Zealots and an Unholy Inquisition in Reading Instruction

*The ideas expressed here are my own.  They do not represent Minnesota State University, the Department of Elementary and Literacy Education, the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America, or the League of Superheroes.  They are my own.  As well, this is a work of pure fantasy.  Any resemblance to people, organizations, or dark forces of evil is purely coincidental. 

 Podcast version of this podcast

It wasn’t that long ago that words like SoR zealots, clowns, number monkeys, brain-eating zombies, and legislative toadies would not have been found in any of my books or academic articles.  For the better part of three decades, I hid behind my polite, 3rd-person objective voice using reason and research in my academic writing.  I may have had a few strongly worded phrases here and there, but that was the extent of things.  And if I really got worked up, I might even throw in an adjective or double and triple-cite things.

But the zealots and toadies have woken my inner sophomore. I have become sophomoric. I find myself using less-than-flattering terms to denote certain segments of the SoR population. Why?

Zealots

The Science of Reading zealots in Minnesota and in other states around the country (Wisconsin, Texas, Ohio, and others) have done something pretty remarkable.  (It’s remarkably bad, but still remarkable.)  They have banned words.  It is now against the law in Minnesota for me to include ‘the three cueing systems’ on my syllabi, reading assignments, or course outlines. 

  Imagine that.  A law telling me what I can and cannot say or can and cannot teach in my literacy methods class.  A law put together by people who know nothing of literacy instruction or research.  A law put together by people who sound out words instead of reading for meaning.  A law put together by people who look at every letter when they read.  A law put together by people who ignore syntax and semantics when they read.  A law that says I must ignore my three decades of research, scholarly work, and teaching experience.  It’s a law that states that I must ignore what a body of research from a variety of different fields has determined to be an empirical fact: that we use multiple forms of information to recognize words while creating meaning with print.  According to this brand-spank-n-new Minnesota law, I must instead lie to the students in my literacy methods classes.

It’s a law forcing me to lie.  It’s printed right there on line 52.  “Literacy professors must lie to students in all literacy methods courses.”

They don’t want me exposing young, impressionable minds to this very dangerous term that they don’t understand.  So, I won’t use it.  I will now have to call it, “the-term-which-shall-not-be-named.”  Either this or risk being arrested by the Minnesota Reading Police.  They’ll break down my classroom and drag me away in handcuffs.

An Unholy Inquisition

Here in Minnesota, inquisitors from the Education Standards Board (ESB), part of the Department of Education, go through syllabi, line-by-line, with magnifying glasses looking for offending terms (I wish I were exaggerating here).  If an offending term is found on any of our syllabi, our programs won’t be accredited. “Heresy,” they cry. 

Imagine that. 

The three cueing systems?

“Heresy, blasphemy, and wickedness,” the inquisitors shout angrily while throwing rocks at me. 

And if I am found to have committed such heresy, if these words appear on my syllabi, the teacher preparation programs at our university risk accreditation.  That means our graduates won’t be able to get their teacher licenses. 

Imagine that.  They are bullying their way into compliance.

If you can’t win an argument in an academic setting, you bully and threaten.

Meaning-based educators have won the argument, long ago.  The case for balanced literacy instruction broaches little dissent among literacy experts.

I’d Hate for You to Have an Accident

 An ESB inquisitor recently suggested to our department chair that one of our programs at our university might not get accredited because they had heard a podcast I had made in which the term “clown” was used to refer to those who think they know more about reading than they actually do. 

 “Maybe he shouldn’t refer to us as clowns,” they said. “I’d hate for something bad to happen to your program.” 

Imagine that. 

On the one hand, I am flattered that they’re listening.  But on the other hand, it is a very sad commentary about the state of academia and education in Minnesota.  In an academic environment, rigorous academic discourse supported by reason and research are used to make a case.  Disagreement and discussion are seen as healthy and necessary components of academic life as it enables the evolution of our thinking and the continued evolution of our fields.  And peer-reviewed research is the currency used in an academic economy. 

However, if you have no currency, you do what the SoR zealots have done.  You get large organizations to persuade legislative toadies, toadies who know nothing about reading instruction, to pass restrictive laws.  Then you bully, and you threaten, and you intimidate and punish.   In this Trumpian age, these have all become acceptable tools.

And like zealots everywhere, SoR zealots have no shame.  The ends justify their inquisition-based means.  Zealots will brook no dissent.  All must believe as one. 

"Praise be to Emily Handford!"