San Francisco Chronicle Nearing 'the claps of civilization' Jaime O'Neill Sunday, April 25, 2004 A student writes a paper about the practice of clitorectomies in her "anthology" class, a class she took last semester. She is still upset about what she learned. I have known about clitorectomies for a long time, and the practice upsets me, too, but I am also upset about how it is possible for a student to take and pass a college anthropology class, and still not be aware of the name or meaning of the class she has just completed. It is so surprising, in fact, that I think it must be a simple typographical error. When she makes the same error four more times throughout her paper, however, I'm left with the impression that she was not taught, or did not learn, the meaning of the prefix in the word "anthropology," and probably not the suffix, either. When I return the papers, I ask her what class she was referring to in her essay, and she says "anthology." I ask what grade she got in the class. She says she got an A. On another paper in the stack I am returning, a student has written that he sometimes fears he is "slipping into the ibis." I know just how he feels. Rather like a student a few years ago who wrote about her fear that we were nearing "the claps of civilization." In another class, I use the word "negligee," but the looks on student faces suggest bewilderment. When I ask them if they know the word, they don't. I am mystified. Even though I am well aware of the fact that the size of the average person's vocabulary has plummeted over the past couple of generations, "negligee" would never have struck me as an obscure word. The vocabulary of the typical eighth-grader has declined from around 25,000 words to 10,000 words, a three-fifths decline in the ability to make sense of the world through language. Now I know that one of those lost words is "negligee," at least for many of my students. I make up a brief current events/vocabulary quiz. It's something I do periodically as a means of trying to stay in touch with the audience I try to reach each week. From my students' answers, I learn that Russia is a city in Germany, as is "Belgim." A city in Iraq is "Haidi." Another city in Iraq is "Quate." Only three of 31 students can name a city in Spain, but in a valiant attempt at guessing, one student says that Argentina is a city in that country. Buffalo is a city in Canada, and Jordan is a city in Israel. A city in Brazil is "Chilie." Asked to name the state that borders on California to the north, one student writes "Ohio." Only nine out of 31 know who John Kerry is. A couple of students think he is an actor, and one thinks he is a serial killer. None knows Karl Rove, our shadow president, though one student ventures the guess that he must have something to do with "Rove versus Way," the famous Supreme Court case. Only two can identify the British prime minister; many guess that post is occupied by Prince Charles. To close out the quiz, I ask my students how often they read a newspaper. Most don't. Ever. One student writes: "I never read a newspaper. I don't have money to wast (sic) on it." I have been writing about student ignorance for more than 20 years. The first piece I wrote on the subject appeared in Newsweek, and it prompted lots of media attention, including a segment on "60 Minutes.'' The media attention helped fuel the "cultural literacy" movement that swept education circles during the late '80s and early '90s. Once all of the symposia had been conducted, the seminars completed, the papers written, and the meetings held, it turned out that nothing whatsoever was done to institute reform, or to restructure curricula. Educational bureaucrats were not able to come to a conclusion as to what a baseline knowledge might be, what cultural heritage might be worth imparting to the average high school grad. Thus it is that none of my students knew where or what Appomattox was. Thus it is that Hiroshima and Auschwitz are slipping from national consciousness. Thus it is that not a single student could identify Robert Frost, arguably the greatest American poet of the last century. Thus it is that students leave high school without an interest in the wider world they inhabit. Last year, just as we were in the process of invading Iraq, one of my students thought that Al-Jazeera, the Arab news network, was "Ben" Laden's brother, Al. Lately, with the weather warming, I have seen students wearing T-shirts emblazoned with the words "Voting is for old people." Given their lack of knowledge of history and current events, perhaps it is no tragedy that a majority of young people don't bother to vote. But what happens to a democracy when so many people opt out, when fewer and fewer people bother to inform themselves of what is being done in their names? Can a connection be drawn between a know-nothing electorate and a know-nothing president? And what kind of nation presumes to export democracy by force of arms, and then fails to practice that system of government within its own borders? It is appalling when students graduate from our high schools with such an inadequate understanding of their history or heritage. It should shock us that students can be awarded a diploma without even knowing where in the world they are. As long as we graduate so many people ignorant of so much, we can be fairly sure they will live in a world where they learn geography only after they have been shipped overseas to fight, and perhaps die, in countries whose names they never heard mentioned when they were in school. Jaime O'Neill teaches at Butte College near Oroville, in Butte County. ------------------------------------------------------------------ To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off, digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html