Lives on the Boundary: The Struggles and Achievements of America's Underprepared by Mike Rose (1989)
Nonfiction
7 out of 10

From
Goodreads: Remedial, illiterate, intellectually deficient—these are the stigmas that define America's educationally
underprepared. Having grown up poor and been labeled this way, nationally acclaimed educator and author Mike Rose takes us into classrooms and communities to reveal what really lies behind the labels and test scores. With rich detail, Rose demonstrates innovative methods to initiate “problem” students into the world of language, literature, and written expression. This book challenges educators, policymakers, and parents to re-examine their assumptions about the capacities of a wide range of students. Already a classic, Lives on the Boundary offers a truly democratic vision, one that should be heeded by anyone concerned with America's future.
This book, first published in 1989, addresses long-standing issues in American education, issues pushed through the media with fear-mongering headlines like "Why Johnny Can't Read." Yes, there are many students in the American education system who are
underprepared and undereducated, but the causes are complex and far-reaching, and as such, the solutions cannot be simple kill-and-drill exercises and fill-in-the-blank workbooks, and progress cannot be measured simply with standardized tests.
Even though I do not come from the same impoverished background as Rose, the only son of Italian immigrants, who grew up in tough inner city L.A., I recognized deficiencies in my own education,
deficiencies in the language and culture of academia.
Seeing the challenges lined up, it is easy to see why some teachers despair and leave the education system behind. But I believe if educators and especially policy makers shift their focus from the numbers and graphs to the sociocultural context of education, we can make strides in bringing our students up through the school system.
The following passages are sections that really stood out for me as I read the book.“The schools,” write social historians David Cohen and Barbara
Newfeld “are a great theater in which we play out conflicts in the culture.” (7)
[Students] know more than their tests reveal but haven’t been taught how to weave the knowledge into coherent patterns. (8)
Saying complex things forces you away from the protected syntax of simple sentences. But error that crops up because a student is trying new things is a valuable kind of error, a sign of growth. (151)
Mina
Shaughnessy: We won’t understand the logic of error unless we also understand the institutional expectations that students face and the way they interpret and internalize them. (171-172)
Many young people come to the university able to summarize the events in a news story or write a personal response to a play or a movie or give back what a teacher said in straightforward lecture. But they have considerable trouble with what has come to be called critical literacy: framing an argument, taking someone else’s argument apart, systematically inspecting a document, an issue or an event, synthesizing different points of view, applying a theory to disparate phenomena, and so on. (188)
This is something that I wish ALL teachers would keep in mind, and that I will strive to keep in mind.As writers move further away from the familiar ways of expressing themselves, the strains on their cognitive and linguistic resources increase, and the number of mechanical errors they make shoots up. Before we shake our heads at these errors, we should also consider the possibility that many such linguistic bungles are signs of growth, a stretching beyond what college freshmen can comfortably do with language. In fact, we should welcome certain kinds of errors, make allowance for them in the curricula we develop, analyze rather than simply criticize them. Error marks the place where education begins. (188-189)
What young people come to define as intellectual competence – what it means to know things and use them – is shaped by their schooling. (190)
John Dewey: Only in education, never in the life of the farmer, sailor, merchant, physician, or laboratory experimenter, does knowledge mean primarily a store of information aloof from doing. (190)