[Header Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash]

The rhetoric of education reform over the past six or so years has embraced a now pervasive labeling, the “science of”—grounded in the “science of reading” (SOR) movement.

Some of the defining features of the “science of” movement include significant doses of arrogance and idealism.

A turning point for me in terms of engaging in the heated SOR discourse on social media was when a prominent literacy scholar with roots in the National Reading Panel (NRP) pointedly referred to scholarship challenging the SOR story and movement as “stupid.”

That turning point included not engaging with that aspect of the debate at all while continuing to make the case I was certain is well supported by the evidence—the SOR movement is yet another example of rearranging the chairs on the deck of the Titanic.

And as the scholarly responses to the media and political SOR movement increased, that assessment has become more and more valid.

In short, the SOR era of education reform targeting reading is nothing new and the consequences of simply rearranging the chairs are harming students and teachers.

However, just recently a major organization that has promoted SOR has doubled down, oddly calling scholarly presentations on SOR at the national AERA conference nothing more than “myths.”

AERA is a rigorous organization and conference, thus, such as assertion seems at best careless and at worst incredibly negligent.

One aspect of the “myth” post that is worth examining more carefully is the claim that we all must either stay on the SOR bandwagon or revert to a so-called failed status quo.

This is yet another lazy false binary that concedes to remaining on the Titanic—the four-decades long accountability reform movement.

Let’s start by clarifying exactly what the criticism of the SOR movement and SOR-based legislation and policy is addressing:

• As John Warner asserts: “When you see the construction the ‘science of…’ as applied to education you are looking at a marketing term, not a reflection of something real when it comes what most of us think of when it comes to scientific inquiry and the standards of proof for claims.”
• “‘Is there a sudden reading crisis right now?’ [ Shayne] Piasta said. ‘I see it more (as) this has been chronic. And I think COVID just put more of a spotlight on it.'” (Debunking myths about co-opted reading science)
• According to Reinking, Hruby, and Risko, “there is no indisputable evidence of a national crisis in reading, and even if there were a crisis, there is no evidence that the amount of phonics in classrooms is necessarily the cause or the solution.”

To be brief, the SOR movement is grounded in a manufactured crisis orchestrated by the media and then amplified by the education marketplace and political leaders who are deeply invested in education reform as industry.

While the SOR movement and mainstream education reform are permanently invested in “crisis” rhetoric and endless cycles of in-school only reform initiatives (rearranging the chairs), there are alternatives to the current SOR reform agenda and the inadequate status quo (which, ironically, is little different than the SOR reform itself).

First, rhetorically, we must stop using the word “crisis” since, as Piasta noted, the state of reading proficiency among US students is chronic—essentially for thirty years or more about 2/3 of students seem to be performing roughly at grade level or above with the remaining 1/3 over-represented by minoritized, marginalized, and vulnerable populations of students.

Second, we must acknowledge and then address that well over 60% of measurable student achievement (including reading proficiency) is causally related to out-of-school factors. Thus, social reform is education reform, and addressing healthcare, home and food security, and children’s access to books in their homes and communities would likely improve measurements of student reading proficiency.

Third, as Reinking, Hruby, and Risko show, there simply is little evidence that reading programs, reading instruction, or teacher quality are uniformly failing students in terms of reading. Over those thirty years of flat reading scores across the entire US, reading programs and instructional practices as well as the teacher workforce have never been uniform.

Fourth, as Warner notes, education reform in the US is almost always a market initiative. In reading, the constant cycling through different reading programs and the hyper-focusing on fidelity to those programs (notably, not fidelity to the needs of students) have never produced the results promised (and never will).

And finally, along with refusing to address out-of-school factors, the inability to move beyond rearranging chairs distracts from the sort of in-school reform we have never attempted—addressing teaching and learning conditions.

Likely the very worst aspect of the SOR movement is that SOR reform has made teaching and learning conditions worse; for example, these are some of the realities of legislation that defy the idealism and willful ignorance in continuing to endorse SOR reform:

• Grade retention. Grade retention creates a mirage of increased grade 3 and 4 reading scores that disappear by grade 8 [1], but that mirage benefits political leaders at the expense of students (grade retention remains strongly correlated with student low self-esteem and dropping out of school).
• Scripted curriculum. Along with “science of” as marketing rhetoric, “structured literacy” is a central term in SOR reform, created by the IDA to “help us sell what we do so well.” The problem with structured literacy programs is that they are often scripted curriculum that increases the accountability focus on fidelity to teaching the program and not students. Structured literacy mandates have de-professionalized teaching by replacing teacher autonomy with market authority.
• “Whitewashing” the curriculum. The structured literacy programs that are phonics-forward have also decreased the diversity of texts presented to students and significantly reduced the amount of authentic and extended texts that students read. As noted above, the chronic failure of reading in the US has impacted disproportionately diverse populations of students who are now being feed a white bread curriculum devoid of nutrients.

Education reform broadly and the current SOR movement (along with the growing “science of” cousins) are fatally committed to idealistic and aspirational rhetoric and claims that ironically are not supported by either the science or the evidence in our day-to-day classrooms.

If we are serious about addressing the chronic state of reading proficiency in the US, we must not stay on the failing SOR bandwagon, but we cannot simply throw up our hands and stay the course—continuing to rearrange the chairs on the deck of the Titanic.

To do the right thing, we must do something different, and doubling down on idealism while pretending the ship isn’t sinking is not something different.

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[1] Mississippi and Florida demonstrate the test score increases in grades 3 and 4 but falling by grade 8. Further, if SOR worked, why are both states continuing to retain about the same number of students over the last decade?

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[Header Photo by Josh Sonnenberg on Unsplash]

-1-

we got old
the way we were told

we got old
but did not grow bold

we got old
and all that we sold

-2-

in the middle of drinking a few more than you should have

-3-

our memories are too short
our memories are forever

my dog follows me
room to room
like every memory

her eyes knowing
staring directly at me
like every memory

our memories are too short
our memories are forever

-4-

i didn’t hear
“are you paying attention?”
because i wasn’t paying attention

until i was paying attention
to not paying attention
and realized i wasn’t paying attention

-5-

i have been following myself around
forever it seems

trying to find me walking there in my feet
following and searching

until finally i realized i was right there
all along

—P.L. Thomas

[Header Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash]

Bella Baxter experiences several awakenings—some gradual, some abrupt—in Alasdair Gray’s Poor Things, a pastiche of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein as well as Shelley’s feminist ideals.

A resurrected, manufactured woman, Bella had committed suicide while pregnant. Godwin Baxter, the Dr. Frankenstein to Bella as the Monster, reanimates Bella by replacing her brain with the brain of the unborn child from her womb.

This woman-child must come to terms with this history, but as she matures and that child brain develops, Bella gradually embraces a social justice awareness solidified by an epiphany during her time of temporary escape from Godwin and the doctor to whom she is engaged, Archibald McCandless.

In her letter to Godwin, she details that epiphany in Alexandria:

I had just seen a working model of nearly every civilized nation. The people on the veranda were the owners and the rulers—their inherited intelligence and wealth set them above everyone else. The crowd of beggars represented the jealous and the incompetent majority, who were kept in their place by the whips of those on the ground between: the latter represented policemen and functionaries who kept society as it is. And while they spoke I clenched my teeth and fists to stop them biting and scratching these clever men who want no care for the helpless sick small, who use religions and politics to stay comfortably superior to all that pain: who make religions and politics, excuses to spread misery with fire and sword and how could I stop all this? I did not know what to do. (pp. 175-176)

I am reading this after watching the celebrated film adaptation during the spring of 2024.

The reading coincides with my partner and me watching O.J.: Made in America, in the wake of Simpson’s death as well as the rise of student protests across college campuses in the US.

My eyes paused at “policemen and functionaries who kept society as it is.”

OJ Simpson and Black America

For most people, nuance is a challenge, but two things that seem contradictory can be true at the same time. During O.J.: Made in America, these two things seem abundantly true: Simpson brutally murdered two people, and the LAPD was a disturbingly racist organization that embodied Bella’s realization above.

The Simpson trial became, as prosecution lawyers and family members of the murdered noted, a referendum on Mark Furhman, exposed racist policeman, as the sacrificial racist for all the sins of the LAPD (including, as the documentary includes, the Rodney King beating and the shooting of Eula Love, among others).

While lawyers on both sides either tossed out rhetoric such as the “race card” or refuted that charge as playing the “credibility card,” the trial of Simpson ironically did focus more on Furhman and the LAPD than Simpson and the murder victims, and also ironically, despite Simpson actively spending much of his life distancing himself from being Black, it was in the end being the claimed Black victim of police racism that seems to have led to his not being convicted.

The documentary in many ways is about race as well as about policing and the police. And that trial forces viewers to consider the tension that exists between policing and justice as often not the same thing.

Along with what now almost seems cartoonish—Simpson trying on unsuccessfully the gloves found at the murder scene—a key moment in the trial is Fuhrman denying his regular use of the racial slur, the N-word. A number of audio tapes from Fuhrman assisting in the development of a screenplay proved that Fuhrman almost gleefully used the racial term, forcing him to retake the stand, plead the fifth repeatedly, and likely shift the jury in favor of acquitting.

I grew up in the South throughout the 1960s and 1970s. Nothing about Fuhrman’s use of a racial slur and the culture of racism surprised me. I lived that, and I recognize that for many white people over the second half of the twentieth century, racism wasn’t a belief; it was something they knew.

In 1971, my parents achieved their working class dream, building their own home on the golf course being built just north of my home town. They were early members of that country club—although the course was a country club mostly in that it was for whites only. The members were overwhelmingly rednecks like my parents.

When I was a teen, in the mid-/late 1970s, one member had a Native American wife and an Indian family joined. These people from a distance looked “Black,” as some members would say. Routinely, members directly and indirectly harassed these people and the use of racial slurs were common in those awful moments.

However, in the 1990s around the time of the Rodney King beating and the OJ Simpson murder trial, one day I had a confrontation with my then father-in-law. He was a highway patrolman who attended church every Sunday, tithing, as they say, religiously.

What led up to this I can’t entirely recall, but he had criticized me, I think, for not going to church or not taking my daughter, then around 6.

The house was filled with several of his grandchildren, and I said directly to him that at least I didn’t use a racial slur in front of children (he did so regularly and had that day).

He was a policeman, he was a god-fearing man, and this, I want to emphasize, was normal.

After decades of no justice, the Simpson trial seems to tell us that in that moment Simpson’s guilt and his being held accountable for brutal murders was less important in some way, especially in LA and especially to Black Americans, than finally holding the LAPD—in the person of Fuhrman—indirectly accountable.

This moment in history was about “policemen and functionaries who kept society as it is.”

College Students and Red America

Watching the Simpson documentary series, and thinking again about Fuhrman, I was compelled to reconsider my own journey with racism and racial slurs. Yes, I spent many years of childhood into my teen years hearing, using, and thinking the worst of racial slurs and beliefs.

By high school, though, I spent much of my life with Black teammates and friends at school. I had close White male and female friends who lived partially closeted lives because they had romantic and sexual relationships with Black people.

I loved those people and absolutely knew by then that the racism and the words we used against Black people were wrong, inexcusable, dehumanizing.

I trust by college, I would have never uttered the N-word, even as it continued to pop into my thoughts. And I am certain that college is the place where I became a completely different person than I had been raised to be.

This spring, in fact, I did one of my common teaching skits where I overtly mention Marxism or Communism and then look up at the ceiling, alerting the students that I was likely being surveilled by Bill Gates and/or the university president.

This has always been intended as a joke, to ease the expected tension from me mentioning Marxism and communism.

Yes, somehow despite my roots, I grew up to be a teacher/professor who is an agnostic and legitimate Leftist (as Bella wants to be). I have spent much of my life and career actively resisting inequity, racism, classism, sexism, and homophobia—despite remaining in the South where that fight remains necessary even as it is a different culture than the one I grew up in.

But while I had the luxury of joking, a UNC professor, a member of the Lumbee Tribe of North Carolina, discovered he was, in fact, being recorded by his university without his knowledge.

And during this spring of 2024, while I have been reading Poor Things and watching O.J.: Made in America, college students across the US have formed protests about Israel’s military bombardment of Palestinians.

Once again my life and the lives of the mostly affluent and sheltered students at my university have stood far in the distance, in safety. The way I and many others across the US watched the video of Rodney King being beaten, the LA riots after the acquittal of those police officers, the slow-motion (it seemed) pursuit of Simpson and Cowlings in the white Bronco, and the so-called trial of the century, where Simpson was found innocent.

Daily, now, I think mostly ignored by many in the US, unlike us all being glued to TVs for the pursuits and trial of Simpson, college students and academics are being assaulted and arrested by police officers ushered in by college administration.

This is Red America: “policemen and functionaries who kept society as it is.”

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[Header Panel from Tales of Suspense (v1) 57; Don Heck, artist]

After writing a blog series on Black Widow, I searched for an opportunity to turn that work into a book, despite my own trepidation about committing to another book.

The proposal process proved to be frustrating and even deflating (a couple strong publishers were encouraging before passing on the project). Recently, however, I reached out to a friend/colleague with a series at Brill and found a home for my Black Widow volume.

I have noted often how important having my blogging as drafts for projects is to my work, and with this series-to-book, I am again convinced of the power of blogging as an entry point to more traditional work.

Using the blog posts as first drafts, I have begun the work of rewriting, drafting new material, and replacing hyperlinks with academic citation (the least enjoyable aspect of the work).

So far the most exciting part of this project is the new material, often grounded in my discovering and learning about how Black Widow has been included in the print comics since the early 1960s (and I will have to fully add her MCU appearances since the blog series covered the comic books only).

Comic book scholarship is fascinating and challenging because so much of the work requires writing in text about a visual medium (and for me that seems deeply reductive similar to reducing a poem to “the theme of the poem is X”).

Here, then, I want to allow us to revel in the visual, focusing on the first portrayals of Black Widow in the Marvel Universe:

• Tales of Suspense (v1) 52, 53, 57 (1964)
• Avengers (v1) 29, 30 (1966)
• Amazing Spider-Man 86 (1970)

The three issues of Tales of Suspense are the first appearances of Black Widow, and Black Widow’s first appearances with the Avengers (the team with which she is now popularly associated) are a mixture of her relationship with Hawkeye (initiated in Tales of Suspense 57) and her origin as an enemy agent.

Amazing Spider-Man 86 represents the rebooting of Black Widow as the contemporary super-agent many people recognize today (primarily from the MCU and Scarlett Johansson’s portrayal).

The three early appearances are also examinations of the early days of Marvel, the blur and contradictions of multiple creators working in the Marvel Method, and the relatively less sophisticated publication process of comic books seven decades ago.

So here are some fun examples of the unintended multiverse of portrayals of Black Widow in the beginning.

As I examined in the blog series and will expand in the book, Marvel over the decades has hypersexualized and underestimated Black Widow as a character. Often, Black Widow is trapped in the writer/artist’s and reader’s gaze with her body either bound or exposed.

It is quite interesting, then, to look over the jumbled portrayals of Black Widow’s outfits/costumes and hair in these first representations.

Tales of Suspense (v1) featured Iron Man, and issue 52 introduced Black Widow as “Madame Natasha”:

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That fist cover image of Black Widow (by Jack Kirby and George Roussos) reveals a Cold War era temptress-spy with her wearing an exotic hat, fur shoulder wrap, and a purple and white dress in the background as Iron Man fights the Crimson Dynamo. Black Widow doesn’t look very heroic in this first image, and oddly, in the interiors, the hat and dress are green, but the exotic outfit remains mostly the same in terms of the hat and a fur shoulder wrap (although the images are not consistent with the cover):

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This jumbling of color and outfits along with contradiction between the covers and interiors are a pattern until the somewhat final reboot of Black Widow in ASM 86.

In Tales of Suspense 53 and 57, Black Widow remains essentially as introduced, with the cover of 53 (by Jack Kirby) reflecting better her clothing in issue 52 (except the color scheme is dark blue and brown hair) and announcing her as “gorgeous, but deadly” on the opening splash page (where her clothing is once again green and her hair black):

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Next, Black Widow appears in Avengers (v1) 29 about two years after Tales of Suspense. The Don Heck cover reveals a much more identifiable superhero Black Widow with a mask, cape, utility belt, and wrist gadgets; again, the coloring is conflicting with green outfit on the cover and brown hair but blue uniform (with added netting) and black hair in the interior (of note is that Natasha’s hair has a few transformations before settling on red):

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Avengers 30 continues Black Widow as Avengers nemesis—the Jack Kirby and Don Heck cover maintaining her black hair but showing a green mask (with this issue interiors having an entirely new black and gray color scheme):

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John Romita Sr. would guide Marvel toward Black Widow 2.0 in Amazing Spider-Man (v1) 86 with the now familiar black “patent leather jumpsuit,” maskless, and sporting the iconic red hair for good (see Romita’s explanation here). The John Romita Sr. cover stands today as one of the iconic Spider-Man and Black Widow covers (and note that the silhouette suggests a skirt that never appears in the interior):

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On the splash page of issue 86, Black Widow is announced as “a sensational new costumed adventurer,” and then, she is depicted throughout the opening in a grey classic outfit with a mask and cape:

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This rebooting issue also includes a couple-page flashback overview of Black Widow in the Marvel Universe, with even more jumbled portrayals:

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ASM (v1) 86 serves as the foundational reveal of the Black Widow recognizable today—red hair, black skin-tight suit, and the overall look of a super agent:

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These, I think, are fascinating looks at not only the early evolution of Black Widow (often hypersexualized and underestimated), but also Marvel and comic books themselves.

Words are not enough, it seems, when there is an unintentional multiverse of colors and outfits that seem to be gaslighting readers who pay attention.

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NOTE

The Black Widow & Hawkeye (2024) miniseries pays tribute to the origins of Black Widow in issues 1 and 2 variant covers: