The work of a teacher—exhausting, complex, idiosyncratic, never twice the same—is, at its heart, an intellectual and ethical enterprise.... Teaching begins in challenge and is never far from mystery (Ayers 1993, p. 127).
The language William Ayers uses to describe teaching speaks to my own experience in the complex, demanding world of the classroom. Language is not merely the transparent tool through which we communicate. Educational language is rarely neutral; in fact, our language structures and categories often constitute our philosophical positions (see, for example, Apple 1979). Thus, when I examine educational ideas, I pay attention to language.
In contrast, the language of Outcome-Based Education (OBE) seems limiting and dehumanizing. Many educators not associated with the Religious Right are highly critical of OBE, as am I but for different reasons (Cavener and Schwarz, in press). In response to the March 1994 issue of Educational Leadership, which portrayed OBE in a positive light, I would like to consider the language of OBE as revealed in “Choosing Outcomes of Significance” by William Spady.
The Power of Words
Individual words and phrases jump out at me as a reader. Following are terms that Spady used frequently and that particularly troubled me: outcomes, generalizable, Discrete Content Skills, microforms of learning, Structured Task Performances, components in a larger block of curriculum, competence, mental processing, performance enablers, execution, Higher-Order Competencies, technical and strategic Life Performance Roles Such mechanistic, instrumentalist language has a constraining effect on me as a reader, just as OBE has a constraining effect on school reform. This list reads like the terminology of the CEO or the social engineer—very much in the management-oriented, positivist-behaviorist tradition.
With OBE, outside experts prescribe what is best for students and teachers, who remain essentially voiceless. Uniform outcomes are designed and implemented in a curriculum that reduces thinking to mental processing. Teaching is conceived of in technical dimensions—discrete objectives and student competencies. As Clark and Astuto (1994) note: Rather than establish conditions that maximize the abilities of teachers [or students], tightly linked instructional packages stunt performance, growth, imagination, and community (p. 517).
Spady's language is linear, rationalistic, and built on lists of definitions; it does not invite debate. Prediction and numerical certainty rather than spontaneity or organic evolution are valued in the positivist-behaviorist world view. Thus, Spady speaks of three major zones and six different forms of learning demonstrations. The complexity, generalizability, and significance of each form of demonstration increase as we climb from the lowest level to the highest (p. 19). Does human learning fit into such tidy categories? Does student ownership come only at the end of learning? These are major questions unacknowledged by OBE, which seeks simply to provide definite, predetermined outcomes.
A Surplus of Jargon
How can a teacher or student make sense of such statements as “Outcomes are high-quality, culminating demonstrations of significant learning in context” (p. 18)? Certainly, a professional vocabulary has specialized jargon, but OBE advocates manufacture vague, new terms at an alarming rate. So much jargon establishes the authority of the outside consultant, not the wisdom of the practitioner nor the contribution of the student or community to learning.
Process is not a word easily found in an article like “Choosing Outcomes of Significance.” OBE is product-oriented, the language of business. Moffett (1994) challenges the continuing influence of big business on education: Business should indeed be served by a good system of public education, but the higher-order thinking abilities and creative problem solving that it correctly believes graduates must [have] ... are precisely what have suffered most from ... an education system driven by government and industry ... (p. 586). Hargreaves (1994) also challenges those who use restructuring not to expand students' minds and capabilities in the broadest sense, but to shape and mold them to changing corporate interests by defining the goals and learning outcomes of schooling, with the structures required to provide them, in specifically corporate terms (p. 243).
All the bottom-line language reminds the reader of the boardroom. Of course, Spady's High Success Network is a business. But children are neither customers nor products, and a school is not a business.
Places Where Minds Can Grow
Schools can be democratic places where minds grow, where humans learn in relationship with one another, where ideas excite and the world captivates us. What kind of school reform language is needed to promote such schools? Let me offer the following terms from a school reformer who speaks a different kind of language. In To Teach, William Ayers (1993) uses these words and phrases to describe his framework for thinking about curriculum: a living challenge rather than a better package, deliberating, proactive, discovery, students constructing their own knowledge, surprise, feeling powerful, energized, actively engaged, explore, dignity of work, collaborator, divergent thinking, student questions or interests, real problems, creative, student consciousness Here is a personal, even passionate language, free of jargon and flowcharts, and direct—as when Ayers says, “I want children to explore the world in order to take meaning from it and to make sense of it.... I want them to get right up next to what they're studying, to touch it and smell it” (p. 94). Here is a language that values inquiry and creativity, that admits uncertainty and serendipity. Ayers rejects the old behavioral objectives, “All students will ...” for the alternative of students as the “great untapped resource in most schools” (p. 101). Instead of depending on experts and generic templates, Ayers suggests: Reform must be crafted school by school, from the bottom up, and school improvement is generally a matter for the school community itself (p. 134).
In contrast to OBE language, this lively language pulls me in, inspires or upsets me, depends on real-life examples to persuade me, and respects children and teachers.
A More Human Language for Reform
To find the language of OBE unsatisfactory is not to reject OBE entirely. Spady also uses words like ownership, self-direction, and self-assessment, which suggest a more constructivist, less behaviorist and authoritarian philosophy of education. Worthwhile ideas advocated by OBE proponents include cooperative learning and authentic assessment, and I admire Spady's fierce commitment to success for all students.
Nevertheless, truly transformational change requires a new language. OBE language is the scientistic, industrial language of Tyler and Skinner as documented by Callahan (1962) in Education and the Cult of Efficiency. Ultimately, the language of OBE is controlling, narrow, mechanistic, and finally, impoverished. Our students and teachers deserve more than OBE has to offer.
