Resident Scholar  Frederick M. Hess

In an election season marked by persistent references to JFK, Martin Luther King Jr., Ronald Reagan, and "big brother" surveillance, it would seem axiomatic that familiarity with the stuff of history is essential. Yet, it appears that students soon to graduate high school have, at best, an uncertain grasp of key historical and literary facts. In a new study, forty percent of the nation's 17-year-olds could not identify the proper half-century in which the First World War took place. One-fourth thought Christopher Columbus had landed in the New World after 1750. More than a quarter could not identify the Declaration of Independence as the document that declares that all men "are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights."
 
These results emerge from a new study, Still At Risk, that I authored and that was published last week by the D.C.-based outfit Common Core. Issued on the twenty-fifth anniversary of A Nation at Risk, the findings garnered a fair bit of popular notice in publications like the New York Times and USA Today, and on broadcast television and radio. In light of some of what has been said, it is worthwhile to reflect on the premise of the effort, its execution, the findings, and what I regard as the key takeaways.

The report proceeds from the premise that the first mission of schooling in a democratic nation is to equip every young person for the responsibilities and privileges of citizenship. In acquainting students with the historical narrative and cultural touchstones that mark our national experience, schools provide the vocabulary for a common conversation that can render e pluribus unum more than a pretty turn of phrase. The premise is not that dates or names are important for their own sake, or that schools should teach trivia, but that certain elemental points of reference are crucial as anchors and for what they reveal about an individual's grasp on our common history and shared culture.
 
Unfortunately, there is not a reliable national measure of how much students know about history and literature. While the U.S. Department of Education's National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP) evaluates twelfth grade students' knowledge of history approximately every five years, only one-third of the questions test historical "knowledge and perspective;" the other two-thirds test "analysis and interpretation." There is no ongoing effort to assess literary knowledge.

The question of how much our 17-year-olds know is particularly relevant in light of broader social trends, including the decline in leisure reading and evidence that schools are reducing the time devoted to history and social studies. The issue is of some import given that these students are less than a year away from reaching legal adulthood, making them eligible to vote and serve in the nation's armed forces.

The study drew on a national survey of 1,200 17-year-olds. Respondents were asked a battery of 33 multiple-choice questions. The test items were a subset of those administered as part of the 1986 NAEP, when an assessment of what 17-year-olds know about literature and history was last conducted. (Due to very different protocols and samples, it is perilous to compare the findings from this report and the 1986 results. For more discussion, see the report's appendix.)

Overall, how did today's students fare? On the whole, students answered 67 percent correctly, earning an overall D on a conventional high school grading curve. On the history section, they earned a C, answering 73 percent correctly. When it came to literature, they earned an F, correctly answering just 57 percent of the questions.
 
Some of the items that many 17-year-olds did not know struck me, and many readers of the report, as disconcerting. For instance, nearly a third could not identify "ask not what your country can do for you" as the words of President John F. Kennedy. A third did not know that the Bill of Rights is the source of our rights to freedom of religion and speech. Just two in five could place the Civil War in the correct fifty-year period and just half knew that The Federalist papers were written to encourage ratification of the U.S. Constitution.

Nearly a quarter could not correctly identify Adolf Hitler, with many of the others identifying him as either a German arms dealer or the Kaiser who offered Germany's surrender at the end of the First World War. Less than half could identify the literary figures of Job or Oedipus, while barely one in two could identify the plot of George Orwell's immortal 1984. Just two in five could identify the plot of Ralph Ellison's seminal Invisible Man.

In interpreting results for the media, in particular, I have sought to encourage readers to resist the temptation to engage in hyperbole or hysteria. For one thing, there is no way to establish a trend with these results. Part of the reason for conducting this research is that we lack good benchmarks against which to gauge student mastery of this content. Second, there is no way to establish causal responsibility with a study like this. The results are doubtless a product of many factors, including schooling and education policies, youth culture and leisure activities, parenting, and broader social trends. This study provides no way to apportion responsibility.

Third, while I regard the results as disappointing--on many questions I would hope that 90 to 95 percent of 17-year-olds would readily know the answer--there were some bright spots. Ninety-seven percent knew it was Martin Luther King Jr. who delivered the "I have a dream" speech and 88 percent knew the bombing of Pearl Harbor led the United States into the Second World War. Both events are frequent touchstones in contemporary instruction, as well as popular culture, and the results suggest that the knowledge is being retained.

What should we take from these findings? While bloggers, news accounts, broadcast media, and columnists have seized on the report as an opportunity to decry NCLB, the nation's schools, or the state of American culture, I think a more tempered response is appropriate. Rather than pat answers, I see an opportunity to ask whether popular reform currents are delivering the results we wish and, if not, what we should do about it. For me, three key takeaways stand out.

First, as the old management adage has it, "What you measure is what you get." We have put that notion to the test in education in recent years, determinedly measured reading and math achievement, especially in grades three through eight. It should come as no surprise that our time, energy, and attention have been directed accordingly. These findings can help remind us that it is vital to address more than one educational challenge at a time. The first step in doing so is to more regularly assess student learning beyond math and reading.

Second, as we debate the reauthorization of No Child Left Behind and design state accountability programs, we would be well advised to reassess whether these systems or district practices are promoting or unintentionally stifling instruction in the liberal arts and sciences. Ultimately, any accountability is likely to entail some costs, including the potential of some curricular narrowing, but the attendant benefits may mean those costs are well worth paying. Making an informed determination requires both judgment and good information on the entire spectrum of learning.

Finally, the value of a rich liberal arts education for all is an idea around which those who disagree on other counts can find common cause. Whatever measures we each may deem advisable to promote quality schooling, we should be able to agree that "quality" includes a broad, rich, and challenging liberal arts curriculum. Those who may disagree about charter schools, vouchers, mayoral control, or merit pay all have reason to insist that these strategies be coupled with a rich curriculum for all students. A successful coalition for liberal education can and must welcome those who may otherwise disagree on the particular shape of reform.

In profound ways, our civic health and national cohesion depend on our ability to familiarize each new generation with the touchstones of our shared history and culture. Ensuring that all citizens have a shared sense of Martin Luther King Jr.'s, "I have a dream" speech and the attack on Pearl Harbor are a start--but only a very modest one. Alone, such scattered kernels of awareness constitute no more than a handful of romanticized images flickering in the national conscience. What we need is confidence that all of our children will be familiar with the highs and the lows of the compelling narrative that is our common heritage.

Frederick M. Hess is a resident scholar and the director of education policy studies at AEI.