Logically, all these problems could have a straightforward solution: curtail capitalism and runaway innovation, or perhaps even roll back technological progress. Or, as John Updike once pleaded with reference to the enhanced beer can that could be opened more easily, make sure progress has “an escape hatch.”1 Any such plans or hopes, though, are likely to remain a utopian—or perhaps dystopian–fantasy.
Meanwhile, there are well mobilized forces riding the wave of the Zeitgeist and pushing in the opposite direction. They are assaulting, among other things, what they see as the obviously dysfunctional American education system. In elementary and secondary education, there is the reform movement which advocates measurable benchmarks for student learning, teacher “accountability” linked to these, parental choice on the basis of such information, etc. This is a movement spearheaded by geeky entrepreneurs—mostly extreme “analysts” (in the broader sense) who have made a fortune in the IT sector. They tend to believe that the mechanisms which have worked so well in their companies could also be put to good use in education (and in any other area)—a conviction shared by economists developing mathematical models of education or related field experiments.
A related offensive unfolds both in elementary and secondary schools, and at the college level. It focuses on integrating technology in the education process2 and preparing students for the “challenges of the 21st century”—rather than sticking to a model better suited to the bygone industrial age. The most radical approach in this area is to shift instruction increasingly online, with an emphasis on games and interactive applications which can keep students motivated and on task.3 It has been almost two decades since journalist Todd Oppenheimer offered a spirited critique of this obsession with educational technology.4 Yet it has continued to gain momentum, with some schools switching to digitized textbooks and even scrapping their physical libraries.
A more limited goal is to “flip” the classroom, or provide a model of “blended” learning—where students would preview learning content, and then use class time to discuss key points, solve problems, and complete various exercises (usually in small groups). An apparent advantage of this model is that a few star teachers could reach millions of students, while less stellar instructors would perhaps be more competent in a new role akin to that of teaching assistants. As an added benefit, students would stay engaged as they are asked to perform activities they find intrinsically rewarding.
In elementary and secondary education, the reformists’ agenda and the shift to distance learning are supported by conservatives (and their well funded think tanks), since both offensives hold the promise of undercutting public education and the influence of the hated teacher unions. That overall reformist momentum will likely continue to gather speed as it is additionally spurred by private companies contracted to provide the learning “content” for various online platforms.
The emphasis on measurable outcomes and accountability has also been adopted by accrediting agencies at the college level. The more disruptive force there, however, is likely to be the spread of distance learning. Online or blended courses have kept some lesser campuses afloat, as they have been able to enroll larger numbers of non-traditional students. Such courses also allow colleges and universities to offer a more appealing (and probably cheaper) alternative to students who see traditional coursework as unnecessarily tedious and frustrating. “Edupreneurs” and a few prestigious universities have also embraced various forms of distance learning in an attempt to tap global demand. This shift is likely to put pressure on all colleges and universities to reconsider the way they package, sell, and dispense their degrees.
In addition to these more utilitarian and technological trends, there is yet another movement aimed at providing better pedagogical practices that could “reignite student learning” at different educational levels.5 What do teachers need to do in order to accomplish this Herculean task? The answer is apparently simple: involve students at all levels in various forms of “experiential” learning and engaging activities like role-play, simulations, and hands-on projects (particularly ones that require collaboration in small groups). The idea is to reduce reliance on texts which growing numbers of students find unappealing and indigestible—offering instead activities and pedagogical interventions in and outside of the classroom that would be more stimulating and engaging.
In the minds of their proponents, all these approaches are bound to enhance learning and lift educational “attainment” at all levels. With my habitual skepticism, I have some serious doubts. I am tempted to retort that most education innovators are trying to make a virtue out of necessity, directing students away from learning activities with which most will struggle. Incidentally, such well-meaning reformers lead students away from the one practice which has historically fostered student learning and intellectual maturation—reading. And the new educational matrix offers a dubious alternative not just to students who would resist and be unable to master reading anyway. It could also discourage some potentially proficient, even avid, readers.
The importance of reading for brain development was once demonstrated by the eminent Soviet neuropsychologist Alexander Luria. He was a student of Lev Vygotsky, one of the early prophets of brain plasticity. During the Second World War, Luria studied the cognitive deficits and the physical impairments of Soviet soldiers who had suffered brain damage as a result of frontline wounds. He described memorably some of their symptoms, and devised exercises to help sufferers overcome or reduce their deficits. But before the war Luria had already conducted some research which, with hindsight, provided an equally powerful demonstration of neural plasticity, or the capacity of the brain to reorganize itself.
Can You Rebuild a Faulty Brain?
Luria’s work had a tremendous influence on Canadian special education expert Barbara Arrowsmith-Young. In her childhood and youth, she had experienced severe cognitive deficiencies—for example, she could not tell the time when she looked at a clock, had to read a passage several times in order to decipher its meaning, and was physically clumsy. She nevertheless persevered and obtained a college education. Then she came upon Luria’s work, and used it as a model and inspiration to develop a rigorous program that helped her overcome her specific neural deficiencies. She is now managing a special education school in which she is helping children with learning difficulties rewire their brains as she herself did.6
In the 1930s, Luria did field research in Central Asia aimed at studying the thinking patterns of local inhabitants. Those turned out to be unexpectedly—if stereotypically—“primitive.” For example, when asked to name colors, illiterate herdsmen and their wives did not employ any abstract color names, but used only concrete terms associated with common objects, fruits, flowers, etc. They were similarly disinclined to give any abstract definitions of objects, or to group these into conceptual categories. They would resist putting objects (for example, a hammer and an axe) together as “tools,” separate from other items on which those tools would normally be used (a nail or a log).
Most strikingly, the subjects Luria observed were quite unable (or unwilling) to formulate simple logical syllogisms in order to reach conclusions which surpassed their immediate experiences. For example, Luria and his assistants told respondents that all bears in the Far North, which is always covered by snow, are white. Then they asked what would be the color of a bear living on an island in the Far North which is always covered by snow. Most illiterate respondents would refuse to speculate on the attributes of an animal they had not directly observed.7
As Luria found out, only individuals who had received at least some formal education could engage in simple forms of conceptualization and logical reasoning. Those who had taken adult literacy courses were caught between the purely concrete thinking exhibited by illiterate nomads and a rudimentary degree of categorization and abstraction. Only the few who had acquired a more rigorous education in agricultural and other areas and worked on large-scale collectivized farms could usually achieve a degree of logical abstraction.
Luria’s results became widely known only in the 1970s, and have since been replicated by anthropologists working in other parts of the world. They illustrate the way in which the brains of most people have worked throughout human history as they have adapted to the relatively simple cognitive tasks of life in traditional, technologically undeveloped, small-scale communities. Complex modern societies, however, require much stronger reasoning abilities and broader knowledge in many areas.
At the time, Luria did not realize clearly that he had observed brain plasticity in action. But the power of reading to reorganize the brain has now become widely recognized. One of its most prominent advocates is Maryanne Wolf, a researcher who studies reading and reading disabilities like dyslexia.8 She has emphasized the extent to which reading is a deeply unnatural activity. In the brain, it requires the recruitment and complex coordination of many different areas which have developed through evolution to handle much simpler tasks. As a result of the sustained practice of reading, the brain therefore reorganizes itself—allowing individuals to become more capable of sophisticated thinking, emotional attunement, complex learning, and appropriate memorization.
All this could lead to the conclusion that I should advocate a form of cruel and unusual punishment: forcing children and college students to read, even if they do not wish to, in order to help their brains reorganize themselves the way Wolf posits they would. In fact, I am not so extremist or reactionary—and I doubt forced reading would work for most students if tried. Part of the reason for this is that different forms of reading are not created equal.
There is, in fact, one variety of reading which stands above all others. This is the immersive, “deep reading” to which I have already referred. It has been described perhaps most lucidly by English professor (and avid reader) Sven Birkerts.9 It involves an absorbed, earnest engagement, in the very act of reading, with the written page and the imaginary worlds unfolding behind it. A form of “flow,” or reading “in the zone,” if you wish—or at least something close. “Deep reading” thus entails the kind of affective-visceral response that, according to neuroscientists, can trigger the release of brain chemicals facilitating the formation and consolidation of synaptic connections, and perhaps related epigenetic changes.10 This form of reading also sends strong signals along nerve fibers connecting parts of the brain which are removed from each other, facilitating their myelination—and thus brain integration.
Such “deep reading” can in fact be a version of the “deep practice” journalist Daniel Coyle has described as essential to myelination. He has popularized (alongside fellow-author Malcolm Gladwell) the idea that around 10,000 hours of such “deep practice” are essential for mastery of any skill.11 So maybe this is roughly the amount of reading students need to complete in order to become expert readers, with appropriately myelinated pathways in the brain.12 This seems like a logical conclusion, but there is a catch. In order to have such a profound effect, reading does need to be “deep.” Alas, this is easier said than done.
In fact, the general capacity for “deep reading” probably started to decline generations ago. A glimpse into this process is offered by German historian Rolf Engelsing who has described a profound transformation in the nature of reading. In his account, before the mid-18th century educated people practiced mostly “intensive” reading. They read repeatedly from just a few books, most notably the Bible. Their emotional engagement with those few readings was, in fact, very intense. Words and passages resonated deeply with their rhythm and the rich associations they evoked, and “became deeply impressed on [readers’] consciousness.”13 This process was probably assisted by the practice of reading aloud or subvocalization in reading to oneself. In the words of Birkerts, that was a form of “ferocious reading” which assumed or created unmistakable depth.14
In Engelsing’s view, once the quantity of books, pamphlets, newspapers, magazines, brochures, and other printed matter increased, reading changed. The practice of “intensive” reading gave way to a more relaxed form of “extensive” reading. People started to read many books and periodicals, usually once and much more superficially. Though those sources lacked the same emotional resonance, many readers were still able to acquire a wealth of knowledge on various issues and develop increasingly sophisticated ideas.
The amount and variety of reading material did increase rapidly, but there was perhaps a deeper reason for the changing nature of reading. I suspect these changes were related to the overall shifts in sensibility in a modernizing society I described earlier. Once the number of readers increased and they started to read less intensely, the demand for new reading material exploded, deepening yet another feedback loop. Many decades later, we are now caught in a fast transition to a whole new form of reading. As we sample in quick succession scores of texts and images from the web, these evoke a feeble emotional response and leave little trace in the brain—except for the craving for even larger doses of digital stimulation, and a growing detachment from more serious texts and even the “real” world.
Nicholas Carr has become the highest-profile Cassandra sending repeated warnings that too much “infograzing” online could make us “stupid,” or subvert the way our brains work.15 Most provocatively, he has argued that we are fast developing a form of “artificial” or machine-like intelligence as our thought processes become detached from rich emotional responses. The transition to “extensive” reading Engelsing describes, however, indicates that fundamental shifts in reading and mental processing probably predated the tyranny of the screen, even the smaller black-and-white TV screen. Web evangelist Clay Shirky has pointed out that most readers had lost interest in War and Peace long before the Kindle edition came out—and for a good reason. In his view, “old literary habits,” like reading a bulky novel from cover to cover, were an unfortunate “side-effect of living in an environment of impoverished access.”16 Apparently, fast and constant web access provides not just superior alternatives to immersive linear reading, but can also alleviate the guilt at shunning bulky classics.17
In less extreme forms, Shirky’s optimism is shared by most educational experts who have sought to apply findings in neuroscience to education. Their advice is mostly aimed at increasing student enthusiasm and engagement in the classroom through the use of familiar or newer techniques—in order to “make learning NEW, EXCITING, and REWARDING.”18 This task can ostensibly be achieved through, for example, presenting material in ways that engage all the senses; using surprise and humor, or asking students to make predictions, in order to periodically jolt them into a joyfully attentive state; staging role-playing activities, preferably in period costumes; using “human interest” anecdotes; deploying different forms of experiential learning in the classroom;19 giving examples or asking students questions which prompt them to link broader and more abstract topics to their personal lives; or using the capacity of the computer, particularly in gaming mode, to capture students’ attention. The overall idea behind all these techniques is to get students into a “warmed-up state of alert stimulation” conducive to memory formation and consolidation. In the words of Judy Willis, a neurologist-turned-teacher, the use of exciting classroom techniques should help “keep this generation of students from falling into the abyss of joyless, factory-style education” through which she had to suffer.20
Most of this advice is targeted at elementary and secondary education, and seems to give a scientific grounding to older approaches seeking to encourage active, student-centered learning. Many of these approaches, however, have also been embraced by college professors, even by some who teach large lecture classes. Among the true believers, physics professor and YouTube sensation Walter Lewin has offered perhaps the most striking example. His lectures, before a packed auditorium, included many complexly choreographed, circus-grade stunts meant to illustrate basic physical principles. Despite his advanced age, he would cheerfully ride a fire-extinguisher-propelled tricycle across the stage in order to demonstrate jet propulsion; would stand still as a large metal ball suspended on a string swung and stopped an inch from his nose; or he himself would dangle, Miley-Cyrus-style, on a wire to demonstrate vividly the physics of pendulums.21
Since very few faculty members can match Prof. Lewin’s commitment, resourceful inventiveness, and acrobatic (or theatrical) skills, many have instead tried to liven up their classrooms by inviting their students to become actors. In the humanities and social sciences, students have been asked to reenact various social and historical dramas—for example, dress up and behave like the Puritan settlers who once hunted alleged witches in their midst; or imagine they are representatives of different communities in a “world simulation” as they try to work out realistic solutions to global problems and humankind’s contemporary predicament.22 Meanwhile, many faculty members who have stuck closer to the traditional lecture format have sought to turn their classes, in the words of Mark Edmundson, into “laser-and-light shows, fast-moving productions that mime the colors and sound and above all the velocity of the laptop”23 (and, one could add, of the gaming console).
In addition to stimulating classroom techniques and practices, higher education has been affected by a few additional trends. Students have been encouraged (and often given academic credit) to pursue various forms of experiential learning outside of the classroom—mostly through “service learning” and internships, but also through numerous extra-curricular activities which in some cases overshadow traditional academic learning. They have also been urged to spend a semester or year in a study-abroad program in order to develop their cultural sensitivity and empathy. All these practices are driven by the conviction that important—perhaps the most important—kinds of learning can take place outside the classroom and the traditional academic curriculum.
The belief that the traditional classroom belongs to the already distant 20th century offers inspiration to another trend in higher education which may have much more profound effects. This is the integration of online experiences into the educational process, to the point of offering online degrees. The most spirited defense of such potential “distractions” is perhaps offered by Cathy Davidson who has drawn on her experience as a teacher and vice provost for interdisciplinary studies at Duke University. She has argued that the excessive focus at the heart of traditional pedagogical approaches in fact prevents professors and students from noticing some major issues.27 The example proverbial she points to in the title of her book, Now You See It, refers to a now famous video of two teams of basketball players passing the ball. When asked to count the number of passes made by one of the teams, viewers typically fail to notice a student dressed as a large, hairy gorilla walking across the court.28
A few years ago, Harvard Magazine offered a sobering glimpse into the lives of its undergraduate students. Their overscheduled days—and nights—seem to be dedicated not so much to classes as to multiple extracurricular activities (in which, ideally, they would obtain a leadership role).24 One student interviewed for the article represents a particularly disturbing case (at least for those who tend to cringe more readily). She “can describe different levels of exhaustion. One level, she explains, is a ‘goofy feeling, like feeling drunk all the time; you’re not quite sure what’s going on. Then there’s this extra level of exhaustion, where you feel dead behind your eyes. The last four weeks, that’s where I’ve been. I get sick a lot.’” This, in fact, comes close to the delusional states induced by forced sleep deprivation or sensory overstimulation. Such overachievers typically say they love this lifestyle and cannot imagine a less intense routine.25 Unfortunately, there is recent research involving “animal models” which suggests such chronic exhaustion and sleep deprivation can result in the withering of neurons in key brain centers.26
Davidson’s argument is that the human brain is “built for distraction” by evolution, and to be human is to be distractible.29 In her view, the demand for sustained focus can thus be dehumanizing. Once this unreasonable expectation is dropped, students are bound to thrive on the distractions offered by the internet, including sampling of information, blogging and sharing thoughts and content, the democratization of judgment through the crowdsourcing of grading, online gaming, and all sorts of multitasking which can be “multiinspiring.”30
Even without such elaborate theoretical justification, many colleges and college teachers have already moved aggressively to incorporate online elements in traditional coursework (with the goal of “flipping” the classroom discussed earlier and freeing up time for more engaging activities). There are also, however, many courses and degrees offered completely online, and this may well be the wave of the future—despite some initial problems with student motivation and evaluation. A few years ago, MIT, Yale, Harvard, and a few other academic heavyweights started to provide free access to taped lectures and other course content without awarding any credit to students accessing these materials. Less prestigious schools (both in the United States and Britain) did not hesitate to make the next logical step and start offering full credit for online courses and even awarding online degrees.
This seemingly inexorable trend was later given a boost which may eventually take it out of the gravitational pull of traditional college education. The push came courtesy of a few high-tech startups like Coursera and Udacity which attracted venture capital with their promise to extend MOOCs (Massive Open Online Courses) to millions of eager students worldwide (an effort matched by the edX consortium involving Harvard, the MIT, and other top schools). Some of these companies have been started by university professors who have taught successful online courses to thousands of students and hope the new format will vastly extend their audience—and allow them to do well while doing good. Some distance-learning entrepreneurs, however, are just that—entrepreneurs, eager to “disrupt” yet another outdated industry.
In late 2013 one of the most high-profile players in the field, Udacity, stumbled and announced that it would shift its focus to more technical training—a change of direction which prompted many skeptical comments and predictions. It will be difficult, though, to put the genie back into the bottle or even scale it back substantially—particularly if new microgenerations of digitally attuned students become more accustomed to online interaction, and come to prefer it to live talk or exchange.
Champions of online education often cite as a successful example the now famous Khan Academy—a vast collection of short instructional videos. Initially, those covered mostly mathematical and natural science topics, but later their range was greatly expanded. Some high school teachers have started to ask students to watch the Khan video clips at home, using class time for problem solving and other forms of “active learning.” If the new distance learning startups are successful, however, this model could infuse and perhaps “disrupt” higher education as well—to the benefit of a few brand-name universities, private companies, and star academics, at the expense of most other educational institutions and college professors (and of thousands of students who could still benefit from a more conventional curriculum—and personal touch).