database, never to make their way into a transcript. This is because I have no need for records; I earned my college degrees years ago.

Although community colleges benefit society with their low cost learning and convenient locations, my experiences with them punctuate a less-than-flattering stereotype. For example, CC teachers often have a “no goof-off left behind” philosophy in which they treat pupils like mental deadbeats regardless of their aptitude or commitment to college.

There is also a tendency among CC teachers to focus on grades and classroom conduct and to put forth rules that encourage uniformity. These practices bruise efforts to master the subject matter, and hamper creativity and personal responsibility. They groom students to be obedient workers and followers rather than executives and leaders in society.

No doubt there exist maverick CC instructors who operate outside of this paradigm, but unfortunately my educational path has not yet zigged or zagged with theirs.

I feel qualified to analyze these issues due to my surfeit of school experiences. I studied at six four-year universities, including the University of Southern California (USC) and Oxford University in England, and I have taken dozens of courses at three Los Angeles area community colleges in statistics, real estate, screenwriting, typing, philosophy and physical education, to name a few.

This semester I am enrolled in a community college film production class, and the teacher has informed the camera savvy students that they should lose some of their savvy in order to make it fair for the less advanced. This blatant example of lowest common denominator learning reminds me of an article by Andy Monfried about showerheads at his gym. Monfried told management how one showerhead in the men’s dressing room was superior to the others; he requested the water flow of the inferior ones be improved. Rather than bring the deficient ones up to a higher standard, management disabled the one with the good flow.

The high-flow students in my class have been asked to disable themselves. Those who own quality cameras must toss them aside in favor of substandard ones, and lighting equipment is forbidden because it is not clear all students have access to it. Our final project—a one-minute movie—should not be too professional, according to the instructor.

Another point; there is a tendency for CC teachers to be obsessed with grades, tests and attendance rather than course content. My film teacher is such a repeat offender in this area that I have devised my own version of hangman to track the extent of her neurosis. Every time she mentions grades or exams, I add a body part to a pen-drawn hangman in my notebook. By my calculation, she has been noosed 42 times.

Class attendance is an integral part of my film teacher’s obsession. All students are required to sign in twice: once at the start of her class and again at the end, and two absences means a failing grade for the semester. I suppose members of the proletariat need to learn how to comply with a time clock, to practice being tame and mindless workers, to experience what it feels like to receive a demerit or get fired. My teacher’s message is clear whether she realizes it or not: we can’t have CC students thinking they can be executives or controlling their own schedule.

Last semester, I took a tennis class and encountered another attendance-related absurdity. My teacher said all students must sit quietly in the gym for two hours on rainy days or suffer a lower grade. My classmates did not seem too bothered; I flat-out refused.

In addition to lowest common denominator learning and the flawed tendency to focus on grades, tests and attendance, there is one final trend I find at community colleges. Teachers often go overboard in an effort to control students’ behavior in the classroom. I call this the “nun with the ruler” syndrome.

He didn’t look like a nun, but my basic computer skills teacher would reprimand students who touched their computer keyboard before they were told to do so. If he’d owned a ruler, he’d surely be a serial whacker. He also exhibited paranoia about cheating. He thought every student was itching to glance at someone else’s paper, so he’d pace the room with an eagle eye.

Five years ago, I convinced my 62-year-old husband Charles to take this computer class with me. We sat side-by-side, and the “nun” got the impression Charles was cheating. Charles resented being treated like a child, so he defiantly refused to study and received low marks on tests. Whenever he got an answer right, the teacher assumed he’d stolen it from my paper. In addition, Charles kept touching his keyboard during class and getting admonished for it. This made him seem like a troublemaker.

What the instructor didn’t know was that Charles had a law degree from Oxford University and was an English Barrister, California attorney and Judge Pro Tem. He had no reason to cheat in an entry-level computer class.

One day, Charles said, “I need to leave class early. I have to be in court.”

The teacher shook his head in a condescending manner--assuming Charles to be a criminal in addition to an underperforming bum—and asked, “Now, what did you do, Charles?”

We told him he was sitting as a judge. It was hilarious, but at the same time, disturbing to know that a brilliant man who had excelled at Oxford—where showing up for class was never required--could barely survive the oppressive regime of a community college despot.

Research shows that community college students are as much as 31% more likely than similar four-year college students to drop plans to obtain a bachelor’s degree after two years of higher education. The CC students in the study initially had the same grades, abilities and academic motivation as the four-year students. They were similar with respect to race, class, gender and age, and did not have greater responsibilities at work or home. The findings suggest that there is something inherent about community college that makes students lose interest in education.

Although CC campuses have a less collegiate feel—a factor that surely disadvantages students—treatment in the classroom is also a likely factor.

Teachers should not coddle students, drown them in rules or stifle creativity. They should not obsess over grades and attendance, but rather encourage initiative, trust, freedom and personal responsibility. They should replace true-false tests with essays, and focus on big picture learning with the assumption that their students will become managers, business owners, industry leaders and high earners.

Forty-six percent of all undergraduates are enrolled in the 1200 community colleges in the United States, so there’s a lot at stake. I suggest we relegate the community college stereotype to the same fate as the stick figured man in my film production notebook.

Arm Wrestling with Darwin

  Unless your head has been super-glued inside a science book, you have observed the furious debate between proponents of intelligent design (ID) and supporters of evolution; a debate that has bounced from courtrooms into opinion pages around the country. Pointing to the complexity of life on earth, IDers posit the existence of an intelligent designer and reject the notion that all can be explained by evolutionary theory. 

The issue has become a political tractor with conservatives and liberals attempting to bulldoze their opponents. Conservatives hope to acquire the seal of authenticity for their theory of ID, an accolade that only “fact-based” and “respectable” science can provide; while the liberals want to protect their turf from what they see as a religious crusade into the “objective” halls of learning.

The controversy has emerged in Georgia, Kansas, Arkansas, Maryland, Missouri and South Carolina, as well as Pennsylvania where a judge recently ruled that reading a single sentence about intelligent design in biology class would violate the Establishment Clause of the Constitution. In California, the El Tejon Unified School District permanently cancelled a philosophy class about intelligent design after Americans United for Separation of Church and State filed a lawsuit. 

Religion was once the supreme authority on all matters, but when the Enlightenment’s onslaught of secular ideas swept over the European continent, it carried away the minds—and sometimes the hearts—of many who had been devout.

Seventeenth century philosopher Baruch Spinoza rebelled against traditional Judaism and Christianity, replacing them to a great extent with the rational and scientifically based metaphysic of determinism. This metaphysic argues in favor of a mechanistic, causal universe and is bolstered by scientific findings, including later Darwinian theory. 

In keeping with the prior rebellion against religion, today there is arguably a rebellion against the new leader called “science.” Kings risk being toppled from their thrones, and ID has emerged as a weapon to be used against this final arbiter of “truth.” 

Why are IDers making their move now? First, it could be said that science has ventured into “disquieting” areas of study, such as cloning, transgenetic engineering, cross-species transplants and stem cell research. There may be an urge to rein it in with philosophical or theological “wisdom.” As Albert Einstein, a pantheist and disciple of Spinoza, said, “Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind.” 

Teaching is never value-free, and an omission can convey a powerful message. When students fail to discuss the ethics of scientific actions and outcomes, they often end up like my former, high school classmates: giggling and hurling dissection specimens across the room, a behavior that conveys lack of respect for the animals who died and inability to comprehend that dissection is considered by many to be ethically impermissible in the first place.

Secondly, science has faltered recently, leaving it vulnerable to attack by those who hope to depose it. Scientific fraud has leapfrogged to the public’s attention with confessions by Korean researcher Dr. Hwang Woo Suk, who admitted fabricating cloning studies for the past two years. Esteemed scientific journals published his concocted data, and his peers did not question his work. One journal editor recently stated that scientific error and dupery occur from time to time, even at leading American universities, a statement that taints the image of science as trusted authority. 

Thirdly, IDers may feel that any disagreement among prominent scientists opens the hatch to alternative theories. The discovery of “spooky” quantum mechanics occurred in conjunction with a pervasive disillusionment with science and its fundamental tenet: causality. While some quantum physicists, such as Einstein, support a deterministic hidden variable theory, others, such as Werner Heisenberg and Max Born, defend a framework based on the uncertainty principle. If it is acceptable to teach opposing theories in quantum mechanics, then why not let ID arm wrestle with Darwin? 

Because words such as “spookiness,” “magic” and “trickery” are associated with the quantum world, one could argue that mystical, veiled or opaque theories, such as ID, befit the scientific realm. If quantum strangeness can be taught, why must intelligent design be expelled?

Lastly, postmodernism--which rejects any form of absolute truth, even in science--has permeated modern society, and conservative IDers are embracing it. This is ironic because the “right” has traditionally embraced the objective and absolute while the “left” has endorsed the subjective and contextual.

In describing postmodernism, Richard Rorty says, “truth is made rather than found,” and Jean-Francois Lyotard emphasizes the importance of avoiding totalizing grand narratives and maintaining an infinite number of perspectives. Darwinian theory is nothing if not a totalizing grand narrative.

Should ID be allowed to “act up” in science class? Most people might say yes. According to a 2005 CNN/USA Today/Gallup poll on evolution, 84 percent of Americans believe that God created humans in their present form or helped guide their development, while a mere 12 percent say God had no part in the process.

The bouncers in the “12 percent club” guard the door from party crashers. They look at “fake” ID, saying it is creationism incognito and that it lacks “real science” credentials. They announce to the crowd, “If you think it qualifies, you’ve had one too many drinks.”

They are correct in that intelligent design fails Karl Popper’s falsifiability test; it cannot be proved wrong. ID is philosophy, not science. But does this mean it should be denied entry?

I am convinced by the evidence of natural selection and treasure Darwin’s theory because it promotes an interconnectedness of all living things, but I hold that the intense battle to keep ID out of the classroom is misguided. The shrill, political feud between conservatives and liberals has spiraled away from protecting students and the Constitution into a rendition of Hannity and Colmes.

Do we lack confidence in our children to evaluate, to separate evidence from fiction, to interpret for themselves? Sweeping ID under the rug makes for a huge lump that curious teenagers will investigate.

What is the resistance to cross-disciplinary study or “big picture” teaching in which related fields, such as history, philosophy and biology, are integrated? Math partners with chemistry; philosophy and ethics could collaborate with all branches of science. Compartmentalized study may lead to a lack of synthesis, thus an absence of learning in general.

Why is postmodernism a no-no in science, but a welcome visitor in other disciplines? No area of study should lose the doubt and humility that a postmodern filter provides. Theories from the past have been toppled, and some that are accepted today will be mocked tomorrow.

Fighting may be inappropriate in school, but arm wrestling, well, isn’t that a fundamental freedom? Now let’s roll up our sleeves and let the theorizing begin.

Removing Intelligence From America

Removing Intelligence from America or RIA is a serious national problem. It's a widespread malady, or better yet, a side effect from a drug overdose. The drug is our culture, and it is killing any hope of a collective intelligence.

RIA is a devious and subtle process that goes unnoticed until one day when a European or Asian asks us the capital of Spain or the date of the American Revolution, and we freeze. We search for the answer, but it disappeared with our short-term memory three days after our high school history exam in 1979.

The Europeans and the Asians are asking us questions now; they cannot understand why we don't know anything. Is it due to our failing educational system, our focus on money and consumerism, bureaucratic paralysis and the emphasis on job specialization, our isolation from other nations, or all of the above? I fill in "all of the above" with my number two pencil.

They don't use number two pencils in England. Students write essays. The teachers read the pupils' answers rather than attend perfunctory department meetings, and students form sentences rather than guess bubble "B" all the way down the page. My 17 year old daughter--a true American teenager--is an expert on bubble "B," and in lieu of the Classics, has memorized the merchandise at Abercrombie and Fitch.

Our educational system persuades us away from long-term memory skills, generalized knowledge, and learning for enjoyment. When remembering is not the goal, forgetting is achieved. It tries to be fair or automated at the cost of all else, and accentuates our right vs. wrong mindset.

We are arguably an overly moralistic, black or white society. Are you with us or against us? Did you pass or fail? When subjectivity and creativity are compromised and replaced with a theoretical or actual "true or false" exam, intellectual disinterest often results.

We embrace another "either-or" and make it an ideal: to be a consumer or a salesperson at all times, both contributing to the decline of our national IQ. These roles are promoted through our primary educators: television, in which news or other programming is slotted in between commercials; and our failing schools, in which we are taught how to specialize.

American media emphasizes buying and selling, and both distract us from relationships, art, grassroots politics, intellectual discourse, and of course, the world at large. Why learn poetry, explore philosophy, or study foreign customs when you can purchase a trendy skateboard or make an extra few bucks from a business deal? We are taught to buy low and sell high and finagle the deal.

In order to achieve and acquire, most Americans develop a niche and cannot operate outside this limited range. Churchill wrote his own speeches, yet most U.S. politicians have speech writers, advisors, assistants and advisors to their assistants. Tony Blair regularly answers a broad range of unscripted questions on his feet in the House of Commons; George W. Bush knows how to read a cue card. Sometimes.

English barristers tend to be generalists while American lawyers are mostly specialists. There are no depositions in England: cross-examination is an art form requiring overall mastery of the law. In America, deposed parties endure countless questions. The ensuing trial is nothing other than a stage piece in which all details have been worked out by niche lawyers in advance.

The same is true in government: most U.S. jobs are standardized, requiring a fill in the dot mentality. Bureaucratization and excessive regulations relieve the individual of decision-making, leading to specialization, and eventually boredom. There's no need to be clever or see the grand scheme because the dozens and dozens of rules know the answer. The system is supposedly "intelligent," so the individual need not be.

Our geography and youth as a country may account for some of our ignorance. We stand relatively alone in a very big land. European nations have to listen to and negotiate with their neighbors; they have to know the situation outside their borders. We don't enjoy the rich tradition that some nations have, therefore many of us ignore the historical altogether. We're a new country, so we only want to know about new things.

But is this in our best interest? Should our physical isolation mean intellectual isolation? Even though we have a roomy first-class seat, shouldn't we know what's going on in coach? Shouldn't we look out the window to get a glimpse of the big picture--the past--to see how our journey fits into the whole and how it may impact the future? If we put up our tray tables and put down our "Sky Mall" magazine, maybe over time we can boost our collective intelligence and gain greater respect from the rest of the world.