Smartness as a cultural practice in schools

Hatt, Beth. (2012). Smartness as a cultural practice in schools. American Educational Research Journal, 49(3), 438-460.


What Beth Hatt observed in a kindergarten classroom might have been considered psychological abuse if it had taken place outside an elementary school context. Certainly, no adult would put up with what a kindergarten child named Jackson had to endure from his kindergarten teacher. An adult would have (rightfully) sued for harassment and the creation of a hostile work environment. Jackson, however, was powerless because he was a child, and even more so because he was a low-income African-American male in a context oriented toward female, white, middle class norms. As I read this excruciating account of classroom events over one important year in these kindergarten children’s lives, I found myself hoping that the case Hatt described was an outlier, and not typical. Having spent over 30 years visiting elementary classrooms all over my own metropolitan area, though, I already knew that my hopes were false. Unfortunately, what Hatt described is probably common in schools, and is accepted unquestioningly as the norm.

Like Hatt, I also have observed the belittling, manipulative talk that teachers can use with students they view as deficient in the skills required to “do” schooling. In fact, I myself was considered “different” in several ways by several of my own elementary school teachers fifty years ago, and my experience was not all that different from Jackson’s. If one is different in any way from what the school values, that’s not considered “smart” in the school context. Hatt herself admits to having felt different, and deficient, as she moved from a low-income background into higher education and then a career in academia. Hatt and I both have histories, and axes to grind, that is certain, and that probably made this account more painful than it might have been otherwise for her to write and for me to read. The reader of the article, as well as of this annotation, needs to bear those histories in mind. Neither Hatt nor I can witness teacher talk and teacher behaviors such as those documented in this article through dispassionate eyes.

The whole point here is that what counts as “smart” in any given context is culturally and contextually determined. Being considered smart (not to be confused with actually being smart), and being considered smart by those who hold power in that context, can determine whether one is rewarded, punished, or ignored. It has everything to do with whether one can be a fully empowered participant in a context. When that context is as important in society as a school is, the stakes become very high. Different children react differently to the pressure to conform. For some, it is comfortable to conform, and it takes a minimum amount of effort. For others, conforming is difficult, but they decide that it is worth it if their conformity allows them to escape punishment and reap rewards, though the cost of that kind of conformity is a submersion of one’s own identity to some degree. For still others, though, it isn’t worth the effort and the identity submersion, and they resist. The consequences of resistance can be grave. In the case of some of the kindergarteners that Hatt observed, a dislike of school had already begun in that important first year of schooling. That dislike could grow into alienation, which can have many potential and far-reaching consequences. If there are many kindergarten classrooms like the one we see in Hatt’s article, it is little wonder that we have “achievement gaps” that are already widening by the time children are in the third grade.

As a literacy educator who has spent time in classrooms, I can guess that Hatt’s account was difficult to write. She was granted entry into this classroom, which enabled her to conduct and publish research (something that was required for HER to be considered “smart” in her current academic milieu). A certain amount of trust on the teacher’s part was required for Hatt to be able to spend an entire year there, watching, listening, and recording. Over that period of time, that trust probably had a chance to grow, and perhaps even attachments, both to the teacher and to some of the children. One wonders if the teacher (pseudonym: Mrs. Rayburn) has read this account, and if she has, if she recognized herself. Some of the descriptions would be hard to read about oneself, such as the account of Mrs. Rayburn’s resistance to children’s hugs, her public statements of low expectations, and the incident where she threw children’s food gifts to her into the trash. Did this teacher feel betrayed? In any case, observing and reporting a year’s worth of this kind of behavior had to be painful for Hatt. Just reading about it was painful for me. My recommendation would be to definitely read this article, but be forewarned: you won’t be optimistic about our educational system when you are done.