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A Letter to the Class of 2025

I was raised, if your heart’s beating, you play.
—Gary Woodland

Dear Members of the Class of 2025,

Several years ago, when I first started my project to help improve education in this country, I wrote a letter to my graduating seniors in the midst of the worst of the pandemic’s lockdowns and posted it for them to read from the isolation of their homes.  I spoke a lot about the generative power of truth and the corrosive power of lies, challenging them to build a better world than the one they were inheriting, reminding them that “hope” is a verb, and today, variations on those themes have now featured prominently in every letter I have written to each graduating class ever since.  This one will not be an exception.

Part of the reason for that, of course, is because moments of closure in our lives, milestones that mark the end of one journey and the start of another…they just naturally lend themselves to recalling the needs and demands, the ideals that inform every journey.  It’s why all commencement addresses fundamentally sound the same:  use your potential wisely; pack appropriately for the trip; stop and reflect from time to time; remember to love and be loved; and…here are three life lessons to aid you on your way!

Put simply, these moments of closure remind those of us older than you of similar times in our own lives, and because we care, we just want to provision you with some final wisdom for the road—to prepare you for the occassions of darkness we know inevitably await you. I know.  Pretty heavy stuff for such a celebratory occasion.  But like my letter to the class of 2020, I find myself writing once more during a time of tremendous turmoil, with a petulant child trying to tear it all down because he never learned how to work and play well with others, and thus, I find myself needing to be a little more overt about those “three life lessons.”

One of which is (and extremely appropriate to our current situation): avoid “magical thinking.”  This is the term anthropologists use to refer to ritualistic behaviors done with the intent of somehow modifying something over which one has no actual control (e.g. if we sacrifice this goat, the rumbling volcano will not erupt).  But, in today’s broader parlance, it can also refer to thoughts or deeds that simply ignore this lack of control.  They can be as harmless as the superstitions behind game-day rituals before a sporting event or as devastating as the delusion that tariffs will cause corporations to abandon their investments to rebuild in the United States.  However, the consequence of any magical thinking is always the same: engaging in actions that cannot have any actual bearing on reality.

Not that the actions themselves do not have consequences.  The goat is dead; the “lucky” jersey must be washed; markets tumble.  But the intent behind the actions remains no less disconnected from their ultimate impact, and it is this intent that can be truly hazardous. 

Which leads me to perhaps the most dangerous magical thinking of all (and “life lesson” dos!): the notion of “the Perfect Life.”  This is the misbelief that “if I just go to the right school…if I just marry the right person…if I just find the right career…if, if, if…if I just do the right things, then my life will be exactly the way I want it to be.”  It is the fantasy that you can achieve a life completely free of frustration, boredom, discomfort, and disappointment, and quite cynically, it is a fantasy that quite a few people make a LOT of money off of—especially today’s social media influencers who try to convince you that if you just follow their lead, buy their product, do as they do, etc. that all will suddenly become bliss.  Indeed, an entire medical field exists because of the magical thinking behind the notion of a Perfect Life, earning its practitioners $11.8 billion dollars in 2022 alone—and that’s not including the cosmetic industry itself.  All of them, people and companies alike, with the expressed intent of making you feel inadequate about yourself so that they can sell you something.

However, there is no such thing as the Perfect life, never has been and never will be.  Moreover, while all of us will engage in the occasional wishful thinking to cope emotionally with life’s finitude—the “if only I can get through this week, then everything will be okay” moments—it is when this wishful thinking turns into magical thinking that we run into trouble.  When “if only I…” becomes the sole, primary motivating force in your life, then you condemn yourself to a Sisyphean existence of dismay and defeat. And that’s because there will always be a next “if only I…”—some obstacle to your “final” success, some obstruction to your “ultimate” happiness—and in the meantime, you just wasted who knows how much of your finite time on this planet feeling disappointed, disillusioned, and dyspeptic.

Therefore, do not wait until you are a middle-aged, career-obsessed individual with ulcers to learn not to engage in the magical thinking of the Perfect Life.  And along the way, try to avoid Perfect Life’s cousins: “You Can Have It All” and “You Can Be Anything You Want to Be.”  No.  You cannot.  Period.  I want each of you to know (as I have written before) that you will have numerous opportunities to do a wide variety of things in this world and that, as an educator, I hope I have helped you begin to decide which of those choices you might finally find yourself investing in one day.  But you are a finite organism on a finite planet with a finite lifespan (read The Price of “Pie” if you want to see just how finite), and thus, you will have no choice but to make lasting decisions about how to spend your finitude (remembering that failure to choose is itself a choice).  You cannot have it all; you cannot do it all.  And you cannot even do everything you wish for; hence, I encourage you to make decisions along your journey that are as thoughtful and informed as they can be (knowing that you will never have all the data) and then invest yourself as best you can, remembering that life is not a “to do” list. 

Which brings me to that mandated third “life lesson” required of all commencement moments everywhere:  you always have a choice; you just have to be willing to pay the cost. Want to become a neurosurgeon? Then you will give up nearly two decades of training time that won’t be available for family and friends.  Want to have children? Then you accept the dozens of years’ worth of financial and emotional burdens required to raise them to adulthood (and often beyond).  Want a life partner? Then you need to embrace all the daily compromises that that will demand to make it happen.  The simple reality is that free will does not mean freedom from consequences; it simply means that part of any decision is determining whether it is worth the price or not.  It can be as simple as choosing to do A rather than B on a weekend afternoon, knowing that B will not get done.  Or, it can be as dramatic as quitting a job in protest, knowing that financial insecurity just became your new reality.  Regardless, as renowned psychotherapist Sheldon B. Kopp once put it, “you are free to do whatever you like.  You need only face the consequences.”

That last line, though, has to be one of the scariest ideas ever because if we join it together with the imperfect nature of our finite lives, we can find ourselves frightened that we are somehow not making the “right kind” of choices—the kinds of choices that are somehow worthy of their consequences.  Then we risk trapping ourselves in a vicious cycle of indecision where we put absolute value on each choice as if the very worth of our lives was on the line every time.  We risk becoming immobilized in the quest for so-called “best” decisions, and then life really does become “what happens while you’re busy making other plans”—in this case, about your future “best” possible choices. 

Of course, this notion of ideal choices is simply another variant of the Perfect Life form of magical thinking, and yet what makes it particularly challenging to avoid is the reality that every choice does actually have a consequence.  However, there are consequences and there are CONSEQUENCES, and unless you wish to waste a great deal of that finite life of yours “making plans” instead of living at least a modestly meaningful existence, then learning how to tell the difference is crucial.  Because one of the great fallacies (and failures) of our culture is the fact that so many of us seem to believe that we must somehow justify the simple fact that we are alive.  Too often, the message we hear is that we have “failed our potential” if we have not fundamentally transformed the world in one fashion or another.  Well, reality check:  you did not choose to be born; you simply are.  In addition, the gut-punch truth is that everyone’s final destination is the same; so the time that you are here is a gift you didn’t—and in fact couldn’t—earn and one that has no claim on you whatsoever.

Which doesn’t mean, as the golfer Gary Woodland suggests, that you don’t play.  Yes, from a certain perspective, your entire existence consists only of the consumption of oxygen, the production of carbon dioxide, and the transformation of various organic compounds; you are essentially nothing more than a chemical machine that runs, on average, for 80 years before breaking down and getting recycled into yet another chemical machine.  However, from the more nuanced perspective acknowledging both human cognition and agency, you also have the power to have a significant impact on the qualitative experience of all that chemical machinery—both your own and what surrounds you—and you have that power for the better or for the worse.  You can, to paraphrase Milton, “make of life a heaven or a hell,” and therefore how you use your finite time does matter; it just doesn’t need to have cosmic importance.

Not that you cannot (nor should not) aspire to have a lasting impact.  The New York Times columnist, David Brooks, is correct when he writes that “every society on earth has a leadership class of one sort or another [who need] sensible views about authority so that they don’t childishly rule imperiously from above—[individuals who] embrace the obligations that fall on them as leaders, to serve the country and not their own kind.”  Moreover, he is equally correct that if we want a society where everybody flourishes, we are going to need such leadership on steroids to establish better future institutions of governance (assuming we manage to survive the current imbecilic sociopath residing in the White House).  Because only when we have leaders who listen to all their fellow citizens, anticipate everyone’s needs, and guide the social change to meet them will we finally find ourselves living in a truly just and equitable society.  Maybe some of you are up to the challenge.

I know, that’s a big ask.  Right up there with fixing climate change and all the other damage that my fellow elders and I are leaving you to try to repair.  What’s more, anyone who has ever constructed anything—a Lego model, a theater set, a curriculum, even a meal—knows firsthand how much harder it is to build than to tear down.  But that’s why—again!—it is SO important not to engage in magical thinking.  When there is so much that needs fixing (and some of the repairs are truly global!), you can easily find yourself at times feeling cognitively overwhelmed and fatigued to the point of paralysis.  This is especially true in today’s 24/7 digital—for which modern psychology even has a term. It’s called “compassion fatigue,” and it can make taking any sort of action seem pointless.

However, as author and journalist, Oliver Burkeman, points out, the solution to compassion fatigue is both ridiculously simple and yet incredibly challenging (for fear of the judgement of others): embrace your finitude and pick your battles; choose which change you will seek to be and let the rest go, trusting that others will choose different battles than yours.  Indeed, one could argue that “in [our] age of attention scarcity, the greatest act of good citizenship may be learning to withdraw your attention from everything except the battles you’ve chosen to fight” (p. 36) and then giving those battles what you can.

And before you think giving what you can cannot possibly be enough to have an actual impact, I will share a small piece of my own journey.  Most reading this will know that I commute to work by walking and have done so now for nearly 30 years.  Well, there is an exercise I have one of my senior classes do where they calculate the amount of carbon dioxide released into the air from burning fossil fuels, and on a whim, I did the calculations with them a little over a year ago on how much CO2 my decision to walk rather than drive has kept out of the atmosphere.  Turns out the answer is a little over 30 metric tons, which is the equivalent of 9 football fields worth of forest.  Or to make that a visual many people reading this can understand, it is the equivalent of growing or preserving a forest occupying the entire campus of Friends School of Baltimore.  Thus, never doubt your individual power to effect positive change.  Even the smallest of decisions, enacted consistently can have profound impacts.

But that brings me to a point I try to make each year, and that is to be graceful with one another.  Each of you will make mistakes along your journey, mistakes that will impact others, including people you love.  You will bruise and be bruised because sin is real.  Yet, you have the power for compassion—to forgive yourself as well as others—and with it, you therefore have the power to restore wholeness in a broken world—the employment of which is the ultimate form of hope.

So let me leave you here with a small bit of wisdom I have passed on before, an idea in Zen Buddhism known as “Mu.”  “Mu” is the understanding that sometimes when we find ourselves with an intractable problem, that perhaps we are not asking the right question(s).  Thus, a Zen master will regularly tell a struggling disciple, “Mu”—you need a different perspective.  Therefore, I share this concept of “Mu” with you because as you make your finite choices about your finite life, deciding which consequences to pay and which limited battles to fight, you will regularly find yourself very humanly second-guessing yourself.  And in those moments, my permanent advice to you will always be, “Mu.”

Congratulations and best of luck!

References

Brooks, D. (Feb. 27, 2025) We Can Achieve Great Things.  The New York Times.  https://www.nytimes.com/2025/02/27/opinion/government-great-progressive-abundance.html.

Burkeman, O. (2024) Meditations for Mortals.  New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

Milton, J. (1667) Paradise Lost (available in multiple formats)

The Price of “Pie”

Equal Rights for Others
Does Not Mean
Fewer Rights for You.
It’s Not Pie.
—Popular Bumper Sticker

The entropy of any closed system
increases over time
with each energy transformation
within that system.
—The Second Law of Thermodynamics

What I’m about to say is not likely to be news to anyone who isn’t actively living under a rock: simply staying alive has become more expensive.  The Waffle House franchise now has a surcharge on its egg dishes (understandable given that the price of eggs has risen 15.2% in just the past four weeks and a whopping 53% since this same time last year).  A middle-aged couple in Baltimore must share a row house with five other people merely to meet the $1500 a month rent—that is until they recently received notification of the non-renewal of their lease and are now facing homelessness.  The state of Maryland has a $3 billion dollar budget gap it must close by the end of this legislative session, and with more than 50% of households in this country already “cost burdened” (meaning that they must spend more than 30% of their income on housing), Elon Musk and Donald Trump have decided to create additional economic insecurity for tens of thousands of federal employees simply to “save” what is less than 1% of the overall federal budget. 

Hmm.  That rock is starting to look awfully inviting. 

Which is why as I surveyed all the news during the first month of the second Trump presidency, I realized that it might be time to revisit some themes I first explored in what was only my second posting back at the start of the pandemic.  Titled “Maybe It’s Pie After All…,” it examined some scientific realities about the natural world that would be worth bringing to folks collective attention again because while this information might not immediately help in the current situation, it can provide what Diana Butler Bass calls “a framework for understanding that helps make sense of where we’ve been” (something she does a marvelous job of for the current situation from a historical perspective).  Therefore, let’s turn to what I sometimes refer to in my environmental science units as “the law of homeostasis.”

In the original essay, I introduced readers to the field of population dynamics and the reality that no environment has limitless resources, that even the earth is a finite system, and that therefore there are always only finite ways to distribute those resources as well.  The example I gave was how:

in a room of 3 people and 9 balls, the distribution might range from a single person having all 9 while the others have none to each person getting 3.  But the number of ways to divide the balls up between them is finite, and the same is true for the resources in any given ecosystem.

I then explained that the consequence of this for a population of organisms is that the size of that population must always fluctuate around a set maximum value because while some specific members of the total population might overuse resources to reproduce, their overuse of those same resources deprives other specific members of the total population to do likewise, resulting in their death.  Hence, while some members of a population are always adding to it, others are always subtracting from it because there is only a maximum population size a given ecosystem can support.

What I did not talk about at that time, though, is that this same concept of a set maximum applies to the resources themselves in any given ecosystem as well.  The second law of thermodynamics ensures that in a closed system, any order or level of energy in that system can never increase beyond a set value, which means—to use my earlier example—in a room of 3 people and 9 balls, there can never be more than 9 balls.  Moreover, with time, the distribution of those 3 balls is guaranteed to be randomly distributed between the 3 people since that is the maximum level of order the room can maintain without an input of outside energy.

But what if that room could somehow get that input so that one person could again snatch up all the balls (i.e. add order)?

Ah! That’s where biology’s “law of homeostasis” comes in.  An accepted working definition of “life” in science is any system capable of transforming energy to resist entropy.  Or in other words, any closed system capable of taking in energy from the outside to seek to maintain its order.  It’s why we as animals eat and why plants photosynthesize (the sun being the ultimate source of energy outside our collective biological systems).  However, it is also why all life ages: we are resisting entropy, never stopping it, and that is why all life at whatever level of complexity one wants to describe it—from cells to biomes—is constantly fluctuating around a set point of maximum energy and order. 

A reality that is as unchangeable, absolute, and tyrannical as physics’ law of gravity and chemistry’s law of the periodicity of matter:  the law of homeostasis.

What, though, does any of this have to do with the price of eggs? Or housing? Or state budgets? The short answer is that it debunks the very foundations of the economic capitalism on which those things currently depend; the long answer is that that claim will take some unpacking.

Let’s start, then, with one of capitalism’s central premises: the continual growth of production.  Capitalist economies are built on the concept of always growing one’s production of goods and services.  We even measure a country’s worth by its Gross Domestic Production and how much that GDP increases from one year to the next.  Yet, in a finite closed system such as the planet Earth, perpetual growth is no more possible than a perpetual motion machine—and for the same basic reason, that pesky second law of thermodynamics! It is why ever since capitalism became the dominant economic system on our planet, we have had regular economic recessions and depressions, crashing things back to the fluctuation point of available resources at that particular moment in time.

However, a strong counterargument has always been made that while these periodic crashes do occur, the economic periods following them show an increase in production that has steadily grown the world’s collective wealth and quality of life over the past two centuries—the foundation of the worn cliché that a rising tide lifts all boats.  Moreover, I say worn because as discussed in my earlier essay, the mathematicians who study capitalist, free-market economies have discovered the exact opposite, and now we are in a better position to understand why. 

Since our planet—while genuinely finite—is SO enormous, capitalism as practiced around the world is able to create the illusion of perpetual growth in small subsets of our species by denuding whole sections of the planet where those same small subsets do not live.  As marvelously presented in The Story of Stuff (which if you have never watched, you should!), our productive wealth in the industrial world completely depends on turning huge swaths of our planet into ecological dead zones and toxic deserts.  And because those wastelands are almost never directly in front of our attention, this disconnect effectively makes it seem like there is no homeostatic fluctuation point when in reality, we must deficit spend the world’s resources to achieve this self-deception.

Which is why now, when we have deficit spent for so long, some of the proverbial chickens are starting to come home to roost—or more accurately not roosting at all in the case of actual chickens; hence, today’s price of eggs! It is why people can’t afford housing (the supply is too small to meet the need), and state governments are having to make cuts in programs (finite resources can only meet finite budgetary responsibilities).  Even the shell game that Trump and Musk are now playing with their massive layoffs in the federal workforce (before realizing that they might need people to track the avian flu outbreak; curse those egg prices!) is being done to try to convince the general public that the federal government is now somehow saving all this money—that all these “savings” from furloughed federal employees will somehow counteract the deficit spending from the earlier Trump tax cuts that he now wants congress to make permanent. 

The simple truth is that finite resources mean finite choices, and all the dismissal of truth in the world cannot make this or any other of reality’s inconvenient truths go away.  Furthermore, while a more equitable distribution of this finitude could currently enable 100% of the humans presently on this planet to live lives that meet more than just Maslow’s foundational needs, that still doesn’t make it any less finite.  6% of the world’s population simply cannot consume 38% of the world’s resources indefinitely, nor can that human population continue its current rate of growth for the same reason.  Like it or not, it is “pie.”

Of course, as just suggested, that does not mean that the “pie” can’t be more equitably distributed or that decisions about how we allocate our finite resources can’t be more just.  That’s what makes the budget shortfall here in Maryland, for example, so unnerving:  our so-called progressive Governor wants to balance the books in ways that will negatively impact people with disabilities, short-change our 988 mental health services, and defund portions of our state universities—along with underfunding the massive public education reforms known as the Blueprint for Maryland’s Future that only just got underway this current school year.  Worse, the proposed decreases in funding for this Blueprint for next year impacts and harms our most socio-economically vulnerable populations of children more than any other group, meaning that those who were about to finally get their fair share of the “pie” are suddenly facing having it taken back.

Again, it’s about choices, and it is about finite choices.  Perhaps most important of all, though, it’s about the values that inform those finite choices.  As I quoted Oliver Burkeman in an earlier essay, “every decision to use a portion of time on anything represents the sacrifice of all the other ways in which you could have spent time, but didn’t—and to willingly make that sacrifice is to take a stand, without reservation, on what matters most to you” (p. 33).  Simply put, each of us must decide how we will resist the entropy, knowing full well that the finality of that entropy is itself inevitable.

But even more significantly, each of us must make this choice knowing that how we choose to resist directly impacts how every other living thing resists as well, and right now, I would argue that too many of us are not making very good choices—which (as I remarked last time), if the morality of the situation doesn’t convince, then perhaps pragmatism will:  the ghosts of Louis XIV, Marie Antionette, and Czar Nicolaus can all too readily inform what really happens when the “have nots” get desperate enough.  Both the French and Russian Revolutions started out as riots over the cost of bread…eggs anyone?

References

Boghosian, B. (2019) The Inescapable Casino.  Scientific American, November.  Pp. 70-77.

Buchanan, L. (2015) American Entrepreneurship is Actually Vanishing.  Here’s Why. INC, May. https://www.inc.com/magazine/201505/leigh-buchanan/the-vanishing-startups-in-decline.html.

Burkeman, O. (2021) Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

Creswell, J. (Feb. 12, 2025) The Soaring Cost of Eggs is Hitting Your Local Breakfast Spot.  The New York Times.  https://www.nytimes.com/2025/02/12/business/high-egg-prices-restaurants.html.

Hager, E. (Sept. 17, 2024) In an Unprecedented Move, Ohio Is Funding the Construction of Private Religious Schools.  ProPublica.  https://www.propublica.org/article/ohio-taxpayer-money-funding-private-religious-schools.

Miller, H. (Feb. 11, 2025) How Bad is Maryland’s Housing Affordability Crisis? Ask This Baltimore Couple.  The Baltimore Banner.  https://www.thebaltimorebanner.com/community/housing/housing-affordability-crisis-maryland-ZBJJUD54SBH47J5CUNBGOJKNAQ/.

Wolfe, E. (Jan. 16, 2025) University System of Maryland Faces $111 Million Cut in Gov. Moore’s Budget.  The Baltimore Banner.  https://www.thebaltimorebanner.com/education/higher-education/maryland-college-budget-cuts-5PWJ2TSRTNAKLBTE5IZFDN5L6Q/.

Wood, P. (Feb. 3, 2025) Hundreds Rally in Annapolis Against Developmental Disabilities Administration Cuts.  The Baltimore Banner.  https://www.thebaltimorebanner.com/politics-power/state-government/disabilities-budget-cuts-rally-PP6YM4PLHNECNDVIJIPYHGXHXI/.

Wood, P. (Dec. 12, 2024) Moore Suggests Rollbacks to Marylands Public Education Plan are Coming.  The Baltimore Banner.  https://www.thebaltimorebanner.com/politics-power/state-government/wes-moore-blueprint-trump-23CLWJT7WNHZPELTXS7U7XCZRA/.

“It’s the Snapchat, Stupid”

Every era casts illness in its own image.
—Siddhartha Mukherjee,
The Emperor of All Maladies

During his 1992 presidential campaign, then candidate Bill Clinton is alleged to have claimed, “it’s the economy, stupid,” when addressing the perceived economic failures of the Bush, Sr. administration.  He did not, in fact, actually say it (it was a campaign talking point of his advisor, James Carville), but that has not stopped this phrase from entering our cultural lexicon and becoming a meme used ever since by both pundits and politicians alike to explain the voting patterns of the American people.  It has even been suggested as the primary reason Trump won re-election: because of how so-called “average” or “ordinary” citizens were feeling about their pocketbooks.   

The reason, though, that this phrase has lately re-entered my working memory is because of the recent release of the results of the 2024 NAEP assessment, popularly known as “The Nation’s Report Card.”  For those not familiar with the NAEP, it is the one standardized test administered nearly universally to all 4th and 8th graders in this country since 1969 to benchmark how successfully we are teaching our children how to read and to do math. It is our one and only truly longitudinal look at how well America’s schools have succeeded at educating our children, and the 2024 report is pretty grim.  While math scores have shown some recovery from the pandemic loss, they are still lower than before the pandemic (part of a long term decline puzzling many educators), and children’s reading scores simply continued the steady decline they have been in since 2013.

Hmm.  2013.  Know what got released in late fall of 2011 and gained rapid popularity during 2012? Snapchat.  Then Vine in 2013, followed by TikTok in 2017.  In addition, during this time, the average age for a child receiving their first smartphone dropped steadily to 11.6 years-old, with children as young as 4 now having one. 

Notice a pattern here? Like the pattern in these graphs for both the math and reading scores before and after 2013?

Or notice a pattern in the change in rates of teenage depression in the past decade (especially among 13 year-old girls)?

Now I am too much the scientist not to understand that correlation does not automatically mean causation.  Spurious associations are so common and readily found that there are entire websites devoted them (one of my favorites is the amount of GMO corn grown in Minnesota and the frequency of global piracy in a given year).  However, I still remember intimately the shocked dismay I felt in the fall of 2013 when the average score on an assignment I had given to my most advanced students for more than a decade abruptly dropped from the steady “C” it had been from years prior to the nearly universal “F” it was that September.  I, of course, made the necessary adjustments and interventions and have continued to do so with all my students ever since.  But the number and depth of those adaptations have steadily increased every single year to date, and I’m not anticipating this demand letting up any time soon.

Again, Hmm.  “If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck….”  “Where there’s smoke, there’s….”  “It’s the economy….”  Cliches (and their modern equivalent, the meme) exist for a reason, and those that exist about the link between correlation and causation do so in part to remind us that sometimes we do not have the luxury of untangling the full extent of the causality in a given situation.  We need to act like it is a duck; like it is fire; like it is the economy.  Or in this case, like it is the Snapchat, etc. because the alternative risks the kind of long-term harm we are seeing in those graphs above.  Better to remove social media’s influence from our children’s lives on the likelihood that it could be disruptive to their proper mental and physical development than to wait to fully confirm (as the mounting research of Sherry Turkle, Jonathan Haidt, and others is doing) that it is.

Because if we want to witness a microcosm of a world in which daily use of social media has risen to an average of 95 minutes per person and more than 54% of people get their primary news from it, look no further than the past two weeks. As the Trump administration has deliberately sown chaos through a metaphorical fire-hose of executive actions, the consequent eruption of misinformation, disinformation, and conspiracy theories on social media among immigrants, federal employees, and foreign aid workers has all but paralyzed whole segments of our society and even our economy. We are in a societal freefall at present, and the only “parachute” is going to be calm, persistent, rational, and critical thought to separate what is truly happening from the fiction and lies so that people can persevere in their resistance to tyranny.

And remember. There is nothing more useful to a budding autocrat than an illiterate and ill-numerate population.  Hence, we had better take the necessary actions to help improve our nation’s math and reading scores and do it soon because the alternative has already arrived.

Coda

And speaking of that arrival, I got to experience an element of it firsthand while preparing this latest essay.  As my regular readers are aware, I work very hard to provide supporting reference for any statistical or factual claim I make in my writing and to cite properly all thoughts I cannot claim as uniquely my own.  However, a major source of some of that information is the federal government’s CDC and other scientific databases—all of which, as you can see from the screenshot below, are now under attack from the new administration (note the fine-print at the top about executive orders). 

Moving forward, I will continue to do my best to provide full references for anything I write, but since I often link to previous postings where the original sources of some of the citations have effectively disappeared, I ask my reader’s trust when visiting any of my earlier work that if I claimed it or quoted it, I promise the now gone website did affirm it.  

References

Ghorayshi, A. & Rabin, R.C. (Feb. 13, 2023) Teen Girls Report Record Levels of Sadness, C.D.C. Finds.  The New York Times.  https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/13/health/teen-girls-sadness-suicide-violence.html?searchResultPosition=1.

Haidt, J. (2024) The Anxious Generation.  New York: Penguin Press.

Singer, E. (Feb. 2, 2025) Thousands of U.S. Government Web Pages Have Been Taken Down Since Friday.  The New York Times.  https://www.nytimes.com/2025/02/02/upshot/trump-government-websites-missing-pages.html.

Turkle, S. (2017) Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other, 3rd Edition.  New York:  Basic Books.

Turner, C. & Mehta, J. (Jan. 29, 2025) Nearly 5 Years After Schools Closed, the Nation Gets a New Report Card.  NPR Morning Edition.  https://www.npr.org/2025/01/29/nx-s1-5270880/math-reading-covid-naep.

Math Deficits, AI, and Other Current Conundrums

One of the advantages of this time of year for me as an educator is the ease in workload as the academic calendar makes the turn from first semester to second semester.  Exams are done; final grades calculated; coursework caught up; and for a brief window of time, there is nothing needing any kind of assessing (i.e. I’m done grading for a while!).  It means I can get caught up on news and research in the world of education that are not immediately critical to my specific everyday needs and to reflect on what insights this information might have for the larger mission of teaching and learning.

Two such items to catch my attention this time around involve math and AI.  The first, a report issued this past September, chronicles the severity of the academic decline in math skills of our youngest learners.  The latest research is indicating that the children who were pre-K or kindergarten during the most severe restrictions of the pandemic not only lost a critical learning window when it comes to math; they are, in fact, not catching up to pre-pandemic levels the way their older elementary age peers are.  Worse, many of them are actually falling further behind, and what makes this fact so highly problematic is that there is a limited window during brain development for mastering such skills effectively.  Hence, the long term impact of a failure to do so can have devastating economic consequences—for both the individual and our society—and that means that this “math gap” that a portion of an entire generation is facing is not inconsequential.

Moreover, that may be even more true for those of us entering the later stages of our lives.  As Jenny Anderson and Rebecca Winthrop report out, “in a survey by Gallup and the Walton Family Foundation of more than 4,000 members of Gen Z, 49 percent of respondents said they did not feel prepared for the future. [In addition,] employers complain that young hires lack initiative, communication skills, problem-solving abilities and resilience.”  Hence, we already have individuals entering the workforce self-identifying as ill-prepared; just imagine what today’s second graders are going to be like as the long-term caretakers of late Boomers (such as myself) and every single Gen Xer and early Millennial! It is difficult not to shudder.

Nor is AI going to be the answer to this “math gap” problem.  The other report to catch my attention came from researchers at the University of Pennsylvania who studied the impact of using AI as an aid to learning math.  1,000 high school students were divided into three groups:  a third had full access to ChatGPT while completing practice problems; a third had limited access to a tutorial version that would give hints but not divulge any answers; and a third did their work the traditional way.  The results were very clear:  while the first group solved 48% more practice problems correctly and the second group solved an incredible 127% more problems correctly, the first group earned 17% lower grades than the control on the final test and the tutorial group scored the same as the control.  In other words, good old-fashioned “grind it out” for the win.

Of course, when analyzing the data more deeply, the researchers found that part of what they were observing were flaws in the bot itself.  Its computations were sometimes wrong (8%) and “its step-by-step approach for how to solve a problem was wrong 42% of the time.”  However:

the researchers believe the [biggest] problem is that students are using the chatbot as a “crutch.” When they analyzed the questions that students typed into ChatGPT, students often simply asked for the answer. Students were not building the skills that come from solving the problems themselves.

Again, score one for basic grit; something we’re going to need to aid our current 2nd graders in learning if they are to bridge their “math gap” successfully.

What is more, this general capacity for doggedness is something we are all going to need to reacquire if we’re going to meet the massive challenges facing our world today.  While ruminating about these math and AI stories from September, the more recent world was also impinging on my awareness, and as often happens in those circumstances, a kind of Gestalt emerged with an insight I had glimpsed before but never fully fleshed out.  I was listening to Brittany Luse interview former Missouri congresswoman, Cori Bush, on the NPR show, “It’s Been a Minute,” and Ms. Luse kept trying to get Ms. Bush to address how a progressive political agenda could survive in the face of the recent election to which Ms. Bush kept responding that change takes time—an answer Ms. Luse just didn’t seem to want to hear—and as I listened to this repetitious back and forth, the proverbial “light bulb” went on:  change does take time, but that’s an answer nearly no one in today’s world can psychologically hear anymore.

It was like a syllogistic moment out of one of those scenes in The Queen’s Gambit where the main character manipulates the chess pieces in her mind while staring at the ceiling.  Premise 1: Digital technologies have all but destroyed any capacity for delayed gratification in enormous swathes of the human population; the creation of AI has simply been the pinnacle of these efforts, offering instant essays, instant math solutions…instant chimeras of any manner of complex thought.  Yet (premise 2) ALL real, authentic, lasting change is NEVER instantaneous, and so (conclusion) we find ourselves today living in a society in desperate need of change with almost no capacity for the patience to achieve it.  Instead, when the needed change doesn’t happen right away, too many of us now either give up and disengage in fatalistic disgust or succumb to the Siren’s song of fallible simplistic-ness (if I may coin a word).

And the outcome of the recent election is a classic example.  While a six-year study of the prices of 96 items at a Walmart in Georgia revealed that the overall price increase between 2024 and 2023 was a mere 0.7% inflation, that same study points out that the price increase between 2024 and 2019 was 25%.  Given, I’ll suggest, that five years to an adult memory is probably the equivalent of the 15 minutes in the famed Stanford Marshmallow Experiment and you had most of society declare in early November that they wanted their “one marshmallow” now! and be damned the “two marshmallows” they could receive from patience with a (documented!) growing economy.  Hence, the guy touting instant access to the single “marshmallow” won because it was the simplistic solution to a perceived “immediate” need.

Moreover, the fact that the solution offered was a materialistic one was key to the public’s response.  In a society obsessed with stuff, entire populations of this country were prepared to ignore all the other bellicose threats Trump promoted—no matter how potentially detrimental to their own immediate lives and communities—and such is the power of this collective obsession that today, we are willingly standing by as a nation as corporate leaders such as Mark Zuckerberg openly prepare to sacrifice truth itself to maintain their profits against any legal onslaughts from the incoming administration about fact-checking (and God help you if you have the temerity to try to call out this greed in a nation-wide publication!)

So where does all this leave me as an educator? First, I’ve got children who can’t do basic math.  Second, I’ve got AI that can’t solve the problem and actually threatens to exacerbate its difficulties.  Third, I’ve got a society too incapable of delayed gratification to deal with either of these first two problems (let alone the enormous ones such as climate change and environmental degradation), and I’ve got a simpleton to lead them getting sworn into the Oval Office.  Kind of a grim outlook for a grim winter.

However, there was one other story during this down time that came to my attention that reminded me that there is a solution to these problems (or any other), and that is: patient, steady, determined resolve.  Granted, the story itself is really kind of trivial, namely that my alma mater officially rebranded itself as “WashU.”  But you need to have the insider view of the story that underlies this story to know why it uplifted my spirits, and so please bear with me as I fill in some of the “behind-the-scenes.”

It starts in 1982 in the Public Relations Department of a university recognized regionally for its excellence, who has recently hired a new director who has made a small name for himself at some other midwestern schools for raising the profiles of those institutions.  Washington University in St. Louis wants to stop being known as “the Harvard of the Midwest” and start being said in the same breath as Harvard instead.  It wants to be “Washington.”  The only problem is that there are at least 20 other institutions in this country that have “Washington” in their name, and all the locals and students know this school by its folksy title, “WashU.”

Enter the new director, Fred Volkmann—who has as one of his employees, a sophomore work-study student, hired to run the mimeograph machine and mail out press releases to the local and regional media outlets.  Fred recognizes that there is authentic marketing power in the folksy, “WashU,” and he has a plan, a plan he generously shares the broad strokes of with his young work-study student (helping with the grunt work of the first rebranding campaign) who impudently wonders aloud why we can’t just make the switch immediately to “WashU?” Said student is given a quick but firm lesson in the intricacies of PR, and he goes back to mailing press releases.

By now, of course, any reader has filled in the blanks, and as an alum (and that former employee), I have watched Fred’s plan unfold from afar for over 40 years.  I have watched my alma mater achieve the national recognition it aspired to all those years ago.  I have watched its brand change from “Washington University in St. Louis” to “Washington University” to “Washington”—all stages in Fred’s original plan.  But when he retired about eight years ago, there was as yet no “WashU,” and I wondered if “Washington” might be the end of things.  That is until this past fall, when I learned through my alumni magazine that Fred’s grand dream from the early 1980s had finally come to fruition and that, henceforth, the official branding of my alma mater would be and is “WashU.”

Like I said, a rather trivial story—especially in a world where Palestinians are enduring threatened genocide and Los Angeles, California is basically burning to the ground.  Yet, I think it is also a story full of potency and import because it is the story of the fundamental power of patient, steady, determined resolve to change the world.  Like Fred, all any of us can do is plant seeds and quietly tend them, keeping faith that the crop will eventually bear fruit, and like Fred, there is a lot of anonymity to that task (most people reading this will never have heard of him).  Therefore, when I think back to my earlier question in this essay, “where does all this leave me an educator?” it leaves me as it always does (and always will!):  planting the seeds of knowledge, critical thinking, and wisdom in my students, doing so one day, one lesson, one moment at a time—something no AI or material “stuff” is ever going to be able to do. 

It is not an easy task. Nor is the patient, steady, determined resolve needed to accomplish it a comforting reality.  But it is the task at hand, and as I have oft quoted Luther, those of us committed to this profession “kann nicht anders.”  Our world and its future are literally depending on it.

References

Anderson, J. & Winthrop, R. (Jan. 2, 2025) Giving Kids Some Autonomy Has Surprising Results. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/02/opinion/children-choices-goal-setting.html.

Barshay, J. (Sept. 2, 2024) Kids Who Use ChatGPT as a Study Assistant Do Worse on Tests: Researchers Compare Math Progress of Almost 1,000 High School Students. The Hechinger Report.  https://hechingerreport.org/kids-chatgpt-worse-on-tests/.

Camera, L. (Sept. 20, 2024) In the Rush to COVID Recovery, Did We Forget About Our Youngest Learners? The 74.  https://www.the74million.org/article/in-the-rush-to-covid-recovery-did-we-forget-about-our-youngest-learners/?utm_source=The+74+Million+Newsletter&utm_campaign=6dcaab7edb-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2022_07_27_07_47_COPY_01&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_077b986842-6dcaab7edb-176301373.

Isaac, M. & Schleifer, T. (Jan. 9, 2025) Meta Says It Will End Its Fact-Checking Program on Social Media Posts.  The New York Times.  https://www.nytimes.com/live/2025/01/07/business/meta-fact-checking.

Luse, B., et al. (Jan. 8, 2025) Is The Squad Dead? Cori Bush on the Future of Progressive Politics.  NPR It’s Been a Minute.  https://www.npr.org/2025/01/07/1263511078/future-of-progressive-politics.

Mischel, W. & Ebbesen, E. B. (1970) Attention in Delay of Gratification.  Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, Vol. 16 (2), pp. 329–337.

Selyukh, A. & Adolphe, J. (Jan. 14, 2025) NPR Shopped for 96 Items at Walmart to Track How Prices are Really Changing.  NPR Morning Edition.  https://www.npr.org/2025/01/14/nx-s1-5241014/walmart-prices-npr-shopping-cart-2024.

“It Takes a (Moral) Village…”

By oneself is wrong done,
By oneself is one defiled.
By oneself wrong is not done,
By oneself, surely, is one cleansed.
One cannot purify another;
Purity and impurity are in oneself.
—The Dhammapada

On July 15, 1979, then President Jimmy Carter gave a televised address to the nation that history would come to call the “Crisis of Confidence” speech.  In it, President Carter laid out the case that our society was suffering from a malaise of self-indulgence where “too many of us now worship consumption” and “human identity is no longer defined by what one does, but by what one owns.”  He argued that as a country, we had adopted the mistaken understanding of freedom as “the right to grasp for ourselves some advantage over others,” and he astutely observed that “that path would be one of constant conflict between narrow interests ending in chaos and immobility. It is a certain route to failure.”

Well, here we are, nearly 50 years later, and as Ron Lieber of the New York Times recently pointed out, we are well on our way to that failure.  He is worth quoting extensively here:

Consider how our children feel after we’re mostly done raising and educating them. The Cooperative Institutional Research Program at the University of California, Los Angeles, surveys first-year college students every year. The percentage who named being “very well off financially” as an important goal doubled from 1967 to 2019. Those who wanted to develop a “meaningful philosophy of life” decreased by nearly half…

Research by Tim Kasser and Jean Twenge showed that materialism among 12th graders increased over time, peaking in the late 1980s and early 1990s with Generation X, and then stayed at those historically high levels among millennials.  “There was a trend underway at the time Carter was making this speech, and it basically just amplifies in the next 10 years rather than being suppressed,” said Mr. Kasser, an emeritus professor of psychology at Knox College, [who] watched these developments with a sense of foreboding, because his research has shown that higher levels of materialism are associated with societal instability…

And finally:

We will be tested again. Next time it may be a climate-related catastrophe, driven in part by the very patterns of consumption that Mr. Carter warned against in his speech. He called for turning down the thermostat in the winter and for 20 percent of the nation’s energy to come from solar power by 2000 — all these years later, we’ve done neither.

Which turns out to be truer than even I would have thought when I recently learned from a story in the local press of a couple paying nearly $900 for their heating bill this past month.  This for a row house in the urban heat island that is the city even in winter.  This for a place less exposed than my own three walls (I’m a duplex) and with fewer square feet.  $900.  What temperature, I thought, do you keep your house at??? For perspective, my largest heating bill ever was a little over $200.

However, putting my (self-righteous?) indignation aside, as we prepare to eulogize and bury President Carter this month, what strikes me most about his words all those years ago and the world we’ve created since is that the “village” has clearly been falling down on the job of “raising its children.”  I may agree with the words attributed to the Buddha at the start of this essay that each of us is solely accountable for our individual moral character.  Yet as I read these same words again, they remind me, too, that our moral nature is also a social construct.  There truly is no such thing as a “oneself” in utter and absolute isolation; it takes indeed a “village” to make a self.  What is more, it takes that same “village” to hold that same self individually morally accountable, and the paradox of this great truth is what our culture stumbles so badly over.

Take my discipline, for example.  Everyone is rightly concerned about the declines in language and math skills seen since (and attributable to) the pandemic. But the interventions have focused almost exclusively on tutoring and other individualist efforts when the larger cause—absenteeism—has received proportionally little attention.  “Chronic absenteeism [however] is not just bad for kids; it is bad for society. Learning is first and foremost a social endeavor, and kids learn to be part of a cohesive community by going to one every day” (Anderson & Winthrop).  In other words, unless one is an integral part of the “village,” neither “village” nor “child” can thrive.

Which is the power of ex-President Carter’s example to us following his loss to Ronald Reagn in 1980. He chose to remain part of the “village” to the day of his death, holding both himself and others accountable for their choices and their actions and the impact of these on the larger world.  With his hands, heart, and mind, he built literal villages as well as metaphorical ones, and those in turn helped raise tens of thousands out of poverty and into more participatory lives in their communities.  He fundamentally embraced the paradox of the moral character of the relationship between “village” and “child,” and the lives he touched both directly and indirectly remain the better for that. His was very much a life worthy of modelling.

Would that the same could be said of all the political leaders in our lives.

References

Anderson, J. & Winthrop, R. (Jan. 2, 2025) Giving Kids Some Autonomy Has Surprising Results. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/02/opinion/children-choices-goal-setting.html.

Carter, J. (July 15, 1979) Crisis of Confidence.  PBS American Experience. https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/carter-crisis/.

Lieber, R. (Dec. 29, 2024) Jimmy Carter Was Right About Materialism But, Alas, Wrong About Us.  The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2024/12/29/your-money/jimmy-carter-legacy-materialism.html.

Prudente, T. & Gardner, H. (Jan. 5, 2025) Think Your BGE Bill is High? Rates are Rising.  The Baltimore Banner.  https://www.thebaltimorebanner.com/community/local-news/bge-rates-maryland-utility-winter-storm-ZT4JQLC3OZCCTMHPWNAVVS2LHY/.

The Death of Science?

There was a beginning to it.
There are lots of societies that don’t have it.
It takes very special conditions to support it.
Those social conditions are now getting harder to find.
Of course, it could end.
—Thomas Kuhn

They who are aware do not die;
They who are unaware are as dead.
—The Dhammapada

If you are a member of Jonathan Rauch’s “reality-based community,” this past month has been a rough one.  First, the re-election of the premier anti-intellectual in this country to the office of the President of the United States (and most depressing of all by an actual majority of voters this time around).  Second, said President-elect’s announcements of his nominees for his Cabinet—including an anti-vaxxer for the Department of Health and Human Services!  Third, the CEO of ExxonMobil all but imploring our President-elect to keep the U. S. in the Paris climate accords—and this coming from a company that currently depends for nearly 100% its profits on climate change’s very cause. And fourth, but so subtle that I suspect it flew beneath every radar except NPR’s, the threat of a second Trump presidency to the H-1B visas program.

“The H-1B what?” a reader might ask.  Why on earth should a threat to H-1B visas generate despondency in the reality-based community? Simple answer: because the loss of this specific visa program will actually endanger the reality-based community in this country.  H-1B visas are how universities, corporations, and engineering firms hire all the highly skilled workers they need (think PhD) to fill all the research positions needed to remain economically viable and competitive.  “Foreign-born workers account for about half of the doctoral-level scientists and engineers working in the U.S.” reports NPR, and the reason for this fact is simple:  there are simply not enough American-born individuals entering the educational pipeline for these kinds of degrees and scientific fields. 

Which means our society’s anti-intellectual streak risks undermining not only our health and physical well-being; it risks damaging the very source of our economic power and standing in the world.  If a pissed-off electorate that voted for Donal Trump thinks the price of eggs and rent are too high now, I can only imagine their reaction when major companies close because they don’t have the intellectual capital to compete in the world’s marketplace anymore.  As Raymundo Báez-Mendoza of the Leibniz Institute for Primate Research in Göttingen, Germany points out, “a lot of countries in Europe benefited from Brexit, in the sense of capturing really amazing scientists that were working in Britain [because in the world of science] top talent is very mobile.”

Of course, it should not come as that much of a surprise that our country cannot adequately supply its own need for highly skilled workers.  Not when we idolize celebrity over the painstaking work of solving an equation.  Not when we would rather doomscroll on our phones than read a book that might challenge an assumption.  And perhaps most telling of all, not when the brain science clearly shows that the first five years of development are the most critical for wiring a brain that can produce such a worker and yet we pay those responsible for teaching this age SO poorly that 12.3% of them live below the poverty line here in a state with the second highest household income in the country.  And where more than a third of Maryland households in this state with an early childhood teacher in them must use at least one (and frequently more!) of the social safety net programs such as Medicaid and SNAP.  It is cliché that you get what you pay for, and we as a society simply do not pay to produce the kinds of brains needed to produce highly skilled workers.

Therefore, here I sit, then, a trained biologist, thinking: the CDC is reporting that only around a third of all adults in the U.S. have taken this year’s flu shot and less than 18% have received  the latest COVID booster; the childhood disease, measles—one of the most deadly and declared eliminated here in the U.S. more than two decades ago—has already had 16 outbreaks so far this year; and human life expectancy—at least in this country—has actually declined for the first time in centuries.  All because, as Dr. Gregory Poland of Atria Academy of Science and Medicine puts it, “as a society right now, we’re in a phase of rejecting expertise, of mistrust of any expert, whether it’s science, meteorology, medicine, government – whatever it is.”

And that causes me to contemplate what I once thought impossible:  that Thomas Kuhn may have been right when he suggested that science as a method of studying and understanding the world could actually disappear—perhaps forever.

Science, of course, is the “it” in my epigram from Kuhn as the start of this essay, and the famed historian of science is reported to have said these words in an interview with Scientific American towards the end of his life in the winter of 1991.  As the author of one of the single most influential books of the 20th Century, he comes across in the interview as weary of what he perceives as all the misunderstandings people have had about his ideas, and when pushed, he basically states flatly that science as an intellectual endeavor is just as much a social construct as any other such endeavor and, therefore, like any social construct, it can die.

Now I have recognized for some time that any shared sense of truth in this country was—at best—on life support.  The firehose of dis- and misinformation modern digital technologies have made possible have all but ensured truth’s demise.  But the idea that the one remaining arbiter of truth could be in trouble, that the one arrow left in our collective epistemological quiver could disappear…naively, that thought had never occurred to me before encountering Kuhn’s words amidst the events of the past month.  Suddenly, I had gained a small, existential insight into the voices of the many African American women interviewed following the election: “Damn! Please don’t tell me I have to keep fighting yet again a battle that I should not keep losing.”

But for those of us in the sciences, fight we must.  We must become the resistance to every effort of the in-coming administration to dismantle the scientific infrastructure in this country.  Furthermore, we must do so anywhere and everywhere we can.  In labs and research centers.  In classrooms and homes.  In legislatures and city halls.  In movies and museums.  Even in the kitchen!1  Put bluntly, all of us in the “reality-based community” must join like-minded individuals such as Hank Green of the Vlogbrothers and Scishow and do everything in our power “to make the truth go viral.”2  It won’t be an easy fight, and I openly confess that I, too, am growing weary of the constant need to battle ignorance and stupidity.  But I could never look the generations of children who have come through my classroom in the eye if I didn’t say I tried. How they will judge me only time will see.

Coda

During my morning run today, I was reminded yet again of how spectacularly and especially beautiful this fall has been here in the State of Maryland.  Seldom have I seen such rich colors that have lasted for as long, and there is even this one oak on my walk to school where the rays of the rising sun hit it in such a way that I can only shake my head in awe at the metaphor for God chosen by the authors of Exodus—burning bush indeed! 

However, this same beauty has made me recall the opening lines from James Stokesbury’s history of World War I which I reread this past August:

The summer of 1914 was the fairest in living memory.  Grass had never been greener, nor skies bluer.  Europe lay rich and ripening under the warming sun, and from the Ural Mountains to the wave-beaten west coast of Ireland the cows fattened, the newborn animals played in rich fields, and lovers strolled in the country lanes….So beautiful was that summer that those who survived it invested it with a golden haze; it assumed a retrospective poignancy, as if before it, all had been beautiful, and after it, nothing ever was again.  It became the summer that the world ended, and it was somehow fitting that it should therefore be the most glorious summer ever (p. 11).

For a whole lot of people—many of whom don’t yet realize it just as many didn’t in 1914—the world as they knew it ended on Nov. 5.  Even science itself in this country may have ended, and what keeps me up at night about the looming battle is that while I am not yet truly elderly, I am also clearly no longer young, leaving me with a fraught and fretful question:

Who’s going to take up the mantle when I’m gone?

1For more on science in the kitchen, check out J. Kenji López-Alt’s The Food Lab: Better Home Cooking Through Science (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2015).

2To learn more about Hank Green and his on-line efforts to debunk falsehoods of all kinds, listen to the Nov. 22 episode of NPR’s On the Media.

References

Center for Disease Control (Nov. 22, 2024; latest update) Measles Cases and Outbreaks.  https://www.cdc.gov/measles/data-research/index.html#:~:text=Why%20is%20there%20more%20measles,returning%20to%20the%20United%20States.

Elliott, R. F. (Nov. 12, 2024) Exxon Chief to Trump: Don’t Withdraw From Paris Climate Deal.  The New York Times.  https://www.nytimes.com/2024/11/12/business/energy-environment/exxon-mobil-baku-climate-cop29.html.

Hamilton, J. (Nov. 21, 2024) Foreign Nationals Propel U.S. Science.  Visa Limits Under Trump Could Change That.  NPR Morning Edition. https://www.npr.org/sections/shots-health-news/2024/11/21/nx-s1-5187926/u-s-science-could-suffer-if-trump-limits-h-1b-visas-again.

Horgan, J. (May 23, 2012) What Thomas Kuhn Really Thought about Scientific “Truth.” Scientific American.  https://www.scientificamerican.com/blog/cross-check/what-thomas-kuhn-really-thought-about-scientific-truth/.

Johnson, S. (2021) Extra Life: A Short History of Living Longer (New York: Riverhead Books).

Kuhn, T. (1970) The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, 2nd ed.  Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

Lora, M. (Nov. 11, 2024) Just How Underpaid Are Maryland’s Day Care and Pre-K Teachers? The Baltimore Banner.  https://www.thebaltimorebanner.com/education/early-childhood/maryland-early-childhood-wages-MAJNPXPOFJGHPJOFZRJ3JJ7TBY/.

Rauch, J. (2021) The Constitution of Knowledge: A Defense of Truth. Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution Press.

Stein, R. & Schmitz, R. (Nov. 27, 2024) As the Respiratory Virus Season Approaches, Where Does the Vaccination Rate Stand? NPR Morning Edition. https://www.npr.org/2024/11/27/nx-s1-5199731/as-the-respiratory-virus-season-approaches-where-does-the-vaccination-rate-stand.

Stokesbury, J. (1981) A Short History of World War I.  New York:  William and Morrow Company, Inc.

Stolberg, S. G. (Nov. 14, 2024) Trump Picks R.F.K. Jr. to Be Head of Health and Human Services Dept.  The New York Times.  https://www.nytimes.com/2024/11/14/us/politics/rfk-jr-trump-hhs.html.

Science & Safetyism

Wrong opinions and practices
gradually yield to fact and argument:
but facts and arguments,
to produce any effect on the mind,
must be brought before it.
—John Stuart Mill

As an educator, one of the challenges of the safetyism I discussed last time is the reality that my students today are not as adept at critical thinking as my students earlier in my career.  They are simply less able to connect their claims to reliable evidence properly, and no, that is not just “old fogey-ism” on my part.  I can document the extra supports and other interventions that I have needed to steadily and increasingly add over the decades to help my current students achieve what their “elders” before them once achieved semi-autonomously (because a good teacher meets their students where they’re at; not where the teacher might wish they were). 

Digital technology, of course, has played an enormous role in this new reality for me as a teacher, but in exploring Lukianoff’s and Haidt’s concept of safetyism, I have begun to realize how much my students are arriving in my classroom having never really confronted the disagreeable ideas and opinions so necessary to the development of critical thinking as an intellectual skill.  In some instances, they have never even encountered them at all! Hence, I now see that the rise of safetyism in our society has been impeding the development of my students’ critical thinking as much as their lives as digital natives has.  In both instances, they have been able to systematically avoid cognitive unpleasantries such as boredom, dissonance, and inconvenient truths and so avoid learning how to deal with such things.

How, then, do I address this reality, and why—as I implied at the end of my last posting—do I think my particular discipline has some built in advantages for doing so?  I have written before about the kind of general pedagogy I believe can promote and improve critical thinking skills (it is a major focus of this project). But today I want to address why I think that my teaching science specifically—rather than other possible academic disciplines—gives me an extra edge when it comes to defeating the educational challenges of safetyism.

 And I want to do so by turning first to someone who I am starting to think of as an intellectual kindred spirit, Jonathan Rauch.  I visited his concept of “liberal science” earlier in my writing when exploring his “constitution of knowledge.” But in reading some of his other work recently, I found that he has gotten me to “thinking about science as a set of rules for social behavior, rules for settling conflict” (p. 30) rather than simply a way of understanding the world.  He reminded me that disagreements are practically baked into a social species such as ours and that methods for resolving those conflicts inherently involve evoking claims about the truth in a particular situation.  Yet while anyone can make “three new [claims] every day before breakfast, the trouble is, they will almost always be bad [claims].  The hard part is figuring out who has a good [one]” (p. 64, original emphasis).  Hence, as Rauch reminded me, one of the most fundamental problems any society must cope with to survive is the epistemic one: the nature and limits of human knowledge.  Or as he puts it, “when is it legitimate for me to say ‘I’m right and you’re wrong!’ and to act accordingly?” (p. 35).

His own answer, of course, is only if such a claim has survived the crucible of liberal science.  Any proposition must endure repeated testing against the empirical realities of life and must have persisted repeatedly before said potential error can make any claim to a degree of truth.  For Rauch, that is the innovation and genius of the scientific process of truth determination:  not in doing away with human bias and ignorance but in channeling them.  As he argues, “the point of liberal science is not to be unprejudiced (which is impossible); the point is to recognize that your own bias might be wrong and to submit it to public checking by people who believe differently” (p. 67).  Science in Rauch’s outlook is the intellectual equivalent of natural selection, “[mimicking] the greatest liberal system of them all, the evolution of life” (p. 57).

And it is that last metaphor that has caused me to ponder whether the discipline I teach has some built-in advantages when it comes to resisting safetyism.  Because in learning science, a student in my class is inherently in conflict.  Conflict with preconceived notions.  Conflict with what the data you just collected tells you.  Conflict with the required skepticism that you could always be wrong…. 

I could go on, but the bottom line is that you cannot learn science and somehow evade the very thing safetyism seeks to prevent and avoid—conflict.  It’s not that other disciplines can’t have conflict built into them, too (and responsible, thoughtful teachers of those disciplines deliberately do so).  But having taught history, I know that one can offer a version of it where the conflict has been white washed from it, and I can imagine an English or Foreign Language class where what is read is very safe and unchallenging.  Science, however, literally cannot be taught without disrupting how a child looks at and experiences their world.

Not that science doesn’t still lose some of the battles.  As I was outlining this essay, a student was removed from one of my classes by a family upset with the demands of the course, declaring that my teaching was making their child feel emotionally uncomfortable and overwhelmed.  Ironically, this course is an elective; so the student had chosen to enroll, and I am extremely candid and forthright at the beginning of the year—with both students and parents alike—that a fundamental goal of this particular class is to create learning situation where children will intellectually fall down and that with my help, they will learn how to stand back up in the similar situations that they will encounter next year in college.  The metaphor I sometimes use is that of an academic drill sergeant but one who loves and cares, and the rationale I provide is summed up so nicely by Rauch that I may use his very words next fall:

The social system does not and never can exist which allows no harm to come to anybody.  Conflict of impulse and desire is an inescapable fact of human existence, and where there is conflict there will always be losers and wounds…The chore of a social regime is not to obliterate conflict but to manage it, so as to put it to good use while causing a minimum of hurt and abuse (p. 122).

I want all of my students prepared for adulthood and the necessary adulting that comes with that, and I know that if you never fall down, you can never learn to get back up.  My sadness for my now former student is that she was allowed to remain on the ground.

References

Lukianoff, G. & Haidt, J. (2018) The Coddling of the American Mind: How Good Intentions and Bad Ideas are Setting Up a Generation for Failure.  New York: Penguin Books.

Rauch, J. (2013) Kindly Inquisitors: The New Attacks on Free Thought (Expanded Edition).  Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

The Dangers of Safetyism

Education should not be intended
to make people comfortable;
it is meant to make them think.
—Hanna Holborn Gray

In the early 1980s, a Canadian historian, James Stokesbury, wrote two, one-volume histories of World War I and World War II.  They remain, in my opinion, among the best abbreviated examinations of these calamitous events, and I revisit my copies of both books when I am feeling the need for some perspective about the world they helped create and in which I have grown up and lived.  Each time I do, I find myself discovering some new theme which I had not seen on previous reads, and when I recently revisited them this past month, what struck me this time was the almost rabid isolationism of the United States at the start of both wars and its impact on their outcomes.  I was reminded yet again that we are a highly reactionary society, not an anticipatory one, and that what that can cost can literally be tens of millions of human lives.

I share this bit of personal background because in my other recent readings I have found what I think is a new form of isolationism, and I believe we may be looking at a new reactionary response rather than an anticipatory one.  And no, I do not mean the isolationism within the MAGA movement and their cult leader, Donald Trump, which are impacting the current election.  This is an isolationism at a larger scale, one that is permeating our entire society, and it is something which First Amendment attorney, Greg Lukianoff, and social psychologist, Jonathan Haidt, call “safetyism.”

What is “safetyism?” Lukianoff and Haidt define it as “a culture that allows the concept of ‘safety’ to creep so far that it equates emotional discomfort with physical danger” and does so to such a degeree that it “encourages people to systematically protect one another from the very experiences embedded in daily life that they need in order to become strong and healthy” (Coddling, p. 29).  Examples include:

  • helicopter-parenting that schedules every minute of a child’s day to ensure that said child is never without some form of adult supervision;   
  • school districts such as the one my niece and nephew attended where district policy would not allow them to enter their elementary school unless dropped off by car—even though said school was a five-minute walk from their house;
  • “the head teacher of an elementary school in East London [issuing] a rule that children must not even touch recently fallen snow, because touching could lead to snowballs” (Coddling, p. 236; original emphasis)
  • universities cancelling controversial speakers simply because some members of the campus might find them disagreeable;

Hence, at its extreme, safetyism is the notion that even ideas are physically dangerous and must therefore be regulated to prevent exposure to them.  In other words, we must find a way to isolate each and every one of us from anything that might cause pain.

Sounds crazy right? Yet Lukianoff and Haidt point out that to some degree it makes a certain twisted logic because as “we adapt to our new and improved circumstances, [we] then lower the bar for what we count as intolerable levels of discomfort and risk” (Coddling, pp. 13-14).  Modern industrial society with its medicine, abundance of food, sanitation systems, etc. has so removed us from the environment we evolved in that “coddled” isn’t even an adequate word to describe our lives today.  Yet that same modern industrial society bombards our paleolithic brains with news of inflation, school shootings, and climate change, and so our heightened feelings of fear for our safety can drive us to the crazy isolation of safetyism.

Creating some very unintended and negative consequences in the process.  As the subtitle to Coddling suggests, we have now raised an entire generation incapable of adulting; put the production of new knowledge at risk—since “to advance knowledge, we must sometimes suffer” (Kindly, p. 19); and even endangered our form of governing because “citizens of a democracy don’t suddenly develop this art on their eighteenth birthday” without many preceding years of free play and self-negotiated conflict (Coddling, p. 191).  Just as the isolationism of the 1910s and 1930s did, safetyism has put us at grave risk as a nation, and I think it is worth quoting Lukianoff and Haidt at length here:

After all, if focusing on big threats [car seats, reducing exposure to second hand smoke, etc.] produces such dividends, why not go further and make childhood as close to perfectly safe as possible? A problem with this kind of thinking is that when we attempt to produce perfectly safe systems, we almost inevitably create new and unforeseen problems.  For example, efforts to prevent financial instability by bailing out companies can lead to larger and more destructive crashes later on; efforts to protect forests by putting out small fires can allow dead wood to build up, eventually leading to catastrophic fires far worse than the sum of the smaller fires that were prevented.  Safety rules and programs—like most efforts to change complex systems—often have unintended consequences.  Sometimes these consequences are so bad that the intended beneficiaries are worse off than if nothing had been done at all…efforts to protect kids from risk by preventing them from gaining experience—such as walking to school, climbing a tree, or using sharp scissors—are different.  Such protections come with costs, as kids miss out on opportunities to learn skills, independence, and risk assessment (Coddling, p. 169).

How, though, did we get here? What has allowed safetyism to arise and to thrive? One answer Lukianoff and Haidt provide is what they call the three great “Untruths” that have taken hold in our society:  the Untruth of Fragility (“what doesn’t kill you makes you weaker”), the Untruth of Emotional Reasoning (“always trust your feelings”), and the Untruth of Us vs. Them (“life is a battle between Good people and Evil people”).  Together, Lukianoff and Haidt argue (and document), these three ideas have permeated much of the modern parenting literature, school policies pre-K thru PhD, and social media, and the consequence are large numbers of children and young adults who are not resilient, who are experiencing poor mental health, and who are permanently trapped in their own biases.

Added to that, Jonathan Rauch argues (and also documents), has been the rise over the past thirty years of what he calls the fundamentalist and humanitarian threats to research institutions of all manner.  Namely (from the first) that all knowledge of any kind is absolutely relative and therefore equal in truth value and (from the second) that since “one person’s knowledge is another’s repression” (Kindly, p. 116), we must “set up authorities empowered to weed out hurtful ideas and speech (Kindly, p. 131).  Objective truth withers and dies; new knowledge becomes impossible; and thoughtful, critically reflective individuals who might be able to challenge Lukianoff’s and Haidt’s three great Untruths become a thing of the past.

There is, of course, also the reality of the rise of social media and the consequent tribalism it has empowered that generates affirmation for the belief in the need to be safe against the “Other.”  As Lukianoff and Haidt point out:

The bottom line is that the human mind is prepared for tribalism.  Human evolution is not just the story of individuals competing with other individuals within each group; it’s also the story of groups competing with other groups—sometimes violently.  We are all descended from people who belong to groups that were consistently better at winning that competition.  Tribalism is our evolutionary endowment for banding together to prepare for intergroup conflict (Coddling, p. 58).

And when social media simultaneously provides both the intragroup identity and the intergroup conflict, you have the perfect recipe for safetyism.  In fact, Lukianoff and Haidt go so far in recognizing this reality that they actually have a term for the subgroup of Gen Z where we see this the most: iGen, the group who grew up after Steve Jobs unleashed the iPhone on the world.

So now what? This group of individuals bathed in safetyism since birth has only grown larger over time, and a strong case could be made that the whole reason for the general tenor of the last decade of election cycles is that we are losing the number of actual adults in the room.  As political scientists Steven Levitsky and Daneil Ziblatt have written, “[political] parties [have] come to view each other not as legitimate rivals but as dangerous enemies.  Losing ceases to be an accepted part of the political process and instead becomes a catastrophe” that must be protected against at all costs (Codling, p. 131).

However, there are still a few of us around adulting our way through life, and a large number of us work in education, where the task has been, remains, and will always be—as the old folk wisdom puts it—preparing the child for the road, not the road for the child.  Not that schools shouldn’t be places of safety, but as former University of Chicago president, Hanna Holborn Gray reminds us in the epigram at the start of this essay—and ALL the brain research affirms—a certain degree of discomfort is necessary for learning to take place.  Critical thinking is simply the ability to connect one’s claims to reliable evidence properly, but developing the capacity to do it involves falling and skinning one’s mental knees over and over again until you can skate logic’s constraints with ease.  Learning hurts, and there will never be any way around that.

And while it is true that we can pave a bit of a child’s road for them, it has always been utterly self-defeating to think any of us could do more than that.  Food, clothing, shelter…love, caring, empathy…medicine, education, athletics…generational wealth…we can smooth some of a child’s road for them.  But we cannot prepare them for that call in the night that a loved one has died or the diagnosis of cancer or the failure of a marriage.  Each person’s road is unique, and so we can only truly help prepare them to travel it.

What’s more, if “it [has been] foolish to think one could clear the road for one’s child [in the past], before the internet, now it’s delusional” (Codling, p. 237).  As I commented in Chapter 9, I have confronted the paradox these past 15+ years that even as my digital native students have arrived in my classroom more and more unprepared for critical thinking, I have been steadily more successful at enabling them to do so.  That I can do so, I think, is because of the subject I teach, and the how and why of that is what I will explore next time.

References

Lukianoff, G. & Haidt, J. (2018) The Coddling of the American Mind: How Good Intentions and Bad Ideas are Setting Up a Generation for Failure.  New York: Penguin Books.

Rauch, J. (2013) Kindly Inquisitors: The New Attacks on Free Thought (Expanded Edition).  Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

Stokesbury, J. (1981) A Short History of World War I.  New York:  William and Morrow Company, Inc.

Stokesbury, J. (1980) A Short History of World War II.  New York:  William and Morrow Company, Inc.

Updates

Regular readers know that I have three areas of interest that frequently occupy my attention: the impact of the pandemic on education, the ever evolving role of AI and technology on teaching and learning, and the strong current of anti-intellectualism in our society.  Well, this summer has been a busy one for all three of these topics; so it’s time for some updates.  We’ll start with the pandemic.

Early on, when COVID was actively disrupting all of our lives, I made some sober predictions about the cost of this disease to our children, and it saddens me to report that it turns out that things are even worse than I had prognosticated.  Teachers are now reporting that many of our littlest ones are arriving at school barely able to speak, that they are unable to remain still for brief periods, and that some do not even to know how to play with others.  Rudimentary pre-school skills such as how to hold a pencil or identify simple shapes (think circle, triangle, etc.) are missing, and caregivers of all kinds are reporting symptoms of anxiety and depression in children as young as four or five.

However, the situation appears even grimmer in our older children.  The gap in national test scores between recent and pre-pandemic scores has actually grown wider than anticipated, and “the gaps are so large that the average eighth-grade would need about nine months of additional schooling to catch up to pre-covid levels in math and about the same extra time to catch up in reading.”  The realities of human development simply do not allow for nine extra months, and so we are confronting an entire cohort of children who will be put at some degree of permanent disadvantage moving forward.  At least the little ones “only” need “2.2 more months of school to make up the reading gaps and 1.3 months for math.”

On the AI and technology front, the status of things is a little less “doom & gloom,” with interesting research about why paper remains better than screens.  The data about the advantages of handwriting versus typing when notetaking has been known for some time, but it turns out that even the simple act of reading something that is on paper versus reading the exact same thing on a screen produces better brain engagement and comprehension.  Scientists around the world have been analyzing the brains of early elementary age children with EEG and fMRI, and it turns out that “when children read on paper, there was more power in the high-frequency brainwaves” associated with higher-order cognitive function.  Why the brain acts differently between paper and screens remains a mystery, but that it does is now documented by multiple studies.

Of course, the creep factor of AI remains, with a company in China now offering to make avatars of dead loved-ones so that you can continue to “communicate” with the deceased.  But that’s a different issue for another day.  For now, “pencil & paper” are clearly winning, and those of us working with children simply need to pay attention accordingly.

Finally, it demoralizes me to have to report that the ACT has now made the science section of their exam optional and have even reduced their core exam by 44 questions, with shorter reading passages.  While I am not a fan of standardized tests, with their well-documented biases and other problematic features, I am also not a fan of dumbing things down even further in our general society than we already have.  The ACT rationalizes their decision by arguing that with this new flexibility—students can now sign up for four different varients of the exam (two of which do still include science)—that students can focus on their strengths and showcase their abilities in the best possible light while avoiding the fatigue of the longer, original exam.  But I am confident that the proverbial “bottom line” (pun intended) is simply that fewer students were signing up for the test, and that this was the organization’s way of trying to keep the dollars flowing—all at the expense of actually demanding that our children actually know something.

Well, that’s it for now.  For those of us in the classroom, important reminders of the challenges facing us as we adapt to the children in front of us (not the ones we might wish were in front of us), and for those not in the classroom, important reminders of matters impacting the society in which we all live.

Until next time.

References

Archie, A. (July 19, 2024) The Science Section of the ACT Exam Will Now Be Optional.  NPR.  https://www.npr.org/2024/07/19/nx-s1-5045587/act-exam-test-science-optional.

Barshay, J. (June 24, 2024) This Is Your Brain.  This is Your Brain on Screens.  The Hechinger Report.  https://hechingerreport.org/proof-points-neuroscience-paper-v-screens-reading/.

Feng, E. (July 11, 2024) Chinese Companies Offer to “Resurrect” Dead Loved Ones.  It Raises Questions.  NPR Morning Edition.  https://www.npr.org/2024/06/17/nx-s1-5001751/chinese-companies-offer-to-resurrect-dead-loved-ones-it-raises-questions.

Meckler, L. & Lumpkin, L. (July 23, 2024)  Four Years After COVID, Many Students Still Losing Ground.  The Washington Post.  https://www.washingtonpost.com/education/2024/07/23/covid-test-scores-learning-loss-absenteeism/.

Miller, C.C. & Mervosh, S. (July 1, 2024) The Youngest Pandemic Children Are Now in School, and Struggling.  The New York Times.  https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2024/07/01/upshot/pandemic-children-school-performance.html.

“Prognostic Myopia”

Corporate executives are under immense pressure
to deliver quarterly earnings,
not to save science, democracy, or the planet.
—Jennifer Jacquet

Evolution is still deciding what to make
of the human capacity for causal reasoning.
—Justin Gregg

For most of my career, when I have taught my unit on the brain to my advanced biology courses, I have challenged my students to recognize that the “evolutionary jury” of natural selection is still out when it comes to the value of our large prefrontal cortex.  I point out that every other species of the genus Homo has gone extinct (and in the case of our closest cousins, neanderthalensis, directly because of we sapiens), and that, therefore, the ultimate survival value of our proportionally bigger brains amongst the animals is still very much up for grabs.

Recently, though, I came across a book by animal behaviorist, Justin Gregg, that systematically makes the case that the uniquely human cognitive capacities that set our brains apart from those of the other animals actually puts us at a distinct disadvantage when it comes to the process of natural selection.  Gregg does not mince words when he challenges that the human mind puts us at greater risk of extinction as a species, and as he puts it, “what if we acknowledge that sometimes our so-called human achievements are actually rather shitty solutions evolutionarily speaking?” (p. 16).

The case he makes is quite compelling, and he starts with the relative value of our capacity for causal thinking.  As he puts it, we are “ ‘why?’ specialists,” who can determine how the world works in ways no other animal can, and yet the world is full of animals making successful decisions all the time without needing to know the “why?” of things.  Moreover, the paleontological data shows that for the first roughly 200,000 of our quarter of a million year heritage, we got by just find as well without answering questions of cause and effect.  Hence, causal thinking doesn’t seem to add much survival value for animals in general (including us), and in fact, a strong argument can be made that as we humans have employed this unique capacity of ours more and more in the past 50,000 years, we have steadily decimated the environments in which we live because “with an understanding of how the world has been built comes the knowledge to break it” (p. 15).

Compounding our brain’s ability to do deliberate damage and harm, Gregg argues, is the fact that the human mind has taken the animal capacity for deception to whole new levels.  “Lying” is nothing new in the animal kingdom; from unintentional mimicry to deliberately “playing dead” to the tactical deceptions of male mourning cuttlefish (check it out!), animals of all kinds engage in generating a variety of falsehoods for purposes of survival and reproduction.  However, as Gregg puts it, “our species has taken it to absurd lengths” (p. 59) because of our capacity for language and the theory of mind.  We can lie about any thought we have, and we don’t just lie to protect ourselves; we lie to try and change other people’s thoughts and beliefs.  Furthermore, because we are a social species, we are hard-wired for credulity—to believe what other people tell us to maintain our bonds—and therefore, “we cannot remove the human capacity to both produce and believe lies anymore than we can remove our capacity for walking upright.  It’s who we are” (p. 88).

Yet in a world of social media, 24/7 news cycles, and the world-wide web, the scale of human lying now has the capacity to threaten our very survival.  Misinformation, disinformation, propaganda…we live emersed in lies, and we can employ all of it to justify whatever harm our causal thinking has enabled us to do—from climate change to genocide.  What’s more, our capacity for lying has started to attack the very tools we use to generate actual truth—science, scholarship, public institutions—and therefore, as Gregg puts it, “the question is: can we save us from ourselves before the firehose of falsehoods washes our species from the planet?” (p. 89).

Interestingly enough, I think Gregg’s response to his own rhetorical question would be a qualified “maybe.”  He is not a cynic; he simply takes a non-blindered approach to examining our uniquely human cognitive capacities through the lens of evolution and finds no grounds at all for our self-declared exceptionalism as a species within the animal kingdom. 

Moreover, where he finds this delusion of exceptionalism most problematic is our cognitive tendancy for what he calls “prognostic myopia.”  Basically, he argues that “because our minds evolved primarily to deal with immediate—not future—outcomes, we rarely experience or even understand the consequences of these long-term decisions [i.e. burning fossil fuels, modern food production methods, etc.].  It is the most dangerous flaw in human thinking” (p. 195), and it is compounded by the reality revealed through modern neuroscience that we make nearly all our daily decisions at the subconscious level.  Those parts of our brains involved in this process, he points out, evolved over hundreds of millions of years to deal with the needs of the immediate present for survival; there is no “future” for these mental elements.  Therefore, “our capacity to understand the future and even envision ourselves in it is competing with decision-making systems whose component parts do not truly understand what they are being asked to do” (p. 207).

Or to put it another way:

urgent survival needs mean that we still engage in impulsive behaviors.  And those behaviors, which once promoted our survival and reproductive success, are now suboptimal because we live in an environment in which long-term contingencies play an increasingly important part in our lives (p. 212).

Basically, our brains did not evolve to live in the world those same brains have now created, and Gregg’s ultimate point is that “depending on where we go from here, human intelligence may just be the stupidest thing that has ever happened” (p. 256) from an evolutionary perspective. 

And an excellent “case study” of this potential truth is the behavior of modern corporations.  In another book to cross my path recently, New York University professor, Jennifer Jacquet, has written a scathing satire in the vein of Jonathan Swift’s A Modest Proposal in which she “advises” corporate leaders on how to prevent costly safety and product regulations to maximize profits by attacking the researchers and science that support these regulations.  Some highlights of her “advice” to corporations include:

  • There are few communication products that money cannot buy.  Does the Corporation need a scientific journal sympathetic to its research? Fund an editor.  Does the proper journal not exist? Create it.  Establish a popular magazine.  Build a website.  Host a scientific gathering. Put together a group of people who appear to be grassroots activists.  The digital media landscape in particular offers limitless options for shaping public perception (p. 71).
  • Another way to make the problem go away is to change the language.  The tobacco industry referred to ‘cancer’ as ‘biological activity.’ A consultant to the fossil fuel industry found that ‘climate change’ sounded less frightening to a focus group than ‘global warming’ and recommended the switch in 2002 (and the switch succeeded).  The chemical manufacturers insisted on the term ‘biosolids’ instead of ‘toxic sludge’ (p. 96).
  • The policy might not just hurt people, it could kill them, or already has.  Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring, which generated hysteria that led to the banning of DDT, and as a result millions have died of malaria.  In addition, many of the world’s poor died of hunger because the benefits of pesticides were not realized (ignore the unsavory problem of unequal food distribution) (p. 144).
  • We cannot fix a problem because we’re not hardwired to fix the problem.  (Never mind that we were also not hardwired to read or to scuba dive or to drink milk) (p. 153).

There is much more like this in Jacquet’s book, but as an example of Gregg’s “prognostic myopia,” I can think of nothing better than the headlong pursuit for immediate corporate profit at the expense of the long-term consequences of corporate actions.  And at the scale of corporations, this use of human intelligence is not only stupid, but I would argue that it is stupidity at its worst because in normalizes and even rewards being shortsighted at a societal scale.  As Jacquet concludes in her appendix to her book:

in the same way that a casino can affect the character of a town, corporate-funded scientific denial has contributed to the erosion of scientific authority and mistrust in the government.  In this casino, however, we are gambling with our health, the planet, and our most reliable way of knowing the world.  The stakes could not get higher (p. 174).

Of course, not only are the stakes as high as Jacquet states them, they are as high as Gregg states them: the potential extinction of our species.  And the problem for all of us is that we are all, in fact, trapped in our own “prognostic myopia.”  My entire retirement portfolio, for example, depends on corporate profits; Gregg writes about raising his daughter and taking her to school each day, knowing that “even though that’s what awaits my family in the future [i.e. ecological collapse from climate change], here I am, driving my Subaru around like everything is fine” (p. 220).  We have no choice but to live in the now, even when that “now” may be preventing “someday” from being possible

Which brings me to teaching, to what I do for a living and whether it is even possible to have any positive impact in the classroom anymore.  Because what actually triggered all this epistolary activity and my reflecting on Gregg’s and Jacquet’s work was some recent stories in the news.

The first, heard on NPR, was about how love songs are in trouble and what this tells us about how younger generations are viewing relationships.  Apparently, the top term searched for in music by Gen Z listeners is the word “sad,” and BYU researcher McKell Jorgensen-Wells has found that 86% of love songs in the recent Billboard Top 100 profess an insecure attachment style, have replaced emotional longing with overt sexuality, and leave the listener assuming that their romantic relationships are supposed to be toxic.  As one of the people being interviewed put it, “one of the songs in the top 100 right now is from a tremendously gifted and talented and beautiful artist named SZA, and she has a song called ‘Saturn.’ In the first verse, she says, I hate this place.”

And if people raised on toxic love songs aren’t bad enough, the other story that caught my attention in the NYT was about a group of middle schoolers in Pennsylvania using TikTok to create an organized and systematic on-line attack of their teachers, creating fake accounts in the teachers’ names and then posting ugly falsehoods about those same teachers as if the teachers had generated the content themselves.  I knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened, but what disturbed me the most was the fact that when caught and confronted with the evidence, the overwhelming response of the students was that their teachers couldn’t take a joke—as if accusations of pedophilia and spousal infidelity are somehow “joking” matters. 

Taken together—the prognostic myopia of our species, the corporate greed that takes that myopia to world destroying levels, media of all types that empower dysfunctional and destructive relating—it has me pondering if we’ve reached the point as a society where what we do as educators in the classroom is irrelevant.  And what disturbs me most about that thought is that I know I have had a positive impact for most of my career.  I have been blessed to mentor former students into the profession, to attend their dissertation defenses and weddings, and to hold their children in my arms.  I know the good I have helped send out into the world. 

But between my own struggles this past year with my 9th graders, reading Gregg and Jacquet, and seeing many of my concerns about social media come to pass over the last few months, I find myself compelled to ask whether any of us in education, myself included, can still do that anymore.  Can teachers still have a positive impact? Or are the children now arriving in our classrooms already too damaged by the world we’ve created for them? Right now, I do not have an answer.  I wish I did, but I don’t.

However, what I do know is that I have is an almost congenital compulsion to try, and that itself may have to be my only answer for now.

References

Gregg, J. (2022) If Nietzsche Were a Narwhal: What Animal Intelligence Reveals About Human Stupidity.  New York:  Little, Brown and Company.

Jacquet, J. (2022) The Playbook: How to Deny Science, Sell Lies, and Make a Killing in the Corporate World.  New York: Penguin Books.

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