In 1987, U.S. Education Secretary Bill Bennett famously traveled to Chicago, where he ruffled feathers by telling a closed-room group that the Windy City’s school system was “the worst in the nation.”
Things hardly improved during the COVID-19 pandemic, even though the Chicago Public School system was spending roughly $28,000 per student (partly because of federal bailout cash).
Chicago schools clearly aren’t getting the job done; however, political leaders in the city have discovered a solution to the problem: Stop grading schools.
Mr. Johnson went on to explain a better way to evaluate Chicago’s school system.
“My responsibility is not simply to just grade the system, but to fund the system,” he said. “That’s how I’m ultimately going to grade whether or not our public school system is working: based upon the investments that we make to the people who rely on it.”
This isn’t mere idle chatter.
Earlier this year, the Chicago Board of Education scrapped its school rating policy, which was designed to rate schools on a range of performance goals, including how students performed on state tests.
One can see why leaders in Chicago favor grading schools by the amount of money that they receive versus the academic performance of students.
Again, this is the state of Illinois’s own data.
Just like that—simply by grading schools by the funding that they receive instead of their actual performance—the Chicago Public School system goes from one of the worst school districts in the United States to one of the best.
Indeed, it’s this paradigm that has brought us the failed, bureaucratic education system that the United States sees today.
“When every call for fundamental change in American education is rebutted not by arguments about student achievement but by arguments focusing on race, class, social mixing, and other social concerns, it is difficult to imagine real progress.
“When teachers spend much of their day filling out forms, teaching quasi-academic subjects mandated from above, and boosting student self-esteem (as contrasted with self-respect, which is earned rather than worked up), learning is difficult if not impossible.”
“Independent study, community service, adventures and experience, large doses of privacy and solitude, a thousand different apprenticeships—the one-day variety or longer—these are all powerful, cheap, and effective ways to start a real reform of schooling. But no large-scale reform is ever going to work to repair our damaged children and our damaged society until we force open the idea of ‘school’ to include family as the main engine of education,” he wrote.
“If we use schooling to break children away from parents—and make no mistake, that has been the central function of schools since John Cotton announced it as the purpose of the Bay Colony schools in 1650 and Horace Mann announced it as the purpose of Massachusetts schools in 1850—we’re going to continue to have the horror show we have right now.”
Mr. Gatto wrote these words more than 30 years ago. And though I wouldn’t have described U.S. schools as a “horror show” in 1992 (I was only 13), I certainly would today.
This wouldn’t have surprised Mr. Gatto, who observed years ago that the primary purpose of schools in the modern United States was no longer education (if it ever was).
“We must wake up to what our schools really are: laboratories of experimentation on young minds, drill centers for the habits and attitudes that corporate society demands,” he wrote.
Years ago, I would have brushed off Mr. Gatto’s words as fanciful hyperbole. I don’t today.