Arthur Goldstein says that ghost is still haunting New York and New York’s students.
I don’t think the English Regents exam is suitable for ELLs. However, I don’t think it’s suitable for English speaking students either. I’m no genius, but I can write a test in 45 minutes that would be more meaningful. Sure, I might spend more time grading it, but that’s what happens when you teach English.
Both the English Regents exam and the NYSESLAT are firmly rooted in Common Core, though neither bears the label anymore. Our classroom task last week was reading an article and then writing about minimalism. I’m not talking about art, but rather divesting yourself of possessions you may deem unnecessary, and focusing only on those things that bring you happiness.
There’s a lot to like about it. Who needs toxic relationships? Who needs debt, clutter, and the urge to keep up with your neighbors by getting a Lexus every time they get a Toyota? That said, I’m not a minimalist. I’m not ostentatious either. But teenagers?
I’ve had teenagers announce they wanted to be doctors. Why, I’d ask? Do you love science? Medicine? Helping people? No, they’d answer. I want to make a lot of money.
Now don’t get me wrong—I’d like to make a lot of money too. Had I joined my dad in his business, I may have done so. On the other hand, I may also have leapt from a tall building. His business did not much interest me. I’d rather be a teacher, and we all know exactly how rich teachers become.
Once, I had a student who was very, very good at the multiple choice questions on the Regents exam.
“Why is that so easy for you?” I asked.
“I don’t read the passage. I just read the questions and search for the answers.”
The kid left me speechless, a rare thing. But he had the whole thing figured out. He got the answers faster than I did. After all, I wasted all that time doing the reading. I can only suppose I’m not sufficiently Common Corey.
Back to minimalism—Every single student in our class supported it. I was shocked. I walked around and asked them, “Would you like to live in a teeny-tiny house?”
They replied emphatically in the negative. Not one student expressed a desire to explore the minimalist lifestyle.
“Why did you support it?” I asked.
They told me it was because that was what the “evidence” in the article made it easier to write about. You see, in the “argumentative” essay, students are not supposed to compose their own arguments. Instead, they use evidence from the essay, written by a minimalist.
Unsurprisingly, the minimalist mostly advocated minimalism.
The architect of Common Core, David Coleman, is well known for saying, “People don’t really give a shit about what you feel or what you think.” That’s a fundamental building block of Common Core. Therefore, students are precluded from using their own ideas.
It’s true that I don’t give a shit what David Coleman feels or thinks. Were I to adhere to his cynical philosophy, I’d have no appreciation for art. I wouldn’t love music or literature. And right there is a problem. As an English teacher, one of the things I try to do is trick kids into loving reading—by hook or by crook.
I’ve taught The Joy Luck Club many times. There are beautiful, inspirational stories in there, and my kids learn that newcomers can be confounded, but ultimately successful in the United States (and elsewhere). They learn that women can be powerful, even when it’s not expected of them. They learn that others have faced the same feelings, frustrations, and cultural roadblocks that face them now. Also, they learn what Amy Tan feels and thinks, and they are fascinated.
Coleman’s Common Core makes reading and writing a chore to be avoided. It teaches kids to dread and hate writing, and if that’s not enough, it shows them their ideas are neither valuable nor welcome. We should never have let Coleman project his miserable experiences on our children. While this has escaped the attention of the various geniuses in Albany who persist in mandating this nonsense, those of us actually doing the work can’t help but take notice.
