Sometimes it’s the relatively minor stories that reveal the most about the direction we’re heading. Curmie’s interest in education-related issues has been a cornerstone of this blog since its inception over eleven years ago. Put these two ideas together, and you have the grounding for three stories that have come to light this week.
The first, to borrow a phrase from Stevie Nicks, is
hauntingly familiar. A decade ago,
Curmie wrote about a valedictorian controversy at an Arkansas High School. The basic facts of the case: according
to one scoring system, the valedictorian would have been a black woman;
according to another system (the one the school’s rules demanded be used), the
valedictorian was another student who, as you’ve already guessed, Gentle
Reader, was white. The school decided to
name them co-valedictorians, but that wasn’t enough for the black student (or
at least for her mom), who sued for exclusivity, claiming racial discrimination. Sigh.
Now it’s a decade later, and we move to West Point High School in Mississippi. It’s time to re-watch “Casablanca” and
hear Sam sing “As Time Goes By,” because it’s still the same old story,
a fight for love and glory.
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| Can you tell that Curmie isn't taking sides in this one? |
Parents of the white students had calculated the averages and determined that their children were the rightful recipients of the recognition. This sounds petty and quite possibly racist except for one thing: they were right... or it appears so, at least. The new-to-the-job guidance counselor whose calculations determined the winners had indeed used the wrong formula, or so claims the district’s superintendent, who, if it matters, is black.
As in the earlier case, the school not only screwed up, but communicated poorly (or not at all), so Ms. Washington and Ms. Temple were blind-sided by a Facebook post by Emma’s mom…. It’s easy to sympathize with all concerned, but there seems to have been a whole lotta pettiness going on across the board. Oh, hell, Gentle Reader, just assume that virtually everyone involved who could have been a jerk or an incompetent was one. Or read Jack Marshall’s summary over on Ethics Alarms. That pretty well sums up Curmie’s view, too.
It may be of interest to note that had the Arkansas school
from a decade ago and the Mississippi school from this year switched formulas,
both valedictorians might have been different.
Or they might have been the same.
Had Curmie’s high school used the formula suggested by someone on the
school board my senior year (giving extra points for advanced classes), I might
have been valedictorian instead of finishing fourth. Or not.
Even at age 17, I knew it didn’t matter.
Of course, the swag that went to the valedictorian would have been nice,
but I kind of figured there would be more graduations, and possibly more
honors, in my future.
Curmie could now launch into a critique of grading systems based
on faux objectivity, but let’s face it: we all know that some courses
are easier than others, some teachers are harder graders than others, some schools
are more competitive than others. Let’s
just agree that these rankings matter only in the broadest terms (all four of these kids are really good students), shall we?
In thinking about today’s second story, Curmie is reminded
of one of his favorite riddles:
Q: How many legs does a dog have if you call a tail a leg?
A: Four. Calling it a leg doesn’t make it one.
Yes, Curmie has undoubtedly used that reference before. Cope, Gentle Reader.
The Charlottesville, VA school system has decided that 86% of its students are “gifted,” a designation that even the
program’s coordinator seems to acknowledge as “essentially meaningless in that
it doesn’t provide anything different for students formally identified as
such.”
This is roughly the same as the local burger joint selling
two sizes of soft drinks: large and jumbo.
No, that small one: that’s a small.
As the above commentary on Curmie’s high school career suggests, I took a lot of advanced courses: Calculus, French 5, “intensive” English, and so on. My guess is that about 10% of the student body took at least one course that would now be called part of a “gifted” program (we didn’t use that term back in the Dark Ages when Curmie was in school, but the concept existed). Perhaps half that number took more than one such course. Let me be blunt: that was too many.
Fact is, there were some students in those classes
who didn’t belong. It wasn’t fair—not to
them, not to the teachers, not to those of us who were being slowed down by
their presence. And that was in classes
representing maybe 7-8% of the school population. So… um… 86%? This would be ridiculous in the extreme if it weren’t so terrifying.
Obviously, there’s an ulterior motive here, and it’s got
literally nothing to do with providing quality education for any student, “gifted”
or otherwise. Part of the impetus is an
apparent belief that gifted programs ought to proportionally represent the
community. Of course, this idea conflicts
with the very notion of a meritocracy: is it reactionary to suggest that gifted
programs ought to be restricted to students who are (wait for it) gifted? Some of those students will be white, some Asian,
some Latinx, some black.
The proportions of those students ought to be determined by
who can best do algebra (or whatever), not by race. Call me back when the NBA institutes a rule
that no more than 15% of its players can be black.
Moreover, if, as is apparently the case, this is just an
exercise in Humpty Dumpty semantics: that words mean only what the gifted program
coordinator says they mean (today). Two
things are clear:
First, that the truly gifted students in the school system
will no longer have courses that will challenge them. They’ll get bored, act out, and generally
contribute far less of a positive nature than they would have.
Second, the percentages having flipped, the “bottom” 14% are
now subject to more scorn, more ostracism, than previously. It’s well-documented that virtually everyone
seeks to be superior to someone.
If I’m in the 20th percentile of my class, I’m now “gifted,”
and Bobby over there still isn’t. I’m
still in the majority, but now I’m in the privileged class, and I’m going to
strut about it. And I’m by definition too
stupid to realize that I’m a pawn in someone else’s socio-political machinations.
Finally—what the hell is it about schools in Utah? For a state with such a relatively small
population, their schools sure do make a lot of boneheaded moves. Do they have special classes to lower the IQs
of administrators?
Over the years Curmie has written about idiots in Jordan, at Lone Peak High School, in Wasatch County, at the Nomen Global Language Center (a private school in Provo), and in Toole. Now we can add Shoreline Junior High School in Layton to that collection of buffoons, charlatans, censorious prudes,
and garden-variety idiots. But this one
takes on the additional baggage of being not only remarkably stupid, but also
(apparently intentionally) cruel.
Curmie turns to the article in the Salt Lake Tribune, which sums up the situation:
The cheerleading squad at Shoreline Junior High took two official team portraits this year.
The first photo included Morgyn Arnold, a 14-year-old student with Down syndrome who’d been working as the cheer team manager and knew all the routines by heart. The second photo included all the other girls, but was taken without Arnold, who was noticeably missing from her spot in the front row.
And it was that second picture without her that the school used on social media and in the yearbook.
Jordyn Poll, Morgyn’s sister (who had been a cheerleader, as well), notes that “It’s the SAME cheer team — SAME girls, SAME photo shoot, SAME poses, but one included all team members and one did not. A choice was made on which photo to submit.” Poll also writes that her sister “spent hours learning dances, showing up to games, and cheering on her school and friends but was left out. I hope that no one ever has to experience the heartbreak that comes when the person they love comes home from school devastated and shows them that they’re not in the picture with their team.”
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| The two photos. |
Curmie apologizes, but what fucking idiot(s) made the series
of decisions involved here? The girl was part of the team, end of discussion. Someone
(the school photographer? the team’s advisor? someone else?) decided to take two photographs
to begin with. Why? Someone decided not only to choose the
second photo for both the yearbook and on social media, but to leave Morgyn’s
name out of the yearbook. WHY? Someone who made those decisions still
has a job. WHY???
According to the article, the school posted an apology on its Facebook page (which now shows “This Content Isn't Available Right Now”—one suspects they might have received a comment or two, since the story reached the New York Times). And apparently they’ve launched an investigation. Whoopee. They know who wanted the second photo. They know who submitted the Morgyn-less photo to social media and the yearbook. What’s to investigate? Were Curmie of a cynical disposition, he’d suspect a delaying tactic—keep a low profile under the storm blows over. Hopefully, it will be the hurricane that keeps on coming. That district needs a serious stupidechtomy.
Morgyn was crushed by not being included, but she doesn’t blame her friends on the team, and she’s forgiven the perpetrators of the travesty. Her father seems inclined to be guided by his daughter’s kindness and generosity of spirit. Much as Curmie would like to see the culprits (and any school district that would hire them) on the wrong end of a seven-figure lawsuit, perhaps the Arnolds are right. But at the very least whoever made those decisions should have to pay to have those yearbooks reprinted, and the correct photo included.
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