The post-apocalyptic hellscape that is elementary school

There are some people in this world – actually a lot of people, but I’m going to start off on a charitable note – who are dumb. Really, really, appallingly dumb. This can neither be helped nor escaped. No state, country, or continent in the world is safe from the slow-witted, with the possible exception of Antarctica, whose only residents are scientists. Unfortunately, in exchange for being surrounded by exclusively intelligent people, said residents are forced to live in the post-apocalyptic hellscape that is Antarctica. Go figure.

For a variety of reasons mostly related to Americans’ dogged insistence that just about anyone could grow up to be the President of the United States, calling people dumb violates this country’s unspoken social code: we’re all equal except for I make 30 times as much as you and oppose income redistribution. The assumption underlying this code is that we’re all born with equal potential, so if you don’t succeed it’s on you, And because Americans are not only dumb but willfully ignorant, we blindly accept this assumption as fact. That’s a shame since the assumption is manifestly untrue. We’re born into different circumstances, both genetic and environmental, that affect our ability to succeed. That a biracial man from Kansas was elected President is not proof that you too could get there one day. He’s smarter, luckier, more charming, and better-looking than you. That’s not fair, but it is true.

This assumption, which, I would like to re-emphasize, goes mostly unquestioned, really fosters our idiocy; through our refusal to acknowledge differing levels and forms of intelligence within our population, everyone is losing. Just ask a smart kid in a public elementary school classroom how he feels about school. Odds are he’ll deploy the adjective, “boring,” at least once in his answer. This isn’t, I posit, an indication that the kid isn’t interested in learning. Most smart people enjoy learning since they tend to be good at it. It’s in fact an indication that the kid simply isn’t learning, which leads me to wonder why and how this could be. How is it possible to spend hours upon hours every day “learning” and to still learn nothing? Because of the dumb kids.

Now I’m not blaming the dumb kids. They can’t help it, and they’re obviously entitled to an education just like everyone else; the more Americans who are literate, both linguistically and mathematically, the better off we all are. But I can’t dream up a reasonable rebuttal to the argument that lumping kids of all abilities into a single classroom forces the teacher to teach to the lowest common denominator. I personally reacted to this by being the kid who always volunteered to read aloud or solve a math problem on the blackboard, not because I especially wanted to, but because I knew I’d do it quickly and correctly; a dumb kid bungling things would invariably cut into recess time, so when you think about it I was really quite the elementary school hero. Whether or not this self-assignation is valid, the scenario perfectly illustrates the problem: the dumb kids struggle and need a lot of assistance, which annoys the smart kids, who are already disgruntled at the inanity of the lessons, and the smart kids’ annoyance undermines the self-esteem of the dumb kids who are just smart enough to pick up on it. No one wins.

The crux of my argument is that the time has come to return to the antiquated practice of tracking students: the smart kids in one class, the dumb kids in another, and the special ed kids will just sit and color. I firmly believe that all children would benefit from this set-up, and that the greatest benefits would be reaped by the kids on the lower end of the scale. For the first time in their lives, the dumb kids would have a shot at some modicum of scholastic success, the chance to not be overshadowed by Asian kids with pocket protectors whose parents don’t take “B+” for an answer. If an academically-challenged rascal didn’t understand something, he wouldn’t be so embarrassed to seek assistance. He might even volunteer to read aloud or do the odd math problem in front of the class since little assholes like me wouldn’t be there, straining to beat him to the punch. All in all, he’ll turn out a fuck of a lot smarter with tracking than without.

I realize that this little screed is dripping with arrogance and elitism, and, yes I’m laboring under the assumption that I would have been in the smart class had such a thing existed during my childhood. Let’s not fret over my superciliousness, and just assume for the sake of argument that I’m not delusional about my own intellectual capacity. How would my life have been different in a tracked elementary school? Well, learning probably would have been more interesting, or at least less tedious. I might have been spared some of the mockery I endured for being such a weird little creature. Mostly, I would have been less bored and annoyed. It’s not as though in the absence of the class dregs, I would have studied quantum mechanics or something; all little kids have certain limitations, so neither class’ curriculum would have strayed too far from that which was actually in place in 1992. The smart class would have just read tougher books and done a little more with fractions.

Before I wrap things up, it would behoove me to acknowledge the most obvious, but also the most valid, opposing argument, which has nothing to do with the children’s self-esteem; I think I’ve argued pretty persuasively that everyone’s self-esteem would in fact increase under a tracking system. The argument I consider reasonable states that it’s important for kids to be exposed to a wide array of people, and such exposure would be greatly lessened if children were tracked. This is absolutely true, but I’m not a tracking fundamentalist – I see no problem with having all the classes come together for art, music, and gym. I might even throw in social studies and science, neither of which presents as conceptually difficult in elementary school. I also don’t know that mere exposure to people who are different allows a person to become more accepting and generous and open-minded and well-rounded. Kids self-segregate no matter what. Smart kids eat their peanut butter sandwiches in the presence of other smart kids, while dumb kids enjoy their peanut butter sandwiches with their own friends, a band of rapscallions who are probably not about to set the world on fire.

Ultimately, my strongest defense against this argument is that some degree of separation during our formative years would ultimately bring us together. If I’m right – and I clearly believe I am – that less intelligent children would benefit more from this system than their more intelligent counterparts, tracking could prove to be a great equalizer, lessening the gap between smart and stupid. Maybe by the time my hypothetical lower-tracked kids graduate from high school they will have learned to read and write. Maybe some of them will even go on to college (more about that in an upcoming post). If you like my plan, know that I’m available for school board meetings and other functions. As some piece of inspirational “art” in some small-town mall probably once said, “Together, we can make a difference.”