Take a look at this painting:

It probably looks familiar. It’s titled “Washington Crossing the Delaware”, and shows up in any number of history textbooks.
It’s also pretty easy to criticize. First and foremost, why the heck is the General standing up in such a flimsy boat? If it’s the middle of the night, why is the sun coming up (or going down)? Why don’t the people in the boat look like they’re soldiers or at least colleagues? What’s up with the chunks of ice? And did they really put wild horses into tiny rowboats to get them across rivers?
Fair enough, except that those are the wrong questions – or at least… they’re inadequate, if the painting is to be understood.
For example, wondering why the General is standing sets aside the rather glaring reality that this isn’t a photograph or a historical film, it’s a painting. A better question might be why the artist chose to paint the future Father of our Country standing up, and in such a dramatic posture.
Why would the artist incorporate a sunrise (I assure you there are no sundowns where the American Revolution was concerned) in this scene? What statements might he be trying to make through the types of people he’s placed in the boat and their attire?
What message or point was the artist trying to make? It must have taken a long time to paint – surely he had some goal in mind.
Suddenly we have something pretty useful – entry points to understanding the message and value system behind this painting and the circumstances in which it was created. Our paradigm shifts from the frustrating analysis of bad history to the unfolding possibilities of good art. Instead of merely explaining away misinformation, we now have a dozen different directions we could take to learn more or speculate more deeply.
As a bonus, many of those questions lead to some pretty good history. (In case you were worried.)
We just needed to ask different questions.
It happens with stuff that looks far more concrete as well:

Who knew bicycling was so dangerous? How do you get hurt playing golf? What changed between 1991 and 1998 to make volleyball so much safer?
Nothing wrong with any of those questions, but I respectfully suggest a little effort might produce even more helpful queries:
What were the total numbers of people in the stipulated age range participating in these activities during these years? Why 1991 and 1998 specifically? If this is ‘Figure 1’, what’s in ‘Figure 2’? What were the severities of the most common injuries associated with each sport?
And always always always…
What message or point were the creators of this graphic trying to make?
That’s the thing about statistics, or paintings, or analogies, or talking points, or document excerpts, or laws – even when they’re ‘true’ (and they’re not always), they almost always reflect a point-of-view or purpose.
They exist. Therefore, someone brought them into existence. Often that someone made a plethora of choices along the way to do so – what to include, what to ignore, what to highlight, what to dismiss, how to frame or phrase or color or express, for clarity or obscurity.
What truth to tell.
A little healthy skepticism in the form of asking the right questions can also act as a filter for the loaded language and passionate diatribes of others, whether legislators or cult leaders. Nothing circumvents clear thinking like a sense of urgency or emergency.
While Captain Kirk was known for his emotional leadership and a daring, follow-your-gut style, a generation later Captain Picard managed to be a bad-ass without often taking the bait when drama was being flung about.
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As it turns out, Captain Maxwell had some valid concerns – those Cardassians were up to something. Stay tuned for Kim & Chloe Take the Gamma Quadrant.
But his solutions were flawed, largely because he wasn’t asking the right questions. His course of action was both self-destructive and counterproductive because he didn’t pause to analyze his assumptions.
Much of our current efforts to ‘reform education’ are based on a similar lack of analysis. Some are simply malicious, but I wonder if often they’re just not asking the right questions.

I respectfully suggest a few things we should be asking before we break Starfleet Protocol, sell our bicycle, or criticize art:
When we speak of ‘reform’, what do we mean? Do we mean to literally ‘re-create’ the entire system, or is it more like reformatting a hard drive? Is it trying to make things better for individuals, like the ‘reform movements’ of the past, or crack down on them, like when ‘bad kids’ were sent to ‘reform school’?
Do we mean ‘raise certain test scores’? ‘Produce happier children?’ ‘Graduate students better prepared for college or to hold real jobs?’
What are our goals, exactly?
In California and elsewhere, teacher tenure laws are being attacked and overturned because tenure protects ‘bad teachers’ and kids deserve ‘good teachers.’ Fair enough.
Why did teacher tenure exist in the first place? Is being ineffective in the classroom the most common reason teachers are punished or fired? Are kids not doing well primarily because they’re ‘trapped’ with these inadequate teachers? Where are the better teachers who we’d prefer take these jobs? Does knowing they can be fired at will make them better? If so, better at what?
What exactly are these students not doing well? Is it test scores, or one of those other things asked above?

In Oklahoma and many other states, legislators are tying teacher evaluations to student performance on standardized tests. OK, let’s run with that.
What will we do with the ‘bad’ teachers? Are they going to be ‘reprogrammed’? Re-educated? By who? Why didn’t we have the people with the good ideas train them the first time?
Are these teachers stupid, or just not trying hard enough?
Given the number of unfilled positions and the state’s determination to continue cutting taxes, what’s the plan when we’ve fired all of the ‘bad teachers’?
If teachers are accountable for how their students perform, should the same be true of building principals? District superintendents?
What about state legislators?
If these tests are so important, why aren’t more adult professionals taking them? Did they have an inadequate public school education, and that’s why they’re trying so hard to fix it now? If so, should we should make sure they get a better one before letting them do more damage? Isn’t that the whole premise of accountability?
If they DID get a good education, why won’t they take these same tests to demonstrate what a reasonable expectation it is? How important those things are to know, even years later?
No, seriously – why? Are they worried there’s not actually much correlation between their scores and their current credibility? Are they worried maybe there is?
What questions are THEY asking about public education? What’s their goal or purpose in what they say and do?
Obviously I have some ideas regarding possible answers to some of these, but others I really don’t. I’m also sure I’m not asking all the right questions myself – that’s the problem with being limited to our own paradigms. That’s why we should always be open to re-examining our assumptions – and to better questions.
What else should we be asking? I welcome your contributions below.

RELATED: Asking Good Questions (And You Don’t Have To Mean It)


The FSA had a result quite different than intended. When forced to partake one way or the other, most Northerners chose to assist runaways, directly or indirectly. Whether this was Christian charity or a collective middle finger to the South was irrelevant to the couple sleeping in their barn and accepting that leftover ham. The FSA ended up galvanizing into action the formerly uninvolved – but not in the way intended.
Most teachers were already maxed out on what they could buy themselves, so some instituted modest but uniform ‘supply lists’ required of all students. Those unable to comply were dealt with on a case-by-case basis.
The introduction of the horse to Plains Amerindians. Prohibition of alcohol in the 1920’s, or of drugs today. Pretty much anything involving the internet. There are exceptions, but it often seems the greater the good we’re trying to mandate, the more ‘unintended consequences’ prove quite the spoilers.
Business owners had no desire to end up on the wrong end of socio-legal revolution. Their solution was simple – no more aptitude tests. Instead, applicants now needed a college degree – in some cases, pretty much ANY college degree. Let the universities deal with any disparities – and hey, look at our over-qualified workforce!
When we try to mass-mandate solutions in ways that ignore or deny the underlying sources of the problems, there will be unintended consequences. In the 1970’s the primary issue was race, and its impact on access to education or employment. That hasn’t gone away, but we’ve expanded the problem by insisting that every new life must be immediately assimilated into our ‘college and career’ ideals. We intone ‘all children can learn’ as we practice ‘all your identity are belong to us’.
It doesn’t have to be purposeful to be destructive (hence ‘unintended’), but I’m not always certain it’s not. Our conflation of ‘high standards’, ‘success’, and ‘compliance with my old white guy paradigm’ is simply too persistent to dismiss intent altogether. Real learning and its ‘measurement’ must vary with circumstances and goals. It must accommodate real students and teachers working through their messy, non-standardized worlds.

Sometimes we just make things too complicated.
New Wineskin #1: A few key districts simply refuse to administer any state standardized tests. It would be better if there was PTSA buy-in, and the younger the age group, the better. It would be more effective if there were 3 or 4 districts of some size, at least one of which is generally very successful at such things and another of which is not. Unite, refuse, then see what happens – it’s on the state to make the next move.
New Wineskin #2: Districts start offering different types of diplomas. Students planning on going full legit university take full legit academic classes. They AP, they IB, they read and write and inquire and think – they can even Common Core if you wish. Those thinking they’d prefer something more practical or vocational will still be exposed to basic science and math and such, but we don’t need to drag them kicking and screaming through a complex thesis sentence or Algebra II before cosmetology school. Our cultish obsession with ‘core subjects’ can be replaced with something useful – not coldly utilitarian, but based on where students are going and what they want to do.
New Wineskin #3: Universities should stop requiring high school diplomas and businesses should stop requiring degrees. Let’s be honest – that stuff is mostly a convenience for the institutions rather than real requirements for what students or employees will be doing. We’re always hearing universities complain the freshmen all require remediation anyway, and it seems few companies hire based on WHICH degrees you have – they’re just happy you have… something. Institutions and industries can come up with more appropriate entrance expectations or preparatory training.
New Wineskin #4: Allow teachers to teach the subjects they want and students to choose what they want from those offerings. Like colleges do when trying to garner all that scholarship money by wooing new students with those colorful course descriptions, let high schools offer shorter, more interesting options from which to choose. Some should be close enough to ‘core subjects’ to expose students to the fundamental tenets of each, but generally the framework should be flexible enough that everyone involved doesn’t hate themselves for being there. You take 3 or 4 weeks, then you sign up for new selections. Some may build on one another; most could stand alone.
New Wineskin #5: Put me in charge. Unlimited legislative and judicial authority, and extensive resources. Perhaps a concubine or three.
The challenge of incorporating technology in the classroom has always been finding ways to utilize it effectively. It’s tempting to begin planning around what the technology can DO, building the lesson from that rather than the reverse.
980: Hey kids! It used to be Jeopardy w/ pockets of index cards – but now it’s on the Overhead Projector!
Hide your kids, hide your wife, they’re mimeographin’ everybody up in here.
Facing such venom, the façade of technological revolution has had to settle for second place – runner-up status in the ranking of all things shameful.
“Virtual Learning” is a flashy new euphemism for “book work and worksheets,” but online.
It’s everything teachers have been badgered and mocked for, in pop culture and required PD, minus the human interaction. While teachers are gathered in one part of the building being told for the hundredth time that “students don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care” and that any lesson built around teacher-selected content or students working individually is outdated, ineffective, and grounds for dismissal, students are gathered in another part of the building (or on laptops at home in their sweats with Teen Mom blaring three feet away) working individually on teacher-selected content without a clue what their teacher even looks like, let alone “how much they care.”
(In other news, irony is dead.)
While we’re at it, maybe we could ease up a bit on the teachers doing similar things in class, just trying to get their kids through. Yes, they’ve photocopied a crossword puzzle for review. No, they won’t be winning any awards for creativity. But instead of condemning them, maybe we could notice the way they’re impacting their kids in other ways – taking those random one-on-one opportunities or dragging the whole group kicking and screaming into the light of basic knowledge.