INSULT TO INTELLIGENCE The bureaucratic invasion of our classrooms Frank Smith In Insult to Intelligence, Frank Smith distills twenty years of pioneering research and first hand work with teachers and students to launch a powerful attack on the widespread "drill and kill" approach to teaching that is deadening classrooms. Everyday, students of all ages are being drilled tested, and graded on isolated bits of knowledge. The practice has become so prevalent in classrooms and textbooks in the last 30 years that many students equate it with education itself. Everyday the intelligence of students and teachers is being insulted. Common sense says that drilling, testing, and grading have nothing to do with how babies, children and adults really learn. And research backs this up. But false theory, political pressures, business opportunism and harried administrators have persuaded many educators to accept this bureaucratic travesty of teaching as the real thing. Insult to Intelligence focuses particularly on children learning to read and write, the area in which Frank Smith has made his reputation. But this six point manifesto on learning and teaching is applicable at every level of education and in the context of the ongoing struggle to upgrade the teaching profession and to raise National standards of literacy his book is a call to arms. Frank Smith was born in England and received his B.A. at the University of Western Australia and his PhD. at Harvard University. His two essay collections -- Essays into Literacy and Joining the Literacy Club are published. In 1984 he won the David H. Russell award for distinguished research in the teaching of English. A full time writer and lecturer, Frank Smith has been a journalist and editor, novelist and poet, and professor of education at the Universities of Toronto and Victoria. He now lives in Victoria, British Columbia. PREFACE For nearly twenty years I have studied two conflicting realities. One is the reality of the human brain, and especially of how children and adults learn. Children learn constantly, and so do adults -- when they have not become persuaded that they can't learn. The time bomb in every classroom is that students learn exactly what they are taught. They may not learn what their teachers think they are teaching them, but their teachers are probably not teaching what they think they teach. To see what students learn in school, look at how they leave school. If they leave thinking that reading and writing are difficult and pointless, that mathematics is confusing, that history is irrelevant, and that art is a bore, then that is what they have been taught. People learn what is demonstrated to them, and this reality will not change to suit the convenience of politicians and educational administrators. The contrasting reality I have studied is that of how schools and other educational institutions teach, and especially of how the prepackaged instructional programs and tests, which are supposed to promote learning, work. Educational systems are quite a different reality from that of the human brain. And the two realities are in conflict. Despite romantic notions to the contrary, schools and universities are not good places for learning. North America leads the world in the destruction of its educational institutions. The natural intelligence of children and adults is ignored and insulted. The dedication and expertise of teachers is undermined and circumvented. And the devastation is caused by politicians, administrators, and educators blinded by a bureaucratic myth. 1 The myth is that learning can be guaranteed if instruction is delivered systematically, one small piece at a time, with frequent tests to ensure that students and teachers stay on task. Elaborate instructional programs and systems are produced, glossily packaged and extravagantly advertised, claiming impossible levels of effectiveness and playing continuously on parental guilt. Detailed "objectives" are specified for the particular module of instruction that teacher should be engaged in at any particular time, and equally detailed tests are imposed to ensure conformity to the chosen path, no manner how much confusion, frustration, and despair result. There is an alternative, but it is everywhere under attack. Sensitive and imaginative teachers inspire learning of lasting depth and complexity a love of learning itself -- in students with all kinds of interests and abilities. But success like this is achieved only when teacher and student have the mutual respect and trust that is the basis of all effective learning. Establishing such respect is difficult enough under the widespread constraints of overcrowded classrooms, limited budgets, inadequate teacher training, and grudging recognition and remuneration. The respect is impossible when classroom activities are controlled by outside "authorities" who destroy the sensitivity and imagination of teachers, who know little of the way worthwhile learning occurs and nothing of the individuals supposed to be doing the learning. Trivialized and coercive programmatic instruction is expected to produce "quality education." The myth is founded upon a misguided and irrelevant theory of learning and the awesome presumption that experts outside the classroom can make better decisions about helping students learn than teachers who can actually see and talk with the students. The result is the ritualistic teaching of nonsense, educational junk food, and instruction with no significant intellectual content. The issue is essentially political, a question of who will control how students are taught: teachers or programmers. The struggle for the control of education is so pervasive and insidious that most teachers, parents, and students an unaware that it is taking place. Programmatic instruction has become entrenched in countless textbooks, course outlines, and curriculums, from kindergarten to college. To many people, programmatic instruction -- learning one specified thing at a time -- is education. Programs are credited with any learning that students and teachers are able to achieve, and students and teachers are blamed for the failures of programs. The struggle has been in progress for thirty years -- and it will be decided in the next few years by the way in which computers are used in education. The computer is the ultimate weapon of instructional programmers, and in many people's minds at least, it is a device to take the place of teachers. Anyone who believes that students learn best from systematic instruction and tests can say goodbye to teachers. For dispensing programmatic instruction, computers are cheaper and more efficient than humans. In Insult to Intelligence I will catalog stupidities committed by ignorant though often well-intentioned people who impose meaningless tasks and demeaning tests on students in the expectation that worthwhile learning will occur. But I will also demonstrate the fluent way in which all children -- and older students' are naturally capable of learning. And I will show how teachers and parents can protect students from programmatic instruction, ensuring that they are free to reach for far higher levels of accomplishment than programs and tests ever aim. Above all, I want to provide ammunition for the political battle that teachers and parents must wage if education is not to fall totally into the hands of the outsiders who harness and constrain the brains of students. I became involved in this battle when my own children first went to school, and I saw eager minds dulled and diverted by the meaningless classroom rituals and materials that had already begun to insinuate themselves into instruction. I spent three years with leading international 2 researchers at Harvard University's Center for Cognitive Studies, exploring the incredible intellectual achievements of all young children, starting at birth, as they effortlessly learn what no one deliberately tries to teach them about their language, their culture, and the world. And for the next two years I worked with large federally funded educational research and development projects in which well- meaning experts prepared tests and instructional programs based on theories that were the exact opposite of how I had discovered people actually learn. I saw the beginning of the massive endeavors to employ irrelevant space age technology in the reduction of education to fragmented and decontextualized trivialities. I discovered the brutally simple motivation behind the development and imposition of all systematic instructional programs and tests -- a lack of trust that teachers can teach and that children can learn. Most teachers are under intense and relentless pressure to follow prescribed instructional procedures, regulated and supervised by state and federal authorities rather than by local school boards and parent- teacher associations. Bureaucrats have taken over. The management of schools was traditionally the domain of the communities in which they were situated. Now the content of the curriculum, how the curriculum is to be taught, and even the selection of classroom materials, is largely determined by distant government employees. The deadening influence starts at the top, and the decline in standards and expectations seeps inexorably down. For the past fifteen years I have been privileged to see the other side of the picture. I have worked in schools and in colleges of education with thousands of classroom teachers and with their students of all ages, in North and South America, in Europe, and in Australasia. Everywhere, I have seen it demonstrated that students know how to learn and that teachers can be trusted to teach, even while the students and teachers were struggling under prescribed instructional regimes of unrelieved tedium and irrelevance. Insult to Intelligence is a reflection of everything I have learned from children, students, and teachers. Their situation is critical and urgent. Our schools should not remain places where the enormous potential of the human brain is systematically eroded, and possibly destroyed. The invasion of education by instructional programmers must be turned back now. My thanks to Mary-Theresa Smith, who contributed many educational and editorial insights. CHAPTER 1 Meet the R-bbit Meet the enemy, as I met it at the 1983 convention of the international Reading Association, held appropriately enough in the heart of Mickey Mouse Land at Anaheim, California. Its name was R-bbit (which I pronounce "are-bit"). The reading convention is the largest educational conference in the world, attended annually by nearly 15,000 teachers, researchers, and educational administrators, all looking for something new to put into classrooms. The sale of instructional materials is much bigger business for publishers than the sale of fiction and other general trade books, and the reading convention regularly attracts over 500 exhibitors. The exhibitors range from lone entrepreneurs promoting their bright ideas or hopes for fortune to the largest international communications conglomerates. In recent years the number of displays of computer-based instructional programs and materials at educational conferences has grown almost to equal that of old-fashioned "printware." But the prescriptions and the hucksterism remain the same. I encountered the r-bbit when I investigated why crowds of teachers were consistently gathering in one area of the exhibition hall. The teachers were, I found, observing a demonstration of a computerized reading lesson. They were gazing at a cartoon representation of a desert scene on the screen of a small 3 desktop computer. There was a bright blue sky above, a yellow landscape below, a few cacti, and in the center of it all a rabbit with large floppy ears and a mischievous look. In large print on the side of the screen were the letters r-bbit. A flashing message at the bottom of the screen was appealing: "Please tell me your name." (And if the appropriate accessories are purchased, the computer will speak its remarks aloud.) The demonstrator was trying to persuade someone to oblige this friendly computer. Eventually a teacher typed "Cynthia" on the keyboard, and the computer immediately responded, "Can you fill in the missing letter in r-bbit, Cynthia?" The demonstrator urged the teacher to give the wrong answer. (promoters of educational programs are always anxious to demonstrate the remarkable things their systems do when mistakes are made.) "Type K," said the demonstrator helpfully. Cynthia typed K. Bells rang, lights flashed, the rabbit's ears drooped, and the computer announced, "Too bad, Cynthia. K is not the right answer. Would you like to try again?" "Type the right answer this time," suggested the demonstrator. "Type A." The teacher typed A. Once again bells rang and lights flashed, but now the rabbit's ears perked up and it began munching on a carrot that magically appeared from off-screen. "Well done, Cynthia," said the computer. "A is the correct answer. Your score so far today is 50 percent. Your score last time was 0 percent. That is a 50 percent improvement. Congratulations. Would you like to try another one?" I looked around. The entire audience of professional educators was entranced, though no one more than the demonstrator, who must have seen the r-bbit scores of times before. I have not selected r-bbit as a particularly ridiculous component in an inept and improbable program. The r-bbit was selected by the demonstrator, who presumably knew from experience how to appeal to teachers and school administrators. The r-bbit was just part of one instructional task. All of the major educational publishers today -- and many manufacturers of computer systems and of the "software" that determines what computers do - produce instructional software in glossily packaged sets. These packages may include scores of computer drills and supporting materials and cost $2,000 or more per child. But the packages claim to provide everything a child requires during years of schooling to learn to read and to write, to learn math, history, geography, science, and any other subject. They can look like bargains. There are over 10,000 educational software programs on the market today. I have chosen the r-bbit as the symbol of the programmatic approach to instruction which believes that children learn by practicing one systematic thing after another -- "Fill in the blank and find out whether you're right or wrong." Millions of r-bbits can be found in the workbooks, activity sheets, and computerized lessons that claim to teach the facts and skills of language, arithmetic, science, social studies, art, and every other subject under the academic sun. Fill-in-the-blank (or indicate the right one-word answer, which is the same thing) is by far the most common form of instruction in schools today. The theory behind the r-bbit and behind all of its short-right- answer relations is that if learners are presented with one item after another and tested to ensure that each item is learned before they on move on to the next step, then sufficient learning will accumulate to teach a skill. In advertising, in formal discussions, and even in the professional literature of educational psychology, the technique of the r-bbit is known as "teach and test." More bluntly, program developers themselves often refer to the system as "drill and test." To teachers who have become aware of its consequences, the method is known as "drill and kill." 4 The R-bbit at work Every child in regular classrooms in the Montebello Unified School District near Los Angeles from kindergarten through fourth grade works through eighteen "levels" of the Macmillan primary grade "Series R" reading program. So do hundreds of thousands of children in other American classrooms, because Macmillan's is the most popular reading program in the United States. In the intermediate grades the Montebello children move on to another series, produced by Houghton Mifflin, although the Macmillan program continues through to the eighth grade in junior high (up to forty-eighth "level"). The complete package of Macmillan primary grade materials for Montebello students making their way up the eighteen levels from kindergarten to the end of fourth grade consists of ten student texts, seven workbooks, nine practice books, ten sets of practice masters, seven sets of "comprehension and writing masters," three readiness tests, seven initial placement inventories, ten assessment tests (each in alternative A and B forms), four testing/management resource book, and three achievement tests plus sets of student profile cards and class profile cards at each level. Supplementary material across the eighteen levels includes seven-skill development charts, four-vocabulary development charts, ten solo book, and ten "Extras! For Reinforcement," three sets of ABC cards, five sets of phonic picture cards, five sets of word cards, three sets of story cards, three packs of games, seven records or cassettes, and five tutorial programs. Not surprisingly, there is also a total of ten "teacher's editions" to help teachers make their way through the thickets of materials and to keep track of everybody's progress. There are even ten sets of letters for teachers to send to parents. The emphasis on isolated skills and continual testing is made clear in the "instructional strategy that ensures skill mastery" outlined to teachers at the beginning of their editions: "INTRODUCE -- Every skill is given a thorough introduction at its appropriate level. REVIEW -- Every skill is thoroughly reviewed soon after it is introduced. REVIEW -- Key skills are again reviewed after a short time. TEST-- Priority skills are tested for the first time, but never at the level in which they have been introduced. MAINTAIN -- Priority skills are maintained after the first test to assure skills retention. RETEST -- Priority skills are retested at succeeding grades to provide a continuous check on student progress." What are all these "priority skills" that are so insistently reviewed and retested throughout the plan? In phonics, children are introduced, one letter at a time, to initial consonants and (optionally) short vowels, starting at the beginning of kindergarten. They move on to final consonants at the "pre-primer" level, to long vowels at the "primer" level, and then to medial consonants in first grade. Diphthongs and initial clusters of consonants (like ch and str) are withheld until children are on the brink of second grade, when they also begin to be exposed to "variant spellings" and the most common sound in the English language, the "neutral vowel" schwa (a word that most adults are unfamiliar with and a sound that can be represented in English by a, e, i, o, or u -- metal, serve, lion, circle, curve.) In comprehension, "scope and sequence" charts maneuver the children through such abstractions as "main ideas," paraphrases, facts, opinions, and themes. Thousands of questions are provided for teachers to ask, with right answers provided so that teachers can properly evaluate the response. For one very short story called "Rico and the Red Pony," intended to introduce students to the color red, there are seven "literal comprehension" questions ("Where was Rico's flower shop?"), five "interpretive thinking" questions ("Why did Rico yell when he saw a car or a bus?"), five "critical thinking" questions ("Why do you think Rico had the pony if he didn't like it?"), and three "creative thinking" questions ("Where would you like to pretend to be if you were on the red pony?"). A page of the workbook and a page of the skills practice book all devoted to further exerciser on such questions, with further material for children who get confused. There are more questions than there are sentences in the story, more paragraphs of guidance for teachers than there are pages in the 5 story, and the ritual is repeated day after day, week after week, year after year. Children are expected to identify characters, recall details, specify behavior, relate setting to characterization, recall details, state motives, discuss character traits, infer causes and/or effects, draw conclusions, predict outcomes, locate words printed in bold type, identify words containing particular sounds or letters, analyze illustrations, identify "main ideas," identify details, identify nouns, recognize the characteristics of nouns, suggest titles for paragraphs, paraphrase sentences, and underline individual words and letters. The r-bbit is well represented in these exercises. Here is a selection: Choose the same letter, d, t or r to go at the beginning and end of the following pairs of words: ......ish, ba.....; ....ake, ja.....; ......ail, si...... Insert windows, winter, women, work, walk or water into "I ......... to school every day. It is cold in the ............ Mother goes to ..............in the morning." Fill in the correct alternative: "The water was very ........... (deep, dip);" "The...............will soon be a flower (sad, seed);" "Nicky thinks he does not ...............a sister (nod, need)." A correct answer is always provided for the teacher so that the child can be promptly marked right or wrong (even though other answers might be quite appropriate in some circumstances). A typical testing and Management Resource Book for one grade of the Macmillan program includes a readiness test teacher's manual, a readiness test, an assessment test teacher's manual, assessment test forms, and reinforcement masters. There are pages of instructions for the teacher before each test and subtest that tell the teacher what to say when asking questions and in responding to various answers. Each manual serves as a script that the teacher can follow, like an actor, who cannot improvise, while the children put their fingers on the right spot, produce the right sound, circle the right picture, underline the right letter, complete the blank. For any errors children make, teachers are directed to the pages in the workbook to which the child must return. If the specific skill not mastered is circling initial str, then further drill can be found on pages 224 and 262 of the particular teacher's edition, page 84B of the workbook, and page 39 of the skills practice book. Evaluation charts and student profiles are completed after every test to show at a glance when students have mastered given skills and specific levels. There is nothing in the real world that is like any of this pedagogical treadmill. Nobody learns anything, or teaches anything, by being submitted to such a regime of disjointed, purposeless, repetitive, confusing, and tedious activities. Teachers burn out, pupils fall by the wayside, and parents and administrators worry about the lack of student "progress" or interest. Yet the examples I have given are from a popular program, a best seller, a model for teachers and administrators. There are activities that everyone takes seriously, because they promise so much, take up so much time, and generate so many scores and comparisons. And the computer is coming along fast. Milliken Publishing Company of St. Louis claims to be the leader in electronic publishing. It advertises computerized "learning system" packages covering eight grade levels of mathematics instruction, eight of language arts, five of writing skills, seven of grammar, five of spelling, and nine of reading comprehension. "Each package includes a teacher's guide with easy-to-follow instructions." But in any case, "little direct supervision is required." As an additional inducement to teachers who want to hand over all their responsibilities to the Publishers, "Every Milliken courseware diskette comes with a comprehensive management program that will allow you [the teacher] to make individualized or group assignments, identify student problem areas [i.e., spot students who can't do what the program demands], generate performance print-outs, and more.... All achievement records are automatically maintained." 6 A Milliken spelling drill features a multicolor hen on a nest with twelve eggs, one of which hatches into a chicken every time a scrambled word is typed correctly. (Unscrambling jumbled words does not help children to spell and drives many of them to despair, but it is a very easy instructional activity to devise). A Milliken sentence combining exercise gives the example: "I have a dog. She is friendly. I have a friendly dog." (Illustrated by a friendly cartoon dog, of course), along with the mysterious explanation "That's how we use describing words such as: red green fat thin quiet." In "Math sequences" there is a bold "Well done Chuck!" for a student who has typed out the correct working of a long- division problem. An "Edufun! learning game" uses a screen full of fish, underwater weeds, and a chest of treasure to illustrate 2 + ? = 3. And there is the inevitable r-bbit "The magicians ……….their audiences with their magic……(a) astounded (b) injured (c) worried (d) warmed" -- plus the option of hitting a key to get clues. I have not selected these examples because they are particularly ridiculous. The examples have been boldly advertised across facing color pages in educational journals and magazines like learning embraced by a beaming teacher and seven smiling students. The examples were selected by Milliken Publishing Company, which has learned what is most likely to appeal to teachers or administrators who want to buy classroom software. Why the R-bbit Is Rife It is not difficult to see why computer-based instructional programs are attractive to many children, teachers, administrators, politicians, and parents, too. Children prefer the r-bbit because schoolwork is presented like the Saturday morning television cartoon show. If children must engage in totally meaningless activities, like filling in missing letters of random words, that is the way to do it. There are so many outrageous advertisements for educational software in teachers' journals that I do not keep precise notes on them all, but I remember one that boasted that its programs could teach anything that would be too boring to teach in any other way -like the seller of a food processor bragging that its machine can make nonnutritive products appetizing. The r-bbit is attractive to teachers because it keeps children quiet and occupied. Despite its cute format, which like the dashy graphics of most printed classroom materials is often designed to appeal to teachers rather than to children, the entire approach has an authority that is difficult to resist. R-bbit programs present clearly defined tasks that can be dealt with one at a time. The programs "remember" how each child has "progressed" from day to day and can cope with wrong answers. There is little difficulty for the teacher in answering the child's question, "What should I do next?" (answer: "Ask the computer."), and there is little risk that the child will ever ask, "Why am I doing this?" As the advertisement for the "totally new" Ginn Reading Program tells teachers: "You'll find the actual instructions and directions you need to achieve the comprehension goals you want. Our Teacher's Edition has explicit instructions to teach, practice, extend, test, and review all the skills necessary for comprehension. Every skill is clearly defined for both you and your students. So there's never any guesswork about what you should do and why.... It's the sensible way to teach reading comprehension." The r-bbit is attractive to administrators because it so generously provides scores, which can be used to support any decision and justify any action. Some degree of learning can always be demonstrated (unless it is convenient to demonstrate that certain children are not learning, in which case the program can provide evidence for that, too). When politicians press with the question "What are you doing to ensure quality education!" the administrators can say that they are using the latest r-bbit program. In fact, in many jurisdictions the program will be imposed upon schools and teachers, as the Macmillan and Houghton Mifflin programs are imposed in Montebello. All children have to have the same program because they are all expected to take the same examination, and no one must have an advantage or disadvantage. Besides, everyone knows that quality control can only be exercised through standardization. Programs, especially if they can be delivered by computer, are more reliable than teachers. 7 The claims are unbounded -- that the programs will teach reading and writing (or anything else) -- and the complexity of the materials is daunting. For reading there are self-contained segments or "modules" claiming to teach alphabet skills, acoustic skills, phonic skills, blending skills, sight recognition skills, comprehension skills, and reasoning skills, all accompanied by appropriate tests. The programs even claim to be based on extensive scientific research and to include the latest theoretical advances that will presumably make all of the competition out of date (just like next year's automobiles). Parents are impressed. Parents are always concerned that their children should attend to what they think teachers believe is important. And the promotional material accompanying programs almost invariably adds a note for parents like, "Can you afford not to give your child the advantage of this opportunity?" The advertising is rarely ever qualified. There is no suggestion that some children might not learn with a particular method or set of materials (unless there is something wrong with the child). There are no advertising standards for the promotion of educational products, or surgeon- general's warnings that the product could be dangerous to mental health. What's Wrong With the R-bbit This entire book constitutes a detailed answer to the question of what is wrong with the r-bbit -- and what parents and teachers can do about it. The objections to r-bbit programs apply to all areas of instruction, but I shall concentrate on examples involving literacy. Reading and writing are basic to every academic activity in school, not only as subjects to be taught but also as the means of engaging in learning and of demonstrating learning. The way literacy instruction is delivered to children illustrates educational technology at its most intense. I shall also focus primarily on children because they are the most conspicuous victims of programs and tests, but again, the damage affects learners of all ages. Objections to drill-and-test programs can be set out briefly under the following four headings: (1) The programs do not reflect the way that anyone learns about language or about anything worthwhile. Programs control teachers and assume they are incapable of making educational decisions. Even in subjects like math, history, and science, where conventional wisdom says that facts, dates, and formulas may be usefully learned by rote, most teachers understand the difference between explaining something that makes sense and trying to cram apparently pointless information into confused and reluctant minds. With programs, someone outside the classroom determines what teacher and student must do next, even though the outsider does not know and cannot see the student. The r-bbit assumes that students will not learn unless they are controlled, graded, and rewarded, and ignores what they learn by being engaged in meaningful activities. The r-bbit is misguided and manipulative. (2) The language arts programs do not reflect normal reading writing, or language generally. The r- bbit teaches children nothing about the way people employ spoken or written language. Filling in blanks is not the way anyone uses language, spoken or written. No one ever says to a child "Put on your ............... and we'll go to the game as soon as you guess the missing word." There are easier ways to learn the alphabet, and any other of the so called "skills" of literacy, than the drills and tests dictated by instructional programs. Many children, and teachers and parents, too, think that reading and writing are the exercises done in the classroom. Children are learning that reading and writing are "school activities, punitive, pointless and boring, not to be engaged in unless teachers require them. The r-bbit is irrelevant and misleading. (3) Programs art usually designed by people who know how to write instructional programs rather than by people experienced in teaching children. Every bit of rubbish in the activity kits and worksheets that have occupied so much of children's school and homework time is now being put into r-bbit software for computers. Computerized instructional programs are produced by computer experts, just as most of the arguments and visions for employing computer-based instruction in education are advanced 8 by computer experts rather than by experienced educators. Even where "expert" consultants are involved in the production of educational software-and the list of credits is often liberally sprinkled with Ph.D.s-the general concern is still likely to be more with what the computer can do than with how children most effectively learn. The r-bbit is ignorant. (4) The programs-whether in print or on computer screens -- deny children opportunities to learn or to see any sense in what they are learning. Instead of reading and writing, the children fill in blanks. The children who cannot do this very well spend even more time trying to fill in blanks and even less time reading and learning to read. Teachers have less time to teach reading and writing. Systematic instruction, presenting one item to be learned at a time, is the systematic deprivation of experience, like shutting infants up in a dark room and allowing them to see only one thing at a time. The r-bbit is dangerous. Why the R-bbit is a Threat The r-bbit and all the other programs are a huge part of education, and their junk-learning influence is growing. Bureaucratic centralized authorities are demanding the tighter control of teachers in the names of "accountability" and "excellence." The control can only be maintained through the specification of what teachers should teach, and how and when they should teach it. And when the prescribed instructional programs fail, as they invariably do, teachers and students are blamed and the controls are tightened even more. There is enormous pressure for the expansion of computer-based instruction, and not just from the producers of computers and instructional software. Politicians, bureaucrats, administrators, and even parents will press for the expanded use of computers in education; they will continue to confuse economy with efficiency. Uncertain or lazy teachers who cannot think of more productive ways of using computers will open the classroom doors to the programs. They will admit the agent of their own destruction. Computer-based instruction has come along just in time to tip the balance in a classroom struggle that has been waged for three decades. The struggle has been between autonomous teachers, able to make immediate classroom decisions about how best to help students to learn, and the designers and promoters of programmatic instruction, who want to have every classroom decision made in advance. Programmatic instruction has been failing. No one claims that students are academically any further advanced than they were thirty years ago, despite the proliferation of programs and tests. As I write these words another wave of books and reports has been published deploring the level of illiteracy in the United States- forty percent of the population by some counts-and asserting that even the ability to think is being drilled out of our children. But instead of blaming the inadequacy of tests and programs, educational planners and administrators attribute the failure to an insufficiency of programs and tests. Teachers and students have always succeeded in getting around programs, or ignoring them -- so the argument goes. But computers are the ideal devices for programmatic instruction. They are more attractive to children, more effective drill masters than teachers, and more easily controlled by administrators. They are even cheaper than teachers, whose salaries are the largest and least tractable component in the spiraling costs of education. The world has entered the age of computers, and schools will not be able to resist them. Schools should not want to reject computers; the new technology has much to offer learners and teachers. But teachers must know how to handle computers; they should not allow computers to take their place. However, teachers often have been so programmed in what passes for their own professional education that they have not learned how children learn. Teachers have been trained to believe that the materials and procedures they are expected to rely upon in the classroom are the best way to teach. I have been told by my -own academic colleagues that teachers cannot be trusted with "theory" -- they 9 need to be told what they should do. What teachers: have been taught is how to surrender their classroom autonomy to drill-and-kill instruction. The situation is critical. It will not be easy for children to defend themselves against the r-bbit as they grow up in the computerized classroom, so parents and teachers must fight the battle for them. Unfortunately, parents and teachers are often unable to see classrooms for what they are. Adults may be inclined to take most of what is done in the classrooms for granted -- if it's "education" then it must be good specially since the materials that are used make such spectacular claims for what will be achieved. Adults may need completely fresh eyes with which to observe what is going on; the eyes of observers with no preconceptions. It may help to visualize how a classroom would look to unprejudiced explorers. The Explorers' Point of View Imagine that ripples from earth's television and radio broadcasts have revealed to the inquisitive inhabitants of a distant galaxy that something called literacy is a critical concern in many schools on our planet. They decide to send a mission to earth to investigate what literacy is. The exploratory mission warps through time and space to observe classrooms in the English-speaking world. On the mission there are archeologists, whose task is to deduce what literacy is from the artifacts they find. What evidence do they discover in the classrooms? They observe many isolated letter of the alphabet, fragmented words, and a few bits of sentences, none of which seem to serve any purpose. Letters and words are festooned all over classroom walls, mostly in the form of lists - the days of the week, the months of the year, the names of birds, animals, and fish, and of children themselves. But none of this print seems to say anything; it has no purpose as far as the explorers can see. In fact every few weeks the teacher may change all of this writing, as if tired of looking at the same landscape day after day. The explorers conclude that all this writing is decoration, an alternative to wallpaper. The archeologists also study all the paper artifacts they find in the desks and on the shelves around the classroom. Once again they find many lists of random letters and random words, but they also find many sentences, most of them with spaces in them. Entire workbooks and worksheets are made up of these honeycombed fragments of language, suggesting to the explorers that schools may be infested with insects that chew appetizing morsels out of words and sentences. They may also find a few things called stories in some of the classrooms, but most of these will be short and dull, and almost invariably accompanied by lists of questions designed to make a test out at the back. The archeologists also meet the r-bbit, but cannot see how its antics have anything to do with literacy. What purposes of self- expression or communication could machines and cartoon characters have? Nothing the machines say makes any sense to them. The explorers have long and anxious debates about what all this evidence can mean. They come to the conclusion that the artifacts are related to an esoteric ritual. There is no point in looking for any weaning in the materials, any message in the media; their only apparent purpose is to be handled in the proper way for the mysterious ceremonies that take place in classrooms. Since the objects found in classrooms seem to provide few clues to any practical utility they might have (unlike most objects in the world outside), the archeologists have to hope that the other specialists on their mission have more success. The mission's anthropologists examine the behavior of teachers and children. It quickly becomes obvious to the explorers that reading and writing are not things that teachers do themselves, at least not by preference, but rather are drills and exercises that they want the children to perform, presumably by some kind of uplifting moral discipline. Why else should anyone think it worthwhile to go through lists of forty words or more like "books, army, watches, maps, inch ... ," marking each one S or P according to whether it is singular or plural (and deducting two points for each error), as the Steck Vaughn Red 10