Is there any term more tiresome, more overused (and misused) than the paradigm? Since Thomas Kuhn introduced the concept of "paradigm shift" in 1970, for the specific purpose of explaining scientific revolutions, pompous people have adopted it to account for minor changes in nomenclature, or major changes in nomenclature masking trivial changes in substance, or even the phenomenon of changing their minds.
I remember my feelings of disquiet, then, when I saw the title "From Teaching to Learning: A new paradigm for undergraduate education" on the 1995 Change article from which this book grows. Yet, reading that article (by John Tagg and his colleague Robert Barr)-and, even more, reading this book-persuades me that this is a fully deserved employment of "paradigm." What Tagg is calling for is a fundamental change in the way we understand the aim of higher education, and a radical change in practice to pursue that aim.
The existing paradigm for college is the Instructional Paradigm. Acceptance of it leads to many consequences including the reification of credit hours, the system of grading now in use, classroom design, the typical construction of general education curricula, the dominance of the academic department, and the lecture course. As Tagg eloquently points out, few educators actually defend the transmission theory of learning, superficiality, inert student behavior, and so on; in fact, they believe in active, deep, and lifelong learning. But that is their espoused theory. Their theory-in-use is the instructional paradigm.
Tagg recognizes the good intentions of most people involved in colleges. No one sets out to practice inadequate teaching. But the
fact that we do not notice the structures of our organizations does not mean that we like them. Indeed, in my experience, most colleges are beset by an underlying dissatisfaction, a sense that things don't fit quite right. . . . I want to suggest that at most colleges the visible enemy-the them that is blighting our lives and impeding our work-is not the enemy at all. The real root of our most persistent and pernicious problems is the invisible enemy, the one we don't see because we see it every day: the organizational paradigm governing our institutions. Our organizational paradigm is like a lens: We don't see it; we see through it, but it determines how we see everything else.
The purpose of this book is to call attention to the lens, enable us to see how it is deforming our vision, and help us grind a better one.
Tagg begins with considerable foundation, including various theories of learning (both those held by educational professionals and those held by students, often shockingly at odds), then he discusses the "cognitive economy" of the Instruction Paradigm College, sorted into topics: Goals (the IP College encourages students to pursued extrinsic goals); Activity; Information; Time; Community; and Alignment. The saddest statement comes in this last section:
While colleges vary in the extent to which the elements of this cognitive economy are aligned, I know of no college that is systematically aligned in consistent pursuit of the Instruction Paradigm. The reason is simple. Nobody believes in the Instruction Paradigm. Nobody defends it. Nobody thinks running institutions for the purpose of keeping the classes full is really a good idea. Administrators and faculty members enforce the Instruction Paradigm rules because they believe they have to, and often do so with deep resentment and distaste.
(It isn't Tagg's major aim to explain the dissatisfaction, arising almost to self-loathing, of much of the professoriate, but he sheds considerable light on it.)
Following this analysis is the major part of his book, which is the section on what a Learning Paradigm college is (its cognitive economy), broken down under the same headings with examples chosen from colleges that exemplify good practice. The chapters declare that
And he ends with a clear and honest discussion of barriers to transformation and an inspiring exhortation, called The Golden Rule.
In addition to addressing deep and important questions and calling on educators to do something which, at some level, we almost all know is right, Tagg writes powerfully and gracefully. Most books on higher education, sadly, make for hard reading, even if their rewards make the work worthwhile. But consider this:
Without quality we have nothing of value left to count in the calculation of quantity. If students do not learn well, it matters really not at all how many tests they pass, how high their grades, how much data they cover. It will all be lost and meaningless if it is not rooted in understanding. It is among the cruelest hoaxes of incoherent thought to hold that we must invest in policies that promote surface learning because they are financially affordable. We must come to see that we do not save money when we waste money. No system will sustain the interminable perpetuation of rampant waste, investment in educational structures and processes that not only fail to add value but actually diminish the values we claim to be dedicated to.
I think this is powerful, too:
The reified artifacts that define our roles as teachers-the course outlines, the calendar, the departments and divisions-are fossilized beyond all negotiation. Whether they have meaning or not is beside the point; they are like the seats of the lecture hall, bolted to the floor.
I could quote more but instead I will simply say that anyone who feels that vague dissatisfaction Tagg mentions, who occasionally asks if the noble learning goals announced in her syllabus is consistent with the assignments, the grading practices, and the classroom activities (or passivities) that constitute her educational theory-in-use, who thinks colleges can be more that they are and thus develop student learning better than they do, should read this book. Directors of Teaching and Learning Centers, Provosts, and Deans of Instruction should read it first, then buy multiple copies for their faculty.
Merritt Moseley
UNC Asheville