Clinton’s educational policy consists of two contradictory elements. The most prominent is a boundless enthusiasm to send more Americans to college with more federal money–without (and this is crucial) insisting that the recipients show they can do college-level work. Clinton aims to enhance ““access,’’ which is a code word for the absence of genuine standards. At the same time, he and Education Secretary Richard Riley loudly advocate more exacting standards in elementary and high school. ““If I could sum up everything I’ve learned about education in three words,’’ Riley recently said, ““they would be “high standards work.’ . . . Schools and students rise to the expectations we set for them.''
If Clinton and Riley practiced what they preach, they’d set a ““high standard’’ for students to qualify for federal college grants and loans. Longtime readers of this column (all three of you) will recall that I’ve made this suggestion before. No one of prominence in either party advocates such standards. Republican Education Secretaries William Bennett and Lamar Alexander didn’t. ““High standard’’ goes beyond a high-school diploma, whose value varies. Nor does it mean transcripts; these are marred by grade inflation. What I mean is a test of basic college competencies–in reading, writing and math, at least. Students who flunked wouldn’t get federal aid.
Let’s be clear about the legitimacy of a federal standard. In fiscal 1997, the federal government will provide an estimated $43 billion in college aid to 7.6 million students through grants and federally subsidized or guaranteed loans. Students receiving aid ought to earn the privilege by showing educational capability. This does not impinge upon state or local power; nor does it impose a national standard for college. It does say that people who receive federal aid also assume obligations. This is the sort of sensible personal accountability embodied in welfare reform.
By contrast, Clinton’s tests wouldn’t tell us much we don’t know–and, therefore, wouldn’t spur much change. We know, for example, how most states compare with each other from the National Assessment of Educational Progress, which tests a national sample of students. These tests show that in 1994 only 28 percent of fourth graders read at a ““proficient’’ level. States ranged from 15 percent in Louisiana and 18 percent in Mississippi and California to 38 percent in Connecticut and North Dakota. Similarly, about 41 percent of fourth graders read below a ““basic’’ level, with Louisiana (60 percent) the worst and North Dakota (27 percent) the best. (““Basic’’ denotes ““partial mastery’’ of skills; ““proficient’’ signifies ““solid academic performance.’')
School districts within most states can also compare themselves to each other. Already, about 47 states conduct their own assessments, reports the Council of Chief State School Officers. Everyone knows that schools and students in most central cities aren’t doing well. All that Clinton’s tests might do is allow individual students and schools to compare themselves across states and against a national standard. (Many state tests can’t now be compared with each other.) Even this advantage would be small. To mute opposition, Clinton has made the tests voluntary. So far, only seven states and 15 major school districts have signed up.
For this puny benefit, Clinton has still stirred a firestorm. His tests are criticized, says The New York Times, ““by minorities who think they will further stigmatize the poor; by conservatives who think they favor liberal pedagogy, and by ethnic groups who say they should be given in languages other than English.’’ This was predictable. In a diverse country–with a tradition of local school control–national tests and standards were bound to inflame. Before intruding on local schools, the federal government should set standards for its own programs.
It almost certainly won’t. The Higher Education Act (which authorizes student loans and grants) is up for congressional renewal, but Clinton won’t propose a competency test. ““The outcry would be unbelievable,’’ says Marshall Smith, acting deputy secretary of education. Colleges would scream because enrollments might shrink. Middle-class families would complain because their college ““entitlement’’ would be impaired. Black and Hispanic groups would protest that minority students would be hurt most. ““These student moneys,’’ says Smith, ““have been designed to provide access and not to have a test as a hurdle.''
The result is massive social promotion. Six of 10 high-school graduates go to college of some type. Roughly half of those eventually drop out. Remedial courses are widespread. In 1995, says the Department of Education, 78 percent of all two- and four-year colleges offered remedial courses. About 29 percent of freshmen took at least one in reading, writing or math.
All the political problems of national tests for fourth graders would afflict a test for federal college aid. How tough should it be? Which subjects should it cover? But even if the test were ““dumbed down’’–say, to a 10th-grade level for four-year colleges and a ninth-grade level for two-year schools–it would improve the status quo. It would compel more students to work harder, foster a climate of learning in classrooms and create popular pressures for school systems to do better. It would assert the principle that federal benefits are a privilege, not a mere handout. The fact that the president and much of Congress disdain this approach–and don’t even discuss it–is a measure of our national hypocrisy.
