Everybody's making cuts. Tight finances are forcing states and districts to reconsider which items belong in the ?vital? category on the budget sheet and which ones can be pared away with little collateral damage. Among the emerging holdouts in the ?vital? column is small class size (in no small part because state law often mandates maximum class sizes). But even the idea of adding two or three kids to every class is met with a gasp from many parents, teachers, and school board members.
For years I, too, assumed that smaller class sizes are a prerequisite for high academic achievement. But that assumption changed when I moved to Beijing, China three years ago to take Mandarin courses at a university there. I remember being shocked the first time I discussed secondary education with my Chinese friends. ?How many students are in most high school classes?? I asked. I knew students in China and other Asian countries were exceptional achievers in most academic fields, so I was expecting a number like 10 or 15. ?About 70,? my friend replied nonchalantly. 70? But that would mean students would have almost no one-on-one interactions with the teacher, which nearly guaranteed low academic performance ? right?
I stayed in Beijing for a total of two years, and as time went on, I began to understand how this seemingly oxymoronic phenomenon was possible. Teaching, I learned, was one of the most respected professions in society, and this ensured that the pool of available teachers was composed of many of China's finest young men and women. And the way teachers taught was different. It was far less important, for example, that children at Chinese schools had parties, ?cultural experiences,? and all-consuming sports programs. Children were generally expected to make their own fun, which they did splendidly.
Not that my time in Beijing left me totally sold on the Chinese educational model. Rigid curricula that focused intensely on standardized test preparation and allowed little room for students to research topics that interested them, for example, were not terribly winsome. And even after seeing with my own eyes how incredibly well-read and intelligent Chinese students are, I would still prefer a 25-student classroom to a 70-student one. (In fact, some Chinese students, like the daughter of this Mandarin teacher, would too.)
That said, my time in China made it clear to me that our constant push to reduce class sizes by three or five students is little more than a hamster wheel that some politicians and education wonks still delight in watching go round and round to nowhere. Last week at Fordham's ?Stretching the School Dollar? event, economist Marguerite Roza put forward a sensible proposal to let teachers make the class-size decision for themselves. Good teachers, she reasoned, have no problem integrating two or three more students into their classes, and they're likely to favor the option of a small salary bump in exchange for taking on a few more kids. (And increasing the class sizes of effective teachers means more students have effective teachers, so everybody wins.)
Do we need Chinese-style 70-student classrooms? No. But we cannot afford to continue insisting that smaller class size is the miracle drug that will cure our ailing schools. China and other Asian nations have discovered ways to give their children stellar educations despite large class sizes; since we pride ourselves in being a nation of educational innovation, can the US not do something similar?
?Nick Joch, Fordham-Ohio Policy & Research Intern