Chaotic_ERROR

I knew a rapist who was an absolute ride-or-die friend to his gamer bros. Like, give the last dollar from his pocket to a friend who got a flat tire, and then turn around and go rape a Freshman that evening.

I knew a vicious child abuser who wept like a baby when her dog died.

The nastiest human being on the planet nevertheless feels obscurely melancholy sometimes, or has high spirits when they step out doors on the first warm day of spring, or has opinions on their favorite TV show and which side the toilet paper should hang on and whether or not the room should be cold or warm when you go to sleep.

We're all still just people. Complex, with fully-realized interior worlds.

None of that will save you from becoming a monster, if you decide to do monstrous things.

"Love and Protect your Neighbors Don't Trust the Feds"

I've been attending the meetings out of curiosity; I hear the restaurant's music sometimes, but I'm far enough away that it doesn't actually bother me. I rarely go out at night, so I hadn't encountered the "nuisance" aspects of it, which include lots of loitering drunk people, mysterious box trucks with no license plates blocking bike lanes while unloading, and bouncers swearing and trying to stop and frisk people walking past the restaurant.

("Why does a restaurant have bouncers?" you ask. Well, one of the complaints was "He's operating a nightclub but just using a restaurant license to do it.")

Anyway, I was intrigued to attend the latest video call because last time ONE DERANGED PERSON got on the line and spent ten minutes telling everyone else that the place is fine and if it isn't nobody cares and if you do you're a narc. I wanted to see if they were gonna come back to rant again and they did, but they got stymied by the moderator, who insisted that if you wanted to talk you had to "raise your hand" in the video call and they clearly couldn't figure out how to do that.

But then. After the airing of grievances and the owner's lawyer apologizing for no-showing at the last meeting, the alderman's spokesperson got on the line. FIFTY MINUTES into a one hour meeting, she said, "Before you inform the owner about the steps he needs to take to prevent this from becoming a legal issue, the Alderman has a question. He understands that the building landlord has served the owner with an eviction notice for the business, and we'd like to know if you and your client are aware of this?"

Every visible face on the video call did a jaw drop. It was awesome. I was muted and I still went "OooooohOOOOOOHHHHH!"

So yeah turns out the owner is "a little behind on the rent" but is confident he can bounce back, and then the moderator gave him a list of twenty things he needed to do (or not do) to fix the non-rent-related problems, two of which were "Stop doing unlicensed bottle service" and "No sparklers indoors".

I knew the one deranged person defending the restaurant's activities had to be known to the owner and they are.

At the start of the call I was disconcerted to find that while I tried to go to the CAPS meeting yesterday and nobody showed, it's clear from the call today that it did happen and the situation did get discussed. Presumably they just changed location, but I can't find a time or location for that specific beat meeting on any of the municipal calendars, including the Ward calendar, the CPD calendar, or the City calendar, so I'm still very confused.

A lot of the problem in the call today is that the owner kept asserting certain rights per his permits and plan -- what the tabletop RPG community would call Rules Lawyering. He's been asked to close at 10pm (so that the loud music will stop), but he's licensed to be open until 2am, so why can't he host private events from 10 to 2, that sort of thing. Which...I mean he's not wrong. It is unfair to make him close if he has the legal right to be open and the BACP could request that he just keep the music down. But he's going to get his permits yanked and lose those rights if he keeps pissing off the community. (OR SO I THOUGHT before I found out who Caller 17 was. Now I have no idea.) And a new problem is that people are parking in a privately-owned lot nearby and then afterpartying there past 2am. The police can't do a ton because it's not "drinking on the public way", they're on private property, and the BACP hasn't been able to make the lot's owner do anything about it. It sounds like they haven't been able to reach the lot's owner, to be honest.

One of the major complaints the community has had is that it's technically a restaurant but it's realistically operating as a nightclub; Caller 17 actually called it a club during this meeting, and some of the angrier community members jumped on that during the Airing of Grievances, saying "Look, even this person involved with the restaurant is calling it a club, and it's not licensed to be a club and we also don't want a nightclub in the middle of our neighborhood." There was much frustrated amusement when Caller 17 eventually responded that they don't go to nightclubs and they were referring to it as a club because they consider it a supper club.

I feel for the people who are genuinely suffering from this misbehavior, like there are people who just leave their homes on the weekends because the music at night is so loud it shakes their building. This process is likely going to drag on for a while and that's really rough for them. But at the same time, it's such a fascinating spectacle.

I may miss the next meeting -- while Hodag has also been attending the meetings, we'll be together and on the road at that point, and neither of us like distractions while we're driving. But I've looped Friend A into the madness now so possibly she can take notes.

* well then.

* ain't nothing you can do about it.

* well how about that then.

* you brought that upon yourself dude.

* it is what it is.

* that was completely to be expected.

* tja.

* tja.

* tja.

* tja.

* tja.

* tja.

When I asked why, a student answered honestly: It was too long, and she kept losing track of what the paper was about. This was not a remedial class: These were students who had cleared the admissions process and written essays good enough to get them here. Yet a routine academic reading assignment had defeated them.

Every generation of professors has complained that their students cannot read. The lament is usually overblown, but data have caught up to anecdote, and what I am seeing in my classroom is no longer a hunch. There is a measurable, generational collapse in sustained reading and writing, and the academy is responding to it with improvisation and exhaustion rather than the structural overhaul it requires.

In February 2024, Adam Kotsko, who teaches in the Shimer Great Books School at North Central College, wrote in Slate that students who once handled 30 pages of reading per class meeting now seem “intimidated by anything over 10 pages and seem to walk away from readings of as little as 20 pages with no real understanding.” Crucially, he added that this is “not a matter of laziness on the part of the students” but of underlying skills they were never given a chance to build.

The Chronicle of Higher Education’s 2024 investigation found the same pattern across institutions as different as the Stevens Institute of Technology and Wellesley College, where the average SAT exceeds 1400. Nicholaus Gutierrez, an assistant professor at Wellesley, told The Chronicle that the baseline for what students consider a reasonable amount of work has dropped so noticeably that he has cut his readings accordingly; a 750-word essay now strikes many students as long. At Stevens, the science and technology studies associate professor Theresa MacPhail described following the mantra of “meet your students where they are” for so long that she has begun to feel “like a cruise director organizing games of shuffleboard.”

Worse, the national data tell the same story in colder language. On the 2011 National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP) writing assessment, which is the most recent comprehensive writing benchmark, only 24 percent of 12th graders reached the Proficient level, and just 3 percent reached Advanced; another 21 percent scored below Basic. The reading side of the ledger is worse, and getting worse fast: The 2024 NAEP results released in September 2025 show 12th-grade reading scores at the lowest level recorded since the assessment began in 1992. Thirty-two percent of 12th graders now score below NAEP Basic in reading, meaning that, in the assessment’s own language, they likely “cannot draw general conclusions based on concepts presented explicitly in a text.” And yet more than half of these same seniors reported being accepted to a four-year college. That last sentence is the whole problem in one line: We are admitting a cohort that cannot read at a college level and are pretending otherwise.

Why is this happening? One reason, of course, is smartphones.

I came into teaching as a skeptic of the anti-smartphone argument: I had a phone in my pocket throughout high school and college in the 2010s, and I read long books anyway. I now think I was wrong, because the neuroscience has caught up. In a 2017 paper, Adrian F. Ward and colleagues at the University of Texas at Austin’s McCombs School of Business showed that the mere presence of a participant’s smartphone — whether that be face down, powered off, untouched, or across the desk out of vision — measurably reduces available working memory and fluid intelligence on cognitive tests, with the largest effects on the most phone-dependent users. A 2022 study by Motoyasu Honma and colleagues at Japan’s Showa University used near-infrared spectroscopy to compare reading on a smartphone with reading the same passage on paper, and found that smartphone reading produced overactivity in the prefrontal cortex, suppressed sigh generation, and led to general lower comprehension scores; the authors argued that the sigh inhibition and prefrontal overload were causally linked to the comprehension decline.

So when a student tells me they “kept losing track” of a 20-page article, I have to acknowledge that they may be describing a measurable neurological condition. The neural pathways that support sustained attention are built by use, and they atrophy without it. Your body is a use-it-or-lose-it system, and the brain is no exception.

Another reason for the decline in student reading capability is increasing reliance on generative AI. In June 2025, Nataliya Kosmyna and colleagues at the MIT Media Lab released a preprint titled “Your Brain on ChatGPT.” They divided 54 participants into three groups writing SAT-style essays — one using ChatGPT, the second group using a search engine, the last group using nothing — and monitored brain activity with a 32-channel EEG. The ChatGPT group showed the lowest neural connectivity of the three, with up to 55 percent reduced connectivity compared with the brain-only group, and “consistently underperformed at neural, linguistic, and behavioral levels.” Eighty-three percent of LLM users could not quote a single line from essays they had written minutes earlier. When the LLM group was forced to write without AI in a follow-up session, their brain activity did not bounce back to baseline; the researchers coined the term “cognitive debt” for the lingering deficit.

This is the first neurophysiological evidence that early reliance on LLMs measurably alters the brain’s engagement with writing tasks, and it is consistent with what those of us in front of classrooms are watching happen in real time. When I assign analysis, I am not trying to extract a polished product; I am trying to put the student’s mind through resistance in order to make it stronger. Offloading the struggle to a chatbot does not “free students up for higher-order work.” It deprives them of building the strength to do any substantial cognitive work at all.

There is a final factor that is contributing to this decline in reading skills, and that is that the students arriving in my classroom today are the first cohort to have experienced Common Core-influenced reading instruction across the entirety of their K–12 schooling. Whatever the standards’ original intent, the on-the-ground implementation in many districts replaced sustained reading with the practice of pulling “evidence” from disconnected short passages, the same format used on the standardized tests that increasingly determine school funding. The education scholar Natalie Wexler, among others, has documented this pivot in detail: Students drilled on “finding the main idea” in two-paragraph excerpts never build the stamina or background knowledge that longform reading requires. The pandemic then added fuel to a fire that was already burning. NAEP scores for 13-year-olds dropped sharply in 2022 and have not recovered. A 2023 EdWeek survey found that 24 percent of secondary-school administrators described pandemic learning loss in English and language arts as “severe or very severe.”

In July 2025, the journalist Mary Harrington argued in The New York Times that “thinking is becoming a luxury good.” The ability to read deeply and reason at length is fragmenting along class lines as ultra-processed digital media replaces text in everyday life, much as ultra-processed food has replaced cooking. Her longer treatment of the subject in First Things makes the more provocative case that we are witnessing the end of print culture itself, and with it the end of the cognitive substrate on which modern liberal democracy was built.

I see this stratification in the classroom and on the page every week. My students from districts that protected sustained reading through small class sizes, strict phone policies, and faculty who refused to teach to the test all arrive with their attention relatively intact. My students from districts that surrendered to devices and standardized testing arrive cognitively winded. A democracy that requires a literate electorate is now training one fraction of that electorate out of literacy while marketing to the other a “deep work” lifestyle as a luxury good. The students who cannot read a 20-page article today are the voters who will not be able to read a bill, or the jurors who cannot follow a closing argument, tomorrow.

I do what I can in my own classroom to address the problems. I break 20-page articles into two halves and assign the first half with explicit analytical tasks. I require exploratory writing before formal drafts. I model (visibly, on the board) how to track an argument across pages or distinguish a source’s claim from my own analysis. I make structured peer review explicit, because the workshop format I used to take for granted now collapses into “this is good” and “maybe add more details” the moment I step back.

But I want to be plain about the limits of what an individual instructor can do, and all of these solutions have costs. Scaffolding a 20-page article into halves compromises the integrity of the argument I am asking students to engage, just as modeling note-taking in a credit-bearing rhetoric course is using a college slot to teach a middle-school skill. None of the syllabi I teach are designed to deliver this type of cognitive rehabilitation, and pretending otherwise has produced credential inflation. We cannot keep conferring degrees on students who cannot do what the degree is supposed to certify.

I’m afraid I don’t have answers. I do, however, have some questions that may point us in the right direction. If higher education is going to respond to the reading crisis as a structural problem rather than a private burden carried by composition instructors and adjuncts, it has to stop avoiding the following questions: If a majority of incoming students cannot read at a level the curriculum requires, are we admitting students we cannot serve, or offering a curriculum we cannot provide?

Why are first-year writing and reading-intensive general-education courses still the most adjunctified, lowest-paid, highest-load corner of the university, at the precise moment when their work has become the most important work the institution does? What is the responsible institutional response for AI usage: Is it a syllabus statement, or a sequencing principle that requires students to demonstrate the cognitive work themselves before AI assistance is permitted?

Why are most college classrooms still phone-permissive by default? K–12 districts from Florida to California are now banning phones bell to bell; higher education has somehow lagged behind the public schools. Universities benefit from a pipeline they did not build and refuse to repair. What would it mean for a university system to invest seriously in the reading instruction happening in the high schools that feed it, rather than treating remediation as something to be quietly outsourced to first-year composition instructors?

The thing I am no longer willing to do is pretend this is a temporary adjustment period, or that “students will adapt.” They will not adapt on their own. The conditions that produced this collapse are still in place: the phones, the algorithmic feeds, the test-prep excerpts, staffing models that load the reading-intensive work onto the most precarious faculty, and now the chatbots that finish students’ sentences before they’ve even begun to think of them. If we want literate citizens, we will have to rebuild the conditions for literacy deliberately, against the grain of every incentive currently pointed the other way. I know the academy has the will to do that. It also has the obligation."

— Tyler Jagt, 1 June 2026, "My Students Can’t Read"

Link: https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/epdf/10.1086/691462

...im not sure what to think here. I dont see any obvious signs of mistakes that may have been made or presence of low quality data. The only thing that i ran into that i found strange is that the raw data is not present. So the paper claims that asking participants to turn their phone off vs on silent made no difference, but they do not provide the evidence to back that up.

I'll go ahead and summarize the arguments she made as to why she thinks homework sucks:

It doesn't actually promote self-sufficiency. Kids who don't struggle with organization and discipline at school will also not struggle with their homework, but kids who do struggle at school and need more help will also struggle while trying to get anything done at home.

It's inherently unfair/unequal. Children's home situations are so very different, some kids have their own desk and computer in a quiet room and at least one parent around who has the time & knowledge to help them plus the financial means to hire a tutor, while some children don't even have their own room and their parents might not be around or lack the education and means to be of any help at all.

AI exists and can be used to do almost all homework and most kids use it.

Assigning and checking homework and enforcing consequences when students don't do it is a waste of class time and creates an unpleasant atmosphere.

And also a very important point that many people in the comments made based on their experiences as both students & parents of students:

Victory.

I wouldn't call everything"put away", because I need to build specific storage for a lot of this stuff (particularly the garden tools and power tools), but at least everything is consolidated by type and I have surfaces again.