News (Media Awareness Project) - US MS: OPED: Too Many Intrusions On School Day |
Title: | US MS: OPED: Too Many Intrusions On School Day |
Published On: | 2001-06-08 |
Source: | Enterprise-Journal, The (MS) |
Fetched On: | 2008-01-25 17:33:03 |
TOO MANY INTRUSIONS ON SCHOOL DAY
Taboo until not too long ago was asking any question about D.A.R.E.,
an anti-drug program, or any other intrusion upon the school day.
People, and especially the press, have been expected to applaud any
effort to do anything about young people and narcotics. Anyone who
looked past the photo ops, T-shirts and posters to ask whether the
programs were actually having any success was deemed a heretic.
"Heavens yes, we're having a positive effect," the response might come.
"But statistics show more youths experimenting with drugs, not
fewer," a persistent parent might insist.
And then would come the standard spin: "Yes, but without our program,
who knows how much higher those numbers would be?"
To make that argument, of course, is to say an increase in homicides
doesn't mean a city has become more violent because, without such and
so, the rate of increase might be even higher.
It's hooey as logic goes, but it generally shuts off questions.
Specifically for D.A.R.E., an acronym for the Drug Abuse Resistance
Education program invented by Los Angeles Police Chief Daryl Gates in
1983, the applause started fading about 10 years ago. Repeated and
varied studies, some conducted by universities and some conducted by
the federal government, showed that children just weren't moved by
D.A.R.E.'s message.
There were good points. Starting in elementary schools, the programs
were conducted by actual, uniformed officers and provided an
opportunity for interaction between police and children in a
non-emergency setting. Also, the officers assigned to D.A.R.E. duty
were usually the most personable in the department. As such, they
fostered the image of police as people who care and who help. That
might have helped overcome the image of police as people to avoid,
even if that fear was created innocently by a lead-footed parent who
cringed upon sighting a cruiser.
But there were also bad points.
The basis of D.A.R.E. is not so much that drugs are bad, but
empowerment of youths. Its theme is to let them know they have a
"right" to say no to drugs. Some behavior experts said that to depict
drug use as a choice is the same as teaching there's a "right" to say
yes to drugs.
Other arguments have been that the program insults teachers and takes
away instructional time.
States, including Mississippi, license teachers, test teachers and
require four-year college degrees as a minimum to having them in
classrooms to communicate information to students. Police officers
assigned to D.A.R.E. duty have a script to follow, but are not
licensed, tested or trained as educators.
And if it's true that well-rounded, self-confident people are least
likely to fall prey to bad habits, including drugs, then minutes
sacrificed from imparting the kind of academic knowledge that builds
self-esteem should be authorized only on clear proof that the minutes
are not being wasted.
Next, we come to the crux of D.A.R.E. and myriad other programs
school officials put in place as part of what they often call their
"social responsibility." All the materials in such programs are
copyrighted, all such programs generate big bucks for their creators
and, indeed, it's arguable whether profit margins are higher in
telling children not to do drugs or in actually selling children
drugs.
You name the program, D.A.R.E. or any other, and Mississippians are
spending millions every year to fund them. It's only natural, then,
that those with a vested financial interest would tend to defend
their programs against criticisms and to work feverishly to discredit
any study that says their programs don't work.
The core people to be pitied in this process are the kids. Whereas
their parents and their parents' parents got out of English class
once a year for "the speech" by a county health officer or someone,
today's students seem to be out of class more than in.
In some districts, there are balloon launches for world peace, walks
around the track to find cures for diseases and myriad other
"awareness" events. There are programs on the dangers of smoking and
dipping that dip into class time. There are programs such as D.A.R.E.
And then there's the all-time classic - taking students out of class
to lecture them on the importance of staying in school. Ah, the irony.
To their credit, the marketers of D.A.R.E. dropped a lot of their
resistance and seriously examined the curriculum. Importantly, they
agree that whether the program has measurable results is important.
That's progress.
Overcoming the taboo against asking whether a program is having the
desired result is a major education reform. For schools to get better
at what they're supposed to do, people have got to stop piling on
change after change without checking back to see what works.
And getting rid of what doesn't.
Go to any school summit and all the talk will be about what needs to
be added. Sorry, but subtraction would often be a better idea. And
it's free.
Taboo until not too long ago was asking any question about D.A.R.E.,
an anti-drug program, or any other intrusion upon the school day.
People, and especially the press, have been expected to applaud any
effort to do anything about young people and narcotics. Anyone who
looked past the photo ops, T-shirts and posters to ask whether the
programs were actually having any success was deemed a heretic.
"Heavens yes, we're having a positive effect," the response might come.
"But statistics show more youths experimenting with drugs, not
fewer," a persistent parent might insist.
And then would come the standard spin: "Yes, but without our program,
who knows how much higher those numbers would be?"
To make that argument, of course, is to say an increase in homicides
doesn't mean a city has become more violent because, without such and
so, the rate of increase might be even higher.
It's hooey as logic goes, but it generally shuts off questions.
Specifically for D.A.R.E., an acronym for the Drug Abuse Resistance
Education program invented by Los Angeles Police Chief Daryl Gates in
1983, the applause started fading about 10 years ago. Repeated and
varied studies, some conducted by universities and some conducted by
the federal government, showed that children just weren't moved by
D.A.R.E.'s message.
There were good points. Starting in elementary schools, the programs
were conducted by actual, uniformed officers and provided an
opportunity for interaction between police and children in a
non-emergency setting. Also, the officers assigned to D.A.R.E. duty
were usually the most personable in the department. As such, they
fostered the image of police as people who care and who help. That
might have helped overcome the image of police as people to avoid,
even if that fear was created innocently by a lead-footed parent who
cringed upon sighting a cruiser.
But there were also bad points.
The basis of D.A.R.E. is not so much that drugs are bad, but
empowerment of youths. Its theme is to let them know they have a
"right" to say no to drugs. Some behavior experts said that to depict
drug use as a choice is the same as teaching there's a "right" to say
yes to drugs.
Other arguments have been that the program insults teachers and takes
away instructional time.
States, including Mississippi, license teachers, test teachers and
require four-year college degrees as a minimum to having them in
classrooms to communicate information to students. Police officers
assigned to D.A.R.E. duty have a script to follow, but are not
licensed, tested or trained as educators.
And if it's true that well-rounded, self-confident people are least
likely to fall prey to bad habits, including drugs, then minutes
sacrificed from imparting the kind of academic knowledge that builds
self-esteem should be authorized only on clear proof that the minutes
are not being wasted.
Next, we come to the crux of D.A.R.E. and myriad other programs
school officials put in place as part of what they often call their
"social responsibility." All the materials in such programs are
copyrighted, all such programs generate big bucks for their creators
and, indeed, it's arguable whether profit margins are higher in
telling children not to do drugs or in actually selling children
drugs.
You name the program, D.A.R.E. or any other, and Mississippians are
spending millions every year to fund them. It's only natural, then,
that those with a vested financial interest would tend to defend
their programs against criticisms and to work feverishly to discredit
any study that says their programs don't work.
The core people to be pitied in this process are the kids. Whereas
their parents and their parents' parents got out of English class
once a year for "the speech" by a county health officer or someone,
today's students seem to be out of class more than in.
In some districts, there are balloon launches for world peace, walks
around the track to find cures for diseases and myriad other
"awareness" events. There are programs on the dangers of smoking and
dipping that dip into class time. There are programs such as D.A.R.E.
And then there's the all-time classic - taking students out of class
to lecture them on the importance of staying in school. Ah, the irony.
To their credit, the marketers of D.A.R.E. dropped a lot of their
resistance and seriously examined the curriculum. Importantly, they
agree that whether the program has measurable results is important.
That's progress.
Overcoming the taboo against asking whether a program is having the
desired result is a major education reform. For schools to get better
at what they're supposed to do, people have got to stop piling on
change after change without checking back to see what works.
And getting rid of what doesn't.
Go to any school summit and all the talk will be about what needs to
be added. Sorry, but subtraction would often be a better idea. And
it's free.
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