"I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world." Having spent the last year trying to explain to "educrats" that studying Jules Verne in algebra may not contribute to later achievement in, say, college admission, I believe Walt Whitman himself would support my act of frustration.
My saga began when I picked up my daughter's Addison-Wesley textbook for Algebra I titled Secondary Math: An Integrated Approach: Focus on Algebra. The name alone suggests trouble. How about just Algebra I? I quizzed my daughter because I was certain she had confused her geography book with her Algebra book. I ran across this question in the book:
Each year the Oilfield Chili Appreciation Society holds a chili cook-off. The chili cook-off raises money for charity. Describe some ways the organizers could raise money in the cook-off.
And this one:
What role should zoos play in society?
And, no algebra course would be complete without this brain teaser:
Suppose you are a judge for a creative writing contest in which the topic is "Why should we save an endangered species?" What would you use as criteria for judging the essay?
I found three discussions alerting students to the devil's handiwork in fossil fuels. I found a picture of President Clinton and some Maya Angelou poetry. What I couldn't find were problems, numbers, equations or even a photo of a person holding up a finger or two just to avoid bait-and-switch charges against the publisher.
NO SPECIFIC GENDER
I was angry. I could have written a math book, to wit: "By cutting down beautiful trees in the forest, the homes of many endangered species where fossil fuel is forbidden, a logger person of no specific gender earns $20. What do you think of scumbags who make a living in this fashion? Break into groups and discuss how the forest birds, snakes and other creatures, who are our earth brothers and sisters in every sense, feel about this rapacious act. Write an essay expressing your outrage and don't feel constrained by spelling errors."
Judging by current math curriculum and the goal of Goals 2000, which is to produce airheads, I could have written math texts that would have made me rich beyond numbers these students will ever recognize.
I brought the algebra text, group learning and calculators to the attention of nine human beings affiliated with the Mesa Public Schools. I was greeted with the underwhelming response, "So? And?"
At the school level, they assured me they were powerless and could not understand why I was so passionate when my daughter had an "A." I'm just not sure that an "A" in the rigorous subject of raising money through chili cookoffs is what she needs right now.
So I met with three district assistant superintendents. They assured me they had based their decision to change to this new format on sound studies. I asked for copies. I offered them my examples from the textbook. They declined to take them and wrote a lovely letter explaining how silly I was. They also disclosed in that public meeting my daughter's sixth-grade percentile scores in math with this comment, "They're good, but they're not great." So much for the Family Education and Privacy Act.
I approached a neighbor and school board member, Claudia Walters, about the algebra curriculum. She offered me some advice on parenting and, to her credit, she calls every two months to update me.
MESA'S OWN TESTS
I offered alternatives: Set up a traditional section of algebra, and I'll go away. Give them a standardized test. If they do well, I'll apologize and go away.
Nope, it's all one way, and Mesa designs its own tests.
While I waited for the studies and another Walters' call, I did some research. Math education has been taken over by theorists. A small group of math educators believes that math should be fun, that memorizing tables is futile, and that students spout math for a lifetime if they work in groups.
Administrators in education, like all good automatons, have lionized the theorists. And, not surprisingly, these theorists have also captured the textbook market for math in K-12. Addison-Wesley is the series used by Mesa. Addison-Wesley is a supporter of Goals 2000 and even has its own K-6 series of math books called Quest 2000, so that the little tykes can learn geography early in their strenuous math studies.
Interestingly, other states, with California in the lead, have been there and done this. While Mesa insists its program is different, the components are identical. California began using the rain-forest math curriculum in 1991.
They now have data on their first graduates. Top students at University California-Davis can't find a math class remedial enough at the university; they are shipped to community colleges to learn 2 + 2 really does equal 4.
In Palo Alto, a traditionally high-performing district since the children belong to university employees, computation scores on standardized tests have dropped from the 86th to the 58th percentile. Sixty-three percent of the parents of middle-school children pay outside tutors to get real math for their children. On Sept. 12, the California Board of Education issued an advisory calling for the districts to return to a focus on basic skills. But let's not let a massive failure like this dash our hopes here in Arizona for topping the California record for remedial math in the Cal-State system: 89 percent of the freshmen need it.
812 PAGES
In August, I discovered a review of my favorite math/cookbook by Richard Askey, a professor of mathematics in an endowed chair at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. His first comment is that the Mesa book is 812 pages. Most Japanese texts (and they are actually called Algebra) are only 200 pages. This would explain why the average standardized test score is 80 in Japan and 52 here. Askey evaluated the books and found information missing, incorrect assumptions and problems that caused his colleagues to laugh. He added: "I would too, except this is too serious to laugh."
I offered the review to Mrs. Walters, and she e-mailed the good professor with questions. I offered the review to the Mesa School Board president, Beth Coons. She refused, "Big deal. I could show you 15 positive reviews."
I said I'd take them along with those studies. Mrs. Coons, an elected public official, responded, "I don't have time for this."
I assumed her time demands were temporary and wrote to Mrs. Coons with a copy of the review and my request. She responded with no reviews and four "studies" dated 1987 to 1991. One was the work of the Chicago Math Project. I called the director, Zalman Usiskin. He said that it ain't his program unless they're using his books.
Another citation for support was a National Science Foundation grant. The unpublished papers that came from the grant have been labeled "hogwash" in academe. Mrs. Coons also cited the 1987 international math study (SIMS). SIMS showed that only Jordan ranked behind us in math achievement scores.
Nothing in any of the support cited indicates the methods adopted by the Mesa Public Schools work.
The studies, even without discounting for the obvious conflicts of interest in the textbook sales, are merely prospective theory. This newfangled "math" has been a district-wide social experiment on junior-high children without so much as a jot or tittle of research support. An international comparative study of eighth-grade math and science content released this week describes U.S. courses as "a mile wide and an inch deep."
By the time we have our four-year results, where California is now, it will be too late for our children. I have no doubt the current math program will be abandoned. Tragically, it will come only after permanent damage is documented. It's a rule among educrats: base change on theory and don't go back until there's hard data.
I've stood on rooftops and screamed, "This is nuts!" until I've exhausted myself. I do, however, have the ballot box. Fifty percent of the Mesa School Board is up for re-election this November.
When all else fails, fire the people who spend your money but ignore your meritorious yawps.
Marianne Moody Jennings is a professor of legal and ethical studies at Arizona State University.
Copyright, 1996, Marianne Moody Jennings, all rights reserved
reproduced by permission