Archive for Education
Concentrated knowledge
I read an article today saying that of the 20,000 people who obtained a doctoral degree in Canada between 2001 and 2006, 25% were came from another country. Add to this the fact that the skilled workers’ immigration system rewards those applicants with a PhD, and one can say that Canada is on the receiving end of a brain drainer (and not the one being drained).
Maybe it’s a reflection on the level of social accomplishment of a country that it can boast of having so many so highly educated people. But even that high level of social accomplishment has its down sides. The number of people I know who have a PhD and find themselves unemployable is distressingly high. The country has a surplus of PhD holders, and a shortage of construction workers (often labelled “unskilled” workers, though they seem to be much more skilled than I when it comes to making houses. And hell, to attain that level of usefulness to society after I get my PhD is my highest ambition).
Maybe it’s a good thing for me that I was never quite eligible to apply for permanent resident status in Canada (those are easier to get here than in other countries, but still not that easy). That forces me to return home to Brazil, where hopefully I’ll be more useful (and employable).
Granted, there was a time that my ineligility made me resentful. And to be fair, I must say that in the last year or two the process has changed enough to mean that if I wanted, maybe now I’d have a much better chance. But when I see so many so highly qualified people — including those who did get their permanent residency, or those who were Canadian nationals in the first place — in a state of total anxiety as they job hunt for one, two, three or more years after finishing the PhD (and all the temp positions they get, which is a catch-22 in itself, making it impossible for them to publish enough to get a tenure-track job) — gosh, I almost feel that not being eligible to stay (or at least without having to go through a major bureaucratic ordeal) is a blessing in disguise.
Now, you say maybe my unemployed PhD friends are just too picky. Well, maybe they are. But it doesn’t help that the system is setup in such a funnel that universities (and maybe colleges, but only as a worst-case scenario type of deal) are often considered the only places dignified enough for a PhD holder.
When I tell people that after my PhD I would like to teach at high school level, they frown. “But you’re too good for that!” Well, if I am so good, then there was probably some goodness in me back when I was a high school student, no? And I vividly remember how angry it made me that teachers, and administrators, and the system in general, treated us high school kids as if we were good for nothing, as if we would only start developing the first glimpses of intelligence when and if we got into university.
So there. Some high schoolers do have enough intelligence to notice that they’re not being well-provided for. And their memories have been well trained enough for them to remember this fact when they grow up. And when they do, they are told that to care about high school now that they’re proved to be so intelligent is beneath them. Does this make any sense?
According to the principle of entropy, concentrated things naturally tend to difuse into uniform disarray. A related notion is the idea that nature abhors vacuum. And yet, it is interesting how some things such as recognized knowledge tend to become so highly concentrated to the point of actually resisting dispersion, be it at the global or at the local level. (Of course non-recognized knowledge is everywhere. It’s just not acknowledged. Interesting, no?)
Now, I remember learning about this entropy business back in my high school physics class, back in Brazil. Isn’t that some evidence that you do not have to be a PhD holder in a wealthy country to generate interesting knowledge?
Why do it?
I have little patience for whiners. Especially when I am the one doing the whining. Now, one might classify parts of my post of July 10 as containing elements that are vaguely whine-like. And if, 7 years ago, I were to read a post like that, I’d probably just say: “why can’t you just work harder to finish your PhD, or drop it all together? What’s the point of doing this if it makes you this miserable?”
The thought of dropping the PhD has visited me many many times. Some times it would stay for months at end, like this past March-April-May. I’ve read several books on how to survive graduate school. I don’t miss a single issue of the “ABD Survival Guide” (not because I’m that terrible anxious or anything, but because I always enjoyed reading instructions, manuals, recipes and user’s guides. One of those things.)
Moreover, everyone who asks me how my work goes inevitably gets horrified when I mention thoughts of quitting, and proceeds to give me the speech that I just have to hang in there. I have heard enough variations on this theme to have a cynical response ready at hand to all those that one make into the AmFG list (for “Advice most Frequently Given). (People seem always surprised when I say I have a cynical vein. That’s because I’m very good at hiding it. It’s just too strong to leave exposed).
Here’s a subset of the AmFG list, followed by my ready-made response:
But you can do this! You’re definitely good enough for this!
I know, I know. I hate to sound immodest, but that’s not the point. The point is: is it good enough for me? My thoughts on this vary.
But think of what made you want to start a doctorate in the first place!
Well, I spent high school daydreaming about visiting other countries and learning new languages. But I never liked being a tourist. You never get an “authentic experience” as a tourist. You never have a good excuse to talk to people (other than other tourists and/or service providers). I wanted to expand my vocabulary to beyond being able to ask for directions and exchanging itineraries.
Besides, it’s expensive to travel as a tourist for an extended period of time. I would have had to work for years to afford something like that. And even if I could find a job that would pay me enough to spend a couple of years away, it’d probably would not allow me to be away for so long.
So there. That was what made me start a doctorate in the first place. The thought of getting paid to stay for more than a few months in a place where I could have a good excuse to talk to people and practice my English — that did it for me.
But now I want to go home. My English has managed to get pretty good. I have learned interesting things. I’ve met interesting people. I’ve had an authentic experience. The PhD program gave me all that I’d expected it to. Getting a diploma per se was never much of an issue. So why finish?
But think of all the money and time you have invested in it already!
Errr… Technically, I didn’t invest any money in it: I was fortunate to always have funding. Now, conceivably, if I had gone back home and got a proper job, maybe by now I would have accummulated a bit of capital, whereas my whole adult life I’ve lived from paycheque to paycheque, struggling to make ends meet.
I’m also fully aware that there are many people who are paying or would be willing to pay a lot of money to have this opportunity, if they could only have the money or the opportunity. (I do my taxes myself. I used to have to pay taxes on all of my scholarship. It was a lot of tax money — especially for an international student. I’m glad it’s not taxable any more. But it was an effective way to keep me aware how much it cost to do what I was doing.)
I do not take any of this for granted at all. It is just that I feel the time and money invested was for the learning more than for the degree — and I did do quite a bit of learning. So nothing was wasted (and even it had been wasted, it is not as if one could get it back — I’d rather think that the best one could do would be to count one’s losses and stop wasting it some more).
And at this point in time, I’m more than eager to stop being a cost to society and start giving something back (not to mention accummulate some capital of my own). And I know there is a lot I can do right now that does not require having a PhD. So why finish?
But think of all the people that would like to be in the position you are in and cannot, for whatever reason!
I do. All the time. This is actually the argument that has more weight for me. I’ve always felt a bit scornful of academics (but please don’t tell anyone). I’ve never felt like I was one of them. I was just role-playing. I’ve never felt as driven or as concerned. I just liked the idea of getting paid to read stuff I like and telling people what I thought about it.
But I know how much a luxury this is — and it makes me awfully uncomfortable. I know fully well that there are people who would give anything to have a chance to do what I do. I don’t feel I deserve to be here any more than they do. On the contrary, I don’t feel I’ve earned this at all. And my thought is: why should I continue to occupy the spot of someone who could doing so much more with this experience than I am?
Unless, of course, I could use this experience in their favour. Someone else being here in my spot would not make all the other deserving people be here too. Besides, I’m here already, nothing to be done about that. Quitting at this point wouldn’t do anyone any harm. But it also wouldn’t do anyone any good.
Furthermore, while the credentials I get from finishing mean little to me as compared to how much I’ve already learned, it does open some doors. Doors to let other people in. So that’s maybe a reason to keep going.
I just have to move now from the “Why do it?” to “Just do it!”
Now, just as the thought of quitting has visited me many a time, the thought of working harder has also visited regularly. So work harder I do. And yet, there’s always room for harder. I just hope I can manage to bring this to an end before it brings me to an end. But there’s no way to know who’ll win the fight until we fight the fight. And so we fight on…
Just do it, Ester. Just do it.
On being known as Brazilian
One of the most exciting things I did this past year was to work with the movement for Adult Literacy in Brasilia — a group involving people in various segments of society, such as the teaching force, university students and professors, an enormous number of volunteers from various social movements, teacher’s unions, and individuals like myself, with no particular affilliation, but who find this work absolutely fascinating, and is all too happy to be a part of it. We come together to see what we can do to help not only to end adult illiteracy in our communities, our city and our country, but also to promote the right to a good education to the thousands of people who, for whatever reason, fell through the cracks of the school system.
My friends in this group often ask me whether anyone in Canada has heard of our fellow countryman Paulo Freire, whose educational legacy is the foundation of the work that we do together. And they’re always startled when I reply: ”yes, me, to name one.”
In the last few weeks, I’ve spent many many hours in the OISE library at U of T. Here’s a picture of where I usually spend my Saturdays:
In the many years I have spent outside of Brazil, it’s not at all a rare occurrence that, whenever I introduce myself as being Brazilian, someone would reply: ”Ah, that’s where Pelé is from. Cool!” Or “Ah, where it’s always Carnival! Cool! How is it living close to the Amazon?” But ever since I started my program in education, I have received a complete different variant on the country-recognition protocol. People in education often reply: ”Wow, that’s where Paulo Freire is from! How exciting! It must be so cool to read him in the original!”
Take a closer look at the panel above — bottom left corner:
At first, I would just smile awkwardly: “Yeah… No… never read any of his writings… Seriously, just never got to do it… Yeah, I should put that in my list of things to read… Such a long list already though… But thanks, I’ll think about it…
But after I had enough of these conversations, I decided I might as well read something, even if it were just to be able to say that I’d read him and didn’t like him. At least I wouldn’t be so constantly put to shame.
And so, a few summers ago, I went to Robarts library and found that they had a shelf full of his books. So I picked one. And I loved it. So I picked another one, and then another. And my life — as a student, as educator, as Brazilian, as a foreigner — was never the same again.
Experiential learning
This week I went to Sao Paulo to renew my visa. It was a good trip, and I did a ton of things, except for renewing my visa (through my own incompetence: I forgot to book an appointment, and the next one would be for mid-November).
After crying a bit over the spilled milk, I decided to do something useful with the trip. I took the opportunity to pay a visit to the Paulo Freire Institute, where his archives are (http://www.paulofreire.org/).
It is an very unpretentious building in a very unpretentious neighbourhood. The people inside the building are also very unpretentious. I asked the secretary if I could take a tour of the building even though I hadn’t booked an appointment. She called to a guy next door, and ask him if he could do it. He said sure, and asked me take a seat around a table in tiny room filled of books. Both people’s clothes and manners were very plain and simple, as was everything in and about the room.
He said that the Institute was founded in 1991 when his father came back from a lecture at UCLA. I had no idea who his father was. Then he said that in the first five years his father was very active in the life of the Institute, until he passed away in 1997. Then I started to have a strong suspicion of who his father was. Then he said that after his father passed away, all his books were taken to the room where we were. At this point I was filled with goosebumps.
Turns out he is the youngest of Paulo Freire’s children, and the books in the room belonged to Paulo Freire’s personal collection, going back to the 40′s. I found a copy of Karl Popper’s “Open Society and its Enemies” from 1959, and another from Jaeger’s “Paideia” from 1963, all filled with marginal notes and a summary at the end, in Freire’s own hand! Interestingly enough, I cite both these books in my thesis, and on the back cover of Popper’s book Freire makes a reference to Jaeger, which is extra cool! In the other couple of minutes that I perused the library I also saw Russell and Freud, and many others. Definitely have to go back for more.
Lut, Freire’s son, gave me a brief tour of the archives, and introduced me to everyone he saw, telling jokes and stories along the way, as if we were childhood friends. Then he offered to give me a tour of the offices upstairs, but remembered that he had to rush to pick up his daughter from school. He asked the secretary to continue the tour, and asked me if I could go back the next day, so he could show me a school nearby where they develop some of their programs. I nodded enthusiastically.
Lizeth, the secretary, took me upstairs, where all the administrative offices are. Everywhere she’d stop (treasury, communications, publishing department, distance learning, kitchen, international relations) she’d introduce me almost solemnly, and they would welcome me again as if I were a family friend, and my interrupting them were part of the script. And it wasn´t like I had booked a time or anything, nor even said much about what I do or come from.
I was sad not to have taken a camera, but decided to go back the next day, before returning to Brasilia in the evening. Unfortunately, Lut wasn´t able to come, which frustrated me a little, because now that I was expecting to speak to someone so close to Freire, I had a lot of personal questions to ask. But this only last a couple of seconds: I already felt too lucky about how available he´d been the previous day, when I had no appointment nor the vaguest expectation to speak to anyone like him.
Besides, there was plenty to do at the Institute, and Lizeth made sure I was never bored. I was shown the school all the same, saw many interesting things (including a copy of the manuscript of the 1968 original of “Pedagogy of the Oppressed”!!!) and spoke to many interesting people, from people in the board of directors to researchers from across the Atlantic.
It was one of those trips where the detour is so much more memorable than what you had bargained for!!! But I´ll still have to bargain for a visa… Such is life!
Russell While-U-Wait
Due to technical difficulties and life interferences, our regular scheduled programmes have been temporarily suspended. We apologise for any inconvenience and/or disappointment this might have caused you.
We will return to our usual assortment of original and semi-original Esterical thoughts soon after thanksgiving (we are all terribly busy with way too many things for which to give thanks).
In the meantime, we leave you with a few quotes from Mr. B. Russell’s educational works for your amusement.
We thank you for your patronage. Come back again soon!
—-
No political theory is adequate unless it is applicable to children as well as to men and women. Theorists are mostly childless, or if they have children, they are carefully screened from the disturbances which would be caused by youthful turmoil. Some of them have written books on education, but without, as a rule, having any actual children present to their minds while they wrote. (p. 401)
Authority in education is to some extent unavoidable, and those who educate have to find a way of exercising authority in accordance with the spirit of liberty.
Where authority is unavoidable, what is needed is reverence. A man who is to educate well, and is to make the young grow and develop into their full stature, must be filled through and through with the spirit of reverence. It is reverence towards others that is lacking in those who advocate machine-made cast-iron systems.
In education, with its codes of rules emanating from a Government office, its large classes and fixed curriculum and overworked teachers, its determination to produce a dead lever of glib mediocrity, the lack of reverence for the child is all but universal. Reverence requires imagination and vital warmth; it requires most imagination in respect of those who have least actual achievement or power. The child is weak and superficially foolish, the teacher is strong and in an everyday sense wiser than the child. The teacher without reverence, or the bureaucrat without reverence, easily despises the child for these outward inferiorities. He thinks it is his duty to ‘mould’ the child: in imagination he is the potter with the clay. And so he gives to the child some unnatural shape, which hardens with age, producing strains and spiritual dissatisfactions, out of which grow cruelty and envy, and the belief that others must be compelled to undergo the same distortions.The man who has reverence will not think his duty to ‘mould’ the young. (…) In the presence of a child he feels an unaccountable humility – a humility not easily defensible on any rational ground, and yet somehow nearer to wisdom than the easy self-confidence of many parents and teachers. (p. 402-3)
From “Principles of Social Reconstruction”, (1916) in The Basic Writings of Bertrand Russell, 1903-1959. Ed. Robert E. Egner and Lester E. Denonn. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1961.
Re-opening the Discussion (part 5 of ?)
Alterego said…Luís,I compare Philosophy with History because I think that both are equally important components of a “liberal education.” I have never seen anyone debate whether History should be mandatory in High School. I do not see why things should be different with Philosophy.
High School in Brazil is not like in other countries where the student gets to choose which subjects to take. Every component is mandatory for everyone. Of course the discussion between mandatory vs. electives is a good one. So what I’m celebrating is not so much that Philosophy has become mandatory, but that it has been admitted into the High School curriculum, with the same status as History or Math. It’s simply the joy of going from sleeping on a mattress in someone’s basement to having a place of one’s own.
Not that this all of a sudden solves all the problems of the world, or of Brazil. But it is a small victory, an accomplishment. What’s the harm in celebrating? Even though this isn’t much, getting excited about it gives me energy to work on what is still lacking, which is quite a lot. Maybe I’m the only person who thinks this is cool, and I really understand those who do not share my optimism. Even the paralysis of the pessimists I can understand. Now to spend energy preaching active anti-optimism is something I really can’t see the use of.
Necessary vs. “helps a lot”
If instead of History or Philosophy I had said that literacy is necessary for the active exercise of one’s citizenship, perhaps my argument would have been clearer.
Of course someone could still say that “many illiterate people exercise their citizenship well, that they change reality, that they make History.”
If this is a proof that literacy is not necessary for active participation in society, the fact still remains that not knowing how to read or write makes such participation much harder. One could thus say that literacy is, if not necessary, then at least extremely useful for exercising one’s citizenship. But I still prefer to round it up and say that it is necessary, period. It gives it a more dramatic rhetorical flourish.
But what is this “active exercise of one’s citizenship” business, and what does philosophy, literacy or education have to do with it?
In the preface to “An Essay Concerning Human Understanding”, Hume uses the Aristotelian definition of “human being” as “rational social animal” to say that if one of these three aspects (animal, rational, social) gets too much or too little attention, then the person is not fully living his/her potential. For instance, if the social aspect is so dominating that one has no time to philosophise, one to eat or sleep properly, then there is an imbalance. On the other hand, if philosophy ties us to the armchair and we forget the animal or the social side, then we also have an imbalance. Likewise, if we only eat and sleep, and neither study or have relationships, another imbalance.
Maybe Aristotle was wrong when he said that man is a political animal. Or Plato, when he said that the difference between the individual and the state are merely one of scale. But these questions are in themselves philosophical.
That’s not all. To decide to become apolitical is in itself a political decision. Any discussion of this nature is a political discussion, and also a philosophical one. And I think it is just the kind of discussion a high school student can and should engage in. And why not encourage them, give them some theoretical tools? I don’t think it’s only philosophy teachers who gain. Everyone gains. It’s a win-win situation.
End for now. But it doesn’t end here. What do you think about all this?
What do you think: does philosophy have anything to do with citizenship, or not?
Is it necessary, sufficient, useful at all, not at all?
Teaching being the way it is, are we better off without it?
Your opinion is super important!
Re-opening the discussion (Part 4 of 5)
LM disse…
Ester, thank you for a prompt reply.I still disagree with you in some points, and have difficulties understanding others.
First of all, I’m not sure your analogy helps – I’ll go back to it at the end. I’ll start with the points you hightlighted, saying what I think of each of them, which of them worried me in my original post.
1) Is History that is necessary, or the knowledge of History?
I have no doubts that, if any of these is necessary, it is the knowledge of History. You are right to say that without History there is no knowledge of History. But you are wrong in saying that without knowledge of History there is no History.We obviously do not know all the details of the History – I don’t know – of the Mayans, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. The broader point is obvious: the knowledge of X implies (or presupposes) the existence of X, but the existence of X does not imply (or presupposes) the knowledge of X (unless you defend some radical kind of idealism, according to which everything exists exists as ideas in the mind of God).
2) All of History, or just a part? And if just a part, which?
You say that every knowledge of History contributes, and that every part contributes a bit. Why do you think that? I do not see any evidence to support this causal relation, and a lot of what you say in answer to (3) seems to create difficulties.
3) Necessity vs. sufficiency of the teaching of History
Yes, it is good to establish the discussion on these terms. But I was not mixing the two when I said what I said – what I wanted was precisely to show the abyss between necessity and sufficiency.
So we agree (provisionally): the knowledge of History is necessary, but not sufficient to the active exercise of one’s citizenship.
The first anti-optimism point is precisely that what the law proposes to do is, once again, to give us a knowledge that is necessary, but not sufficient. This seems to go back to the situation you criticise all the time on your blog: a theory that does not generate any practice. You could even say that we will have a lot of students who know how to exercise their citizenship, but with no motivation for doing so. In this case, what’s the gain?
I had understood your brother’s cynical remark this way: life outside of school teaches us more practice (and sometimes theory) than school. If things are so, why celebrate?
But the bigger point, which is my complaint in question (2) above, is precisely about whether the knowledge of History is in fact necessary for the active exercise of one’s citizenship. And precisely on this point you vacillate: you agree that many people who know nothing of History exercise their citizenship well. Well then, is History necessary for citizenship or is it not?
You conclude saying, much more modestly, that “it helps a lot”, and that seems to me too little. Would “helping a lot” be good enough reason to make it a mandatory subject? I mean, if the main argument for passing the policy was that Philosophy (or a part of it) was necessary for actively exercising one’s citizenship, it seems that your current acknowledgement that it only “helps a lot” (and maybe less than a bus ride) undermines any credibility for the new policy. And any grounds for optimism.
4) Why be optimistic?
In the end, you defend very shallow ground for your optimism: you say that there are two benefits in including History in the elementary curriculum: to make this knowledge more accessible and to bring more value to the profession.
I understand well your second reason, and find it a virtuous type of selfishness. More than that, I agree with you: it is good to bring value to my profession.
But I see two problems here. The first has to do with what you yourself acknowledge after – the lack of qualified teachers. Philosophy being taught the way it is, I would prefer it if it were not taught at all. The textbooks are bad, the teachers also seem to be. In this case, I think this measure is a disservice to the profession (see comment above which refers to philosophy as “nap class”). In short, I agree with you goal (we should value our profession), but I’m very suspicious of the means to achieve it (make it mandatory in high school).
The second problem has to do with how provincial your defence is. It is good for History teachers that History should become mandatory, but what about the students?As for your other reason for optimism, to make knowledge more accessible, I agree that this is good. But this is miles away from the initial policy proposal, and of your initial optimism. To make certain types of knowledge more accessible is good, but not because the knowledge itself is good, but simply because it is good for students to have access to a greater variety of knowledge, so that they can choose one to which dedicate themselves. According to this line of argument, the greater the diversity of types of knowledge we offer, the better – but this is compatible with philosophy (and other subjects like Russian Literature and Calculus) being electives, not mandatory subjects. If it were for me to defend any thesis, I would defend this one.
5) The History/Philosophy analogy
I didn’t get the reason for your analogy. Everything would be clear if you had said Philosophy instead of History. Furthermore, given the widely divergent nature of the two subjects, it would be possible, for instance, that we had very disparate conclusions: for instance, one of these two might be necessary to the active exercise of one’s citizenship, while the other might not.
In my view, it is not clear that any of the two be necessary (or sufficient) to the exercise of one’s citizenship, therefore the analogy was harmless, but also useless.
But a detail caught my attention. In the middle of things somewhere,when talking of the practical advantages of the knowledge of History, you change subjects: instead of saying how the knowledge of History influences the exercise of one’s citizenship, you speak about how it can make someone enter History. This seems interesting – I mean, you seem to take it as History’s natural vocation that of producing historical agents. The natural thing then would be to think that philosophy makes philosophers, not citizens. What then is the connection between philosophy and citizenship? The doubt remains.
LM
End of Part 4
Re-opening the discussion (Part 3 of 5)
Alterego said…
Luís,
To see if I understood your comments, I’ll replace “Philosophy” with “History” and see what happens.
So, let us say that I was commemmorating a policy that made History mandatory in High School, on the grounds that “History is necessary for actively exercising one’s citizenship”.
Then you could ask:
1) Is History necessary, or knowledge of History?
2) All of History, or just a part? And if only a part, which?
3) If History is this necessary for exercising one’s citizenship, how can one explain cases of people like myself, who have studied History for a long time, and don’t feel that that helped with our exercise of citizenship one bit (to the point of our not even knowing what this is supposed to mean)?
4) And given 3), why get optimistic with a possible spreading of the teaching of History?
Let’s tackle these one at a time.
1) Is History necessary, or knowledge of History?
Both, I believe. It’s a bit like the chicken and the egg story. Withouth History there is no knowledge of History, but without knowledge of History there is no History.
Furthermore: without a commitment to the teaching of History, History does not get renewed. It is cool to think that one makes History as one learns History.
2) All of History, or just a part? And if only a part, which?
I think all of History contributes, but that it is hard, if not impossible, for a person to master the whole field of History (or Math, or Physics), especially in High School.
So I think that every little bit you learn helps a bit. Only had Brazilian History? Good to know a bit of Brazilian History. Managed to learn a bit of Brazil and a bit of Americas too? Even better. Only managed to cover Ancient and Medieval History? That’s very good, much better than nothing.
3) If History is this necessary for exercising one’s citizenship, how can one explain cases of people like myself, who have studied History for a long time, and don’t feel that that helped with our exercise of citizenship one bit (to the point of our not even knowing what this is supposed to mean)?
Here the distinction between “necessary” and “sufficient” is really helpful.
I find it unlikely that a person could contribute to History without having a tiniest bit of historical awareness.
On the other hand, profound knowledge of the entire field of History is not enough for one to make History. It all depends on how one makes use of one’s theoretical knowledge to help with one’s practice. Therefore knowledge of History is necessary, but not sufficient.
Actually, it’s not even that necessary, for many people made History without much formal knowledge of History. But then informal knowledge kicks in, the knowledge that comes from the environment, from the oral culture of a region, from talking to people, from observing reality. And in this point, a bus ride teaches as much if not more than the classroom.
Therefore: knowledge of History is not sufficient and perhaps not even necessary to make History. But it helps a lot.
3b) What do you mean “knowledge of History helps in the active exercise of one’s citizenship,” if I don’t even know what “active exercise of one’s citizenship” means?
Look, to answer this question we need to use some philosophy. But we’re not talking about philosophy here (actually, who in this country knows at least the basics of philosophy?). So there’s nothing I can do. Let’s go back to History.
4) And given that not everyone who studies History makes it into History (or actively exercises their citizenship), why get optimistic with a possible spreading of the teaching of History?
True, the teaching of History pure and simple does not put anyone’s name in History. It doesn’t even necessarily make one learn History, let alone “actively exercise their citizenship.”
But the presence of the discipline at school makes this knowledge more accessible. In the very least the students get to know of the existence of this field of studies.
Furthermore, the inclusion of History in the High School Curriculum may not only help increase the number of people who will later choose to major in Philosophy, but it also expands the job market for those who have already made this choice. It adds some value to the profession, if you know what I mean. It puts it on the map.
Of course the mere inclusion of History in the curriculum does not guarantee that the teaching given will be of any good quality. But the poor quality of Foreign Language lessons or Arts lessons does not make these subjects useless. It also does not mean that high school students do not have the capacity to master these subjects.
It is more a question of better equipping the teachers. Teachers have a lot to learn too. In a way, this change forces an investment in the professional development of teaching skills in History graduates. And I find all of this very good.
End of part 3.
Re-opening the Discussion (Part 2 of 5)
Chico said…
Philosophy for me at Cor Jesu middle school was to listen to Legião Urbana´s music: “You say your parents don´t undertand you, but you don´t understand your parents…” Isn´t this beautiful? Yeah. Cool, very cool.
Then we had math class, recess, Portuguese, Science, and bus back home. In the half hour I´d spend on the bus I would learn more than in the five classes that day.
LM disse…
Ok, Ester – I accept your invitation to bring the discussion here.
First of all, I read the document you refer to, and what it says is not that philosophy (and sociology, but I don´t care a bit for this one) is necessary for actively exercising one´s citizenship, but that students should have knowledge of philosophy necessary for the active exercise of one´s citizenship.
The policy seems to commit itself to the modest thesis that *a part* of philosophy is necessary for one´s active exercise of their citizenship, while you make it seem (even if you didn´t take it this way) that *the whole* of philosophy would be necessary for the active exercise of one´s citizenship.
The problem is how we find out *which* part they are talking about. The report doesn´t say, and judging by it, neither does the policy.
And I have no idea what this part is – I´ve been studying philosophy for a while, and I don´t think that today I exercise my citizenship better than before. As a matter of fact, I have no idea what it means to exercise my citizenship!
In the end, I agree with your brother Chico – I don´t see any reason to get optimistic…
LM
End of part 2
translators´s note: I´m not 100% sure that active exercise of one´s citizenship is the right expression in English. Any notes on this would be much appreciated.
Re-opening the discussion (Part 1 of 5)
Hi, folks,
After a minisseries, a newsreport and a western, today’s show is “A Retrospective”
Since the News Report of August 3rd is still generating interesting discussion in the Brazilian version of this site, I decided to bring it over here too, so that we could open up the discussion a bit (I’ll do it in 5 installments, to make it easier for everyone).
Soon we’ll return with our customary program. In the meantime, enjoy this section of Letters from/to/with/against/alongside with readers and citizens.
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naty said…
this is very good news. philosophy is essential for students in any field. how wonderful it is that Brazil took this step. the only problem I see is the way classes are taught and the lack of interest on the part of the students. Many of my high school classmates thought that philosophy classes were “nap time”. that is, it is not enough to make it mandatory, people must become aware of its importance. to sum up, this was the first step…
oxoxoxo,
Naty.
Alterego said…
True, Naty, philosophy classes in high school, like it’s often the case with Arts, physical education and foreign language classes, is just “make believe”. But I’m not sure that the lack of interest is only on the part of the students. In my case, for instance, I was super interested, but we never got beyond “verb to be” every term.
But what I like about this policy is that it creates a space for this kind of discussion. And the mere passing of this law is a step towards making people aware of the importance of philosophy. As you point out, it’s just a first step, but an important one at that.
Kisses,
Ester
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Mari said…
I thik that the important thing is to take Philosophy seriously within the pedagogical project. What we must not do is to teach students to think that Philosophy, Sociology and English are less important, secondary. I think they could even go into the university admission exams. Of course there will be some people who are interested, and some who aren’t. This is what happens also with mathematics and history. But if philosophy is respected, the “gang” will stop considering it “nap class”.
End of part 1
