For over 100 years, the system used to judge a student’s achievement, both in high school and in college, has been based on the Carnegie Unit. In Texas since 1987, there has been a standard core curriculum, requiring every college student to take a minimum number of credit hours in particular courses in order to earn a degree from state funded institutions. Are either still accurate measures of education in the 21st century?
In 1905, retired steel magnate and philanthropist Andrew Carnegie, then the world’s richest man, wrote a letter to college presidents declaring his intention to establish a pension system for “one of the poorest paid but highest professions in our nation”—college professors. He created the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching to run the system and sent a ten million dollar check to the Foundation’s trustees, led by Harvard President Charles Eliot, to finance it. Carnegie said, “I have reached the conclusion that the least rewarded of all the professions is that of the teacher in our higher educational institutions . . . I have, therefore, transferred to you and your successors, as Trustees, $10,000,000 . . . to provide retiring pensions for the teachers of universities, colleges and technical schools.”
To determine which institutions were eligible to take part in the Carnegie pension system, the Foundation had to define what a college was. To be ranked as a college, and thus be eligible to participate in the Carnegie pension plan, an institution “must have at least six professors giving their entire time to college and university work, a course of four full years in liberal arts and sciences, and should require for admission, not less than the usual four years of academic or high school preparation, or its equivalent.”
Before long, the Carnegie Unit became the central organizing feature of the American educational enterprise, a common currency enabling countless academic transactions among students, faculty, and administrators at myriad public, nonprofit, private, and for-profit institutions, as well as between education policy makers at every level of government. The Carnegie Foundation established the Carnegie Unit over a century ago as a rough gauge of student readiness for college-level academics. It sought to standardize students’ exposure to subject material by ensuring they received consistent amounts of instructional time. The problem is that, while the universal and portable hour may make for a more efficient system, the unit also promotes the false perception that time equals learning, in the same way for all students. This was never the intent when the Carnegie Unit was first created.
But, Ernest L. Boyer, former Carnegie Foundation President and U.S. Commissioner of Education under President Jimmy Carter, didn’t ignore this false perception. In 1993, Boyer said, “I am convinced the time has come to bury, once and for all, the old Carnegie unit. Further, since the Foundation I now head created this academic measurement a century ago, I feel authorized this morning to officially declare the Carnegie unit obsolete.”
The fact that educators and legislators today, 25 years later, are still requiring “seat time” to measure student achievement is a testament to not only their lack of creative thought, but also to a certain degree of professional hubris. The Education establishment has convinced lawmakers that each and every student must complete a certain number of credit hours in particular subjects or the nation will suffer dire consequences.
In 1987, the 70th Texas Legislature passed House Bill (HB) 2183, which established the first core curriculum legislation, with a general intent to ensure quality in higher education. Senate Bill (SB) 148, passed by the 75th Texas Legislature in January 1997, repealed all earlier legislation and sought to resolve concerns regarding the transfer of lower-division course credit among Texas public colleges and universities, while maintaining the core curriculum as one of the fundamental components of a high-quality, undergraduate educational experience. More recent sessions of the Texas Legislature have fine-tuned the existing laws regarding core curriculum, but the essentials of the statutes have not changed since 1997.
This presupposes that there is some certain body of knowledge that everyone needs to know and that elected officials are somehow capable of deciding what that knowledge must be. The oldest example of this is the legislative requirement that, at state funded colleges and universities, all students must take 6 hours of Government and 6 hours of American History in order to receive a degree, regardless of their major. What was the genesis of this 1955 requirement?
A look at the legislative history shows that it was a reaction to the “communist scare” of the late 40s/early 50s that resulted in such things as the House Un-American Activities Committee, the Hollywood Blacklist, and the antics of Senator Joseph McCarthy. Apparently, it was believed that if students received a certain amount of instruction in those subjects, they would somehow be immune from the entreaties of communism.
In 2013, an effort was made to further codify the American History requirement. Then State Senator Dan Patrick of Houston introduced a bill providing that only broad-based, survey courses could count to meet the 6 hour requirement. In testimony supporting HB 1938, numerous individuals cited their understanding of the 1955 law’s purpose - that American history be part of a common core for all to enhance students’ civic knowledge and citizenship skills. Fortunately, that bill did not pass. But, it is sure to come up again in further sessions, particularly since Patrick is now Lieutenant Governor.
But, does a broad-based survey course in History actually do that? First of all, the textbooks for such courses are far too expensive and become door stops at the end of the semester, unless they can be sold back to the bookstore, usually for less than 1/3 the original price. Secondly, survey texts do not reflect current scholarship. They are not based on primary or secondary sources. They are based on each other. Finally, survey courses promote mindless memorization of facts that can be easily tested. This represents the lowest order of learning and does not represent real knowledge.
Another salient question that must be asked is just what are “citizenship skills”, and precisely who is authorized to judge? In 1955, those making the judgment were the same legislators who thumbed their noses at the 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision, requiring school desegregation “with all deliberate speed.” Texas legislatures through the mid-60s steadfastly refused to comply with the Supreme Court’s ruling in that case and kept Jim Crow laws in effect in Texas. Is that what is meant by good citizenship? Is that the example that should be followed today? Those who cite the 1955 law as somehow sacrosanct should think twice. It might not be wise to hold up those 1955 legislators as paragons of wisdom and virtue.
Texas is actually one of the few states that require either History or Government, by law. In other states, these are electives for those not majoring in these disciplines. If one is concerned about what an individual actually needs to know to be a good citizen, an objective measure is the test given by the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service to aliens seeking U.S. citizenship. Students need not sit through comprehensive survey courses to learn the basics of citizenship. No employer is going to ask a job candidate to explain what he/she knows about the Haymarket Riot of 1886, or the Progressive Era, or how our system of checks and balances works. Knowledge of history is important. But, it’s not that important to everyone, regardless of what History professors may say.
Most often, this is expressed in course outlines and syllabi with language that paraphrases the famous quote by George Santayana, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." But, people live in the present. Historians do not perform heart transplants, improve highway design, or arrest criminals. History is important in that it offers a storehouse of information about how people and societies behave. But, we shouldn’t continue to overemphasize its importance, or decide for others how much importance it should have in their lives. But, most importantly, we must recognize that “seat time” is not the true measure of how one can acquire the knowledge.
We’re living in the 21st century. Today, we have communication technologies that were inconceivable in 1955, and when Boyer was writing in 1993. We can deliver information anywhere, anytime, and to nearly anyone. We can personalize instructional materials, teaching tools, and assessments. Massive Open Online Courses (MOOCS), and other online courses that are slightly less massive and less open, may not be the future of education, but they are surely an example of how education is fast becoming more accessible, portable, and asynchronous. Measuring student learning by “seat time” in this new educational era is obsolete, just as Boyer stated 25 years ago.
In 1905, retired steel magnate and philanthropist Andrew Carnegie, then the world’s richest man, wrote a letter to college presidents declaring his intention to establish a pension system for “one of the poorest paid but highest professions in our nation”—college professors. He created the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching to run the system and sent a ten million dollar check to the Foundation’s trustees, led by Harvard President Charles Eliot, to finance it. Carnegie said, “I have reached the conclusion that the least rewarded of all the professions is that of the teacher in our higher educational institutions . . . I have, therefore, transferred to you and your successors, as Trustees, $10,000,000 . . . to provide retiring pensions for the teachers of universities, colleges and technical schools.”
To determine which institutions were eligible to take part in the Carnegie pension system, the Foundation had to define what a college was. To be ranked as a college, and thus be eligible to participate in the Carnegie pension plan, an institution “must have at least six professors giving their entire time to college and university work, a course of four full years in liberal arts and sciences, and should require for admission, not less than the usual four years of academic or high school preparation, or its equivalent.”
Before long, the Carnegie Unit became the central organizing feature of the American educational enterprise, a common currency enabling countless academic transactions among students, faculty, and administrators at myriad public, nonprofit, private, and for-profit institutions, as well as between education policy makers at every level of government. The Carnegie Foundation established the Carnegie Unit over a century ago as a rough gauge of student readiness for college-level academics. It sought to standardize students’ exposure to subject material by ensuring they received consistent amounts of instructional time. The problem is that, while the universal and portable hour may make for a more efficient system, the unit also promotes the false perception that time equals learning, in the same way for all students. This was never the intent when the Carnegie Unit was first created.
But, Ernest L. Boyer, former Carnegie Foundation President and U.S. Commissioner of Education under President Jimmy Carter, didn’t ignore this false perception. In 1993, Boyer said, “I am convinced the time has come to bury, once and for all, the old Carnegie unit. Further, since the Foundation I now head created this academic measurement a century ago, I feel authorized this morning to officially declare the Carnegie unit obsolete.”
The fact that educators and legislators today, 25 years later, are still requiring “seat time” to measure student achievement is a testament to not only their lack of creative thought, but also to a certain degree of professional hubris. The Education establishment has convinced lawmakers that each and every student must complete a certain number of credit hours in particular subjects or the nation will suffer dire consequences.
In 1987, the 70th Texas Legislature passed House Bill (HB) 2183, which established the first core curriculum legislation, with a general intent to ensure quality in higher education. Senate Bill (SB) 148, passed by the 75th Texas Legislature in January 1997, repealed all earlier legislation and sought to resolve concerns regarding the transfer of lower-division course credit among Texas public colleges and universities, while maintaining the core curriculum as one of the fundamental components of a high-quality, undergraduate educational experience. More recent sessions of the Texas Legislature have fine-tuned the existing laws regarding core curriculum, but the essentials of the statutes have not changed since 1997.
This presupposes that there is some certain body of knowledge that everyone needs to know and that elected officials are somehow capable of deciding what that knowledge must be. The oldest example of this is the legislative requirement that, at state funded colleges and universities, all students must take 6 hours of Government and 6 hours of American History in order to receive a degree, regardless of their major. What was the genesis of this 1955 requirement?
A look at the legislative history shows that it was a reaction to the “communist scare” of the late 40s/early 50s that resulted in such things as the House Un-American Activities Committee, the Hollywood Blacklist, and the antics of Senator Joseph McCarthy. Apparently, it was believed that if students received a certain amount of instruction in those subjects, they would somehow be immune from the entreaties of communism.
In 2013, an effort was made to further codify the American History requirement. Then State Senator Dan Patrick of Houston introduced a bill providing that only broad-based, survey courses could count to meet the 6 hour requirement. In testimony supporting HB 1938, numerous individuals cited their understanding of the 1955 law’s purpose - that American history be part of a common core for all to enhance students’ civic knowledge and citizenship skills. Fortunately, that bill did not pass. But, it is sure to come up again in further sessions, particularly since Patrick is now Lieutenant Governor.
But, does a broad-based survey course in History actually do that? First of all, the textbooks for such courses are far too expensive and become door stops at the end of the semester, unless they can be sold back to the bookstore, usually for less than 1/3 the original price. Secondly, survey texts do not reflect current scholarship. They are not based on primary or secondary sources. They are based on each other. Finally, survey courses promote mindless memorization of facts that can be easily tested. This represents the lowest order of learning and does not represent real knowledge.
Another salient question that must be asked is just what are “citizenship skills”, and precisely who is authorized to judge? In 1955, those making the judgment were the same legislators who thumbed their noses at the 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision, requiring school desegregation “with all deliberate speed.” Texas legislatures through the mid-60s steadfastly refused to comply with the Supreme Court’s ruling in that case and kept Jim Crow laws in effect in Texas. Is that what is meant by good citizenship? Is that the example that should be followed today? Those who cite the 1955 law as somehow sacrosanct should think twice. It might not be wise to hold up those 1955 legislators as paragons of wisdom and virtue.
Texas is actually one of the few states that require either History or Government, by law. In other states, these are electives for those not majoring in these disciplines. If one is concerned about what an individual actually needs to know to be a good citizen, an objective measure is the test given by the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service to aliens seeking U.S. citizenship. Students need not sit through comprehensive survey courses to learn the basics of citizenship. No employer is going to ask a job candidate to explain what he/she knows about the Haymarket Riot of 1886, or the Progressive Era, or how our system of checks and balances works. Knowledge of history is important. But, it’s not that important to everyone, regardless of what History professors may say.
Most often, this is expressed in course outlines and syllabi with language that paraphrases the famous quote by George Santayana, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." But, people live in the present. Historians do not perform heart transplants, improve highway design, or arrest criminals. History is important in that it offers a storehouse of information about how people and societies behave. But, we shouldn’t continue to overemphasize its importance, or decide for others how much importance it should have in their lives. But, most importantly, we must recognize that “seat time” is not the true measure of how one can acquire the knowledge.
We’re living in the 21st century. Today, we have communication technologies that were inconceivable in 1955, and when Boyer was writing in 1993. We can deliver information anywhere, anytime, and to nearly anyone. We can personalize instructional materials, teaching tools, and assessments. Massive Open Online Courses (MOOCS), and other online courses that are slightly less massive and less open, may not be the future of education, but they are surely an example of how education is fast becoming more accessible, portable, and asynchronous. Measuring student learning by “seat time” in this new educational era is obsolete, just as Boyer stated 25 years ago.
