Abstract
In No Citizen Left Behind Meira Levinson argues persuasively for a set of interrelated claims. One of these claims is that, among students in the United States, there is a profound gap between privileged students and low-income minority students with regard to their level of civic empowerment. And, Levinson argues, public schools that serve poorer minority students could, and should, be doing a number of things to narrow this gap. One place to focus attention is on the fact that these schools do not generally teach the particular kind of civic knowledge and skills that students need if they are going to be able to engage in effective political action. However, Levinson does not merely have the negative goal of criticizing certain schools for not helping students become well informed and active citizens. She has more constructive and ambitious goals as well. In particular, she proposes and defends a number of educational activities that promise to help close the ‘civic empowerment gap’. At the same time, Levinson is aware of the difficulties that teachers face in implementing these activities, because of pressures to spend time preparing students for standardized mandated tests, a lack of adequate resources, and other factors.
I am convinced by Levinson’s argument that there is a civic empowerment gap between privileged and unprivileged students in the United States, and that this gap is a matter of democratic concern. Of course, the apparent force of her argument depends on how one conceptualizes the knowledge and capacities required for civic and political action. For example, one might hold that Levinson counts the students she is describing as disempowered only because she privileges traditional modes of political engagement to the detriment of others. Levinson anticipates this objection and admits that there are non-traditional forms of political expression such as music, poetry, or graffiti, everyday forms of political resistance, and new ways of communicating ideas through the social media. But even if these alternative responses to injustice often reflect a sense of political awareness and sophistication, they typically do not suffice by themselves to make an impact on the laws and policies of the wider society, or to change oppressive social conditions, and this is the concern that underlies her diagnosis in the first place.
One particularly interesting chapter discusses the way in which schools teach history. Generally such classes try to encourage a belief in the legitimacy of the country’s political institutions and a sense of shared membership. Levinson objects to this moderate triumphalist approach, which tells a story about a country founded on great ideals – ideals that it has admittedly failed to live up to on many occasions, but that it nevertheless continues to strive to realize. In her view, this standard approach to the teaching of history is neither unifying nor inspirational. In fact, it fails to resonate with many students who perceive it as ‘white people’s history’. Levinson points out that there are alternative historical narratives which have the potential to be more empowering. As an example she mentions the way in which history has been taught in some historically segregated African-American schools and colleges: as a narrative of struggles against injustice. This sort of narrative conveys a sense of obligation to take advantage of the rights and opportunities that others had to fight to achieve.
Of course, not all students will find the same narratives equally compelling. Members of different groups will unavoidably look at the past in different ways and will identify with different historical figures. One implication of Levinson’s argument is that schools should give up on the goal of providing any unifying version of history, and make room for the discussion of a variety of perspectives on historical events. I agree that this seems the most appropriate way to teach history. However, I would go one step further and give up on the goal of making history classes civically uplifting at all. This goal may be the source of a temptation to distort or hide certain historical facts – for example, the personal failures of national heroes – because the truth may turn out to be discouraging. I would argue that it is preferable to orient history classes to the pursuit of knowledge about the past and to the cultivation of students’ capacities for historical research.
In the remaining chapters, Levinson briefly examines the interrelation of race, ethnicity and cultural differences in civic life, and suggests a number of ways in which teachers can help students negotiate the obstacles they face. She also discusses political disputes about the incorporation of new historical figures as heroes in standard textbooks. Although Levinson acknowledges the value of constructing a more diverse and multicultural ‘pantheon of heroes’, she also argues that students might be more inspired to participate by ordinary people from their communities who are civically active, and who get things done. Another chapter is devoted to the ways in which schools actually shape students’ civic experiences: by the rules they enforce, by their responses to students’ requests, and by their level of support for participatory experiences such as student councils. The next chapter continues with the defense of an experientially oriented approach to civic education, and offers several examples of the kinds of activities that would encourage students to express their views, be confident in their capacities, and be motivated to participate. The final chapter has a different tone and is devoted to the role of standards, assessments and accountability mechanisms, and their interplay with a variety of democratic ideals that operate at different levels. This chapter provides an original and subtle discussion of the topic of standards and assessments. Levinson holds – plausibly but quite controversially – that such standards and assessments could serve democratic purposes, as long as they were well designed and properly implemented. But this chapter is not about the problem of students’ disempowerment. Rather, it is concerned with the wider topic of democratic decision-making, by adults, regarding educational policy.
From a methodological perspective, and as Levinson herself recognizes, the book’s approach is somewhat eclectic. It combines information from the social sciences with normative philosophical argumentation, educational proposals, and personal stories from her experience as a middle school teacher in the public schools of Atlanta and Boston. Some of Levinson’s stories about her interaction with students are funny, while others are moving. All of them are quite thought-provoking and are one of the reasons why this book is so engaging. They illustrate her students’ attitudes towards political authorities, their ethno-racial self-identifications, and their responses to different school policies and educational activities. The data from the social sciences help locate these personal stories in a wider socio-historical context, and they highlight the unjust, non-ideal circumstances of these and many other students’ lives. Levinson uses this data as a starting point in defending the view that schooling should develop students’ political knowledge and skills in such a way that they can effectively fight for a more just, democratic, and inclusive society. She also describes a number of educational activities – inside and outside the classroom – that could promote long-term civic action. The stories and arguments that Levinson weaves together succeed in making a compelling case for an experiential type of civic education with progressive goals.