Lessons learned from a search for common ground 

In a year marked by COVID-19, school closures, a polarizing presidential campaign, and questions of racial justice, Rick Hess and Pedro Noguera engaged in a long-running correspondence that tackled many of the biggest questions in education — including topics like school choice, equity and diversity, testing, privatization, the achievement gap, social and emotional learning, and civics. Rick and Pedro sought to unpack their disagreements, better understand one another’s perspectives, and seek places of agreement or points of common understanding. In their forthcoming book, A Search for Common Ground: Conversations About the Toughest Questions in K-12 Education (Teachers College Press, 2021), they share that correspondence. Here, they reflect on the exercise, what they learned from it, and what lessons it might offer to educators, education leaders, researchers, and policy makers. 

 

Dear Rick, 

Back in late 2019, when you first suggested writing this book, my immediate response was yes. I welcomed the opportunity to engage in an exchange with you because I was frustrated with conflicts over policy that have become all too familiar in America and in schooling. Our nation and many of its communities have grown polarized. Because the divisions run so deep, we’re often not able to address the difficult, complex issues that we really need to grapple with if we’re going to make progress in education.  

That’s why we embarked on this project: Education is precisely the place where we need a model of respectful debate — of listening to each other, respectfully disagreeing, and trying to find common ground when possible, without compromising the principles we hold dear or talking past each other. If we want students to be able to participate fully in our democracy, they must learn to debate in a principled way, without demonizing or belittling those they disagree with. For example, in the ongoing argument over charter schools, too often the advocates claim that charters are a panacea that will “save” education, while too many of the critics refuse to acknowledge that some charter schools obtain excellent results that other schools should learn from. In our chapter on charter schools, we were able to come to agreement on the strengths of some charters without ignoring the problems associated with their unregulated proliferation.  

Because neither of us holds back in saying or writing about what we think, our exchanges were candid and we refused to play it safe, even when discussing controversial topics. This was particularly a challenge for me when we addressed issues related to race and achievement. It would have been very easy for me to fall into the trap of name calling and making sweeping incriminations without taking the arguments you made seriously. Despite the temptation, I stayed focused on the evidence and arguments you presented as I offered a different perspective. My hope is that this type of discourse can prove helpful to others who seek to reduce the polarization in education, so that we can move in the direction of problem solving through dialogue. 

I’ve always enjoyed debating ideas. When I was growing up, my father would often have friends over who would discuss politics and religion. My father and several of my uncles were cops in New York City, and I found some of what they would say to be very reactionary — especially when they’d talk about social and racial issues. I always wanted to join in, particularly when they said things that I disagreed with. But since they were my elders, I had to figure out how to express myself and disagree respectfully. I really enjoyed being in an adult conversation and articulating a position at odds with what others were saying, and over time, I learned to state my views in a way that isn’t dismissive.  

You and I have frequently been on opposite sides of the education debates over the past couple decades, on topics ranging from Common Core to teacher tenure. But I was willing to write this book with you because I know you and respect you. Over the years, even when I’ve disagreed with things you’ve written or said, I liked that you grounded your ideas in evidence, not ideology. I knew you were reasonable enough that we could actually engage with each other, so I welcomed your invitation.  

In today’s world, there’s a risk that your “own side” will see you as a traitor or a sellout just for conversing with someone who holds beliefs that are different from your own. But throughout this process, I never worried that people on either end of the spectrum would see us as betraying certain principles or ideas because we were acknowledging the validity of points from the opposite side. Especially now, with our nation so divided over politics, I believe it is critical for us to show that we can disagree without villainizing each other. I think readers will see that exchanging ideas does not mean compromising on principles. 

Curious what strikes you about the experience, my friend.  

– Pedro 

 

Dear Pedro, 

It’s funny to read your take because it so closely matches my own feelings. There’s a great need for actual dialogue across differences. But over the past couple of decades, I’ve found that there’s usually a limit to how far even well-intentioned conversations can proceed. 

For instance, for a number of years now, I’ve hosted a Bipartisan Symposia Series in which a dozen or two influential people in education gather to wrestle with issues like civics, teacher professionalism, and educational equity. Those conversations feature alumni of the Clinton, Bush, Obama, and Trump administrations; prominent figures from education think tanks and advocacy groups on the left and right; a smattering of academics; and leaders from the teacher unions and other educator groups. These conversations are robust, respectful, and wide-ranging. And yet, given the number of participants, the evolving cast of characters, the political nature of most of those in the room, and the limited time we have together, it’s hard to move anybody from their established positions. We trade provocative ideas, but I wouldn’t say that we reach a shared understanding or find common ground. 

When I suggested we try this, I couldn’t help but wonder whether we’d also end up rehashing our disagreements. I knew you’d come at some topics, such as equity and diversity or the role of for-profits, very differently than I would. And I’ve been in too many unproductive exchanges for part of me not to wonder if I was just signing on for another round of ad hominem denunciation.  

Instead, it wound up feeling like we’d embarked together on a journey of mutual understanding. That’s what made this collaboration one of the most heartening things I’ve done in years. 

You know, in training educators, we talk a lot about the need for “courageous conversations.” But I think we agree that we have too few of these in practice. There’s nothing courageous about preaching to the choir. It’s not courageous for liberals to tell one another that they’re right or for conservatives to do the same. Back in 1999, Cass Sunstein observed that deliberation among a group of like-minded individuals tends to make the whole group’s views more extreme. As you and I have frequently remarked, talking with those who think like we do doesn’t open our minds; instead, it intensifies and calcifies our views. Groups become so doctrinaire that just asking hard questions can be seen as a sign of weakness.  

Such like-mindedness also makes it difficult for those who disagree with the dominant narrative to speak up. After all, being a conservative in the higher reaches of American education today can be a lonely path. It’s no surprise to observe that schools of education, education associations, teacher unions, and the rest tend to lean decidedly left. I eventually stopped going to major education conferences, partly because I got tired of feeling like a freak in an environment where there was a default acceptance of attitudes and assertions that I found dubious. Of course, when most people in a given room share common assumptions, speaking up with a different point of view tends to prompt remonstration rather than curiosity.  

At AEI, I’ve tried to compensate by creating room for the heterodoxy I seek in programs like the Bipartisan Symposia. I’ve hosted loads of events, talks, and working groups, many featuring those who see things very differently than I do — whether that’s Diane Ravitch, Arne Duncan, Lily Eskelsen Garcia, or Randi Weingarten. Of course, one of the privileges of being at a think tank is that getting people together is part of the job description; and one of the hidden benefits of being a conservative in this work is that it’s incredibly easy to find lots of people who see things very differently. So, I’m lucky that I’ve gotten a fair bit of practice at this, but all that practice has left me struck at how hard it is to really break through distrust and misunderstanding.  

What our effort has made clear to me is that many of our disagreements aren’t as big as they seem. For instance, debates about the role of big philanthropy in education often play out as a clash of caricatures of specific foundations, but we managed to have a nuanced conversation about when donors add value and how we can learn from their efforts. On the topic of school spending, rather than a sweeping debate about whether or not schools are “underfunded,” we had a measured discussion about precisely where schools need more funding, where they don’t, and how to ensure that dollars are spent responsibly. Unfortunately, in education, as in the nation, we have too few models for traversing our divides. But in fact, when you take a closer look and commit to talking things out, many bitter disputes turn out to be rooted in honest, potentially reconcilable differences of perspective. 

What I most appreciated about this exercise was that it felt like a model for doing just that, and one that we can share with so many others who believe that education should be a place where our debates display the better angels of our nature. 

– Rick  

 

Dear Rick, 

As our exchanges have progressed, it’s also become clear to me that many of our disagreements about education are not as great as I originally thought they would be. As we explore the complexity of the issues — school discipline, choice, social and emotional learning — there have been a number of times where you or I have acknowledged the validity of points that run counter to our stated views, and we have both shown some openness to modifying our positions on an issue based on the soundness of a counterargument. I believe this has made the exchanges more authentic and demonstrates a willingness on our parts to actually listen to each other. This has made it possible for us to find a surprising amount of common ground without compromising our commitments to core values. 

Take the topic of privatization in education, for example. At the time we began our exchange, I thought I knew clearly where I stood: I strenuously oppose efforts to privatize public education through voucher programs, and I have actively opposed efforts to close struggling public schools in low-income communities and replace them with charter schools. However, as you pointed out, there are many ways public schools already work with the private sector. If we view privatization in a more nuanced way, then I don’t feel the need to oppose it in a knee-jerk manner. Indeed, when I was school board member, we worked with private companies to deliver a variety of services to our schools and the district. In some cases (for example, providing services to children with special needs), the private sector was clearly more efficient. Avoiding the dichotomies we often used to frame issues like privatization allowed us to have a more productive discussion about when and where the private sector can be helpful.  

Similarly, in our conversation about racial equity in schools, I was expecting to fight with you if you contested my concern about the blatant injustice in the way resources are allocated to many public schools in low-income communities of color. However, on several of the issues I raised, you conceded much more than I expected, and you pointed out examples where public resources have been used quite effectively by districts serving low-income kids of color. Our ability to listen to each other, and to give and take, prevented our exchanges from becoming acrimonious. I saw movement in your positions, which showed me you were actually listening to the arguments I presented. And, in several cases, my positions shifted as well.  

We used to see this kind of principled disagreement modeled more, such as in the old “Point/Counterpoint” segment on 60 Minutes, or in the Intelligence Squared debates that have recently taken off in various countries. We need more of those models. Our correspondence gave me hope that such exchanges can happen, and I believe they should. I hope that others will be motivated by our willingness to listen to each other to follow our example. Our democracy is strengthened when we can treat those we disagree with and whose ideas we oppose, not as enemies, but as people worthy of being listened to and understood.  

I’m not naïve about this. There are people — racists, bigots, nativists, and so on — whose views I can never simply accept. However, I learned from this last election that when you have a neighbor or an associate who voted differently than you did, it is wise to try to understand where they are coming from, if you can. This is especially true in education because we have so many problems that need to be solved, and no individual or group seems to have the monopoly on solutions or good ideas.  

So, I hope that our conversation is helpful to others in education. Education may not be the most important issue facing this country, but I believe it is the best resource we have to create a more just and equitable future.  

– Pedro 

 

Dear Pedro, 

You know, when we started this correspondence, I imagined it playing out differently. While we’d said it should be a search for understanding, I’m pretty sure I expected more of a debate. That’s not because I thought the world needed one more debate right now or because I believed we’d settle anything — it’s just what I’ve grown used to. 

I love where we wound up. We agreed that teacher pay should be raised, but that this requires rethinking how teaching is configured rather than simply layering new funds atop existing arrangements. We also agreed that school choice and for-profit operators have a useful role to play in our system, but that the nature and design of this role is complicated — and something about which reasonable people can disagree. And even in the many places where we didn’t find much agreement, we came away with a deeper understanding of one another’s stance. That’s heartening and significant. 

Given that such dialogue so rarely happens, I’ve been thinking over what worked in negotiating this terrain. For one thing, it helped immensely that we knew, liked, and trusted each other. Our work certainly gives us the time to engage in something like this. And we got away from the now-familiar habit of policing one another’s statements with an eye to scoring points or finding cause to take offense. I’m sure I used turns of phrase that rubbed you wrong, but you were always willing to engage over the substance and deal in good faith. I tried to do the same. 

In his wonderful book, So Much Reform, So Little Change, Charles Payne talks about how distrust has a poisonous impact on school culture. When people trust one another to be reliable and responsible, things are much more likely to work than when everyone is inclined to treat every miscue as evidence of bad intentions and incipient failure. On the other hand, trust and faith in one another’s good intentions can create a virtuous cycle, where missteps are overcome and little victories help forge bonds of growing trust.  

Well, it feels like today’s debates — in education as in the larger polity — are caught in a vicious cycle of distrust. People are reluctant to reach out in good faith because they fear that, at best, they’ll be wasting their time and, at worst, they’ll be attacked or vilified. So, champions of school vouchers speak to their circle and the ed school professoriate speaks to theirs, and they mostly encounter one another through tweets and snippets — all of which serve to reinforce their mutual distrust.  

Our collaboration offered a stark contrast; it was rooted in trust and allowed us to put that trust to work. From one letter to the next, I could feel my trust growing. And I think our willingness to be transparent and open grew in turn. That may help explain why so many of your insights registered with me and why we found so many points of unexpected agreement.  

It strikes me some of what we did to create that environment might be especially helpful for those who want more of this kind of engagement in their classrooms, schools, and workplaces. We can all find opportunities to lend each other the benefit of the doubt, to deal in good faith, to avoid “whataboutism,” to respond to the points the other is actually arguing, and to engage deliberately and reflectively. After all, as you’ve noted, if those of us in education can’t model respectful disagreement ourselves, we can’t possibly expect our students to do so. I hope that we have perhaps provided encouragement and a blueprint for those who agree that we need to do better on this account.  

The truth is that I’m exceptionally proud of what we accomplished. I feel like we managed to do something difficult at a time when it feels exceptionally important — and that reflects the best of the American tradition. This nation is a great and remarkable project, but it’s ultimately only what we make of it. And now, my friend, I think we agree that we need to work with friends and allies from across the world of education to carry it forward. Let’s get going on that.  

– Rick