社区黑料

I just got back from a week away from D.C. It was 鈥� strangely unsatisfying. See, if you live here in the federal capital, you鈥檙e accustomed to living a life constantly intertwined with politics. When you leave, a good chunk of the time, you鈥檙e trying to escape. Those people out there, you think, must be watching baseball and taking care of the daily drone of 21st century life. They鈥檙e not obsessing over the color of the trim on the vice presidential motorcade or changes to the seating chart of the .

And yet, central Pennsylvania seemed rife with cynical political rhetoric. At the flea market, there was the man blasting conservative talk radio and joking that his customers should mail various of his wares 鈥� which included knives and gun accessories 鈥� 鈥渢o mess with [their] favorite Democrat.鈥� At the playground, there was the woman who complained when I was speaking Spanish to my children (her young daughter was named Melania).

There鈥檚 no escape. Our toxic politics are everywhere, including in education. Now, more than ever, the broader education community is blanketed by calls to 鈥渄o what鈥檚 right for kids鈥� (though we don鈥檛 appear to agree on what that means). So it鈥檚 an opportune time for How Schools Work: An Inside Account of Failure and Success from One of the Nation鈥檚 Longest-Serving Secretaries of Education, by President Barack Obama鈥檚 first secretary of education, Arne Duncan.

In his nearly seven years at the U.S. Department of Education, Duncan pushed the very limits of a child-centric approach to education politics. His avowed commitment to kids is right there in How Schools Work: 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 think my guiding principle 鈥� when it comes to education, we need to put kids first 鈥� was that radical, but I鈥檝e found that it actually is.鈥�

This airy, gold-hued commitment to 鈥渄oing what鈥檚 right for kids鈥� is ubiquitous in public education. It鈥檚 like being pro-life or pro-choice. In the abstract, no one鈥檚 opposed to life, choice, or kids. But that鈥檚 the trouble: Almost anyone promising to step up 鈥渇or the kids鈥� can usually find a way to stamp that imprimatur on his or her own platforms. After just a little exposure to today鈥檚 national political cynicism, words like these can seem empty rhetorical calories.

Not so with Duncan. His tenure was marked by the focus and tenacity of converting that guiding principle into meaningful actions. Backed by billions of federal dollars in the Obama administration鈥檚 Race to the Top competition, Duncan pushed states to raise academic expectations, reform teacher evaluations, and develop better systems for tracking students鈥� achievement. Just three months before Duncan resigned, , 鈥淚n a cynical town of posturing and spin, Duncan has earned a reputation for saying what he means and doing what he says.鈥� He repeatedly courted scorn from all quarters, as befits a happy warrior who can actually define his guiding principle.

How Schools Work is partly an extension of that crusade 鈥� and part exasperation at American indifference to the injustice and inequities baked into our public education system. It鈥檚 organized around the many lies Americans tell one another about our schools. We 鈥� educators, schools, the general public 鈥� tell kids and families they鈥檙e right on track to succeed in school and life, when they鈥檙e actually years behind. We tell ourselves America values its educators and that our colleges and universities prepare new teachers for the classroom. We tell teachers they have all the tools they need, then demand that they do much more and better without any additional support.

You can鈥檛 rectify the damage wrought by lies without providing new information to expose them. Unsurprisingly, then, Duncan repeatedly stresses the importance of benchmarks for students, educators, and administrators. Recounting a conversation with Chicago鈥檚 then-mayor Richard M. Daley, Duncan explained, 鈥淒ata doesn鈥檛 tell the whole truth, but it doesn鈥檛 lie.鈥� Put another way, it鈥檚 easier to do what鈥檚 right for kids if you insist on measuring how you鈥檙e doing.

In one anecdote from his time as superintendent of Chicago Public Schools, Duncan explains how he relied on data to swing a crowd of parents skeptical about his plan to close their neighborhood school. Confronted in a public meeting, Duncan explained that, even though every second-grader at the school had been promoted to third grade the year before, just six of the 70 or so were reading at grade level. Duncan reports that he closed with, 鈥淵ou鈥檙e free to call me a racist, but I鈥檓 not one, ma鈥檃m. If I were a racist, then I would leave this school exactly as it is right now. That鈥檚 not what I want. They鈥檙e children. I believe in them as much as you do. They can鈥檛 wait for things to improve any longer. They deserve better now.鈥�

While How Schools Work is full of smart ideas for U.S. public education, it鈥檚 really about that Chicago parent meeting and the state of our union. It confronts one of the core premises of a healthy democracy: We can鈥檛 get serious about improving our debates 鈥� let alone our policies 鈥� if we鈥檙e unwilling to ever be persuaded. And, perhaps more important, we can鈥檛 be open to persuasion if we鈥檙e unwilling to let facts sway and compel us.

Back in 2015, when Duncan resigned, I worried that he was already stylistically and substantively out of step with U.S. politics. Here in Washington, I wrote, ours 鈥渋s a world where self-effacement is usually career suicide, and where a man who genuinely isn鈥檛 concerned about his standing in the polls or the newspapers is deeply confusing.鈥�

How Schools Work distills Duncan鈥檚 ethos, and 鈥� implicitly 鈥� raises some of the biggest questions. Can we build a better education system simply by opening ourselves to research and caring a lot? Or are we doomed to corrosive fights that preclude us from having hard, uncomfortable conversations about what might actually help children? Because that鈥檚 what Duncan thinks is the biggest lie: We tell ourselves that we care about kids. We don鈥檛.

If we can鈥檛 embrace earnest, hard-driving politics when it comes to kids 鈥� innocent, high-potential, brilliant, charming, deserving kids 鈥� what hope do we have of getting serious about anything else?

Conor P. Williams is a fellow at The Century Foundation. Previously, Williams was the founding director of New America’s Dual Language Learners National Work Group. He began his career as a first-grade teacher in Brooklyn. He holds a Ph.D. in government from Georgetown University, a master鈥檚 in science for teachers from Pace University, and a B.A. in government and Spanish from Bowdoin College. His two children attend a public charter school in Washington, D.C.

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