Jeff Frank

This paper highlights the philosophical and educational significance of expression in Ludwig Wittgenstein's Philosophical Investigations. When the role of expression is highlighted, we will be better able to appreciate Stanley Cavell's insistence that: (i) Wittgenstein offers ways of responding to, though not a refutation of, the problem of skepticism concerning other minds, and (ii) Wittgenstein's writing style is an important aspect of his philosophy. The educational implications of this appreciation will be explored with reference to the lives of adolescences.

In this paper I raise and respond to the question, Is John Dewey's understanding of growth sufficiently responsive to problems associated with race and racism? A growing number of scholars have asked similar questions of Dewey's philosophy.1 These scholars generally start with an expression of disappointment—how could someone so concerned with social issues devote so little attention to the problem of racism—and conclude with some variant of the following: While Dewey's philosophy offers us resources that can help as we construct responses to problems of race and racism, his philosophy needs to be reconstructed (often by placing it in conversation with texts that more explicitly address these problems) in order to ..

This paper begins with a discussion of Stanley Cavell’s philosophy of language learning. Young people learn more than the meaning of words when acquiring language: they learn about (the quality of) our form of life. If we—as early childhood educators—see language teaching as something like handing some inert thing to a child, then we unduly limit the possibilities of education for that child. Cavell argues that we must become poets if we are to be the type of representatives of language that education calls for. In the final section of the paper I discuss the work of Lucy Sprague Mitchell, someone who developed an approach to language teaching that overlaps in interesting ways with Cavell’s approach in The Claim of Reason.

I had not read To Kill a Mockingbird since I was assigned it in middle school. However, recently I revisited the novel because many of my students—future teachers—mentioned that it was their favorite book. From what I remembered from middle school, the book was about the courage of Atticus Finch as he makes the unpopular, though just, choice to defend an innocent black man in court. As well, I remember the narrator, Scout, a very strong young woman who—like her father—follows her convictions, even if these put her at odds with others. What I remembered made me feel as if I understood why my students might like the novel. I worked with future teachers at a Southern women’s college.1 The strength of the female..

This essay begins where Alasdair MacIntyre's After Virtue begins: facing a moral world in ruin. MacIntyre argues that this predicament leaves us with a choice: we can follow the path of Friedrich Nietzsche, accepting this moral destruction and attempting to create lives in a rootless, uncertain world, or the path of Aristotle, working to reclaim a world in which close‐knit communities sustain human practices that make it possible for us to flourish. Jeff Frank rejects MacIntyre's framework and in this essay attempts to create an alternative path, one of moral repair. Through a close reading of several poems from Robert Frost's North of Boston, Frank develops the notion of moral repair and describes its ethical and educational implications.

This article offers a close reading of the novel Stoner by John Williams. Stoner, and not the countless reports and jeremiads on teaching, helps us find what we are searching for: a way to live – and talk about – teaching in a dignified and artful way. We need to seek out voices that remind, recall and reveal teaching for the beautifully lovingly difficult work that it is. We need more voices like the one Williams provides in Stoner as we work at teaching, teacher education and educational reform. When we think about educational policy related to teaching, we must remember that philosophical readings of literature have much to offer our thinking. My hope is that this essay turns our attention back to Stoner while encouraging us to see the potential that literature holds for how we think about teaching. Though a more superficially uplifting book may initially feel like the right book to keep teachers excited to teach, I find that Stoner is the work that I keep returning to as a check against demoralization and a reminder of what living teaching means.

In this paper I revisit what I take to be one of the most influential papers written by a philosopher of education in recent memory, Philip Jackson's "The Mimetic and the Transformative: Alternative Outlooks on Teaching."1 Jackson's paper is widely read both inside and outside of philosophy of education circles and courses, and is best known for sketching out the long-standing difference between the mimetic and transformative traditions in teaching.2 Although Jackson recognizes that almost every form of teaching has aspects of mimesis and transformation, when we think about practices of teaching, one tradition is generally more dominant than the other. Mimetic teaching aims to reproduce or replicate some existing...

This essay has several related goals. The first is to contribute to the philosophy of education literature on Cora Diamond while introducing the work of her sister, Julie Diamond, to the field. I introduce Julie Diamond’s work by connecting it to the work of John Dewey, and a secondary goal of the paper is to test lines of connection between Dewey and Cora Diamond. Finally, by developing Cora and Julie Diamond’s thinking on teaching and the moral life, I hope to contribute to conversations in teacher education, especially ongoing conversations about the meaning of responsive teaching. The first half of the paper discusses and engages Cora Diamond’s thinking on the moral life drawing on a range of her published work, the middle of the paper builds a bridge from Cora Diamond to Dewey as a way of introducing Julie Diamond, and the final part of the paper offers an engagement with Julie Diamond’s work. I discuss teaching throughout the paper, and my hope is that a vision of responsive teaching, one grounded in the work of Julie and Cora Diamond, emerges that allows teachers to come alive to aspects of their work that can disappear in the rush and whirl of classroom life. The paper begins with a personal story as a way of connecting with the style of Cora and Julie Diamond’s approach to teaching and the moral life.

This paper has two interrelated goals. The first is to introduce a framework: oppositional democracy. The second is to use this framework to address what I see as a central problem that occurs when learning to teach: the moment when someone with power tells an aspiring teacher that something she hopes to accomplish is unrealistic. The framework of oppositional democracy helps us understand this problem while also suggesting responses that free an aspiring teacher to experiment in responsible ways, thereby empowering her to work against practices she does not want to be complicit in perpetuating.

ABSTRACTNeoliberalism is a force that seeks to commodify the time of education. Time must be productive. We rank journals and reward scholars who produce work published in those highly ranked journals. In the process of commodifying the work of scholarship, we lose time to the logics of neoliberalism. In search of this lost time, we need allies and resources that allow us to resist and reclaim that which replenishes value. This paper makes the case that a vision of progress connected to Dewey’s thought may preclude us from appreciating sources of value that deserve further attention. The paper is not an exercise in nostalgia and does not seek a return to values undergirded by tradition or traditional ways of thinking, but it does ask that we exercise vision so that we don’t turn our back on sources of resistance that lie waiting to be cultivated.

John Dewey's Experience and Education is an important book, but first-time readers of Dewey's philosophy can find it challenging and not meaningfully related to the contemporary landscape of education. Jeff Frank's Teaching in the Now aims to reanimate Dewey's text--for first-time readers and anyone who teaches the text or is interested in appreciating Dewey's continuing significance--by focusing on Dewey's thinking on preparation. Frank, through close readings of Dewey, asks readers to wonder: How much of what we justify as preparation in education is actually necessary? That is, every time we catch ourselves telling a student--you need to learn this in order to do something else--we need to stop and reflect. We need to reflect, because when we always justify the present moment of a student's education in terms of what will happen in the future, we may lose out on the ability to engage students' attention and interest now, when it matters. Dewey asks his readers to trust that the best way to prepare students for an engaging and productive future is to create the most engaging and productive present experience for students. We learn to live fully in the future, only by practicing living fully in the present. Although it can feel scary to stop thinking of the work of education in terms of preparation, when educators reclaim the present for students, new opportunities--for teachers, students, schools, democracy, and education--emerge. Teaching in the Now explores these opportunities in impassioned and engaging prose that makes Experience and Education come alive for readers new to Dewey or who have taught and read him for many years.

Elizabeth Green’s Building a Better Teacher: How Teaching Works is an excellent book that deserves the widest possible audience. It is a tremendously insightful and engaging look at teacher education, and I believe it has the power to change public discussions of teacher education for the better. Though it is written for a popular—and not a scholarly—audience, Green’s book raises a number of questions that will be of particular interest to philosophers of education. I turn to those questions at the end of this review after describing Green’s project and what it accomplishes.To begin, Green finds a way to make educational research interesting—even intriguing—to a general audience...

This article looks at the rare instances in Dewey’s collected works where psychiatry is addressed. Interestingly, Dewey draws on psychiatry as a way of demonstrating the flaws of excessively student-centered approaches to education. I take this to be of interest because it both clarifies Dewey’s philosophy of education while also suggesting that Dewey does not shy away from confronting truths disclosed by psychoanalysis. In fact, learning from advances in any and every field of inquiry is central to his philosophy of education. While some readers of Dewey dismiss him as naïve or overly optimistic, this paper argues that Dewey invites the challenges offered by psychoanalytic work and that his understanding education for growth must be grounded in a psychoanalytically informed vision of the person.

Adolescence is a valuable phase of life, not just because it is the phase of learning in school and preparing for a working life. During the COVID-19 pandemic it became clear that the rights, experiences, and lifeworlds of adolescents are considered less important than the needs of school, work, and productivity. However, there is an ethical claim for people to have a good adolescence, and this means that the losses of social contact, experiences, time, and space demanded of adolescents, in order to protect older and vulnerable groups during the COVID-19 pandemic, should be taken seriously. A distinctive quality of adolescence is that it cannot be repeated, nor can these experiences be replicated as adults. First experiences of independence, friendship, love, informality, recklessness, and youthful exuberance are intrinsically valuable and cannot be substituted for later in life. It is therefore not surprising that adolescents have sought and found their own spaces during the pandemic, some of them forbidden, because lock downs and closed social spaces have relegated them to the confines of their childhood bedrooms. In this paper, I explore an ethic of a good adolescence, which was impacted on by the COVID-19 pandemic, and consider what can be learned from this situation. Adolescents are to be taken seriously, their experiences are no less valuable than those of adults, and the losses they have suffered for the benefit of others should be honored. As far as possible, young people should be supported to have a voice in public discourse and in finding spaces to be adolescents.

A main goal of this paper is to complicate “learning loss” as the only, or even the main, thing schools should be concerned about as they respond to the Covid-19 pandemic. While schools have a responsibility to make sure students who are enrolled in school are learning, this cannot come at the cost of ignoring the other substantial losses students are also contending with. Following the work of Jonathan Lear, I make the case that schools should engage students in a process of learning how to mourn for their individual and our collective losses, while also considering ways that school can move beyond narrow conceptions of the purposes of school and to a deeper appreciation for the ways that an education can promote human excellence. As this pandemic wears on, it becomes harder and harder to do anything but endure. One goal of this paper is to serve as a reminder that schools can do more than endure: they can envision new possibilities for schooling that promote conceptions of wellbeing that go beyond fear of learning loss.