That's Not Helpful, Rick
It seems like at least once or twice a week for the past couple decades (and, sometimes a whole lot more frequently than that, as when Jay Greene and I examined the partisan makeup of the education reform community this spring), someone has e-mailed, called, or otherwise told me that something I'd said or written "wasn't helpful." Usually absent are the nouns and verbs that would give the sentiment more shape. Helpful how? Helpful to whom? That stuff is missing, I suspect, because including it would make clear that there's a perfectly good reason for a skeptic to be unhelpful.
The funny thing is that I often think, "Geez, I'd like to be more helpful." After all, if you know me, you know that I don't enjoy spats. I don't like chasing clicks or engaging in theatrical debates, and I don't want to be some polarizing media personality. In fact, I'd suggest that I rather like being helpful when I can.
So, what's going on? Why do so many people think I'm so monumentally unhelpful?
It turns out that when someone says "that's not helpful," what they usually have in mind is "shut up and get with the program." Of course, the people instructing others to be "helpful" are always hugely sure about how to "fix" things—even though that assurance is rarely accompanied by obvious expertise in the specific stuff (pedagogy, instructional materials, assessment, bureaucracy) that they're out to fix.
Weirdly, the lack of relevant knowledge often seems to fuel self-assuredness. I've wondered why, and recently had an "ah-ha!" moment when steered to a 2018 article from the Journal of Personality CONTINUE READING: That's Not Helpful, Rick - Rick Hess Straight Up - Education Week
