When I was a senior at Mamaroneck High School in Mamaroneck, New York, back in 1987, I was lucky enough to take Don Phillips’ America in the 1960s class. It was a highly coveted elective taught by a legendary educator. Don (as we students called him) loomed large in our collective consciousness. He wore a T-shirt and jeans; was always energetic and smiling; and didn’t seem to care too much about grades, rules, or the status quo. He was less like an authority figure and more like a co-conspirator to students who wanted to get through high school by doing just enough work to get decent grades, have as much fun as possible playing guitar in a lame cover band, and try to figure out their place in the world. For those of who didn’t read the preppy handbook and weren’t interested in Wall Street and BMWs, Don represented a recent past where kids were free. And his class gave us an opportunity to explore what was really going on during the time that produced a lot of the music we loved.
High school for me looked pretty much the same as it does for my kids today: Take seven courses a year aligned to Carnegie units — some core, some elective. Participate in extracurriculars that pique your interest, aren’t super-competitive, give you time with friends, or might boost your chance of getting into a good college. Rinse and repeat. This structure remains the norm today despite the technological innovations, demographic shifts, economic instability, climate crisis, and political dysfunction transforming our society. There are changes all around (and sometimes within) our schools, but the structure of school itself — or the grammar of school, to borrow from David Tyack and Larry Cuban (1995) and, more recently, Jal Mehta (2022) — remains immovable.
Expectations and electives
I was reminded of this when I was helping my 9th-grade son register for next year’s classes. As I looked at the course catalog, I was struck that when it came to required core courses, there were limited offerings. In English, for example, he could choose between English 10 or Honors English 10. There are a few electives that are adjacent to English, such as journalism, but his elective schedule is limited because he has to take a full year of health education, which is a new requirement for his class, and a state-required technology course.
When he was choosing a world language class, however, there were a plethora of options — ranging from Russian, Japanese, and Arabic to, of course, Spanish and French. There was also a wide array of fine arts courses. I have no problems with offering students multiple options of languages to learn, and the myriad arts choices are a wonderful thing. Yet, I wonder what messages are being sent when precious public resources are used to limit the definitions of what literature, history, science, and math students should learn while providing a multitude of options for elective exploration. What if the joy and power that comes with engaging in a non-core class that’s aligned to your passion were embedded in the experience of learning the required subjects? Can every class be like Don Phillips’ America in the 1960s? Can we offer students more opportunities to engage in aspects of the core content that interest them?
I am not arguing for a “choose your own adventure” approach to high school education. I’m a firm believer in standards, and I think all students should have some common experiences through public education. In fact, I think our standards for kids should be higher, as I’ve seen young people rise to the occasion more often than not. But when it comes to the specific curricular standards we want kids to meet, I think we have to ask what we want kids to know and be able to do as a result of graduating high school, and how does their ability to choose help them prepare for colleges and careers?
Deciding what’s essential
Although I do think kids should have some common experiences, I’m not arguing for narrowing the curriculum. I want students to have the chance to take courses they’re passionate about. But what does it say when young people have limited options in core subject areas? Is the content of English 10 and World History 9 — the books students read or the facts they learn — that important? Or should the focus instead be on the skills students develop when they engage with complex ideas found within that content?
If we want students to learn a foreign language, there are multiple entry points. Whether they become fluent in Japanese, Spanish, or Arabic isn’t the point. The benefits to the brain, the exposure to other cultures, and the experience of authentically engaging with people who have a different background from you create enormous value. So why can’t students choose from a range of historical eras, branches of science or math, or literary genres to explore as they develop the skills necessary to thrive in college and careers? The world is too complex and rich to limit the possibilities.
Parents and students are well aware of the outlier teacher who inspires and motivates students in new and powerful ways. Not every teacher can be like that, and we should not expect it. Yet, if students and parents know there are a few nuggets like this deep within every high school course catalog, I imagine they’d be more than willing to help leaders mine the ore.
We also have to think about how we use public resources to achieve our collective aims. During my first budget season in Stamford, Connecticut, I knew I couldn’t ask for more staff until I was sure all employees’ time and talents were being used optimally. So, we analyzed the high school schedules, and lo and behold, we found that some teachers — typically veterans — weren’t teaching a full load. Or they had two periods with limited enrollment.
My favorite was the French teacher who had 11 students in Advanced Placement (AP) French and 12 students in French 5, but bien sûr, the classes couldn’t be combined because the material was so different, and the students were at very different stages. Then there were the AP classes with 30 students enrolled in September that suddenly dropped down to 18 by the second quarter because the teacher had given incredibly difficult assignments early to weed students out. I calculated that each period was worth about $20,000, if you took a veteran teacher’s salary and benefit load and divided it by the five periods when they were teaching. So, if you combine AP French and French 5, or keep kids enrolled and supported in an AP course, you could use those savings to hire more teachers.
What school should be
Leaders have the ability to organize conversations in their communities that explore what students need to learn and how schools can get them there. In fact, I think they have the obligation to do so. Parents and students are well aware of the outlier teacher who inspires and motivates students in new and powerful ways. Not every teacher can be like that, and we should not expect it. Yet, if students and parents know there are a few nuggets like this deep within every high school course catalog, I imagine they’d be more than willing to help leaders mine the ore.
Today, as we’re forced to consider how schools are preparing students to thrive in an increasingly complex world on their own terms, there are four domains leaders should organize school around:
- Academics is clearly the primary purpose of school, as students need to know how to read, write, compute, reason, analyze, and communicate to succeed in college and careers.
- We also have to double down on the civic purpose of school and provide young people with a shared understanding of our history. They need the language and skills to engage with others from different perspectives and backgrounds as citizens of one nation.
- School should be about exploring personal interests that may lead to a passion that provides focus and stability after college. We don’t need to relegate young people to distinct careers at age 16, but they should be able to do more of what they’re interested in.
- Finally, school should be fun. High school teachers can learn a lot from their elementary colleagues about engaging students in energetic and creative activities. There’s nothing wrong with joy, and we should be sparking more of it in young people rather than tamping it down.
Perhaps Don Phillips was an outlier, and we can’t expect every class to be like his. But I imagine if we gave teachers a little more leeway to teach their passions, they’d develop courses like America in the 1960s. And if we focused as much on the skills and competencies developed through engaging in a variety of rich content, rather than just knowing the material itself, I imagine more students would find meaning in what they’re learning.
Doing away with the Carnegie unit isn’t likely to happen soon, and the skepticism of many parents, the public, and college admissions officers surely will hinder any effort to make big changes. But it seems to me that leaders must push on these conversations, or my future grandkids’ schools won’t be noticeably different from their parents’ — or from mine.
References
Mehta, J. (2022). Toward a new grammar of schooling. Phi Delta Kappan, 103, (5), 54-57.
Tyack, D.B. & Cuban, L. (1995). Tinkering toward utopia: A century of public school reform. Harvard University Press.
This article appears in the April 2023 issue of Kappan, Vol. 104, No. 7, pp. 58-59.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joshua P. Starr
Joshua P. Starr is the managing partner at the International Center for Leadership in Education, a division of HMH, based in Boston, MA. He is the author of Equity-based Leadership: Leveraging Complexity to Transform School Systems.
