This
is a companion piece to “Saving the Poor with Science.” An abbreviated version
of it was published in Education Week on January 16, 2013.
***
Giving Cognition a Bad Name
Cognition
traditionally refers to a wide and rich range of mental processes, from memory
and attention, to comprehending and using language, to solving a difficult
problem in physics or choreography or living with someone. But over the last
few decades cognition has been reduced to a shadow of its former self. Under No
Child Left Behind and Race to the Top, cognition in education policy has
increasingly come to mean the skills measured by standardized tests of reading
and mathematics. And as economists have gotten more involved in education, they’ve
needed quantative measures of cognitive ability and academic achievement for
their analytical models, so they’ve used I.Q. or other standardized test scores
(like the Armed Forces Qualification Test or AFQT) as a proxy for intelligence
or achievement. From the Latin cognoscere,
to come to know, or cogito erqo sum, I
think therefore I am, we’ve devolved to a few digits on the AFQT.
As
if that were not enough, there is now emerging on a number of fronts – nicely
summarized in Paul Tough’s new book How Children Succeed – a belief that
our nation’s educational focus on cognition has been misguided. Rather than
focusing our energies on the academic curriculum – or on academic intervention
programs for the poor – we need to turn our attention to the development of
qualities of character or personality like perseverance, self-monitoring, and
flexibility. As much or more than the cognitive, the argument goes, it is these
qualities that account for success in school and life.
It
is healthy to be reminded about the fuller scope of education in our test- and
grade-obsessed culture, and I must admit a guilty pleasure in watching someone
as smart as Nobel Laureate James Heckman (one of the advocates for character
education) go after our current Department of Education’s reductive academic
policies.
The
importance of qualities like perseverance and flexibility are indisputable, but
what concerns me is that the advocates for character accept without question
the reductive notion of cognition that runs through our education policies, and
by accepting it further affirm it. The problem is exacerbated by the
aforementioned way economists carve up and define mental activity. If cognition
is represented by scores on ability or achievement tests, then anything not
captured in those scores – like the desired qualities of character – is, de
facto, non-cognitive. We’re now left
with a pinched notion of cognition and a reductive dichotomy to boot.
This downplaying of the cognitive and
the construction of the cognitive/non-cognitive binary will have some troubling
implications for education, especially the education of the children of the
poor.
To begin with, the labeling of
character qualities as “non-cognitive” misrepresents them – particularly if you
use the truer, richer notion of cognition. Self-monitoring, for example, has to
involve a consideration and analysis of one’s performance and mental state – a
profoundly cognitive activity. Flexibility demands a weighing of options and
decision-making. This is not just a problem of terminology, for if you don’t
have an accurate description of something, how can you help people develop it,
especially if you want to scale up your efforts?
Furthermore, these desired qualities
are developed over time in settings and relationships that are meaningful to
the participants, which most likely means that the settings and relationships
will have significant cognitive content. Two of the classic pre-school programs
that have provided a research base for the character advocates – the Perry
Preschool and Abecedarian Projects – were cognitively rich in imaginative play,
language use, and activities that required thought and cooperation.
A very different example comes from a
study I just completed observing community college occupational programs as
varied as fashion and diesel technology. As students developed competence, they
also became more committed to doing a job well, were better able to monitor and
correct their performance, and improved their ability to communicate what they
were doing and help others do it. You could be by inclination the most dogged
or communicative person in the world, but if you don’t know what you’re doing
with a garment or an engine, you’re tendencies won’t be realized in a
meaningful way in the classroom or the workshop.
Also, we have to consider the consequences of this cognitive/
non-cognitive binary in light of the history of American educational practice.
We have a powerful tendency toward either/or policies – think of old math/new
math or phonics/whole language. Given this tendency, we can predict a pendulum
swing away from the academic and toward character education. And over the past
fifty years attempts at character education as a distinct pursuit have not been
particularly successful.
Finally, the focus of the current
character education movement is on low-income children, and the cold, hard fact
is that many poor kids are already getting terrible educations in the cognitive
domain. There’s a stirring moment in Paul Tough’s book where a remarkable chess
teacher decides she’s going to try to prepare one of her star pupils for an
admissions test for New York’s selective high schools. What she found was that
this stunningly bright boy had learned pitifully little academic knowledge
during his eight years in school. It would be tragic to downplay a strong
academic education for children like him.
By all means, let us take a hard look
at our national obsession with tests and scores and grades, and let us think
more generously about what kinds of people we want our schools to develop. Part
of such reconsideration would include a reclaiming of the full meaning of
cognition, a meaning that is robust and vitally intellectual, intimately
connected to character and social development, and directed toward the creation
of a better world.
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