THere is the belfry of Oxford University. Legend has it that climbing is impossible without teaching someone who already knows the secret. It is difficult to invent a better metaphor for the isolation of elite education. It is a tightly protected, self-replicating rise.
The weekend in Oxford catalyzed Buri Lee’s new book, Who Will Be Smarter: Privileges, Power, and Knowledge. This is a visit to an Australian friend on campus who is a Rhodes Scholar. “His student ID was like a rare and expensive passport,” recalls Lee. It opens the door to wonder: a gorgeous library, intense debate. But for all the book-like joy of college, she can’t ignore how ridiculously self-sufficient it is. “Unexamined awe for what’s gone is always an obstacle to equality,” she writes. With its unwavering tradition, unclimbable towers and stone-carved heritage, awe is the stock of Oxford’s trade. So why is Lee anxious to be part of it? Why does the visit leave her so hurt and curse her “insufficient brain”?
When Lee dismantles a script he learned by memorization about intelligence, achievement, and self-esteem, Education in Australia The system and its gatekeeper. “In the Australian context, it’s not always true to say’knowledge is power’,” she writes. “The more truth is to allow anyone with power to shape knowledge.” This is not a new insight, but the federal government treats classrooms as a partisan battlefield, and philanthropic cash is cultural. It reminds me that it is used as a philanthropic stick.
As anyone involved in education reform testifies, it’s all huge shrines, schools, and universities. Funding inequality, intuitive malaise, structural prejudice, intentional myopia, political interference, and a growl of urgent, undeniable need. The more you know, the harder it is to unravel. You need guts to give it a try. Buri Lee does not lack guts. She is already looking at the criminal justice system (Eggshell Skull, 2018) and the perfect industrial park (Beauty, 2018). She is a hypocrite, a heated conqueror.
But from the opening chapter of that wheel, it seems that who gets smarter is lost. Lee presents her ideas with the enthusiastic and associative logic of internet browsing. From the Rhodes Must Fall movement via Virginia Woolf, the Ramsey Center’s gift, a private school orchestra pit, school watershed real estate prices, eugenics, and Aristoll (thematic rabbit hole warrior) Then, it falls to Black Lives Matter. Lee’s point is all the interconnectivity, repeating embedded patterns of inequality, but so tightly packed that her concept has no time to breathe. Who gets smarter often depends on the knowledge and shared ideals envisioned for that momentum.
As wise as the author continues to insist on her “half-baked” intellectual firepower (a claim that feels like a tall poppy clinge that hasn’t been investigated) Not storytelling. For example, it’s not halfway to think about what we mean when Lee talks about “intelligence.” And not until the last page of her book, where she tries to figure out the purpose of college.
The story that this book has to tell is personal and a long-standing, self-questioning story of anxiety. “The graduation hat tassel cared for a frustrated tip on the shoulder,” Lee confesses to his friend’s seemingly easy-going secularity. When a fellow Rhodes Scholar visits home, she has a hard time talking to us because even the avocado he buys is completely ripe.
The fact that Lee Seung-yuop is “highly educated” cannot be escaped. It is dishonest to understand her private school background and her longing for trophies (as many of us do) that Australian school education has set for her. “Do I want to be smart, or am I worried that it just looks silly?” She asks herself. “Am I really looking for intelligence, or am I just afraid to be perceived as non-intelligence? What would I call a” brain “without witnesses? They are perceptual questions. Lee shows how easy it is to mistake wisdom for purpose rather than means.
But for all that is at stake in Australian education, when she presents her decision to take the Mensa entrance exam in principle, it grate (“If I was,” Intelligence. I couldn’t talk about “but not all” I’m afraid to see my own cognitive abilities in the mirror. “) The big dilemma of who gets smarter is whether Lee resists the Academy’s “Siren No Uta” or enrolls in a PhD.No doubt about whether She enters. Putting it at the center of a book about deep-seated privileges is a nasty quest. Who gets smarter is a story that tells the arrival of the times, with all the mistakes and naivetes hidden in cultural calculations.
Lee’s book is packed with studies such as podcasts, budget reports, and inspirational statistics (choose only one, and in 2019, Australia’s four wealthiest schools will be more than the poorest 1,800 schools combined. Spent a lot on new facilities and refurbishment). But who gets smarter is light to hear. This book longs for an interview because of the voices of those who are in the dark of the ever-expanding fairness gap in education. Indigenous students quietly learning small dreams. A vast army of casual accessories teaching bread crumbs, leaving the college open. The principal of a public school is having a hard time repairing the toilet when there is a barista in a private school down the road. A woman who dropped out of higher education because the compassionate efforts of the Covid era made research impossible. Sitting next to the famous Deputy Prime Minister on the plane, Lee is delighted to read his email over his shoulder, but she never asks him any questions. It also feels like a metaphor.
Who gets smarter with Bri Lee’s review – a brave but unfocused cross-examination of academic privileges | Australian Books
Source link Who gets smarter with Bri Lee’s review – a brave but unfocused cross-examination of academic privileges | Australian Books