Talk is Cheap. But Meaningful.

I was sitting in a meeting last week, planning a major teacher leadership initiative with some smart colleagues, when I had one of those moments in which the correct word--the word I needed--got stuck in the murky recesses of my (admittedly aging) brain. I wanted to describe the process of distributing work...dispersing work...a starts-with- "d" word... in which tasks are dispensed, doled out, delivered, or disseminated to others. Duh. *&^@#! What was the word?

Kathy, sitting next to me: "Delegate?" Bingo! And then she suggested that the reason I couldn't retrieve the word immediately is because it's not part of my habitual thinking process, not a word I value or use constantly. "Language is truth, you know" she said, shooting me a Meaningful Glance.

Well. I've been brooding about this for a couple of days now, trying to recall other tip-of-tongue words that have eluded me lately. The only example I could remember was talking with my husband about burnished language used to obscure less-positive meanings-- pre-owned vehicles, red-shirted kindergartners, not-yet-proficient, that sort of thing. The word refused to pop into my mind...it starts with an "e"...  Right. Euphemism.

There are actually terms used to delineate this impaired word-retrieval phenomenon. Dysnomia--or dysnomia's more serious cousin, anomia--or (my personal favorite) lethologica. Psychologists refer to it as "Tip of the Tongue Syndrome" (TOT). And Kathy was right--it does have something to do with one's shovel-ready vocabulary versus words and ideas used infrequently. Perhaps I am not particularly good at delegating--or willing to put a good verbal face on an objectionable concept.

In education, it's hard to draw a bright line between the specific language of professional practice, sloganeering, genuine words of inspiration, and loose, habituated-in-lazy-thinking speech. I was reminded of this in a recent conversation with an amazing young teacher, working in one of the poorest schools in Alabama. While she was pursuing an undergraduate degree in education, several of her friends whose majors were in other fields were applying for highly selective "teaching fellows" programs. Some of them are teaching in at-risk schools now, and feeling underprepared and overwhelmed (a condition mitigated by the appealing prospect of a full ride in grad school).  "What makes me different?" she asked. "Aren't I 'teaching for America,' too--even though I don't get scholarship money or prestige?" A poignant question.

Language matters--especially the things we say without thinking, the concepts that embed themselves in our brains via the readily accessible words, idioms and metaphors that shape our collective judgments and beliefs.

Race to the Top.

Relentless Pursuit.

In the Trenches.

Widgets. Outliers. Core Knowledge. Bolder and Broader.

 And now we're being asked to rethink the branding and glossary of No Child Left Behind, a kind of corporate flush to rid us of the unpleasant whiff of whole cities full of left-behind children, scientifically-based curriculum kickbacks, and yearly progress that isn't even close to adequate. Most teachers I know think this is the ultimate pig-in-lipstick PR blah-blah. (Although it will be a relief when they take down the insulting, red plastic NCLB Schoolhouse thingie--which looks like someone grafted a Bob Evans on the great, gray Department of Education building.) Still, language matters. And so does change.

Retrieving the right words for the new name may be tricky. We are out of practice in using the vocabulary of empowerment and developing human capital. Building Capacity. The Audacity of Thinking We Can Do Ed Policy Better. I'm still working on my suggestion, but the word that keeps popping into my head is: Investment. Nations whose systemic education results are uniformly impressive invest continuously in people. And we should, too. No euphemisms, but lots of hard work.

I need some time to think about a new name. I'll be hiking the Appalachian Trail.

Images: NCinDC and OhioNewsHound

Comments

[Tom Panarese]

I think your last full paragraph there hits it right on the head. Investment, commitment, something more long-term than improved test scores within three years or something. Though I thought my Children Reaping America's Promises was good because we love our acronyms and that one would be CRAP.

[Melissa B.]

I do believe I have suffered from Tip of the Tongue Syndrome for some time now. Yesterday, I couldn't think of the word for clothes pin. Do you think that means I'm old, or just preoccupied?

BTW, my youngest just launched a photo blog, and I'm shamelessly trolling for traffic. Please visit my site to see what she's got going, and pay her a visit!

[Nancy Flanagan]

Tom, you have to believe I picked up on your subtle acronym, made all the more delicious by the fact that you let your readers discover it on their own. And I get your point, as well. Words are only words;all the left-behind kids and Hardly Qualified teachers (who have the right paper credentials) are testimony to that.

Still--I'd love to see some thought given to the Big Ideas underlying the reshaping of ESEA, and have them reflected in what this policy behemoth is eventually called.

And Melissa, if you own a dryer, you can blame it for your ability to call up "clothes pin."

[Claus]

I recently encountered two interesting compound adjectives from the reformers' lexicon: "high leverage" and "low impact." The former describes the speaker's favorite reform. The latter describes other people's reform ideas. The apparent lack of research to ground either phrase seems to trouble few people.

Robert Pondiscio's "Ed Reform Devil's Dictionary" takes on issues similar to those you raise in your blog posting: http://www.coreknowledge.org/blog/2009/05/19/ed-reform-devils-dictionary/

[Nancy Flanagan]

Loved Robert's dictionary.

Here's another example of a loose lexicon:

http://blog.eduflack.com/2009/07/02/sunshine-on-core-standards.aspx

Thoughtful people who would like to see the right standards written are genuinely concerned about the fast-track approach, and who's writing the standards. They don't see "monsters under the bed"--they see one-sided decision-making. But it's easy to lump them into a group called "The Blob" without considering whether Achieve, ACT and the College Board aren't also a "Blob."

Words. Sheesh.

[Fran Bullington]

Thank you for putting a name to the tip of the tongue syndrome that I all too often experience! Love the other terms you shared - but since I haven't had brain trauma I can't claim dysnomia or anomia. And Wikipedia is wanting sources to back up your favorite - lethologica - so had better not claim that one, either.

I recently heard, and have shamelessly used the phrase "intellectual interlude." Please pardon me while I have an intellectual interlude; I will be back with you AND the precise word momentarily.

[Nancy Flanagan]

Intellectual interlude! Perfect. Suggested via Facebook: Brain fart (eww) and CRS (can't remember ___). Neither of which can be used in a scholarly assembly.

But I do like intellectual interlude, which can happen to anyone (unlike another option-- senior moment).

Thanks for dropping by, Fran.