The End of Education (18 page)

I
n his vast study of democracy in America, Alexis de Tocqueville concluded that all our political problems end up in the courts. Had there existed a public school system when he wrote, he might have added that all America’s social problems end up in school. Are students insufficiently motivated to learn? Are they confused about or ignorant of the moral aspects of sex? Do they drive cars badly? Do they need psychological counseling? Are they uninformed about the dangers of drugs, alcohol, smoking, AIDS?

In America, it becomes the school’s business to do something about these things. Of course, we have ample evidence that the schools do not do them very well, and there are those who believe that by assigning the schools the task of solving intractable social problems, we turn them into well-funded garbage dumps. This is a rather gross way to state the objection, frequently made by people of ill will. But there is, nonetheless, a reasoned complaint against the schools’ trying to do what other social institutions are supposed to do but don’t. The principal argument is that teachers are not competent to serve as priests, psychologists, therapists, political reformers, social workers, sex advisers, or parents. That some teachers might wish to do so is understandable, since in this way they may elevate their prestige. That some would feel it
necessary to do so is also understandable, since many social institutions, including the family and church, have deteriorated in their influence. But unprepared teachers are not an improvement on ineffective social institutions; the plain fact is that there is nothing in the background or education of teachers that qualifies them to do what other institutions are supposed to do. It should be clear, by the way, that in this argument the phrase “unprepared teachers” does not mean that teachers cannot do
their
work. It means they cannot do
everyone’s
work.

Having noted this, I hasten to say that it is not likely that Americans will change their views of school responsibilities, especially at a time when the potency of other institutions is problematic. Among the more controversial efforts along these lines is the attempt by some schools to ensure that students cultivate a deep sense of ethnic pride, a task once undertaken mostly by the family. I have, earlier, revealed that I think this to be a bad idea—to the extent that it subordinates or ignores the essential task of public schools, which is to find and promote large, inclusive narratives for all students to believe in. The principle of diversity is such a narrative and it is sometimes, strangely, confused with the idea of ethnic pride. To promote the understanding of diversity is, in fact, the opposite of promoting ethnic pride. Whereas ethnic pride wants one to turn inward, toward the talents and accomplishments of one’s own group, diversity wants one to turn outward, toward the talents and accomplishments of all groups. Diversity is the story that tells of how our interactions with many kinds of people make us into what we are. It is a story strongly supported by the facts of human cultures. It does not usurp the function or authority of other social institutions. It does not undermine ethnic pride, but places one’s ethnicity in the context of our common culture. It helps to explain the
past, give clarity to the present, and provide guidance for the future. It is, in short, a powerful and inspiring narrative available for use in our public schools.

Among the many expressions of cultural diversity, there are four that stand out as of particular importance: language, religion, custom, and art and artifacts. Each of these may be thought of as a major subject or theme capable of revealing how difference contributes to increased vitality and excellence, and, ultimately, to a sense of unity.

To give prominence to the study of the history of the English language cannot fail to offer students a clear view of the significance of diversity, and it is a wonder to me that those who speak passionately about the importance of diversity have not thought of this. As I have previously noted, English is the most multicultural language on Earth, and anyone who speaks it is indebted to people all over the world. It has been said, for example, that English is merely the French language pronounced badly. A wild exaggeration, of course, probably uttered by an embittered Frenchman. But, in fact, the English language has taken thousands of words from the French, beginning in the twelfth century. To take one small example: Almost all the words we use in law come from French—
bail, bailiff, jury, larceny, embezzle, perjury
. On the other hand, it might also be said that English is merely the German language pronounced badly, starting, as it did, as a Teutonic tongue. Or we may say that English comes from the Danish language. Almost all modern English words with an
sk
sound, such as
skill, skim, scare
, and
sky
are of Scandinavian origin, and it is more than likely that our words
man, wife
,
house, life, winter
, and many verbs—
to see, to hear, to ride, to sit
, and
to stand
—are also of Scandinavian origin.

How these words came to be part of English is a result of multiple invasions and conquests. Diversity sometimes comes at a heavy price. The Angles, Saxons, and Jutes (from northern Germany) invaded Britain, which was a province of the Roman Empire, drove out the Celts, and spoke the language we call Anglo-Saxon. In the eighth century, the Danes came, saw, and conquered. In the eleventh century, the Normans arrived. Otto Jespersen, one of the preeminent scholars of the history of English, and himself a Dane, wondered why most English words for meat
before
it is cooked are of Saxon origin—for example,
cow, swine, sheep
, and
calf
—while most of our words for meat
after
it is cooked are of Norman origin—
beef, pork, mutton
, and
veal
. His explanation: Since the Normans conquered the Saxons, the Saxons became their servants. In the kitchen, they used their own words; in the dining room, they were required to use Norman words. (This still leaves one mystery: Our word
breakfast
is of Saxon origin;
dinner
and
supper
are of Norman origin. Perhaps the Normans didn’t eat until noon?)

To study the history of the English language is, therefore, to study the history of English-speaking peoples, or vice versa, which is the way I think it might be done if we wish to stress the importance of cultural interactions. I cannot say at what age students ought to begin the study of the history of English in ways that stress its multicultural dimensions. I know it can be done in the seventh grade, since I have done it.

Keeping an old teacher’s tendency toward nostalgia under tight control, I can remember, nonetheless, the enthusiasm and even wonder of seventh graders discovering, first, the origins of their own names and then the various sources of the names of common foods. The latter assignment asked the
students to imagine that four of them went to a local diner for lunch and gave the following orders: The first wanted soup, a cheeseburger with squash, and coleslaw on the side, then some tea with cherry pie. The second wanted a waffle, a banana split (this was years ago, when everyone knew what a banana split was), and coffee. The third wanted chili with plenty of pepper, and a cookie. The fourth ordered a turkey sandwich with gravy and soy sauce, and a Coke. The task was to discover the languages from which each of these food names originated.
Soup
derives from French;
cheese
comes from Latin;
burger
from German;
squash
, American Indian;
cole slaw
, Dutch;
tea
, Chinese;
cherry
, German;
pie
, Irish;
waffle
, Dutch;
banana
, African;
coffee
, Arabic;
chili
, Spanish;
pepper
, Indian;
cookie
, Dutch;
turkey
, Arabic;
gravy
, French;
soy
, Japanese;
Coke
, American. (I didn’t include
pizza
because I thought it was too obvious.)

The imagined lunches may not have been nutritious for the body, but were for the mind. The assignment led us into a reasonably sophisticated study of the growth of English and its debt to languages all over the globe. The study may be called “etymology,” or “historical linguistics,” or, simply, “origins.” Perhaps “origins” in elementary school because it is less frightening; “etymology” in high school; “historical linguistics” in college. The name is not important; the inquiry is.

It is possible that the subject can be introduced even earlier than the seventh grade, since most children are interested in where words come from. It is also well to keep in mind Jerome Bruner’s famous dictum (from his
The Process of Education
) that any subject can be taught in an intellectually respectable way to children of almost any age.

American English is especially well suited to a celebration of the virtue of diversity, since the multicultural influences on it have been continuous and powerful. There is no group that
ever came to America, or was here before anyone came, that has not contributed words, and therefore ideas, to the language. I recall the astonishment of an African-American student upon her discovery that the word
hominy
is a North American Indian word. This fact sparked her interest in tracking words of African-American origin (here indeed was ethnic pride, but within the context of diversity). There are many such words and she may, to this day, still be trying to pin down the origin of
juke
(as in jukebox), which seems to have come from black musicians in New Orleans, but nobody is sure.

Walt Whitman wrote that “the new times, the new people, the new vistas need a new tongue,” and added, “yes, and what is more, they will have such a new tongue.” He was right. But we did it by borrowing from every language that made itself available, including hundreds of names of rivers, mountains, towns, and regions taken from American Indians. We also did it through the agency of slang. Slang is a form of colloquial speech that has a bad reputation, largely perpetuated by schoolteachers. They have a point, since slang is almost always created in a spirit of defiance, which is why its most consistent creators are those from disaffected groups, people with grievances. Perhaps the most creative sources of American-English slang in our own time are African-Americans, who are particularly adept at reversing traditional meanings—
bad
becomes
good
, as does
funky
and fat. A woman who is looking especially good may be said to be “fat plus biscuits and gravy,” and something may be so “cool,” it is “hot.” Aggrieved women, oppressed homosexuals, confused immigrants, and, of course, radical students have richly endowed the language with new words and new meanings for old ones. The words
mob, chum, crony
, and
snob
come to us from university students early in this century. And new terms keep
coining. Linguistic diversity, in other words, comes not only from other languages but from the variety of social and regional dialects within our own language. It does not take very long when studying the origins of English words before one realizes how much is owed to the principle of diversity.

But I do not think it is sufficient for our students to know only the English language. If we are serious about making diversity a central narrative in the schooling of the young, it is necessary for our students to learn to speak at least one language other than English fluently. This sort of thing has been said many times before, and for a long time, but, I fear, has not been accomplished, or indeed even tried. Our failure is something of a worldwide embarrassment. The standard joke in other countries: What do we call someone who speaks three languages? Trilingual. Two languages? Bilingual. One language? An American. There are several reasons why we have failed to accomplish the task of teaching other languages, including starting too late (in high school), bad foreign-language teaching, and the nearly complete sufficiency of English for thousands of miles in every direction. There is even a political movement to discourage the use of foreign languages among our citizens by making English the “official” language of America. This is another one of those ideas borrowed from the French, who are obsessed with protecting their language and who even have an official academy to help keep it pure. But the English language needs no help in this way. English is not only the unchallenged language of America but is rapidly becoming the second language of the rest of the world. Nonetheless, this idea of an “official” language has possibilities—if the intention is to ensure that everyone will learn to speak it. Suppose we made, let us say, French our “official” language for fifteen years, then Japanese for the next fifteen. The English language would still be spoken by nearly
everyone, but in thirty years, we would all be trilingual. Put that idea aside (you have already done so), although it may take an almost equally desperate idea to get us to pursue in a serious way foreign-language learning.

The reasons for serious foreign-language learning are many and various. First among them is that a foreign language provides one with entry into a worldview different from one’s own. Even a language as similar to English in structure and vocabulary as Spanish will give different connotations to ideas and things, and therefore will suggest that the world is not exactly as the English language depicts it. Of course, languages such as Japanese, Chinese, and Russian will reveal this fact much more precisely. If it is important that our young value diversity of point of view, there is no better way to achieve it than to have them learn a foreign language and, it should go without saying, to begin to learn it as early as possible—in the first grade, for example.

One might also add that in preparing our young for the twenty-first century, bilingualism (at least) would seem to be a necessity. For some reason which is unknown to me, educational visionaries do not stress this point. They insist that competence in using computers is essential in a global economy, apparently believing that speaking a foreign language is not; at least one does not hear the importance of foreign-language learning spoken of very much. As I have already said, almost everyone is in the process of learning to use computers, irrespective of how much attention is given to the task in school. But if our schools pay little attention to foreign-languages, about 80 percent of our population will remain monolingual (at present about 32 million Americans speak a foreign tongue, leaving more than 200 million who do not). I suppose that if one must be monolingual, English is quite satisfactory, since it embodies the worldviews of so many different
languages. But the point is that our young ought not to be monolingual, and if the schools paid less attention to driver education and other such marginal tasks, our students wouldn’t be.