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Unwanted Protection
Imagine a sensory deprivation chamber, a chamber filled with a viscous fluid heated to 94 degrees Fahrenheit - the body's natural skin temperature - in which one can float free of any sensory input; no sound, no sight, no smell, no feeling, no taste. It is a chamber in which one can exist completely separated from reality; there is no one else to hear, no television or video games to see, nothing to make one uncomfortable. Its only drawback: stay in it for very long and one becomes anti-social, depressed, aggravated and delusional.
It seems unlikely that any parent would knowingly put their child in such a chamber, at least not for more than a few moments. Certainly not for their entire childhood. Yet the educational equivalent of this is exactly what's happening in schools every day, across the country, in most cases with parents powerless to stop it.
The Language Police, a new book from prolific education historian Diane Ravitch, examines in depth how and why special interest groups want to lock our children away in the educational equivalent of a sensory deprivation chamber. "If they can stop people from ever hearing or seeing offensive words and ideas, they can prevent them from having the thought or committing the act that the words signify," Ravitch explains. "If they never read a story about suicide or divorce, then they will never even think about killing themselves or ending their marriage. If they abolish words that have man as a prefix or suffix, then women will achieve equality. If children read and hear only language that has been cleansed of any mean or hurtful words, they will never have a mean or hurtful thought."
Ravitch's book demonstrates that in efforts to insulate children from anything that might make them uncomfortable, or expose them to ideas deemed dangerous, lobbies from both the left and the right have pressured publishers to bleach out content to which, in many cases, only the most hyper-sensitive could object. In a reflection on the experience that opened her eyes to this, Ravitch discusses a number of reading comprehension passages she and a committee of educational experts selected for use on a national test that were deemed unacceptable by the publishing company's "bias and sensitivity review" panel. Among them:
- A passage about the history and use of peanuts, which was eliminated because some test-takers might be allergic to peanuts and thus disturbed to the point of compromising their test scores by reading about them. Even worse, a second peanut history mentioned that the Spanish introduced peanuts to Europe after conquering tribes who planted them in what is now Brazil. Censors concluded that the excerpt might adversely affect students of various ethnic backgrounds.
- A story about growing up in ancient Egypt was removed because it examined differences in lifestyles associated with varying levels of wealth and status. It was eliminated by the publisher for having an "elitist" tone.
- An African-American authored story depicting two African-American girls helping one another do what each one does best - one jumping rope, the other doing math - was eliminated because it depicted one of the girls as a poor math student, supposedly perpetuating a bad-at-math stereotype of African-Americans.
- Perhaps most illustrative of the twisted logic that animates publishing censors was the removal of a true story depicting a blind man's successful climb up Mount MicKinley, the highest peak in North America. Intended to serve as an inspirational story, it was removed because it implied that a blind person faces greater obstacles conquering an icy mountain than a person with all his senses.
After recounting the event that opened her eyes to the rampant sanitization of texts and tests, Ravitch looks in-depth at how and why the phenomenon has become so dominant. What she finds is that activists of the religious right have succeeded in coercing publishing companies to eliminate content ranging from discussions of dinosaurs (which hint at evolutionary science), to fantasy stories that feature witchcraft and the occult. Similarly, pressure groups on the left have succeeded in purging language or imagery that might suggest a stereotype such as a mother preparing dinner for her children and husband, or an African American family living in a city.
But how did the pressures exerted by such contrasting constituencies render the entire educational tests and texts so uniformly milquetoast? According to Ravitch the answer, at least in large part, is the politicization of textbook adoption. She writes:
"Unlike general trade books which are sold to millions of consumers, or college textbooks, which are sold to thousands of individual professors, textbooks prepared for the schools are not sold in an open competitive marketplace. Publishers must invest millions of dollars to 'develop' a new textbook series, and their eventual success or failure depends on decisions made by a few large states. The buying and selling of textbooks is more akin to a government procurement process than it is to a real marketplace with consumer choices. The best insurance policy for stability in this highly political environment, these publishers have found, is to live within the confines of a prescriptive set of guidelines to protect them from trouble."
When textbook are selected in the political arena, the concerns of vocal minorities have disproportionate influence; most parents have neither the time nor the necessary information to apply pressure for particular books. Special-interest activists, however, do. Magnifying the problem is that the two most populous states in the nation, Texas and California, have statewide textbook adoptions. When states of that size have single adoption systems publishers are forced to tailor their books to the demands of those states. Smaller publishing companies, and books not adopted by the big states, are doomed, freezing out all but the books that appeal to - or, more accurately, do not offend - the largest number of special interest groups.
At the end of her book Ravitch suggests ways the language police can be overcome. Foremost among the three prongs of her strategy: dismantling the statewide adoption processes is California and Texas. She calls for freeing districts, schools and teachers to decide what texts to use. In conjunction with this, she calls for casting more "sunshine" on how publishers decide what does or does not get included in their tests and textbooks. Finally, she advocates improved teacher training, training that will make teachers masters of their subjects, giving them the tools and stature needed to select good books and reject those that are bad.
Parents have an instinctive desire to protect their children from harm. At the same time, though, they know that life is fraught with difficulties and dangers, and that teaching one's child to cope with life is far more beneficial to them than shutting them off from it. Locking a child away in a deprivation chamber only temporarily keeps him from perceiving what's around him; sooner or later he will have to leave the chamber. The Language Police shines a light on those who don't want our children to leave the chamber.
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