In the 18th century the
French philosopher Jean Jacques Rousseau wrote a tome he entitled Emile. The purpose of this treatise was to propose developmental
criteria for child rearing among the privileged class. As a product of the enlightenment, the criteria
established in Emile was interpreted by scholars as a framework for
curricula deemed appropriate at different stages of a child’s intellectual
development. At first blush, this seems
logical. As the brain grows with the
child, the capacity for learning logically increases. Therefore, the child’s capacity for
complexity improves as the child gets older.
Addition and subtraction in the early years, later multiplication and
division, algebra, geometry, calculus etc., follow this line of thinking. For centuries, the brain of a child was
considered an empty vessel, “tabula rasa” or blank slate. According to Rousseau, if you time concepts
and activities correctly, a logical intellectual mind will develop properly
prepared to contribute in adulthood.
As logical as this all seems, the
developmental presumption of Rousseau ignores significant influences on
intellectual awareness. First, the
genetic equation that results in each of our brains impacts our capacity for
types and breadth of learning. Second, the social and physical environment
influences decisions that impact learning priorities. Rousseau’s prescription was appropriate for a
child of privilege in the enlightenment and has proven to be effective for many
children of means today. A child from
poverty, a working class family or a dysfunctional home does not have the
luxury of such upbringing. There are
outliers that say a powerful intellect can overcome underprivileged status,
Maya Angelou comes to mind, but those are rare circumstances.
It is now 2015 and we know a great
deal more about the brain, psychology and sociology than was not understood
during the Enlightenment. However, we
continue to make decisions in education based on the fundamental assumptions
espoused by Rousseau. The brain
changes, almost fundamentally, every time we encounter stimuli. Those stimuli can impede intellectual
understanding just as it can expand knowledge.
I learned as a principal of a school with self-contained hearing
impaired classes, that the brain quickly leaves senses not available, such as
hearing, to find other avenues for survival.
This often results in barriers for language development. Yet, we continue to develop curricula that prescribe
certain learning at specific ages no matter the capacity or experience of the
individual child. If a child is not
reading at six, it must be the instruction or there is “something wrong” with
the child. Simply changing instructional
strategies should correct the problem.
Right?
No.
Learning is not a series of prescribed steps. There is no owner’s manual. What works for one may not work for others. We
are beginning to act on this in the public schools, but all are not
convinced. The challenge is now to move
from a systemic developmental model to one that addresses each child
individually. What we do know is that a
strict developmental model leads to a focus on compliance and ignores the
impact of individual experience on learning.
It has resulted in schools that serve a narrow group of students and
pushes the others on or out. If we are
to make significant strides with all students we need to drastically adjust the
formula. Science has shown us that
“tabula rasa” does not apply to children.
They are pre-wired with immense potential, too often untapped.
I had numerous experiences that
enhanced my intellectual curiosity, potential and capacity. In grades kindergarten through twelve I
matriculated through a public school system that was changing due to the Civil
Rights movement and the attempts to integrate public schools. I then attended a challenging private liberal
arts college where I had to work hard to be an average student. Over most of the past 3 decades I assumed
that I learned my social skills in my K-12 years and honed my intellectual
skills in college. Since college I have
earned two masters where my GPA was significantly better than as an
undergraduate. I attributed this to my
“learning how to learn” while being challenged at a heightened intellectual
level in college. In other words, I
learned how to study.
Upon reflection, the supposition
that intellectual growth requires structured study, or instruction, is not
accurate. The social and community experiences
I had in high school have just as much to do with my success as an educator and
a thinker as does the content I learned in college. I simply believed that the high school
curriculum was a disservice to my performance as a college student, because I
was not challenged academically and; therefore, not ready to excel as an
undergraduate. However, the experiences
I had with a changing school community has had just as much impact on my
professional success as an educator as did my improved study habits enforced during
college.
Growing up, I spent most of my
after school time playing with friends and exploring the woods surrounding my
house. I typically finished homework
before I got home each day. I would
frequently engage in all manner of discussions with friends whom I considered
superior to me intellectually. My
family would typically spend a month in the summer in a simple 3 bedroom river
house in eastern North Carolina where I would swim, fish and explore. The years
we only spent two weeks at the river, we would travel and camp at various
destinations in the northern hemisphere.
I was fortunate to be able to accompany my parents and little sister to
England and France to tour medieval cathedrals, chateaus and cities. These experiences coincided with a passion
for drawing and painting that allowed me to explore the things around me
visually.
I have learned that the experiences
I have had beyond school curricula have had as profound an impact, if not
greater, on my intellectual development.
The experiences I faced during busing, the time for free play and exploration,
along with the ongoing discussions with friends and family fueled an
intellectual curiosity that presupposes inquiry. The order in which we read particular books
or learned specific mathematical formulas did not drive my ideas or
passion. It was the proximity to stimuli
that challenged the mind and forced me to change my mindset countless
times. Rousseau’s effort to plan or
program particular experiences took individual perspective for granted.
Empathy is not merely a
psycho-social skill. It is a perspective
that enhances intellectual growth. It is
learned primarily through experience, not study. Empathy allows us to make decisions that
incorporate other perspectives, therefore enhancing the possibility of success
on particular initiatives. We often find
ourselves on the wrong side of decisions because our empathetic capacity did
not influence the nuance for social action.
There is significant literature about the successful leaders having
“super-empathy”. What we know about
circumstances not only influences, but directs our intellectual
interpretation. In Emile,
Rousseau writes from the perspective of a philosophical courtier who delved in
the societal and experiential aspects of nobility. He knew what was required to excel in such an
environment. Developing a public school
system that enhances opportunity for all students requires that all educators seek
to empathize with our constituents.