Comforting Lies

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Pedro López Tolosana

A few years ago, while tuning in to Vaughan Radio in an effort to improve my English skills, I heard the presenter and owner, Richard Vaughan, engage in self-deprecating humour. He expressed disappointment that he had recently published a book on learning English, in which he advocated hard work and dedication as the key to success. The book had sold far fewer copies than another one published around the same time, which promised an easy solution to the perennial issue of mastering the language. (I don’t recall if it was about learning English with 100 words, while sleeping, or through some form of osmosis.) “I’ll never get rich“, remarked Vaughan, known for his honesty. “People will always prefer comforting lies to uncomfortable truths”.

Ironically, in an English class, I was (without malice, it must be said) forced to listen to a famous TED Talk by Sir Ken Robinson, titled “Do Schools Kill Creativity?” For those unaware, TED Talks are presentations that originated in New York and later spread worldwide, though their popularity has significantly declined in recent years. At one point, tickets for a talk that would later be streamed online fetched as much as $8,500. Speakers were required to undergo extensive training and supervision regarding the script and non-verbal communication. At first glance, this setup seemed to promise a contribution to humanity; however, it ultimately resembled a scheme focused more on lining individual pockets than on genuine societal benefit”.

The selective use of information is undoubtedly the primary process that can turn fragments of reality into representatives of the exact opposite. Sir Ken Robinson’s flagship example is of a lively little girl whom a school referred to a doctor for an assessment. The doctor saw her dancing to the radio and said: “Your daughter is fine; she’s just a dancer“. The result, we are told, is that she went on to pursue ballet and is now a billionaire. There’s no accompanying violin players or moral lessons, but both are implied. According to Ken Robinson, another doctor would have diagnosed her with a disorder, prescribed medication, and told her to calm down. And thus, the message conveyed by our speaker is unmistakable: doctors who prescribe treatments are bad, psychologists who provide diagnoses are bad, and educators who refer students to specialists are bad. In contrast, pedagogues like him—who have never set foot in a classroom— position themselves as the true saviours, if not of lives, of promising careers. Collaborative work among professionals, frequently advocated by supporters of innovative pedagogies, is often summarily dismissed. Enter Sir Ken Robinson, who seemingly resolves the issue with a mere stroke of his pen.

The antidote, if we may suggest one, to intoxication by comforting lies requires a little effort, but we believe it is worth it. Essentially, it involves addressing the significant gaps left by these purveyors of misinformation. Consider our example: pursuing a career in dance, like any other profession, demands hard work and dedication. Job opportunities are governed by the principles of supply and demand, which are inherently limited and fluctuate over time—though in this case, demand remains particularly constraint. To ascend to the elite ranks of dancers, the personal sacrifice is immense. Dancers’ bodies suffer from the physical demands placed upon them, with both immediate pain and long-term repercussions. The competition is fierce, giving rise to unmanaged anxiety and potential mental health disorders. The success of our protagonist is due to relentless hard work, nothing else. As for the appropriateness of medication, we can know nothing without gathering information and conducting trials—essentially engaging in professional teamwork. We’ll leave the frivolity of deciding what’s appropriate “because I’m worth it” to Sir Ken Robinson and the daring educational theorists who presume to wield such authority.

So how can we protect ourselves from these door-to-door peddlers of pedagogical snake oil? For those with teaching experience, they are immediately recognisable. For those without, simply remembering that there are no shortcuts in education—just as in most professional fields—should suffice. Their products are sweet, even cloying, but their intoxicating effects impede serious work.

Source: educational EVIDENCE

Rights: Creative Commons