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Education Reads to Start Your Week, June 6th
Jingle-Jangle Fallacy, School Violence, Proficiency and Growth
Hi! This is Scholastic Alchemy, a twice-weekly blog where I write about education and related topics. Wednesday posts are typically a deep dive into an education topic of my choosing and Mondays usually see me posting a selection of education links and some commentary about each. If Scholastic Alchemy had a thesis, I suppose it would go a little like this: We keep trying to induce educational gold from lead and it keeps not working but we keep on trying. My goal here is to talk about curriculum, instruction, policy, public opinion, and other topics in order to explain why I think we keep failing to produce this magical educational gold. If you find that at all interesting, please consider a paid subscription here, or at the parallel publishing spot on Beehiiv. (Some folks hate the ‘stack, I get it.) That said, all posts are going to remain free for the foreseeable future. Thanks for reading!
Jingle-Jangle Fallacy
Ben Zulaf has been in the middle of a series trying to get teachers to incorporate more of the science of learning into their pedagogy. In his May 27th post, he spends some time teasing out a few fallacies we may encounter when trying to figure out exactly what is and is not SoL. He uses two kinds of fallacies to explain what may be happening. The jingle fallacy is the confusion that occurs when two concepts share the same name. The jangle fallacy is the confusion when two different words are describing the same concept.
One thing I’ve learned is that Direct Instruction (DI) is not the same thing as direct instruction (di). DI refers to a very scripted curriculum whereas di is a set of pedagogical principles that can be applied to any curriculum or content. Right off the bat, we can see how jingle-jangle fallacies are allowed to exist.
One example he has is when he got into a discussion with a curriculum rep about adopting more explicit instruction but the rep kept insisting on Direct Instruction as was laid out in the curriculum. Looking back, Zulaf recognizes that “the curriculum rep and I were pushing for some of the same ideas, but we were not using the same words.”
In another example, Zulaf was preparing to roll out some direct instruction training and in consultation with coaches for his district had collected a list of their understandings of what direct instruction was. The responses were all over the place.
We were all using the same term–direct instruction–but we were definitely not all speaking the same language. I want to say that this is not in any way a critique of any of these responses. I shared my own jangle fallacy first to illustrate that I understood where these people were in their learning. I was in their same exact position just three years earlier. But if education in general wants to escape our current jingle fallacy, then we need to know the research.
One thing that Zulaf gets across here that I really hope people take with them is the sense that the kind of good teaching we know and love is the science of learning if only we’d see it that way.
Perhaps it’s time we recognize that teacher-led or student-centered instruction is a false dichotomy. Teacher-led instruction is inherently student-centered because what the teacher does is based on what the students demonstrate. It’s putting students’ knowledge at the center and making a determination of what to do next. If students are demonstrating that they don’t yet understand, teachers can provide more examples and explicit instruction. This represents teachers realizing that students are still in the acquisition stage and responding appropriately. If students demonstrate that they understand, teachers can start to fade support until students need it again, using the “I do, we do, you do” as a sliding scale instead of a strict lesson progression. This represents teachers using real-time data to determine where students are in the hierarchy and delivering instruction accordingly. Calling this style of teaching anything other than student-centered demonstrates a lack of understanding of what direct instruction is.
And, just because the passage has been sitting in my head all week, let’s compare the above with the descriptions of learning proffered by another popular advocate of the science of learning.
At Alpha School, developers have pioneered an AI proctoring platform that is able to create the kinds of constraints that lead to learning at scale. The system monitors not just for prohibited behaviours such as using chatbots, but for also for distraction and patterns of cognitive engagement such as time on task, latency and tracking whether students are actually thinking through problems or bypassing that effort. It’s an attempt to restore, through algorithmic observation, the accountability structure that classroom presence naturally provides. Seeing it in action last year changed my mind. I had assumed that effective learning at scale required a traditional classroom; Alpha's system suggests a credible alternative.
Now, before you go off on me, I understand that the latter quote is talking about proctoring but it seems pretty clear from reporting that these systems are deployed whenever students at these schools are doing schoolwork. My point, though, is less about the surveillance or the sense that your computer is going to get mad at you if you are distracted. What I want to point out are two diverging views of the science of learning, at least when it comes to assessment and accountability. Zulaf paints a picture where assessment is ongoing, flexible, and student-centered. Teachers begin with students’ knowledge and make a determination about what to teach, and on and on in cycles. Hendrick, on the other hand, is delivering much of the same through “algorithmic observation.” With Zulaf, formative assessments of students’ knowledge are done by the teacher in the context of a classroom with the goal being to further increase their knowledge. The teacher is engaged in the students’ learning. With Hendrick’s learning management system, formative assessments are computerized quizzes delivered individually to students who are expected to display “cognitive engagement” with the goal being a proof-of-learning by passing subsequent computer quizzes. The engagement is on the student and the system uses “accountability” to, well, coerce that engagement.
Both of these approaches are the science of learning but the take place in deeply different contexts. I obviously have my preferences but it’s worth noting that this is exactly the kind of jingle-jangle problem that Zulaf is writing and warning us about. If we don’t have the same understanding of what the science of learning or direct instruction or whatever look like, then we’re going to continue seeing radically different approaches to learning fall under the same umbrella.
School Violence
Speaking of compliance and accountability, The New York Times published an investigation into violence by school police in Texas. Now, I have to say that as a Southerner, I was immediately wondering why they picked Texas. It’s pretty common for the affluent liberal NYT readership to look down their nose at the rest of the country and writing hitjobs plays into that mental bubble pretty well. But, it turns out they have pretty good reasons for looking at Texas. Texas has dramatically increased the presence of armed police in schools following the shooting at Uvalde elementary (where, I might add, police infamously did not intervene quickly leading to the deaths of several children).
In the four years since a gunman killed 19 children and two adults at an elementary school in Uvalde, school districts in Texas have spent billions of dollars to put police officers on every school campus in the state. This outlay is meant to protect students from similar attacks. And our reporters spoke with dozens of parents, teachers, principals and students who said they believed in it. School police officers stop violent fights. They confiscate weapons. And they’re a balm against a parent’s greatest fear: school shootings.
“Just look at the TV,” a third-grade math teacher in Dallas told The Times. “There’s no school in America that should not have some kind of officer.”
But the flood of Texas school police officers — about 11,000 have been trained, more than the total number of police officers in many states — has not always made public schools safer.
Officers have instead turned to heavy-handed tactics o
Just as a frame of reference, the Chicago Police have about 11,000 uniformed officers so Texas schools have added, effectively, an entire city’s worth of cops to schools. This is way more than any other state.
Today, Texas is home to nearly 400 school district police departments, more than all other states combined. Most of the remaining districts have contracts with outside police agencies. The number of officers trained to work in schools — about 11,000 — exceeds the total number of police officers in at least two dozen states.
I do, however, want to highlight a minor point in the article that there are very real safety concerns and that school police in Texas have been part of keeping schools safe.
In interviews, dozens of parents, teachers, principals and students said that they believed police officers were needed to keep schools safe. Many praised officers for stopping violent fights. Almost everyone cited fear of school shootings. As recently as March, a student at a high school in the San Antonio area shot a teacher and then killed himself. School officers have confiscated dozens of guns in that region alone, and some have thwarted potential attacks.
This is not to say that I am not deeply disturbed by the violence and threatening language deployed by police detailed in this article. Even if we just focus on the way officers are talking to students, this is pretty bad stuff.
Across the state, officers directed obscenities, insults and threats at students just before or after using physical force, records and video footage show.
“Stop crying like a little girl,” a school police officer in San Antonio ordered a seventh-grade boy who had gotten in trouble for being disruptive.
“Boy, I will hurt you,” an officer in Houston told a high school student who talked back to him.
“Get your fucking hands up before I shoot you!” an officer in Galveston shouted while pointing her gun at a 17-year-old she had cornered in a yard. The teen had run off campus after he was caught with a vape.
Most officers employed by a Texas school district previously worked for municipal police agencies, an analysis of police certification data found. More than 1,000 worked as jailers.
In those roles, officers are encouraged to have a commanding presence in order to take control of dangerous situations.
“The notion of policing requires force,” said Aaron Kupchik, a professor of sociology and criminal justice at the University of Delaware, who writes about school policing. “It requires that you compel people to obey your authority.”
But dealing with young people, he and other law enforcement experts said, calls for a different approach. Research shows that adolescents, whose brains have not yet fully developed, often have difficulty with impulse control. Yelling at or physically dominating them, the experts added, can backfire.
So, here are a few points I want to make
I think we have to see this kind of police violence in relation to other problems schools face. It’s not in a vacuum. The article mentions school shootings and that’s one component but we also have to think about students’ home environments, their neurological response to using tech in school and out, the inability of school to provide a pro-social outlet, inadequate support for inclusion, etc. None of this excuses the violence but it’s both a cause and a symptom.
Control and compliance are core missions of schools and whatever elites are in control of the state at that time. I think the local nature of schooling in the US makes us forget that schools can be a way that states exercise power. As we know from Raised to Obey, whenever the state (or the elites who run it) sees something as threatening to its stability and control they will act and schools are part of that program. There was a lot of upset with the government of Texas in the wake of Uvalde and this response it’s just about school safety, it’s about the Texas leadership maintaining power and mollifying the public.
I also wonder what these kinds of police actions do in the context of Texas’ accountability school systems. What happens to a school’s test scores when students are regularly brutalized by police? What happens to absenteeism in these schools? Does this kind of thing get taken into account when, say, a school is listed as failing or a district is subject to state takeover? Probably not. If anything, lots of police violence in a school might make disciplinary actions against schools more likely.
Likewise, when we decry poor academic performance in the media or in internet comments sections, do we consider other contexts like school violence or violence by school police? How often do discussions about whether schools are failing or what makes a good school consider anything besides academics? Do we only offer academic solutions and are we content to let these children be the kid locked in a basement broom closet in Omelas?
Proficiency and Growth
The Hechinger Report tells us that Washington DC’s schools are simultaneously among the nation’s fastest improving schools and their lowest performing. Now, DC isn’t a red state so I’m sure we won’t be hearing about the DC miracle anytime soon but it does raise an important distinction that is often lost in conversations about school improvement. If you are starting from a low baseline, you can dramatically improve scores (or whatever measure) and still be far below proficient.
Washington students in both public and charter schools gained roughly two-thirds of a grade level in math and about a third of a grade level in reading over that period, according to the analysis. A grade level represents roughly a year’s worth of learning, which means that eighth graders in 2025 were about six months ahead in math compared with eighth graders in 2022.
But the gains should not obscure a grimmer reality.
In 2025, only 26 percent of Washington students met grade-level standards in math and only 38 percent were proficient in reading, according to a separate report from the D.C. Policy Center, an independent local think tank. Just 16 percent of high school juniors and seniors were considered to be college or career ready.
Rather than make a bunch of points myself, I’ll turn it over to Peter Greene.
This was always part of the debate over tying teacher evaluation to student scores. Focus on growth, and teachers of honors classes are in trouble, because a student who’s already at the 98th percentile isn’t going to grow at all. Focus on proficiency scores, and the teachers who are assigned the low-achieving students are in trouble, because no matter how well they teach those students, they will still lag (no, Virginia, there is no magical technique for “catching up” students quickly-- if there was, teachers would use it all the time).
Worse, when policy bases teacher or school evaluation on proficiency, it turns the lowest achievers into hot potatoes. We’ve seen this in action where charter and voucher schools work hard to avoid those low-scoring students who would mess up their numbers. When Steven Wilson is cited in the article pointing to charter schools with low-income students and high levels of proficiency, he’s simply pointing to the effects of creaming, where schools do their best to avoid having their numbers damaged by low-scoring students. There is no magic trick there that can be applied “at scale” for the public system.
Ultimately, schools can not win playing the growth measurement game because schools cannot raise student scores every year forever, as if somehow each cohort of students was smarter than their older siblings. Test scores are not a stock market ticker.
But schools also cannot win the proficiency game. BS Test scores and “grade levels” are scaled and normed (curved). If the BS Test were truly standards based, students taking the test could be scored instantly after they clicked the last answer. But the scores have to be computed and compared and scaled and then some state bureau sets the cut scores. But curves have to have a bottom. If, after years of intensive effort, every child tested above grade level for reading, we would not conclude that a reading education moonshot had occurred-- we would conclude that “grade level” had been set too low. If every child was rated “proficient,” we would conclude that the requirements for “proficient” had been made too easy (just check every piece complaining about grade inflation).
Thanks for reading!