Leading Mama

The Business of Education

At a time when family budgets are shrinking and unemployment is on the rise, more and more schools are paying students for academic achievement. In Chicago, financial incentives are offered as part of “Green for Grades.” In more than 100 Texas high schools, the nonprofit group Advanced Placement Strategies pays up to $500 to kids earning top scores on AP English, math and science tests. 

Have I lost touch with reality or does this seem like a really bad idea to you, too?

 

Psychological research consistently shows when you pay people to perform tasks, they lose interest in them. It’s as if they think to themselves “If she’s got to pay me to do this, it must be really boring.” Kids paid to color pictures decide they aren’t so fond of coloring anymore. Professional athletes lose touch with the thrill of the sport when they’re overpaid and under pressure. What’s worse, when external incentives disappear, most people stop doing what you paid them to do.

 

Remind me – what makes the cash-for-grades exchange a good idea?

 

Business leaders might compare this practice to incentive systems for employees. There are several similar systems in business practice – profit sharing, working on commission, bonuses for exceptional performance.

 

Since school funding depends on student test scores, the practice of paying students for grades amounts to an educational profit sharing plan. Sort of – but not really. In profit sharing programs, employees typically share in the company’s profits as a group, not as individuals. Profit sharing programs encourage employees to work as a team for the good of the organization. One employee’s success is irrelevant if profits are down across the board. Everyone has to achieve or no one does.

 

WashingtonD.C.’s “Capital Gains” incentive system and other programs nationwide reward individual performance. These programs amount to work on commission for students. The more good grades they post, the greater their individual financial rewards. Other students’ success is irrelevant. And no work means no pay.

 

I know it’s tempting to believe financial incentives will motivate kids to stay in school and get good grades. But if school is work, and education is business, then we know paying people more can’t make them care. And it can’t make them stay where they don’t want to be. 

 

Nearly a quarter of all American’s change jobs each year, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. Though 89% of managers think their employees quit because they could make more money elsewhere, only 12% of employees leave for more money. The #1 reason people quit their jobs is BAD MANAGEMENT. 

 

Bad bosses fail to involve people in decision making. They fail to appreciate employees’ contributions. And they fail to develop employees’ talents and abilities. One study found workers are almost four times more likely to leave because their skills are not being used and their careers are not being developed than because of salary.

 

Before paying another poor student to earn a passing score on the state-mandated math test this year, maybe educators need to re-think what truly motivates students. Just like adults, kids appreciate opportunities to contribute to something bigger than themselves. They like being part of a team. They want to make a difference in the world. Not later – NOW.

 

Kids’ enthusiasm for learning new skills (animation, photography, auto mechanics) and developing talents (art, music, athletics, drama) is automatic. We don’t have to pay them to play baseball. We don’t offer incentives for drawing or singing or photography. Because learning is incentive enough.

 

Unfortunately the intrinsically satisfying nature of learning is undermined by teach-the-test academics. There’s no room left for exploring what is interesting to students. No time for group projects and service learning. Education has been reduced to assembly line production – no room for creativity remains.

 

If assessment-centric decision making, educational inequity, and an inability to see how education matters in life have de-motivated students to the point we must pay them to learn, we’ve got a problem no amount of money can fix. Really.

 

The Myth of Independent-Mindedness

While I was pedaling the recumbent bike at the health club this morning, (yet another) political ad caught my attention. I can’t recall the name of the candidate, as his selling proposition wasn’t particularly unique. Behind his headshot, in large letters, were the words “Independent-Minded.”

 

I guess all candidates want us to believe that they’re independent minded, insofar as none of them boast they’re “in-tight-with-the-Washington-fatcats-who-created-the-mess-we’re-in” or “swayed-by-Wall-Street-bankers-lawyers-and-lobbyists.” Never mind that my slogans won’t fit the TV screen, even in wide screen mode. You get my point.

 

I’ve been thinking of the dependence—independence continuum this week as I’m writing a piece on teenagers, whose headstrong independence in our big, scary world frightens many Moms and Dads. Parents of teenagers emphasize taking care of and thinking for oneself – we don’t want them to be swayed by the half-baked arguments of some other newly independent teenager we hardly know. “If Johnny jumped off a cliff, would you follow him?”

 

Independent-mindedness is prized in our culture – we measure skill and success largely by individual achievements (test scores, promotions, contests won, opponents defeated). But independent-mindedness isn’t enough – and it can be arrogant or dangerous.

 

I truly don’t believe independent-mindedness is possible – 60 years of psychological research shows our judgments and behavior are influenced by social and environmental cues far outside our awareness. But even if it were possible, I’m not sure it’s desirable. 

 

Leadership matters precisely because we’re all connected to each other and to our environment in ways we can scarcely fathom. It requires interdependent-mindedness. 

 

As a parent, I want my son to be both capable and caring. I want him to see how his actions can build up or tear down, and how his words can hurt or inspire. I want him to appreciate the interdependent nature of people, plants, and animals and act accordingly. If his actions do damage, I want him to make amends – and to do better next time. Now that’s leadership for an interdependent world.

 

To Err is Human, To Admit It Is Leadership

I'm reading a book by Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson entitled Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me): Why We Justify Foolish Beliefs, Bad Decisions, and Hurtful Acts. Both giants in the field of social psychology, Tavris and Aronson review 50 years of research on cognitive dissonance and self-justification, explaining how we tend to rationalize, justify, ignore, and evade evidence suggesting we’ve erred. 

 

The fragile ego needs protection, after all.

 

Tavris and Aronson remark, “To err is human, but humans have a choice between covering up and fessing up.” And most often, when confronted with proof we’re wrong, become even more tenacious in our own self-deception and self-defense.

 

It’s easy to find public examples in politics and on Wall Street these days. Just last night as we watched 60 Minutes, I wondered how hedge fund managers who made MILLIONS of dollars on credit default swaps and derivatives could live with themselves as they watch the US economy crumble before their eyes. People are losing their homes, their retirement savings, their jobs. 

 

The answer, of course, is that bankers and hedge fund managers and legislators responsible for the credit crunch live with themselves “exactly the way the rest of us do.” Now I’m not saying you or I have made bad decisions that impacted millions and millions of people (and Tavris and Aronson didn’t say that either). 

 

What I am saying is the psychological process of self-justification that allows them to sleep at night is the same one that allows you or I to live with the knowledge we’ve screwed up and hurt those we love, perhaps deeply.

 

In the last 24 hours, I’ve had two opportunities to admit a mistake. I confess in the more emotional, personally meaningful situation, I responded just like social psychologists would predict (and their predictions are not usually very favorable). In the less emotional, more black-and-white business-related situation, I very quickly (though not without embarrassment) admitted my error, explained how it happened, expressed my sincerest apologies, and asked for a gracious response from the individual I wronged. (And I'm happy to say the situation was resolved positively.)

 

The difficult situation was an argument with my husband, who felt I was critical of his parenting behavior. I fairly quickly dug in my heels (“I did not criticize you”), justified my behavior (“You started it”), and walked away from additional confrontation (literally).  

 

In the minutes that followed, what flashed through my mind was all the evidence to support my position, and a host of unspoken arguments to counteract his. I won’t list them here, and I’m glad that – at least this time – I kept all those not-so-kind words to myself. Keeping my mouth shut certainly isn’t my nature. 

 

Without the prompting of Mistakes Were Made, I’m not sure I would have re-evaluated what happened yesterday. Actually, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have. 

 

While I easily find fault with my hair (it’s flat today), my thighs (not as thin as they should be), my housekeeping (not a high priority), it’s much harder to see mistakes in my own behavior. I think that’s true for most of us. Real life requires a little (well, maybe a lot) of self-deception. We all make bad decisions at times, and sometimes our behavior hurts others. In order to feel like good, honest, caring, capable people, we justify it. Then we remember it selectively, culling out the parts that aren’t so flattering like we cut bad boyfriends out of our college photo albums. 

 

While I still don’t believe I criticized him directly, I certainly see how my husband interpreted it that way. And I am truly sorry I hurt him. That seems like a step in the right direction. I admit I’ve got a ways to go.

 

Now if those hedge fund managers would fess up, we could all sleep better tonight.