“How to be Stupid” and “How to Get Smart Before it’s Too Late” - they sound like titles of tough-love self-help books, but are in reality two halves of a very thoughtful book on what is wrong with ourselves, our education, our “democracy” etc, and how to make it all better (nice and tidy in 215 pages, no less). From one of my favorite scholars I first read in graduate school, James Paul Gee, this holds no panacea for the educational crisis that faces us, yet holds some questions and answers designed to start a conversation about it. If the education field doesn’t engage in this conversation soon, we’re all going to hell in a hand-basket (probably an exaggeration, but why not light a fire?). Pardon the disjointedness of this review, but this book has numerous applications that provoked thoughts on more than simply how to improve schools (indeed, it hardly touches on this), but extends to civilization-wide and cognitive questions.
As an educator, certain elements of this book rang like a bell when I encountered them, and much of it came in the first two-thirds of the book; “How to be Stupid” is not necessarily a litany of problems, but a foundation and explication of the challenges that face us when we try to DO things in this world (having a sincere and thoughtful response to Gee’s query - “What do YOU think WE should do?” - is crucial to being a citizen of the world). However, Gee tends to overstate his case when it comes to video games; even though his thoughts on affinity spaces and his What Video Games have to teach us about Learning and Literacy (2003) is a powerful and provocative treatise on their benefits and limitations, his extended examples on “The Sims” are distracting in the context of this book and could have been more closely tied to suggestions to how to clearly apply video games beyond commercial gaming.
What I especially like about this book is Gee’s analysis of what humans do badly, the needs we all have, the inconsistencies we deny awareness of in our individual and social lives, and what perceptions we need to change about our minds (and, thus, how to improve learning). In short, we generally ask the wrong sorts of questions, believe the wrong sorts of answers, clump together in ridiculous social and political factions that exacerbate inequalities and enhance stereotypes, and struggle with a meaning/truth dichotomy (we naturally search for meaning yet evade truth). How to work with and around these problems? For starters, Gee comes up with an elegant “Circuit of Human Reflective Action” that gets to the core of educational needs, but also the needs of true civic engagement, public health, international cooperation, etc. This “circuit” implies that there are optimal conditions for successful learning/action, and these include 1) initial mentorship; 2) prior experience; 3) clear goals; 4) things at stake; and 5) opportunity to act. As a framework for learning, there is hardly a more elegant distillation of how it works best. We should replicate this wherever we can. Even though application of this circuit to education seems not be his direct goal, as a conversation starter it is excellent.
A crucial tool humans have is our brain, but beyond that any tool that we use is a product of that brain (it is fitting that I have just finished Clarke’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, for tools are obviously - in literature and in life - a part of what makes humans humans) and we should remind ourselves that we should really start to think of ourselves as inseparable from our tools. In my school next year, students will all be equipped with iPads, and it should be interesting to see how the task we’ve given ourselves (educating students) will or will not be altered by this new tool. If we do not alter our goals, expectations, and targeted learning outcomes these devices will be a distraction and a hindrance to learning - indeed, reworking our understanding of what learning or education really might be is crucial to assessing how successful this experiment turns out.
That said, one problem with tools is that they obfuscate how much of education needs to target our brain and how much of it targets facility with our brains working in tandem with us. True learning is certainly not storage of facts in memory - nor is it alacrity in retrieval of them - for we are not computers, Gee reminds us. If we can access any facts we wish through digital technology, emphasis on “knowing” things will unavoidably diminish the quality of conversations over the dinner table, for one thing, but also make ourselves less than ourselves. Will a family require digital technology to be a family? Will neighbors require it to arrange potlucks? Will civil engineers require it to design and build energy efficient and livable cities? Will we - in short - evolve to need tools for everything? Like all things, moderation is important and education should (in my humble opinion) target the brain first so that some element of self-sufficiency can be fomented. The Dude, a cherished font of wisdom from The Big Lebowski, captures this conflict seedily, reminding us the wave of the future does not eradicate the need for “old fashioned ways” (ok, a little too seedy, I’ll admit). What happens when we attempt - or are forced - to disconnect, which may well be the case considering the nexus of environmental and energy crises that literally have changed our world? It is a bit of a stretch to make the connection between an iPad and degradation of natural resources, but think about the energy requirements that will exist if everyone used these things and required the resources to make, charge, and replace the batteries for them? These are hardly renewable resources....
The internet and digital technology are clearly civilizational game-changers and marvels, but do they help us learn? In my mind it is access to the internet that drives many educators' decisions in this matter, and the internet is a jumbled, incoherent world. Can we rely on it as a repository for human knowledge, or a repository of the complexities inherent in human nature? Is learning simply going to be learning how to sift through that information or manipulating a tool to provide responses to stimuli, or is it - as Gee seemed to begin to argue with his circuit of reflective action - based on our own actions? Perhaps it is metaphorical human learning in its very nature, with truth elusive and meaning derived by the seeker.... In this, Gee is somewhat unhelpful, but perhaps I need to begin to be more articulate about the extent of the dangers - and open myself up to the usefulness - of technology; yet I cannot with surety say that in schools the usefulness is there without changing what a school is. Tools should be useful, but if an iPad is a useful recording device, game and video player, how can that help educate the user?
There are few answers in this book, but much fodder for thought. Gee and other writers’ reevaluation of how to assess learning based on human peculiarities and tendencies is well meant, but I would like to have seen more ideas for schools and methods to enhance civic activism.