Newspaper Mache

These great posts on the situation discuss the many challenges of boiling a system as complex as a school down to a single grade. This, from Mike Petrilli, rang especially true for me:

Yet we’ve never been good at explaining to the public that a school rating (whether A–F or anything else) is the sum of a multitude of judgments about what makes for successful (or failing) schools. For instance: How much should the attainment of a particular performance level (like “proficient” or “college ready”) count, versus students’ progress over the course of the year? Which subjects are included in the measure? Are they weighted equally? Should all students’ scores count the same, or should we put greater stress on those of the lowest-performing kids? What about high-performers? What role should the size of a school’s achievement gap play, and how should we measure that? Should the performance of students with cognitive disabilities count? Children who are new to the country and can’t yet speak (or read) English? What about graduation rates, or attendance data, or other indicators? And, quite relevant in this case: If a school spans the elementary, middle, and high school grades, should it get one grade or three?

Decisions about how to weigh these considerations are inseparable from experience and subjective value judgments (though, to be fair, the experience of receiving a campaign contribution should be easier to remove from the calibration). From the beginning, I imagine the goal was to create a system that measured schools against the success Bennett had seen or thought he saw at Christel House.

Still, the frantic last minute recalibration on display in the emails from Indiana are troubling to read, particularly given that political donations are impossible to extricate from Bennett’s reluctance to revise any of his assumptions in the face of results. But this sort of recalibration, squaring prior understanding of what makes a good school with the data that can prove it is a good school, is kind of how models get made. It’s hard not to wonder whether anyone would pay much attention to this story had the model not betrayed Bennett at the last minute.

And then I came to the last few chapters, and realized that even if the details--the specific schools and the specific needs, the names and neighborhoods--even if these have changed with time, the underlying truth persists. The American education system as it currently stands is buttressed, implicitly or explicitly, by a rejection of actual equality among our children as achievable or even really desirable. 

What so many people are asking for is in fact "something close enough to equity to silence criticism by approximating justice, but far enough from equity to guarantee the benefits enjoyed by privilege."

Reading Kozol forced me to confront the seeming rationality that a little inequality is okay, that it’s perfectly reasonable for everyone to want the best for their kids, even at the expense of other people’s kids. It is not wrong for parents to want that. It is not wrong for individuals to give their children everything they can. What is wrong, is when the political and social institution of the education system proves rigged and reliably unfair. What is wrong is when we collectively and quietly accept that it’s okay if the kids of the rich and powerful and vocal are trained to lead, and the kids of the impoverished and overlooked and voiceless are given enough. A good enough education for what, Kozol asks and answers.

What is now encompassed by one word (“school”) are two very different kinds of institutions that, in function, finance and intention, serve entirely different roles. Both are needed for our nation’s governance. But children in one set of schools are educated to be governors; children in the other set of schools are trained for being governed. The former are given the imaginative range to mobilize ideas for economic growth; the latter are provided with the discipline to do the narrow tasks the first group will prescribe. 

Even if it is better then, the most deeply problematic and structural piece of his argument is true. You would have to be fooling yourself to say that we've moved beyond this system and this way of thinking. 

I'm left imagining what a change it would be if the implicit assumption that rich children will amount to more than poor ones were gone. We are so stuck in "how it is" that we have not even really allowed ourselves to dream of a school system run on absolute equity. We have not really allowed ourselves to envision promising each young American the same shot at becoming a leader. Our dreams for "others" are still only for 70 percent of what we feel our own kids deserve. The savageness in American schools is, at heart, the inequality of expectation that informs decisions about funding and governance, clouds the ambitions of many, and robs us all of our potential.

He came off last night sounding reasonable and in control, and while he lied and flagrantly reversed himself in order to do so, he did it skillfully. He has had a lifetime of practice at bullying people into giving him what he wants. The true art of bullies is that they make you feel like they are right and reasonable, and you and your concerns are trivial (look at you, entitled to food) and make you look like you can’t hack it or take a joke. He bullied Lehrer from the start—even to the point of telling Lehrer to his face that as president he Romney would cut funding to his employer, PBS. And it worked, he got more time out of it, but he also got to be the alpha-male all night long. He bullied Obama by retreating from plans he’s been touting for months, and seizing on the President’s seemingly total inability to defend himself—I’ll get to that in a moment—and redoubling his pummeling of lies.

Bullies care, above all, about themselves and their own power. This is the only thing I’ve ever seen Mitt Romney care about and it troubles me deeply. Some of the policies he now apparently seemed to support seem not so bad, but how can you trust a man who only wants more for himself to fulfill any promises? If elected, he will cave over and over again to those in position to give him the next ego boost of an achievement. I have never once gotten the impression from him that he wants to be president because he has a vision for the country, or feels this is his civic duty. The 47 percent video, his and Ann’s “you people” attitude to the country, and even this self-satisfied performance prove this to me more than ever. It’s all about personal winning to him, it’s hollow, and it makes my stomach churn that he potentially won over voters last night.

But even more, it’s Obama

None of this would be an issue, though, if Obama had showed up to the debate last night. What made his 2008 campaign so powerful was that it was pure civic duty. Last night he looked like a man exhausted of being a public servant, exhausted of being in a rigged system (the debates rules, the asshole Congress, the super PACs), who just wanted to go home. It was the most unsatisfying thing in the world to watch, and in the moment felt like a total disaster. He depressingly rolled over, lacked passion, was distant, all of the most unappealing aspects of himself. It would have been possible to expose what Romney was doing and make him look like a fool, if the President had showed up last night ready to fight or really call him out. Maybe he didn’t want to and wasn’t planning to do either of those things. But he still lost.

So what would have worked? Everyone who has consumed pop culture knows there are a few established ways to deal with a bully:

Ignore him: This is what happened last night. It’s what kind adults in movies tell you to do. Continue to treat others with respect, keep the moral high ground, if you don’t rise to his taunting it will be less fun for him, he will seem petty and mean, and you will walk away intact and elevated. This is how Obama naturally behaves. He is incredibly calm and thoughtful, and prefers to wait for his opponents to make themselves look silly. I think part of his weakness last night was relying too heavily on this as a tactic that will work. I still think it’s possible that there is a long game to this, that as we get to debates 2 and 3, if Romney is still manic, aggressive, and shifty it could easily blow up in his face. But, for that to happen Obama needs to get back a sense of utter confidence and control. The whole idea behind the ignore him tactic is that it stops being gratifying to tease someone who really doesn't care what you think about them and projects themselves as strong regardless of your taunts. None of this works if you are stuttering, unsure, apologetic, and willingly cede points to the opponent. If Obama wants to keep this strategy going he has to believe and convey that he is in charge, he is—in fact—the President, and he is the only viable leader for the country.

Bitch about the rules: There are a number of totally valid things to complain about this morning. And Obama’s supporters are going through all of them. The replacement-ref moderation. The lack of structure. The fact that the President has a real job, as President, where he manages international crises and makes actual policies and has less time and energy to hole up and do debate practice. The fact that Romney lied about a lot of things and can defend shifting imaginary policies. The fact that he’s out of practice. But complaining about how Romney did better in an unfair system comes off as nothing but weak and it is exactly the kind of complaining that bullies seize on.

Get your big brother to beat him up: This is what happened during Clinton’s speech at the DNC. It was satisfying to watch, but presents its own problems. One day, sometime later, you find yourself alone on the walk home and the bully’s black eye is almost healed, and his ego is hurting, and that’s all bad news for you. Obama’s attempts at Clinton’s graceful math came off as very “where’s your older brother now” to me.

A few days ago, Brian WIlliams told John Stewart why there are no grand speeches (5:51). I know that somewhere in an office, over many days and nights, a group of the best political strategists and communications professionals came together and decided that there was a way for the President to win his re-election, in spite of massive fundraising challenges from conservative groups, and that it was based on a message of a clear choice, a division, we are not them.

There is nothing original about my discomfort with the movement from famously saying,  "there is not a liberal America and a conservative America — there is the United States of America" to then rolling out a calculated strategy. That feeling is tantamount to a cheap trope at this point. 

But here I am feeling like a teenage girl with a bad boyfriend, wringing little hands wondering if he really meant all those nice things, trying not to be duped, but unable to let go of the feeling, the belief, that this - this is special. 

When it comes to policy choices, there is no doubt in my mind that I side with the President. Beyond that, I feel deeply distrustful of the role that money has played in Romney's campaign. Even if he is a reasonable man, with smart ideas about how to fix things, how can I expect him to be anything but a puppet for the men who bought him?  And further still, I'm not really sure why Mitt Romney wants to be president anyway, other than the overachiever's pathology; that it's the only thing left in his life to achieve. This is all to say, that I get the Obama campaign's strategy. My vote is not up for grabs and everyone knows it. 

But maybe there is a miscalculation. Even if my vote is on lock, my energy, the full weight of my efforts to tell friends unabashedly, "I believe that a better America is right around the corner", that sort of faith is fragile. So I'm asking for five minutes, a few paragraphs, a small reassurance. It feels overly emotional, odd, to be so needy, but then I reread the grand speeches.

January 8, 2008 - after losing in the New Hampshire primary:

We know the battle ahead will be long, but always remember that no matter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can withstand the power of millions of voices calling for change.

We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics who will only grow louder and more dissonant in the weeks to come. We've been asked to pause for a reality check. We've been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope. But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope. For when we have faced down impossible odds; when we've been told that we're not ready, or that we shouldn't try, or that we can't, generations of Americans have responded with a simple creed that sums up the spirit of a people.

Yes, we can.

And a few weeks later in South Carolina:

It's the politics that uses religion as a wedge and patriotism as a bludgeon, a politics that tells us that we have to think, act and even vote within the confines of the categories that supposedly define us, the assumption that young people are apathetic, the assumption that Republicans won't cross over, the assumption that the wealthy care nothing for the poor and that the poor don't vote, the assumption that African-Americans can't support the white candidate, whites can't support the African-American candidate, blacks and Latinos cannot come together.

We are here tonight to say that that is not the America we believe in....

....I saw what America is and I believe in what this country can be. That is the country I see. That is the country you see. But now it is up to us to help the entire nation embrace this vision.

Because in the end, we're not just against the ingrained and destructive habits of Washington, we're also struggling with our own doubts, our own fears, our own cynicism.

Mr. President, you made this personal a long time ago. Somewhere in my subconscious mind, when I think about you, I think about the pieces of myself and my country (you made me believe I have a country, remember?) that strive to be better. You made this about something bigger, and you said the road would be long, and the cynics would be loud. I need five minutes to be reminded that we are in the struggling depths of a great moment, that visions of the future are not easily realized, that there is still nothing false about hope.

Without that, I will still vote for you, but forgive me if I'm just not that excited about your birthday.

With that said, there is also not necessarily a reason to think that the laws would reduce turnout by more than a couple of percentage points. It’s important to keep the following in mind:

The vast majority of adults do have some sort of identification.

Many people who do not have identification are not registered to vote — or if they are registered, they are unlikely to turn out.

The laws may be inconsistently enforced by thousands and thousands of poll workers at the precinct level.

In many cases, voters without proper identification can cast a provisional ballot, which could eventually be counted in the event of a vote-counting dispute.

The campaigns have an opportunity to educate their voters about ID requirements as part of their turnout operations.

All in all, literature estimates that the strongest voter ID laws decrease turnout by one or two percentage points, probably mostly Democrats. In a close election, that can matter, but what's really caught me in all of this is that second bullet.

Many people who do not have identification are not registered to vote — or if they are registered, they are unlikely to turn out.

These laws that are getting me so up in arms are just codifying what's already true. In 2008, what I felt so elated to be a part of, what felt historic, was the broadening of the democratic process. People who never even wanted to register to vote, never thought that it mattered either way, felt inspired to participate.

Voting is absurd. It feels absurd to show up at a random building, wait in a line, punch a hole in a card or write a name on a piece of paper, trust that it's counted, and believe the country is in fact a collection of individuals -- that your individual behavior matters. And then there's the electoral college to make you feel like you matter even less. What a fascinating game: when everyone feels like they need to vote, it's a landslide; when people start tapping out, it gets close. 

Voter ID laws--as they are being passed--are abhorrent because the point is to convince those most likely to tap out that they don't belong anyway.

But beyond ideology, maybe those 2 percentage points can be more than offset. There's a profound opportunity to do mass education about registration requirements, potentially engaging new voters in the process. And these laws make people like me a little bit angrier and more involved than I would have been if Republicans looking to deliver the White House had just stuck to their old tactic of letting apathy fester and grow on its own. Maybe this is all is an unintended gift to Democrats.