Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Learning to Read Rousseau



This is part 9 of my literacy project, focusing on teaching kids to construct meaning by annotating and working with what they do know about the text instead of being paralyzed by what they don't. The first entry in this series - “The Problem” - was posted in early September.

Most of my time on this project has been spent on my English classes, mainly because they're the place where I spend the bulk of my time and energy. It's where my job is to teach kids to read and write. My Philosophy classes absolutely tear my heart up every day though. They're great. I love them because it gives me a chance to interact on a more intellectual level than I might otherwise with students, at least in terms of the content. But, if I'm being honest, it's also because a lot of my favorite students from the last few years fill these classes. It's a place for me to be nurturing and brutal and biased and demanding as the individual student requires. So . . . it's not the most objective classroom space.

Still, I like to try to measure success and growth in these classes as much as possible. Following an initiative my administration is pushing, I've been focusing on a sub-group of young men of a pretty wide range of academic tendencies. At the school where I'm teaching, we don't exactly do a great job of pushing young men into high intellectual practices, a trend that's pretty recurrent throughout the Bronx. So I figured that I would try to track the growth of 4 young men in my philosophy classes.

This is my first full reflection on that, although the focus has been pretty real for me since the early classes this September. For several weeks, students worked with the reading and annotation method I've been advocating – writing everything they know and ignoring or moving past what they don't until later. At the end of the unit, students got a choice of texts to read on their own, annotate, and explicate. This student chose to read and annotate a selection from Rousseau's Discourse on the Origin of Inequality. It's a fairly challenging text once you go below the surface level of the dichotomy between natural and social sources of inequality, and he follows Rousseau's nuance admirably. The really nice thing is that you can see the student learning to transfer Rousseau's language to his own over the course of the text; early on, it is largely a series of loosely-copied phrases and ideas, but by the end he is summarizing and explicating the text in completely new langauge.

The annotations start out simply, as he picks out the basic ideas that Rousseau is setting up, ignoring a lot of the finer details. This is about two types of inequality and it doesn't make any sense to talk about the source of natural inequality. You could do worse than to get this out of the first 2 paragraphs, I think. Going on, the annotations bear a pretty strong resemblance to Rousseau's own wording, as he teases out the meaning. However, by his notes on the bottom of the page, the language has shifted to his own. Similarly, on the 2nd page he defaults to small revisions to Rousseau's phrases – clarifying them – but then summarizes in his own language at the bottom. He is picking out the connections between the pieces and finding a way to tell what he understands generally from the pieces he has translated.
 
The development gets clear on the third and final page of the excerpt. Almost all the language has shifted to his own. He has worked through translating the ideas and language of the text for long enough; now he can work with it more freely. Overall, this is the point of the kind of read-by-fire methodology I've been talking about. Working with what you can – swinging between one clear point and another – pays off as the student has clearly moved from low to higher text access and maneuverability.

Friday, November 30, 2012

Gathering Data

This is part 8 in my series on trying to teach students to use annotations to read. The first entry was posted back at the beginning of September, titled “The Problem.”

So, a discussion of tracking and data is probably long overdue. Stupid, meaningless words. “We’d like to see some data on your kids.” Measuring student development in something as complex as literacy is like living perpetually in late November or early December and trying always to make a definitive statement about whether or not it’s winter. Of course, there’s an objective marker on a calendar somewhere that tells you the answer flat out, but even in the face of that kind of absolute idea, day to day experience kind of contradicts it sometimes. You’re pretty sure you’re in a state of becoming winter though. Some days more than others. Measuring literacy is kind of like that, I guess.

With that in mind, I decided to try to track some target students using a more narrative style. It gave me a chance to reflect on what was really happening for each student, day to day, but also to look explicitly at whether or not it seemed like this reading and annotation method was helping.

I focus on three categories – frequency of annotations in general, the extent to which the student's notes are reflecting central ideas in the text, and the potential for moving these notes from a simple summary level to a more explicative level. It's just a basic Word document with some columns, but it's easy enough to quickly throw some thoughts into or to print off for the odd administrator request or student conference.

In my English classes, I've been tracking a handful of students – mostly students with IEPs or who are ELLs, but a couple who self-selected by coming for individual help with reading comprehension early in the year – and I've just been finishing up scanning in a bunch of their work. Unfortunately, there's going to be a big gap in work because we started reading To Kill a Mockingbird. Maybe I'll get a chance to scan in some annotations or sticky notes from students later on. Maybe I'll sleep a little bit or finish another Game of Thrones book or something.

I've been trying to keep up with these narrative trackers on each of my target students. For the most part, I've been successful – it's not so much about taking the time to write in the 30-80 words per entry, which is pretty quick and painless. It's actually collecting the texts so that I can make copies. As I pointed out in the overall description of the method a while back, using student annotations the way we do is nice for real-time assessment as students are actually reading.

So, for instance, these annotations from early in the year might indicate that the student is able to decode the text on the most basic level, despite relatively high complexity. However, less central details – the description of the architecture, for instance – are left unmentioned. The student could use these annotations to summarize the story or talk about things like theme or characterization, but close-reading discussions like tone or author's craft would require a strategic rereading.


Monday, October 29, 2012

I'm sort of bragging now

This is part 7 of my project about teaching kids to actually read.  It's the first mention of my Philosophy elective, which is focused on the often unbearably-difficult process of reading philosophical texts.  The first part of the project was posted on 9/1/12, titled "The Problem."


I'm teaching Hegel's "Lord and Bondsman" to a bunch of 10th and 11th graders in my Intro to Philosophy Course.  We started out with a conversation about rearranging syntax, then spent the whole class on just the first 2 sentences.  I worked through the first sentence w/ them – modeling the process, asking questions, etc.  Students did things like circling awareness and drawing an arrow from it to self, crossed out in and for itself when, and by the fact that to substitute the word when, then summarizing in the margins.  So any philosophy PhD out there is perhaps raging now at the simplification that has undoubtedly ruined all of Hegel’s nuance.  But, with a little help, students were able to figure out how to make meaning out of this phrase:

         Self-consciousness exists in and for itself when, and by the fact that, it so exists for another; that is, it exists only in being acknowledged.

Then, students had to work in pairs to repeat the procedure with the next sentence I gave them – the final sentence in Hegel’s original paragraph, since I had edited this first paragraph for clarity (the rest of the text remained completely intact from the Miller translation).  In pairs, they made sense of

The detailed exposition of the Notion of this spiritual unity in its duplication will present us with the process of Recognition. 

And they did it.  It took some help in the form of reminding them to pay attention to what they did know and to translate words like Notion into Idea (again, Hegelians are aghast at the significance of this change) to keep themselves from getting stuck on it.  By the end of the day, in an informal “raise your hands if” assessment, students agreed at about a 70% rate that they couldn’t read Hegel, but felt like they were on their way. 
Since then, we’ve taken another class period to read about 4 more sentences and students are off reading and annotating 3 more for homework.  It’s slow going, but students are not only grasping Hegel’s concepts, but they’re getting used to the process of unraveling complex syntax, which is one of the key skills for reading higher-level texts. 

We’ll see how the homework looks, if this (seemingly imaginary from my current perspective) hurricane ever lets us get back to school. 

Teaching "Masque of the Red Death"

This is part 6 of my project on teaching students to actually read.  The first post was "The Problem" back on 91/12.  The following lesson is simply an example of how I might introduce this method with a text that I'm absolutely certain will challenge my students.  See the previous 2 lessons for other fine-detail thoughts on how I ran this class.

Reading “Masque of the Red Death” day 1                

Aim:  How do I use annotation to read really difficult texts?
Obj:  SWBAT use elimination and annotation to read and summarize a text.

CC standard:  RI.9-10.5  Analyze in detail how an author's ideas or claims are developed and refined by particular sentences, paragraphs, or larger portions of a text. 

Do Now:  Read the following passage and use any knowledge you have to try to make sense of it.  If you can't figure out all of it together, pick out individual words and try to figure out what they might mean.

Peruse the language of this query to determine the relative meanings of the words vis a vis the overall knowledge of which you are already possessed.  In the event of a complete inability to associate local meaning with a sense of the global intentions of this statement, select individual signifiers and explain how their meanings might add up to something.

Work through the language with students –

Tricks for using annotation to understand texts
Look for words/phrases that you do know
Read those phrases together
Put together meaning that you can write/summarize in the margins

So let's look at a really tough story now. 

This next part here is key – it’s the good ole’ workshopy process of doing the first paragraph or two together, followed by paired work, then individual work – scaffolding down to students feeling ok about going into their heads and doing it themselves.

Read through the first paragraph of “Masque” - work through the tricks with students.

OK, so now with the person next to you, let's try to figure out what the next two paragraphs are about.  Use the 3 tricks for using annotation and we'll see if we can figure this text out.  [circulate to assess student progress – keep students moving despite frustration]

Share out – keep filling in annotations as students share them – possibility to massage their actual notes.

OK, so now your job is to finish reading this text.  Use all the tricks!  [circulate to assess]

Share out what we get in the last moments of class time.

Homework:  Finish annotating “Masque of the Red Death” (DUE TOMORROW) 


Introducing the method’s use with really hard texts

This is part 5 of my project on teaching students to actually read.  The first post in this series was "The Problem," posted on 9/1/12.



Early in the year, I teach the idea of summarizing the main ideas in the margins first, using simpler texts so that students can focus on the skill apart from struggling with content.  They get it, but honestly there’s not always a lot of buy in to that kind of idea because kids know that they can hold all the ideas in their head without annotating much.  The first chance they get to really see the value of annotating for comprehension is when we read Poe’s “Masque of the Red Death.” 
This is a hard text for students, as the numbers show on my previous post.  So I start out with an extreme version of the annotation method – getting kids to really see that they can read around unfamiliar words and make meaning out of very difficult texts.  It’s a bit gimmicky, but here’s what I do.  Students come in to a Do Now that says this:

Read the following passage and use any knowledge you have to try to make sense of it.  If you can't figure out all of it together, pick out individual words and try to figure out what they might mean.

Peruse the language of this query to determine the relative meanings of the words vis a vis the overall knowledge of which you are already possessed.  In the event of a complete inability to associate local meaning with a sense of the global intentions of this statement, select individual signifiers and explain how their meanings might add up to something.

            Predictably, most students don’t really write much of anything in the 3-4 minutes I give them.  They generally get stuck on peruse and if they remember to read through that, query and vis a vis usually seal the deal.  Then we get to work as a class.  I play a bit dumb and say that I don’t know all the words either, but can read around them – it’s important to make this very caricatured, I think.  Students have to know you know what you’re talking about and playing a part.  I highlight words I supposedly don’t know and turn them white, leaving them erased.  Usually we end up with the following.

              the language of this           to determine the            meanings of the words           the overall knowledge of which you are already possessed.  In the event of a complete inability to                          , select individual                and explain how their meanings might add up to something.

 From this, students are able to read that the passage says:

“Do something . . . the language of this to determine the meanings of the words.”  Then, a more advanced student rearranges “knowledge . . . already possessed” to “knowledge you already have – something you already know” and this set of ideas, along with “how their meanings might add up” leaves the final blank as having something to do with words.  Students have made meaning out of a seemingly impenetrable passage, largely by simply removing 4 words and 2 unclear phrases. 
            They are ready to move on to “Masque of the Red Death” which will require them to use this skill continuously throughout.  I’ll post that lesson separately. 

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Measuring Reader Confidence

This is part 4 of my project on teaching students to actually read.  The first post in this series was "The Problem," posted on 9/1/12.

So I thought that I would try to measure this process as thoroughly as possible.  Obviously I’ll want to do it by measuring students’ abilities to read increasingly difficult texts, but simply testing kids with comprehension questions and observations of their annotations would leave out one of the most important factors – their sense of their own comprehension skills.  Since the problem is really students’ inability to confront difficult texts with the skills and the confidence to work through the reading, it seemed to me that I should measure the more subjective aspect of comfort with texts.  So I asked the kids how they felt about the texts I was giving them after a brief pre-reading skim. 
            Let me be clear about this.  I usually hate these kinds of things.  I’ve never found much use for interest surveys in reading workshops and I’ve never been able to use learning style tests.  It turns out that most kids would rather talk and have hands-on experiences.  No shit.  But I’m interested in the power of confidence and I wanted to know whether or not this methodology improved students’ senses of their reading abilities along with their more objectively-measured abilities.  So I just asked them how they felt and I’ll do it again from time to time. 
            Basically, I showed them the articles and said something along the lines of “If I asked you to read this and then we were going to do something that you needed to know it, how would you feel?”  Not terribly scientific.  I even neglected to survey my smallest class, from which 3 of my target students are drawn.  But that’s the day to day of being a teacher.  We had other things going on.  Their responses were limited to the 4 possibilities listed.  You can make what you want to out of these numbers.  The Stop & Frisk articles were part of my initial preassessment for the year, tied to a writing task.  They were the first things students got from me.  The Poe came about 7 or 8 classes later, after students had been introduced to the annotation method but hadn’t really seen it in action.  I’ll post a full bit on those lessons later.
            Hopefully, I can finish this introductory unit and reward kids with some more Poe – maybe “Tell-tale Heart” – because they loved “Masque.”  When I hand it to them, I’ll ask them the same question and get their response.  Hopefully, the numbers go up. 


New York Times Stop & Frisk articles
104 students surveyed

Very uncertain – 27  (26%)
Uncertain – 43  (41%)
OK with it – 28  (27%)
Comfortable – 6  (6%)


Poe’s “Masque of the Red Death”
102 students surveyed

Very uncertain – 58  (57%)
Uncertain – 36  (35%)
Ok with it – 6  (6%)
Comfortable – 2  (2%)

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Students Can Read Anything: The Romeo and Juliet Anecdote

This is part 3 of my project on teaching students to actually read.  The first post in this series was "The Problem," posted on 9/1/12.  So while I'm being held up by the ridiculous logistics of starting the year, I'm itching to get some more ideas out there.  This is just an anecdote, but it's relating one of the first times I can remember thinking about the problems with reading instruction specifically.
 
             I think I started to get the idea that students can read anything in my first year of teaching.  I was teaching 8th grade in a small 7-12 school in the Bronx and the high school teachers said that they’d really like it if students knew some Shakespeare when they got to 9th grade.  Wow, ok.  My classroom management wasn’t great.  My lesson plans were shaky at best.  My sleep was lacking.  The reading levels of my students, which I had assiduously measured and documented, were low.  But I went along with it, picking out Romeo and Juliet as the most obvious choice for the angst-ridden crowd in front of me. 
            To make a long story short, I taught the text.  We skipped a few scenes for time, watched clips from Zeffirelli and all of Baz Luhrmann’s films.  We acted a lot.  It took forever and students didn’t understand everything.  I came up with a speech that they really seemed to buy though.  I pointed out that, while reading, we sometimes don’t know what’s going on exactly, but we muscle through and then we get to something we do understand.  Part of the process of reading is stringing together these moments of clarity, making meaning that way.  When we reread the text at a later time, we’ll get more from it, but only because we had this initial reading in our young lives as a background.  You don’t get everything at first.  But you get something.  Reading Shakespeare, I joked honesty, is sometimes like being Tarzan – you grab a vine and swing on it, secure that you know it’s there but unsure of everything around you.  Grasping out wildly in front of you, suddenly another branch pops into your hand and you’re off swinging even further. 
Students seemed amazed by my willingness to admit that I didn’t always understand everything the first time (I was taking a class on Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit around the same time and was more than happy to admit my initial impotence with regard to that text), but they also seemed empowered by the idea that they could read anything and that it was ok if they didn’t understand every word. 
Here’s the kicker though.  Once that strict demand for absolute understanding was removed, kids actually managed to understand quite a bit – most of the text, in many cases.  Of course, we went slowly and we had to piece together a lot of passages.  We needed dictionaries and Shakespearean glossaries.  And at first, honestly, I gave a lot of answers out.  But students learned to do it themselves, and by Mercutio’s Queen Mab speech, students were happily reading along and getting the gist of things, concluding at the end that this guy was completely out of his mind because they didn't know what he was talking about and they suspected that it might be the point.  Students were well aware that there were things they were missing – some even looking forward to seeing what they would get out of the play next time they read it – but they certainly got more out of the experience than they would have if I’d given them a cheapened version. 

         It’s only an anecdote.  I wasn’t using the annotation method that I’m looking at here.  I was just trying to give students the idea that they can read difficult texts, despite what our culture of reading levels might suggest.  It wasn't perfect and certainly there were things that I would do differently now.  But it was a start.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

The Method (A Basic Overview)

This is part 2 of my project on teaching students to actually read.  The first post in this series was "The Problem," posted on 9/1/12.


            So this is what I’ve been doing.  It’s what I’ll continue to do, obviously with some thoughtful alterations as necessary.  Although it contains a lot of standard practices, the systematic approach and the desired outcomes are a bit different – students using these practices to actually read difficult texts, while teachers use them to assess.  It’s important to note that this entry isn’t meant to be exhaustive and none of the posts on this site are meant to be particularly linear.  Questions raised here might be answered later.  Alternate examples or individual anecdotes are coming.
What do I actually do to teach students to read difficult texts?
             
          Basically, it’s a process of slowing down and annotating what students understand while reading.  Students are required to write summary annotations in the margins every time they complete a given section of a text.  This might be a paragraph, a page, or even just a line if a text is very complex.  The key is to have students recognize the difficulty of the text and adjust their annotations accordingly.  So, if a student is comfortable with the meaning of a text – perhaps it’s one of those terrible test prep packet readings – and needs to just focus on answering post-reading questions, she can annotate very lightly, perhaps just short phrases for every paragraph or two.  If a student is very challenged by a text, she can summarize what she understands about every line.  After several annotations have been written down, students look back over them, attempting to put the meaning of the text all back together in terms of their own words and understandings. 

But how does this help students understand the text?

            I came up with this method after the thousandth instance of a student reading a passage and then saying “I don’t understand any of that.”  My stock response for that was always “Of course you do.  Let’s look at it.”  Because students do understand things in even the most complicated texts – there are words, phrases, and whole ideas that are completely comprehensible, even comfortable.  The problem is that we’ve taught students to be caught up on what they don’t know.  So, having students read in terms of what they understand makes it possible to read more complex texts for some meaning, opening up the possibility for constructive re-readings that could then help students fill in gaps. 
            This is what we all do as competent adult readers.  I don’t always understand the finer points of the wonkish moments on Paul Krugman’s blog.  But I read it and I understand the text for the most part, often learning how to read the more specialist language of economics in the process.  Almost nobody understands the finer points of the instructions on tax return paperwork, but (unless we can afford to have somebody else file for us) we tend to trudge through and make sense of it, accumulating knowledge and the ability to read these types of texts in the meantime.  
            So, when students read a bit, take a couple seconds to think about what they just read, write a sentence or two in their own words to hit the high points, and then use these notes to make sense of the larger development of the text . . . they’re reading things that might have seemed unreadable to somebody just sitting down and reading from first to last word without any reflection in the middle.

How do I assess this in real time?

            The fantastic part about this method, from the standpoint of a teacher, is that any in-class readings are easy to assess.  A roving teacher can see the frequency of annotations, suggesting a student’s level of comfort with the text, as well as the accuracy of summaries.  Therefore, a teacher doesn’t have to wait until a student completes a text to individually assess whether or not a student is comprehending a text.  As a summative assessment, scanning a student’s annotations provides more information about his understanding of the entire text and its development throughout, since students are not as easily able to highlight portions of the text, to the exclusion of others. 
            During this process of assessment, it’s also very easy to quickly suggest ways that students could further their thinking, fill in gaps, look back at information they could fill in, and generally to show students how to get more from a text.  In my experience, this can informally take place by pointing at a particular annotation and asking things like “What do you mean here?” or “Is this all that’s going on?” or “What part of the text showed you this?”  When necessary, an important but un-annotated section of text can be pointed to and dissected with a few questions like “What’s happening here?” or “Can you tell me about this sentence/paragraph/section here?”  Generally, a student left this section un-annotated because it was confusing, so this gives the teacher another chance to walk through the process of taking apart a sentence to get what students do know from it.

So that’s the basic method? 

See, it’s pretty simple, right?  Tell students to read a bit and determine how difficult a text is (you have to teach kids to do this, or course), then slow down so they can very briefly summarize what they do understand as they’re going, then occasionally reread to put all the ideas together.  If the length of the text permits, have students go back over the text to fill in details once they understand the basics of the text.  It’s a scaffolding process really, and one that is certainly open to a continual reduction in the use of the tool as students develop their skills.  But let’s be honest.  This is a skill that lends itself to reading in graduate seminars.  The real trick is teaching students to determine exactly how much annotation is necessary for a particular text.  Yeah . . . that’s a challenge.  More on that later.  

Saturday, September 1, 2012

The Problem

This is the introduction to my research project on actually teaching reading.


            I’m thinking about how to teach reading.  Of course, you’ll direct me to the gigantic industry of texts, methods, workshops, schools, and think tanks that have taken this up.  Yeah.  I’ve checked that out and it doesn’t teach people to read or teach people to teach reading.  I’m not saying it’s all bullshit exactly, but most of it is bullshit.  I don’t want to add to the pile, but I’m making the attempt to say something a little different about reading instruction.  There’ll be methodologies and assessments and tracking to come – I’m working on all of that – but for now I just want to think about a few things.
            We teach little kids to actually read.  Phonics or whole-word or a combination of the two, along with the more formal cognitive things – left to right and top to bottom and the like.  Stop to look at the pictures.  But then we quit doing all that and go right to comprehension and never really look back.  What is the main idea?  What are the supporting details?  What is the character motivation?  What kinds of inferences can you make?  Does this remind you of anything from your life?  Which of Freud’s main descriptions of condensation and displacement applies most directly to this text?
            But after about 4th grade – even earlier if the Common Core push gets its way – there is almost no instruction in actual reading.  All of these questions are recall or reread questions.  They assume completion of the text and are testing the quality of the reading and the ability to interpret ideas.  None of this is about making knowledge out of the text.  Even meaning-making strategies like text to self readings create meaning by combining two ostensibly complete texts – personal experience and the thing being read.  I’ve got a less reductive analysis of self to text readings coming up, worked into the method I’m going to be talking about, but for the purpose of an introduction, it’s pretty clear that when teachers ask students to read Buried Onions and then do a project analyzing the similarities and differences between Eddie’s neighborhood and the student’s own neighborhood, it’s an after-reading strategy.  It assumes that students have apprehended the image of the neighborhood in the text and can hold it up against their own experience.  It’s a great thinking and writing assignment, but it isn’t instruction in actual reading.
            The closest thing I can find to actual reading instruction in higher grades is the good old use of context clues to determine the meaning of an unknown word.  In some ways, my method is a mutation of this process, with a few important exceptions.  Mainly, my gripe with context clues is twofold, one on a very practical and one on a more theoretical level.  In the first instance, teaching students to use context clues only works if context clues exist.  Texts designed for teaching context clues, like the ones in this very useful worksheet from Read, Write, Think, often contain patterns like an internal definition, antonym or synonym markers, or clear material for inferences.  Real readings don’t generally follow these patterns, at least all the time.  So students can be aces with context clue worksheets but unable to use these strategies to determine the meaning of unfamiliar words when the clear scaffolds aren’t present. 
            Even more importantly for my project though, teaching students to read using context clues assumes that the sentence in question – or even the whole text – is already a comprehended whole, with a tiny piece or two missing.  This is based on an assumption that is . . . well, pretty abhorrent in my opinion.  I’m talking about the “five finger rule” or some variant of that idea.  You know, the one where you tell students that if they don’t know five or more words per page when they start a book, it’s too hard for them and they should pick a different book.  Let’s be clear.  I hate this idea – it’s bad teaching and general bad modeling for life.  This isn’t how the world works.  If you need to read a legal injunction against you, it will have words and ideas you don’t know.  If you want to understand the debate over a particular public policy, it will have words and ideas you don’t know.  If you want to read Goethe’s Faust while skipping 9th grade English class in the library, it will have words and ideas you don’t know.  Reading all these texts anyway is not only necessary, it’s downright human.  It’s our job as teachers to give kids the tools to read all these texts.
            So that’s my problem.  I want to teach reading and I’m not happy with the methods out there.  I’m going to be further developing a method that I’ve been working on for a couple years.  The school year starts in a few days and I’m going to be teaching 9th grade English and (as far as I know) one section of an Intro to Philosophy elective to 10th-12th grade students.  Let’s see how this goes . . .

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Whose Priorities? Teaching the Budget Process


It's been a long time.  I've been working on new things that I hope will play out well here.  This is something that Rethinking Schools didn't get back to me on, but that could work anywhere that has students facing cuts to the things that make their lives function in any vaguely proper way.  



During a brief lunch break, I found myself eating a peanut butter sandwich with one hand and using the other to play around with “Budget Puzzle: You Fix the Budget,” a New York Times interactive article challenging readers to balance the Federal budget by selecting from a list of various cuts and taxes.  With surprising ease, I found my budget with a several billion dollar surplus just as two students wandered into my room.  I pointed out my success to them, unsure if they knew exactly what “balanced the Federal budget” meant.  I should’ve known better.  One student excitedly asked how I had done it and another suggested that I send it in, as if the solution to our nation’s funding problems was as simple as just moving numbers around until we can figure out the right answer. 
            I was struck by their assumption that budgets are essentially benevolent documents that just sometimes don’t have room to provide for everyone’s needs.  In the Bronx, where I teach, budget cuts in education and services for working people are common, ranging from reduction in housing or food aid to the constant threat of teacher layoffs or the elimination of free Metro cards for students.  Still, students assumed that cuts like the ones they were experiencing must be happening everywhere, to everyone.  After all, why would services in their neighborhoods be reduced at a disproportionately high rate?
            These types of assumptions were exactly the sorts of things that I wanted to target by teaching about the budget process.  Even though austerity measures are being pushed through in Europe and across the United States, it is simply not the case that cuts to the services that working people are paying for are unavoidable.  By looking at all of the choices on the table and seeing that domestic spending and so-called “entitlement” programs (a disparaging term that should be fought against whenever possible) are not the only places where spending can be cut, students came to realize that the pain of reductions are not being evenly spread by any stretch of the imagination.  The benefits to teaching about the budget process didn’t just end with students coming to a realization that deep cuts in social spending were avoidable though; this unit allowed us to dig into the very deeply-entrenched ideas about how and why some people have more or less than others.

Starting with the Home

            The main problem that I knew I would have while teaching this unit was the dense lexicon of budget discussions.  To ease students into this, I started out with the simplest ideas of budget cuts, revenue generation, and income.  Although they were basic, starting with these three terms helped students break away from simply talking about saving, making, spending, or losing money.  Instead, they learned to see things in terms of costs, sacrifices, and working time.  If they wanted something, they had to generate the revenue to pay for it somehow.  If they didn’t want to be bothered with generating revenue, they had to cut something out of the budget.  The most concrete way to work with these ideas was the home.  Groups of students tackled hypothetical situations where families faced budget shortfalls and had to figure out how to make up the difference.  Predictably, this led to budget cutting measures like walking to work, getting rid of cable, and buying cheaper groceries.  It also less frequently led to the suggestion that families could generate revenue by selling possessions, find jobs for school-age children, or second jobs for parents.  Clearly, students had learned the lessons of hardship well.  The answer is always within the family itself, with every member following the Jurgis Rudkus maxim to simply “work harder.” 
            Not all students were so easily pushed into these answers though.  Some spoke out vehemently against the idea that they should have to cancel their cable because the landlord wanted to raise the rent or that they should have to work extra hours after school to help pay for a rise in the cost of their asthma medication.  They especially disliked the idea of eating cheaper food because of a parent’s wage reductions.  The general consensus among these students was that some belt-tightening was ok, but at a certain point budget cuts meant dropping below an acceptable standard of living.  Several went so far as to ask if there was a point to working at all if people had to do it while living without the basic comforts.  At the heart of all of these problems was one of the most important questions of the unit: Why do working people have to pay so much to so many different people, just to continually get littler and littler comfort in return?

What do we get from the government anyway?

            The question of working people paying out huge sums at every turn was also wrapped up in the one of the biggest (though most productive) hurdles that came from relating government budgets to family budgets.  While students knew that they didn’t like the idea of working hard every day just to scrimp on all the necessities of life, they also knew the anti-tax rhetoric that is all too prevalent among working people, and it came up immediately when we talked about financial hardships on families.  Why does the government need to take out so much? 
            This was a legitimate question, since looking at family budgets showed that a large percentage of money came out of checks and went to the nebulous idea of “taxes,” while other expenses like Metro cards and sales taxes also ate into monthly resources.  However, this provided the opportunity to look at all the benefits that come from tax revenue.  Of course students realized that taxes fed institutions like schools and the military, but they were surprised by other government-backed programs.  Like many Americans, students hadn’t given much thought to the fact that the initial development of the Internet came from tax revenue, as did parks, roadways, fire departments, water purification, bridge construction and upkeep – the list of things they hadn’t thought about coming from taxes was apparently almost endless.  Soon, students began asking why people would want to cut out funding for those things.  Suddenly, taxes and the budget seemed more tangible and important, since they were linked to real things.
            This is the point that has to be addressed first if Americans are going to be able to fully understand the lopsided class conflict that budget balancing has been part of.  Taxes pay for things that are necessary for society and cuts to those things mean cuts to the structural foundation of actual communities. Like a household budget without cable, Internet, decent food, heat, or toiletries, the idea of a community without parks, clean water, good schools, or drivable roads seemed ridiculous, given the obvious abundance of resources in America.  So the point of taxes isn’t to pay for things, but to chip in and get more than you might be able to if you had to pay for everything by yourself.  They are dues that community members pay to be part of a community.  If the idea of clean water is appealing, taxation is necessary. 
            As this argument goes with adults, so it went with students though.  “I don’t use any parks or the fire department, so why should I have to pay for them?” asked one student openly and without any malicious intent – he simply wondered how that idea worked into the whole community perspective.  Then it happened.  A group of students came up with the idea that everyone had to pay in a little bit for everything, but it was only fair if those who benefited most from infrastructure paid more.  We have to have roads, so everybody’s got to pay a little for them, but big stores really need the roads to get customers and products in, so they should have to pay more.  With a little facilitation, the logic snowballed.  The banks depend on police to protect their piles of wealth.  Millionaires with multiple homes and a couple of buildings that they do business out of depend on the insurance of the fire departments in numerous locations, not just for one apartment like the students did.  Landlords could charge more for apartments if there were nice parks and good access to public transportation in the area.  Businesses were more likely to use the courts, to benefit from technological development, even to an educated workforce.  It turns out, the rich not only use these government services more than average, they actually profit from their existence.

How would working people balance the budget differently?

            Looking at the budget template from The New York Times site, I assigned pairs of students to individual budget items, ranging from the various proposals on changes to capital gains taxes to changes in Social Security or disability benefits.  Their first major challenge was decoding the language of these individual proposals, since the level of difficulty in political budget prose is rather intentionally dense, even in summary form.  Even though some proposals were only a paragraph long, some students took a full class to figure out exactly what their item was talking about.  Causes of the confusion ranged from tracing through items such as “Allow expiration for Bush Era tax cuts to individuals with incomes above $250,000” in an effort to determine exactly what was being done to taxes on which group of people, to trying to figure out what “Using an alternate measure of inflation” to calculate cost of living increases in aid money actually meant. 
The process was a liberating one in itself.  As students overcame the alienation caused by the language of the politicians and bureaucrats, they developed a sense of power.  They could’ve been fooled or confused or simply turned away by the language of proposals like the Bowles-Simpson plan to “simplify” the tax code by eliminating some tax loopholes and reducing the overall tax rate for individuals and businesses.  However, as they read and analyzed what each proposal would actually mean, they were able to look past words like simplify and reduce tax rates, which are included to persuade the casual observer that these might be ideas that would benefit just about anybody.  Instead, I asked students to determine who would benefit from or be hurt by each item, and in what way. 
Some of these were simpler than others.  Students quickly decided that a carbon tax would either generate revenue by punishing polluters or encourage industries to find cleaner ways to do business, both very popular outcomes with middle school students.  Sure, the factory owners would be charged a bit, but it was in the interest of cleaning up the planet and keeping down the costs of global warming in the future. 
Other items sparked conversation about why anyone would argue against such proposals.  For instance, establishing a millionaire tax benefits the overall system by generating revenue and is a more progressive approach to taxation, but costs the rich money, so it seems that those items unfairly burden one group of people.  However, students quickly pointed out that it might actually be more beneficial for the rich to pay a small surtax if it meant that the government could maintain infrastructure that would facilitate business.  Taxing the rich was largely necessary in order to maintain the system that made the rich successful.            
            As students prepared to present these items to each other, they already had begun prioritizing certain types of budget proposals.  Cuts to state aid were almost universally never considered.  While students cared about items on the Federal budget, it quickly became apparent that the items that most directly affected them came from state money, including education, many types of public assistance, and public transportation.  Cutting the state seemed like too much of a sacrifice, especially in light of the comparatively paltry 40 billion that this would save over a 20 year period, equaling less than 4% of the overall budget.  For students, this cut would cost much more than it would save, hurting nearly everyone in some facet of life, and contributing very little to any actual solution.  An egalitarian focus was central to this conversation.  If a proposal would hurt many and benefit only slightly, it simply wasn’t worth the cost.  Similarly, although some students supported a consumption tax in various forms, usually as a 5% Federal sales tax, their logic was based on the presumed equality in such taxes.  Sales tax would depend upon how much someone bought, and most arguments centered on the assumption that the rich would be forced to pay their fair share because they buy so much more than other classes.  Other suggestions, like cutting jobs or freezing pay in the Federal workforce, were non-starters.  Students could clearly see that reducing jobs or pay to working families would only save in the short term and would ultimately cost more, not only to the people put out of work or the unemployment agencies that would have to pay out benefits after layoffs, but to the economy in general when these workers stop spending money, sending a ripple effect through other sectors. 
Overall, the students were able to balance the budget by keeping these sorts of concerns in mind at all times.  In general, students favored items that would generate revenue, although they did also suggest cuts that seemed to earn big reductions in the debt.  These ranged from reductions in the Social Security benefits of higher wage earners to an elimination of costly nuclear missile spending through weapon decommissioning projects.  Even in terms of taxes though, they were less hawkish than I was in my budget.  More often than not, they favored reducing tax breaks for the rich, such as higher-income mortgage deductions and corporate loopholes.  They were wary of capital gains or estate taxes on any but the very highest earners, partially because of the residual anti-tax conditioning they came to class carrying, but also because of what can only be described as an amazing sense of sympathy.  Showing a benevolent tendency that was quite unlike that of the rich interests who normally craft government budget documents, students were concerned with the possibility that, even if the wealthy in general could afford higher taxes, what would happen if an individual had special circumstances that limited his or her ability to pay?  What if that person lost a home or couldn’t put kids through school?
Of course, these concerns reflected the realities that many of my students had faced themselves and wanted to spare other people from facing.  This was no dictatorship of the proletariat, just an attempt to make people pay their fair share.  Most of their budgets actually divided spending cuts and tax increases fairly evenly, arguing that it would be unfair to ask for too much from anyone without everyone being willing to give something up.  Unfortunately, when their budgets were finished, they had produced documents that couldn’t hope to pass through a House subcommittee, let alone make it to the point of being signed by the President.  They were speechless when I told them their budgets would be laughed out of Congress.  They had avoided job cuts, minimized tax increases on all but those who could bear them the easiest, gave sustainable funds to education and the environment, and made some hard decisions about the military.  Many of them had even managed to run a short term surplus, even though they were only in 8th grade.  Clearly something is wrong.   

So why doesn’t the budget ever look like this?       

            As students worked through their budgets and eventually came through in the black, the first thing that happened is that they dropped their initial scorn for government officials who were behind on passing a budget.  Originally we had made it a bit of a game, mocking educated leaders who couldn’t do something that a bunch of early-teens were about to do.  After looking at all the variables and facing many arguments about priorities and values, students were a bit more sympathetic.  This was hard stuff.  They developed a new irritation though.  While looking at summaries of the Paul Ryan budget and President Obama’s counter-proposal, students were struck by how many items on their budgets didn’t appear on either document from Washington.  The President made lackluster pushes for a repeal to the Bush Era cuts to the wealthy, but shied away from anything resembling the millionaire’s tax or the reduction in corporate loopholes.  Republicans denied the possibility of adding any taxes, even for oil industries in the wake of record profits.  Instead, the two groups seemed to only be arguing about how deeply to cut from an already bare-bones Federal budget.
Furthermore, students started to realize that it was taking a lot of cuts to working people to equal up to just a few cuts to the rich.  One estimate claims that the millionaire’s tax would generate almost one hundred billion dollars in revenue over the next 10 years by imposing a 5.4% tax on a few people who aren’t exactly struggling.  However, this tax has been looked over in favor of a Federal workforce pay freeze that will effectively reduce the pay of tens of thousands of workers by approximately 5%.  Even though this cut to pay for workers affects more people who have less to lose, students were quick to point out that it didn’t generate even one fifth of the revenue.  Cuts to state aid and other Federal programs like the Office of Safe and Drug-Free Schools would also be necessary to make up the gap left by neglecting the Millionaire’s tax. 
There’s a clear trend here.  While students were concerned about asking too much from the rich, the beneficiaries of such consideration have no problem asking for everything from working people.  Reductions in salaries, benefits and standards of living for workers are framed as “tough sacrifices” while taxes on the wealthiest members of society are declaimed as “class warfare.”  Students were appalled by the fact that they hadn’t been willing to attack the rich in order to balance the budget but were expected to put up with seemingly endless cuts themselves.  One student demanded a chance to rewrite his budget, blow for blow.  Suddenly it was all-too-clear that budgets weren’t the benevolent documents that students had assumed them to be. 
Students left the unit angry, but unsure what to do about it.  Clearly the government had betrayed them and sided with the wealthy, even in the more progressive cases.  What it took time for them to realize was that this unit was an important first step, one that many people in the adult world still haven’t taken.  Understanding how the budget works, starting with the simple fact of not being intimidated by the language used to talk about it, is key to changing the predatory tendencies built into the ways that decisions about our economy are made.  Being able to look at the whole range of items on a particular budget to identify its priorities gave students the critical analytical skills necessary to answer any politician who mock-sympathetically explains that there just isn’t enough money for education or parks or aid to families.  There is enough money.  It just got put somewhere else, which the people who wrote the budget deemed to be more important.  Understanding this seemingly simple point is key to not only understanding how budgets work in general; it is absolutely necessary for understanding why, unless people learn to read and analyze these documents critically, the wealthy will continually benefit from institutionalized helping hands, while workers continue to be asked to bear an obscenely heavy load.