Hard times make strong schools, good times make weak schools

Jack Daly
Class of 2025

(1/2022) One of the defining features of my time in school was the distinct lack of a clear mission. Sure, every student has ambitions. Jimmy wants to be an astronaut and little Sarah is an aspiring veterinarian, but when they are sitting at their first-grade desks reading a tale about Anansi, they cannot really see what point ‘A’ has to do with point ‘B.’ Answers to the question: "Why school?" were either "We go to school to learn," as a yellow duck repeated ad nauseum on PBS Kids, or a rather vague collection of things that sounded nice which were never specific but gave the impression that school was a magical place that would train us so that we could one day usher in utopia. So, it went on that while my peers and I memorized facts, definitions, and concepts, we would continue making sarcastic remarks to one another about the futility of our endeavors. Here and there were moments of clarity, such as when I was a high school freshman and at last gained an intimation as to the purpose of English class, although this wisdom was short-lived. Having languished in so many years of confusion, one can imagine my surprise when I recently reviewed a nineteenth-century eighth-grade final exam for a school district in Kansas and found it to be perfectly clear in its purpose.

One will find with a simple internet search that the state of Kansas first implemented compulsory education in the early 1870s, about twenty years prior to the exam’s use. Proficient knowledge of history will tell you that in a rural state, even in an era of budding mechanization, extra help from children was very much needed at home. While some future holders of doctorate degrees probably took the test, most children would be lucky to see instruction beyond that point. As such, the exam was designed to make sure students had received the bare minimum education that would ensure that they could become good citizens. The section on arithmetic asked questions concerning commerce and finance, physiology tested students on their understanding of their bodies and how to care for them, passing geography meant one would be able to understand the contents of a newspaper, and the history portion made sure students knew what had shaped the country. Perhaps the only subjects that seemed to be without practical value were grammar and orthography. These areas asked questions regarding abstract rules and concepts, but a closer look reveals that students were expected to know what was at the heart of communication. One question even asked students to explain the advantages of knowing proper grammar. Even these skills were necessary, as they ensured one would be able to function in polite society, or, if time allowed, to read a book.

Since the time when the Kansas test was in use, America has seen great development. In the way of education, however, there have been clear signs of decline. One will sometimes see articles bemoaning the nation’s reading ability, particularly among people who live in rural or urban extremes, and there is no shortage of videos of passersby being unable to answer elementary questions correctly.

Some might contend that education has improved in the last century, particularly in the areas of science, technology, and math. The Kansas test neglects to review any basic points of chemistry or biology, but people who did well in health class may be baffled by questions such as: "how does nutrition reach the circulation?" Questions on history are only somewhat more demanding than those currently asked, and there does not seem to be any dramatic difference in the test’s math questions and today’s; indeed the contemporary questions might be harder, but there are just a few differences. No calculators were available at that time, and there is no indication as to whether or not scrap paper was allowed. Even staunch defenders of the customary system may be left scratching their heads as to how much a bushel measures exactly.

The academic elephant in the room is of course grammar, and orthography, a rather large and intimidating word. Orthography is the study of the rules which govern spelling in a particular language. The term itself is derived from the Greek words ‘orthos’ and ‘graphia’ which mean correct and writing respectively, and it is of the utmost importance when using a language where fish could jokingly be spelled ‘ghoti.’ You need only a cursory glance at social media to see that our present culture is considerably unorthographical.

Many blame our lack of skill in the way of words on technological advances. Television has been blamed for the decline in literacy since the 1980s, and now there is, of course, social media, the hated character limit, and ever-diminishing attention spans. The fault does not lie with machines; however, they are merely temptations, the siren song of expediency. All blame rests with us for lacking the integrity, the grammatic and linguistic gusto to speak and write properly. We have moved down the slippery slope from replacing ‘all of you’ with ‘y’all,’ to shortening ‘I’m going to,’ to a horrifying ‘Imma.’

Perhaps the problem is simply learning retention. Maybe most people do fine in school and would have passed the Kansas exam very easily if their curriculum had just devoted a couple of hours to syllabification and the principal parts of verbs. Perhaps the Kansas farmers would forget most of what they had learned after just a month or two of plowing the north forty. This seems unlikely: math was critical for anyone handling the finances of a business, and knowledge of history is essential to everyone who participates in the civic life of a nation.

During my time in high school, my peers and I would often complain of the intensity of our courses, but I would often realize the absurdity of our complaints through a simple reflection on stories from Victorian institutions: poor schoolboys made to memorize French vocabulary and Latin grammar, the inmates of Oxford and Cambridge expected to write series of essays, each one three hours at a time. Compared to those before us, we have an obvious need to resume our studies.

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