Lessons from China

blog_3-22-18_Confucius_344x500Recently I gave a series of speeches in China, organized by the Chinese University of Hong Kong and Nanjing Normal University. I had many wonderful and informative experiences, but one evening stood out.

I was in Nanjing, the ancient capital, and it was celebrating the weeks after the Chinese New Year. The center of the celebration was the Temple of Confucius. In and around it were lighted displays exhorting Chinese youth to excel on their exams. Children stood in front of these displays to have their pictures taken next to characters saying “first in class,” never second. A woman with a microphone recited blessings and hopes that students would do well on exams. After each one, students hit a huge drum with a long stick, as an indication of accepting the blessing. Inside the temple were thousands of small silk messages, bright red, expressing the wishes of parents and students that students will do well on their exams. Chinese friends explained what was going on, and told me how pervasive this spirit was. Children all know a saying to the effect that the path to riches and a beautiful wife was through books. I heard that perhaps 70% of urban Chinese students go to after-school cram schools to ensure their performance on exams.

The reason Chinese parents and students take test scores so seriously is obvious in every aspect of Chines culture. On an earlier trip to China I toured a beautiful house, from hundreds of years ago, in a big city. The only purpose of the house was to provide a place for young men of a large clan to stay while they prepared for their exams, which determined their place in the Confucian hierarchy.

As everyone knows, Chinese students do, in fact, do very well on their exams. I would note that these data come in particular from urban Eastern China, such as Shanghai. I’d heard about but did not fully understand policies that contribute to these outcomes. In all big cities in China, students can only attend schools in their city neighborhoods, where the best schools in the country are, if they were born there or own apartments. In a country where a small apartment in a big city can easily cost a half million dollars (U.S.), this is no small selection factor. If parents work in the city but do not own an apartment, their children may have to remain in the village or small city they came from, living with grandparents and attending non-elite schools. Chinese cities are growing so fast that the majority of their inhabitants come from the rest of China. This matters because admirers of Chinese education often cite the amazing statistics from the rich and growing Eastern Chinese cities, not the whole country. It’s as though the U.S. only reported test scores on international comparisons from suburbs in the Northeastern states from Maryland to New England, the wealthiest and highest-achieving part of our country.

I do not want to detract in any way from the educational achievements of the Chinese, but just to put it in context. First, the Chinese themselves have doubts about test scores as the only important indicators, and admire Western education for its broader focus. But just sticking to test scores, China and other Confucian cultures such as Japan, South Korea, and Singapore have been creating a culture valuing test scores since Confucius, about 2500 years ago. It would be a central focus of Chinese culture even if PISA and TIMSS did not exist to show it off to the world.

My only point is that when American or European observers hold up East Asian achievements as a goal to aspire to, these achievements do not exist in a cultural vacuum. Other countries can potentially achieve what China has achieved, in terms of test scores and other indicators, but they cannot achieve it in the same way. Western culture is just not going to spend the next 2500 years raising its children the way the Chinese do. What we can do, however, is to use our own strengths, in research, development, and dissemination, to progressively enhance educational outcomes. The Chinese can and will do this, too; that’s what I was doing traveling around China speaking about evidence-based reform. We need not be in competition with any nation or society, as expanding educational opportunity and success throughout the world is in the interests of everyone on Earth. But engaging in fantasies about how we can move ahead by emulating parts of Chinese culture that they have been refining since Confucius is not sensible.

Precisely because of their deep respect for scholarship and learning and their eagerness to continue to improve their educational achievements, the Chinese are ideal collaborators in the worldwide movement toward evidence-based reform in education. Colleagues at the Chinese University of Hong Kong and the Nanjing Normal University are launching Chinese-language and Asian-focused versions of our newsletter on evidence in education, Best Evidence in Brief (BEiB). We and our U.K. colleagues have been distributing BEIB for several years. We welcome the opportunity to share ideas and resources with our Chinese colleagues to enrich the evidence base for education for children everywhere.

This blog was developed with support from the Laura and John Arnold Foundation. The views expressed here do not necessarily reflect those of the Foundation.

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CDC Told to Avoid Use of “Evidence-Based”: Is the Earth Flat Again?

In this blog series, I generally try to stay non-partisan, avoiding issues that, though important, do not relate to evidence-based reform in education. However, the current administration has just crossed that line.

In a December 16 article in the Washington Post, Lena Sun and Juliet Eilperin reported that the Trump Administration has prohibited employees of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) from using seven words or phrases in their reports. Two of these are “evidence-based” and “science-based.” Admittedly, this relates to health, not education, but who could imagine that education will not be next?

I’m not sure exactly why “evidence-based” and “science-based” are included among a set of banned words that otherwise consist of words such as “fetus,” “transgender,” and “diversity” that have more obvious political overtones. The banning of “evidence-based” and “science-based” is particularly upsetting because evidence, especially in medicine, has up to now been such a non-partisan, good-government concept. Ultimately, Republicans and Democrats and their family members and friends get sick or injured, or want to prevent disease, and perhaps as a result, evidence-based health care has been popular on both sides of the aisle. In education, Republican House Speaker Paul Ryan and Democratic Senator Patty Murray have worked together as forceful advocates for evidence-based reform, as have many others. George W. Bush and Barak Obama both took personal and proactive roles in advancing evidence in education.

You have to go back a long time to find governments banning evidence itself. Perhaps you have to go back to Pope Paul V, whose Cardinal Bellarmine ordered Galileo in 1615 to: “…abandon completely the opinion that the sun stands still at the center of the world and the Earth moves…”

In fear for his life, Galileo agreed, but in 1633, Galileo was accused of breaking his promise. He was threatened with torture, and had to agree again to the Pope’s demand. He was placed under house arrest for the rest of his life.

After his 1633 banishment, Galileo was said to have muttered, “E pur si muove” (And yet it moves). If he did (historians doubt it), he was expressing defiance, but also a key principle of science: “Proven principles remain true even if we are no longer allowed to speak of them.”

The CDC officials were offered a new formulation to use instead of “evidence-based” and “science-based.” It was: “CDC bases its recommendations on science in consideration with community standards and wishes.”

This is of course the antithesis of evidence or science. Does the Earth circle the sun in some states or counties, but it’s the other way around in others? Who decides which scientific principles apply in a given location? Does objective science have any role at all or are every community’s beliefs as valid as every other’s? Adopting the ban would hold back research and applications of settled research, harming millions of potential beneficiaries and making the U.S. a laughingstock among advanced nations. Banning the words “evidence-based” and “science-based” will not change scientific reality. Yet it will perhaps slow down funding for research and dissemination of proven treatments, and that would be disastrous, both in medicine and in education. I hope and expect that scientists in both fields will continue to find the truth and make it known whatever the consequences, and that our leaders of both parties see the folly of this action and reverse it immediately.

This blog was developed with support from the Laura and John Arnold Foundation. The views expressed here do not necessarily reflect those of the Foundation.

 

Title I: A 20% Solution

Here’s an idea that would cost nothing and profoundly shift education funding and the interest of educators and policy makers toward evidence-proven programs. Simply put, the idea is to require that schools receiving Title I funds use 20% of the total on programs that meet at least a moderate standard of evidence. Two thin dimes on the dollar could make a huge difference in all of education.

In terms of federal education policy, Title I is the big kahuna. At $15 billion per year, it is the largest federal investment in elementary and secondary education, and it has been very politically popular on both sides of the aisle since the Johnson administration in 1965, when the Elementary and Secondary Education Act (ESEA) was first passed. Title I has been so popular because it goes to every congressional district, and provides much-needed funding by formula to help schools serving children living in poverty. Since the reauthorization of ESEA as the Every Student Succeeds Act in 2015, Title I remains the largest expenditure.

In ESSA and other federal legislation, there are two kinds of funding. One is formula funding, like Title I, where money usually goes to states and is then distributed to districts and schools. The formula may adjust for levels of poverty and other factors, but every eligible school gets its share. The other kind of funding is called competitive, or discretionary funding. Schools, districts, and other entities have to apply for competitive funding, and no one is guaranteed a share. In many cases, federal funds are first given to states, and then schools or districts apply to their state departments of education to get a portion of it, but the state has to follow federal rules in awarding the funds.

Getting proven programs into widespread use can be relatively easy in competitive grants. Competitive grants are usually evaluated on a 100-point scale, with all sorts of “competitive preference points” for certain categories of applicants, such as for rural locations, inclusion of English language learners or children of military families, and so on. These preferences add perhaps one to five points to a proposal’s score, giving such applicants a leg up but not a sure thing. In the same way, I and others have proposed adding competitive preference points in competitive proposals for applicants who propose to adopt programs that meet established standards of evidence. For example, Title II SEED grants for professional development now require that applicants propose to use programs found to be effective in at least one rigorous study, and give five points if the programs have been proven effective in at least two rigorous studies. Schools qualifying for school improvement funding under ESSA are now required to select programs that meet ESSA evidence standards.

Adding competitive preference points for using proven programs in competitive grants is entirely sensible and pain-free. It costs nothing, and does not require applicants to use any particular program. In fact, applicants can forego the preference points entirely, and hope to win without them. Preference points for proven programs is an excellent way to nudge the field toward evidence-based reform without top-down mandates or micromanagement. The federal government states a preference for proven programs, which will at least raise their profile among grant writers, but no school or district has to do anything different.

The much more difficult problem is how to get proven programs into formula funding (such as Title I). The great majority of federal funds are awarded by formula, so restricting evidence-based reform to competitive grants is only nibbling at the edges of practice. One solution to this would be to allocate incentive grants to districts if they agree to use formula funds to adopt and implement proven programs.

However, incentives cost money. Instead, imagine that districts and schools get their Title I formula funds, as they have since 1965. However, Congress might require that districts use at least 20% of their Title I, Part A funding to adopt and implement programs that meet a modest standard of evidence, similar to the “moderate” level in ESSA (which requires one quasi-experimental study with positive effects). The adopted program could be anything that meets other Title I requirements—reading, math, tutoring, technology—except that the program has to have evidence of effectiveness. The funds could pay for necessary staffing, professional development, materials, software, hardware, and so on. Obviously, schools could devote more than 20% if they choose to do so.

There are several key advantages to this 20% solution. First, of course, children would immediately benefit from receiving programs with at least moderate evidence of effectiveness. Second, the process would instantly make leaders of the roughly 55,000 Title I schools intensely interested in evidence. Third, the process could gradually shift discussion about Title I away from its historical focus on “how much?” to an additional focus on “for what purpose?” Publishers, software developers, academics, philanthropy, and government itself would perceive the importance of evidence, and would commission or carry out far more high-quality studies to meet the new standards. Over time, the standards of evidence might increase.

All of this would happen at no additional cost, and with a minimum of micromanagement. There are now many programs that would meet the “moderate” standards of evidence in reading, math, tutoring, whole-school reform, and other approaches, so schools would have a wide choice. No Child Left Behind required that low-performing schools devote 20% of their Title I funding to after-school tutoring programs and student transfer policies that research later showed to make little or no difference in outcomes. Why not spend the same on programs that are proven to work in advance, instead of once again rolling the dice with the educational futures of at-risk children?

20% of Title I is a lot of money, but if it can make 100% of Title I more impactful, it is more than worthwhile.

What the Election Might Mean for Evidence-Based Education

Like everyone else in America, I awoke on Wednesday to a new era. Not only was Donald Trump elected president, but the Republicans retained control of both houses of Congress. This election will surely have a powerful impact on issues that the president-elect and other Republicans campaigned on, but education was hardly discussed. The New York Times summarized Mr. Trump’s education positions in an October 31 article. Mr. Trump has spoken in favor of charters and other school choice plans, incentive pay for teachers, and not much else. A Trump administration will probably appoint a conservative Secretary of Education, and that person would have considerable influence on what happens next.

What might this mean for evidence-based reform in education? Hopefully, the new administration will embrace evidence, as embodied in the Every Student Succeeds Act (ESSA). Why? Because the Congress that passed ESSA less than a year ago is more or less the same Congress that was just elected. Significantly, Senators Rob Portman (R-Ohio), Michael Bennet (D-Colorado), and Patty Murray (D-Washington), some of the major champions of evidence in the Senate, were all just re-elected. Senator Lamar Alexander (R-Tennessee), a key architect of ESSA, is still in office. In the absence of a major push from the new executive branch, the Congress seems likely to continue its bipartisan support for the ESSA law.

Or so I fervently hope.

Evidence has not been a partisan issue and it will hopefully remain bipartisan. Everyone has an interest in seeing that education dollars are spent wisely to benefit children. The evidence movement has advanced far enough to offer real hope that step-by-step progress can take place in education as increasingly effective methods, materials, and software become available, as a direct outcome of research and development. Evidence-based reform has strengthened through red and blue administrations. It should continue to grow through the new administration.

Or so I fervently hope.

What if Evidence Doesn’t Match Ideology?

Several years ago when the Conservative Party was first coming into office in the U.K., I had an opportunity to meet with a High Government Official. He had been told that I was a supporter of phonics in early reading, and that was what he wanted to talk about. We chatted amicably for some time about our agreement on this topic.

Then the Great Man turned to another topic. What did I think about the evidence on ability grouping?

I explained that the evidence did not favor ability grouping, and was about to explain why when he cut me off with the internationally understood gesture meaning, “I’m a very busy and important person. Get out of my office immediately.” Ever since then, the British government has gotten along just fine without my advice.

What the Great Man was telling me, of course, is the depressing reality of why it is so difficult to change policy or practice with evidence. Most people value research when it supports the ideological position they already had, and reject research when it does not. The result is that policy and practice remain an ideological struggle, little influenced by the actual findings of research. Advocates of a given position seek evidence to throw at their opponents or to defend themselves from evidence thrown at them by the “other side.” And we all too often evaluate evidence based on the degree to which it corresponds to our pre-existing beliefs rather than re-evaluating our beliefs in light of evidence. I recall that at a meeting of Institute of Education Sciences (IES) grantees, a respected superintendent spoke to the whole assemblage and, entirely without irony or humor, defined good research as that which confirms his beliefs, and bad research as that which contradicts his beliefs.

A scientific field only begins to move forward when researchers and users of the research come to accept research findings whether or not they support their previous beliefs. Not that this is easy. Even in the most scientific of fields, it usually takes a great deal of research over an extended time period to replace a widely accepted belief with a contrary set of findings. In the course of unseating the old belief, researchers who dare to go against the current orthodoxy have difficulty finding an audience, funding, promotions, or respect, so it’s a lot easier to go with the flow. Yet true sciences do change their minds based on evidence, even if they must often be dragged kicking and screaming to the altar of knowledge. One classic example I’ve heard of involved the bacterial origin of gastric ulcers. Ulcers were once thought to be caused by stress, until an obscure Australian researcher deliberately gave himself an ulcer by drinking a solution swarming with gastric bacteria. He then cured himself with a drug known to kill those bacteria. Today, the stress theory is gone and the bacteria theory is dominant, but it wasn’t easy.

Education researchers are only just beginning to have enough confidence in our own research to expect policy makers, practitioners, and other researchers to change their beliefs on the basis of evidence. Yet education will not be an evidence-driven field until evidence begins to routinely change beliefs about what works for students and what does not. We need to change thinking not only about individual programs or principles, but about the role of evidence itself. This is one reason that it is so important that research in education be of impeccable quality, so that we can have confidence that findings will replicate in future studies and will generalize to many practical applications.

A high government official in health would never dismiss research on gastric ulcers because he or she still believed that ulcers are caused by stress. A high government official in agriculture would never dismiss research on the effects of certain farming methods on soil erosion. In the U.S., at least, our Department of Education has begun to value evidence and to encourage schools to adopt proven programs and practices, but there is a long way to go before education joins medicine and agriculture in willingness to recognize and promote findings of rigorous and replicated research. We’re headed in the right direction, but I have to admit that the difficulties getting there are giving me one heck of an ulcer.*

*Just kidding. I’m fine.

What Schools in One Place Can Learn from Schools Elsewhere

In a recent blog, I responded to an article by Lisbeth Schorr and Srik Gopal about their concerns that the findings of randomized experiments will not generalize from one set of schools to another. I got a lot of supportive response to the blog, but I realize that I left out a key point.

The missing point was this: the idea that effective programs readily generalize from one place to another is not theoretical. It happens all the time. I try to avoid talking about our own programs, but in this case, it’s unavoidable. Our Success for All program started almost 30 years ago, working with African American students in Baltimore. We got terrific results with those first schools. But our first dissemination schools beyond Baltimore included a Philadelphia school primarily serving Cambodian immigrants, rural schools in the South, small town schools in the Midwest, and so on. We had to adapt and refine our approaches for these different circumstances, but we found positive effects across a very wide range of settings and circumstances. Over the years, some of our most successful schools have been ones serving a Native Americans, such as a school in the Arizona desert and a school in far northern Quebec. Another category of schools where we see outstanding success is ones serving Hispanic students, including English language learners, as in the Alhambra district in Phoenix and a charter school near Los Angeles. One of our most successful districts anywhere is in small-city Steubenville, Ohio. We have established a successful network of SFA schools in England and Wales, where we have extraordinary schools primarily serving Pakistani, African, and disadvantaged White students in a very different policy context from the one we face in the U.S. And yes, we continue to find great results in Baltimore and in cities that resemble our original home, such as Detroit.

The ability to generalize from one set of schools to others is not at all limited to Success for All. Reading Recovery, for example, has had success in every kind of school, in countries throughout the world. Direct Instruction has also been successful in a wide array of types of schools. In fact, I’d argue that it is rare to find programs that have been proven to be effective in rigorous research that then fail to generalize to other schools, even ones that are quite different. Of course, there is great variation in outcomes in any set of schools using any innovative program, but that variation has to do with leadership, local support, resources, and so on, not with a fundamental limitation on generalizability to additional populations.

How is it possible that programs initially designed for one setting and population so often generalize to others? My answer would be that in most fundamental regards, the closer you get to the classroom, the more schools begin to resemble each other. Individual students do not all learn the same way, but every classroom contains a range of students who have a predictable set of needs. Any effective program has to be able to meet those needs, wherever the school happens to be located. For example, every classroom has some number of kids who are confident, curious, and capable, some number who are struggling, some number who are shy and quiet, some number who are troublemakers. Most contain students who are not native speakers of English. Any effective program has to have a workable plan for each of these types of students, even if the proportions of each may vary from classroom to classroom and school to school.

There are reasonable adaptations necessary for different school contexts, of course. There are schools where attendance is a big issue and others where it can be assumed, schools where safety is a major concern and others where it is less so. Schools in rural areas have different needs from those in urban or suburban ones, and obviously schools with many recent immigrants have different needs from those in which all students are native speakers of English. Involving parents effectively looks different in different places, and there are schools in which eyeglasses and other health concerns can be assumed to be taken care of and others where they are major impediments to success. But after the necessary accommodations are made, you come down to a teacher and twenty to thirty children who need to be motivated, to be guided, to have their individual needs met, and to have their time used to greatest effect. You need to have an effective plan to manage diverse needs and to inspire kids to see their own possibilities. You need to fire children’s imaginations and help them use their minds well to write and solve problems and imagine their own futures. These needs exist equally in Peru and Poughkeepsie, in the Arizona desert or the valleys of Wales, in Detroit or Eastern Kentucky, in California or Maine.

Disregarding evidence from randomized experiments because it does not always replicate is a recipe for the status quo, as far as the eye can see. And the status quo is unacceptable. In my experience, the reason programs fail to replicate is that they were never all that successful in the first place, or because they attempt to replicate a form of a model much less robust than the one they researched.

Generalization can happen. It happens all the time. It has to be planned for, designed for, not just assumed, but it can and does happen. Rather than using failure to replicate as a stick to beat evidence-based policy, let’s agree that we can learn to replicate, and then use every tool at hand to do so. There are so many vulnerable children who need better educations, and we cannot be distracted by arguments that “nothing replicates” that are contradicted by many examples throughout the world.

Kumbaya

When I was a kid, my brothers and I used to go to a YMCA camp on the Chesapeake Bay for a month every summer. My mother said that it was cheaper than feeding us, which was my first exposure to cost-effectiveness analysis.

At the camp, we did all the usual camp things. One of those was evening campfires with singing. This was a YMCA camp in the early 1960s, so we sang a lot of folk songs about peace, love, and understanding. I was reminded of this because I now have a granddaughter who loves a Peter, Paul, and Mary disk with just those songs on it, including Kumbaya.

Skip forward a few decades from those long-ago campfires. Today, the very word Kumbaya is used as an insult of sorts. It means that the person being insulted is an unrealistic idealist, who expects that social progress can be made by sitting around the campfire and singing. As a data-minded social scientist who expects evidence from randomized studies for just about everything, I should be firmly in the anti-Kumbaya camp, so to speak. But I’m not.

Let me be clear: I do not think that singing around campfires causes important social change. Yet I’d argue that a lack of Kumbaya is just as much a problem. Kumbaya-fueled idealism is the very core of evidence-based reform, in fact.

Here’s why. The greatest danger to evidence-based reform is the widespread belief that doing well-intentioned things is good enough, even if we don’t know whether they work. An idealist should never accept this. Good intentions are nice, but they do not bring about real Kumbaya. That depends on good outcomes.

Sitting around campfires and singing about peace, love, and understanding should be good preparation for actually caring whether your actions make the difference you intend them to make. Sure, life teaches you that it takes toughness to insist that good intentions become good actions, but you have to start with the good intentions.

So here is another verse to that ageless song:

Someone’s experimenting, Lord
Kumbaya
Randomizing, Lord
Kumbaya
Someone’s analyzing, Lord
Kumbaya
Oh Lord,
Kumbaya