What does the word “education” mean to us? Does it refer to the
state’s power to shape the minds and attitudes of citizens to provide human
capital for economic and political purposes? Or is education, instead, an
intimate human encounter between caring elders and young people with their own
aspirations and potentials?
If we believe that genuine education has more to do with the latter, then the
hierarchical and authoritarian structure of our present system of schooling is
absurdly inappropriate. All important educational decisions are made by distant,
impersonal forces completely out of human scale, turning teachers into
technicians, parents into consumers and young people into products. The
standardization of teaching and learning through prescribed curricula and
textbooks, and the obsessive pursuit of accountability through relentless
testing, reflect the concentrated power of political leaders, corporate CEOs,
influential foundations and the mass media. The U.S. program cynically called No
Child Left Behind is the educational policy of a technocratic empire.
Because of the political nature of public schooling, educational decisions are
not made by those most intimately involved in the educational endeavor –
teachers, parents or young people – but by technocrats pursuing their agenda of
centralized social management. Policymakers are not concerned with the
experiential quality of life or learning in schools, but only with measurable
results, with “outputs,” with the economic value of the nation’s human
resources.
There is an alternative to this model; indeed, there are numerous educational
alternatives outside the managed system, from Waldorf and Montessori models, to
progressive, learner- centered schools, to homeschooling and travel adventures,
and many others. Advocates of educational alternatives aim to give parents and
students a wider range of learning options, to engage them in meaningful ways in
the decisions affecting their education. The alternatives movement represents
the decentralization of educational authority. It redefines learning as an
intimate, human scale relationship through which young people are empowered to
discover their own inner resources and their own unique relationships to the
community.
Educational alternatives promote participatory democracy. As described by the
progressive philosopher John Dewey, “participatory democracy” means a society
that encourages individuals to take an active part in shaping the social and
political lives of their communities rather than entrusting decisions to
policymakers and other elites. It is not enough to elect representatives
periodically or to passively accept the decisions of bureaucrats and
technocrats. But how can we best prepare each new generation to participate in a
more robust democracy? Dewey explained that education must encourage active,
personally meaningful learning and critical inquiry; he argued that the coercive
transmission of an authorized curriculum can only educate youths to become
passive citizens in an authoritarian social order.
Educational democracy involves the redistribution of cultural power from the
hands of a few policymakers to local communities, parents, teachers and youths
themselves. By repealing standardization and obsessive testing, we would enable
those most closely involved in the learning process to determine their own
educational goals and methods. In taking greater responsibility for education,
citizens would participate more vigorously in shaping the intellectual and moral
climate of their communities.
Let’s consider how this works. The Waldorf (Steiner) school movement, for
example, attracts parents and educators who pursue organic, holistic, green
variations on modern life, such as whole food, holistic healthcare and a more
deliberate connection to the rhythms of Nature through festivals, stories, art
and other endeavors. Waldorf school communities give people who hold a
transformative cultural vision places to share, refine and practice their ideas.
A somewhat different, but certainly complementary, educational vision is held by
“unschoolers” – families who believe that the most authentic learning takes
place in daily life, when young people become engaged in the social and natural
world around them and pursue their own purposes and questions. This practice
promotes a degree of intellectual and civic self-reliance rarely experienced
among the conventionally schooled.
But not all families or communities want to raise their children with a
“transformative” vision or with quite so much self-reliance. The point is not
that these educational alternatives should simply take over from traditional
education so that all citizens have to share such values. Educational democracy
– educational decentralization – means that all families should have the ability
to find learning environments aligned with their values and with their
children’s personalities and styles of learning. Schools (and homeschooling
situations) that are more highly structured or academically oriented, or more
concerned about moral or religious instruction – alternatives that already exist
outside public education – would continue to be an important element of the
educational landscape. The coexistence of diverse educational visions and
experiments would nourish a more vibrant democracy.
A frequent objection to this goal of educational freedom is that it would
surrender the public school ideal of a shared social purpose, a common good that
transcends parochial interests (which Dewey also emphasized as a key element of
democratic life). Wouldn’t our society splinter along lines of religion,
ethnicity, class, race, political belief or petty local interests? If we allow
people to gather in separate enclaves to practice their own educational
philosophies, wouldn’t this give a green light to all sorts of religious
extremists, left wing radicals, white supremacists or treehuggers to freely
teach the next generation their unconventional beliefs?
There are at least two ways to address this concern, both of which challenge the
very basis of the technocratic model of schooling. First, we need to separate
the educational task of mentoring young people from the political task of
forging a democratic community in a diverse society. We need to get over, once
and for all, the Platonic notion that the state should be molding children into
citizens. When Thomas Jefferson proposed a system of public education to support
the new American democracy, he sought to spread the intellectual tools of
reason, skepticism and critical inquiry among the population, not to establish a
“curriculum” authorized by elite policymakers, especially one that promotes
mindless celebration of existing institutions. (He would be horrified, I think,
by No Child Left Behind.) When we put educational and political tasks in their
proper places, we will see that children who have their developmental needs
(such as the need to learn through play) and their individual learning styles
respected and nourished are more likely to become thoughtful, caring, engaged
citizens than those who are bullied and processed by the system of social
engineering the technocracy has established. The proof is in the creative,
active, generous, socially engaged lives of many thousands of alumni of
independent schools and homeschooling.
The second answer to the fear of social fragmentation is to recognize that
people will always identify with communities that share their beliefs and
values, and that this is a basic, normal human need. Unlike a managed social
system or a colossal nation state, a genuine community provides the experience
of communion with others; we become involved with people who know us, who
understand and appreciate us, who share certain aspects of our identities. In a
healthy democracy, as Alexis de Tocqueville keenly observed in the pre-imperial
American republic, there is space for these kinds of connections; they do not
threaten the political coherence of the larger community.
Granted that a functioning democracy requires citizens to reach out to each
other across partisan or parochial lines to find common ground and collaborate
for a common good, the desire for cultural uniformity can be pushed too far,
until it becomes oppressive, even totalitarian. Social engineering is
counterproductive: By forcing everyone into the ideological mold demanded by
standardized education, the state drives people to separatist enclaves and makes
them suspicious of commonality. Standardization fans the flames of extremism,
while honoring diversity invites participation in the larger society.
There is a huge difference between a democratic sense of social responsibility
and public spiritedness (which Dewey so thoroughly described), and the
technocrats’ goal of social control. Rejecting the yoke of standardization and
enforced conformity does not mean “privatizing” education, making it a commodity
that only the privileged can afford. A democratic society must provide all its
youths equitable opportunities for cultivating their unique gifts and achieving
their potentials. It will surely be a challenge to publicly fund a decentralized
system without standardized accountability, but that is a task we must take on.
We need to figure out how to encourage educational democracy without invoking
the awesome power of the national state to enforce some authorized model of
cultural conformity. For when the state becomes an all-consuming empire, this
power is dangerous indeed.
Ron Miller, Ph.D. is the author or editor of nine books on
educational alternatives, and is editor of Education Revolution magazine. He is
on the editorial board of Vermont Commons: Voices of Independence news journal
(www.vtcommons.org), where this article was first published. Ron teaches at
Champlain College in Burlington, Vermont. Many of his essays are available at
his website www.pathsoflearning.net.