The Object Lesson

I came across this video recently, on one of my rounds patrolling the flow of human garbage, known alternatively as social media. I had seen a couple of his videos before, preaching about topics such as bilious animosity, the over-use of mobile phones, race, and being overworked, but this one piqued my interest. 

His heart is in the right place, but he misses the mark a number of times, and his interpretation is far too simplistic or lacking some important information. This is true of the majority of videos and posts we find on the internet, and the fact it takes the form of a song makes matters worse. As bad folk songs, interpretative dance, 1950s musicals, and the majority of actors talking about anything has taught us, the performance arts' bailiwick ought to be a very limited choice of topics. 

Music and dance, for example, should be confined to only that which it does well:

• encouraging stationary limbs into a state of locomotion
• revelling in the joyous power of ones youth
• inciting people to have sex (the Puritans accurately hit the g-spot here)
• sheepishly looking at the opposite sex on the dance floor
• grinding up against someone from behind on the dance floor
• grinding up against the sister/friend after being rejected by your first choice
• a Hillary Clinton pantsuit flash mob dance (which, somehow, didn't hand her victory)
• exercising à la the video of 2004's Eric Prydz classic Call on Me
• adding a special touch to an elevator ride (or a 'lift lift' in British English)
• generating excitement in films and advertisements
• intoxicating oneself in the chaotic revelry of Bacchanalia
• expressing the unique, near-ineffable joy of dancing on the ceiling (which, according to more radical historians, may or may not be the same point as the previous one)

In the main, songs fair poorly in conversations about politics, a pedagogical ethos, the role of the teacher in the classroom, and the financing and organisation of schools. This is surely because the brevity of songs results in a simplification of the message. Irish folk songs provide us with a clear example of this, the majority of which can be summarised as "fuck the Brits", clearly oversimplifying the relationship between our two countries. If they were to show more regard for the nuances of history — our intertwined heritages, the shared suffering of our common peoples, the misunderstandings and shades of grey — we would find ourselves with a fuller, more thoughtful message, along the lines of, "the Brits are a shower of bastards, who fucked us over all the time".

Another good example, which perfectly suits our focus here, is Pink Floyd's Another Brick in the Wall. Despite the conscientious artistry of the band, and their virtuous persistence in trying to create a collection songs better owned and talked about than listened to, they still managed ham-fistedly vilify the education system. Aside from now being outdated (modern education employs, to a greater of lesser extent, many theories and activities unheard of 40 years ago), the song wilfully ignores the value of education for young people's self-esteem and abilities, and for their protection from all the manipulators and oppressors they will face in the adult world. It seems to have no regard for the many excellent teachers and many positive aspects of school curriculums, and it never once considers how modern education would be considered an incredible boon by our grandparents and great grandparents. Anytime I hear the song, I listen out for any sense of irony, but none ever emerges from it. Matters aren't helped by the fact that Pink Floyd engage in acts of 'clever art' and their most seminal albums were all released in the worst decade of all time.

This Pink Floyd-type thinking about schools pervades our culture, particularly among people who are not involved in education. For all claims by the malcontents that they value creativity and critical thinking, they still run with the same, decades-old, over-simplified opinions. They will criticise standardised tests, the focus on being productive, the focus on academic ability, the failure to nurture creativity and independent thought, the depreciation of individuality, the absence of life skills, and so on. These arguments have validity, but, as per the spirit of the complaints, we should question and carefully consider such assumptions.

I don't deny that education could be much improved, but I have observed the following counters to such criticisms in my teaching career:

• a teacher, as an authority figure, can offer an alternative adult guide in your life
• productivity is valuable as it allows you to be more than you are
• standardised tests are objective and, if used correctly and sparingly, can become a valuable part of assessing students
• assessment is absolutely fundamental to teaching (Imagine your child attending a school where there was no way of evaluating their progress.) 
• old-fashioned techniques, such as rote learning, can be useful if used as an auxiliary tool
• conformity happens at a certain age regardless of school
• individuality can be harmful if it enables a sense of entitlement etc.
• the restrictive conditions can prove useful, as life will not always offer you favourable choices, and children are often not good at judging what is good for them 

On top of this, we really ought to challenge creativity and critical thinking's status as some master virtues. This line of thought has led us to worship innovation as the saviour of mankind and all its economic woes. Lateral thinking is great, but to be a great person or organisation, you need an assortment of skills. Climate change deniers, for example, do not necessarily lack creativity or critical thinking, and you would be hard-pressed to call them conformist, yet they somehow believe that destroying the environment to proliferate our dependancy on a rapidly depleting source of energy is a good idea. Pollution, the risk of producing natural catastrophes, and a refusal to develop renewable energy cannot be discouraged by creativity and critical thinking alone. You need the slow explanation of the science involved, which requires a teacher and a degree of conformity from the students. All the questioning and free thinking in the world is of no value here if the students cannot be brought to understand the science involved. America's imbecilic president-elect, who is also a climate change denier, may well be considered an outlier of the education system, displaying a non-conformist attitude and an ignorance of the world around him. (More frightening is the fact that the beast could not be slain by all the flashmob pantsuit dances they threw at him.) In a related matter, supporting Trump is comparable to the outright dismissal of the education system, rejecting the flawed status quo without a clearly thought-out alternative.

I have one more objection: this specious picture, whose quote appears in the video above.

It's flawed in so many ways, yet people will quickly march behind it. Firstly, with a quick Google search, I discovered that there doesn't seem to be any evidence Einstein said it. Secondly, it offers us a terrible metaphor. Children's differing abilities are not comparable to different animals. It's also a false portrayal of any good school, where children are assessed in many ways. The worst aspect of this ideas is, however, that children who are bad at something cannot learn to be better — what a discouraging and disempowering thought! School is not a place you should go to feel bad about yourself, but good criticism and feedback help you grow and improve. The notion of trying to uncover the hidden talents of thirty kids, with apparently no form of assessment sounds like a calamity and a betrayal of our youth.

"So, dear teacher," you may ask, "what lesson can we draw from all this?" Well, my child, I have so much more to say on this matter, but I'll leave it short. Partially, because I could end up writing a book on the issue, partially because writing a fulfilling, thoughtful and informative article on the internet is kind of taboo, and mostly because having no conclusion makes the reader feel like you've engaged in a pointless, regrettable use of their time, which is what the internet was made for.