Beyond Straw Men and False Choices: Guest Post by G. Reid Lyon, PhD

 

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Dr Reid Lyon is a neuroscientist who completed his pre-and postdoctoral training in learning disorders, developmental neurophysiology and neuroanatomy in 1978.  His early research focused on applying neuropsychological models to determine neural systems engaged in learning componential reading skills.  During his research training he taught third grade struggling readers in the classroom and fifth grade students with severe reading disabilities in special education (Tier 3) programs.  After academic appointments at Northwestern University and the University of Vermont, Reid was recruited to the US National Institute of Health (NIH) as a Branch Chief.  In this role, he designed and directed the National Institute of Child Health and Human Development (NICHD) Reading Research Program and managed scientific programs in cognitive and developmental neuroscience, social and emotional development, learning disabilities and dyslexia, behavioural pediatrics, early school readiness, and the translation of reading science into education policy at the congressional and presidential levels. In 2005 he focused on education leadership at Southern Methodist University and Neuroscience and Cognition at the University of Texas, Dallas.  He currently serves as a Senior Advisor at the Literacy HUB in the School of Education Drexel University, Philadelphia.

Note: this essay has also been published via a number of Substack platforms. I have retained the author's US spelling.  

I hear from many demoralized teachers, leaders, and others providing educational services in schools that they are being criticized for applying reading instruction that is direct, systematic in its coverage of componential reading skills, explicit in the language used in teaching reading skills, and coherent in its integration of multiple types of content as reading demands change with development and become more complex.

A common critique is that these instructional practices interfere with students’ wide reading of different types of text material thus reducing reading practice and comprehension. To be sure, these observations are accurate in some cases, but they reflect problems in the implementation of reading science.  Many times, knowledgeable questions can reveal these implementation errors, e.g., 

• Do leaders and teachers operate from a common scientific knowledge foundation?
•  Do they collaborate and communicate using a common professional language expressing that knowledge?
•  Are systematic professional development and coaching models in place for leaders and teachers?
• Has the daily schedule been engineered to accommodate systems and structures to ensure adequate instructional dosage and duration for skill acquisition and practice?
• Are continuous reading data collected for each student to determine proficiency in well-defined componential reading skills and adjust instruction where needed?
• Is student engagement consistently being monitored?

Increasingly, teachers and school leaders attempting to implement evidence-based reading instruction find themselves caught in a debate that has become less about evidence than identity. Rather than asking whether instructional approaches are supported by converging scientific evidence and implemented with fidelity, discussions often devolve into academic tribalism, false choices, and straw-man arguments that obscure rather than illuminate the issues. 

Some of the least informed criticisms come from individuals whose expertise lies outside the design, implementation, and evaluation of instructional systems. Many have never developed instructional programs, monitored implementation fidelity across schools, or worked alongside teachers and school leaders responsible for implementing complex reforms under real-world conditions. I include myself in this observation. Early in my career, despite classroom teaching experience, I underestimated the extraordinary complexity of helping schools translate scientific knowledge into sustained instructional practice. My years conducting my own research, designing, and directing the NICHD Reading Research Program, working with thousands of teachers and school leaders, and helping shape federal and state policy fundamentally changed my understanding.  Scientific knowledge alone does not change classrooms.  Professional cultures do. Effective teachers do. Effective leaders do. Shared professional language does. Continuous implementation support does. Transparent student reading proficiency data do.

While valuable theoretical perspectives deserve consideration, critiques divorced from implementation realities should be interpreted cautiously.  Uninformed analysis devoid of objective experimental and clinical evidence has consequences.  Vacuous beliefs and sentiments about reading instruction reduce confidence among practitioners, confuse many striving to learn and implement evidence-based practice, and reinforce a return to a Tower of Babel. Performance punditry that substitutes opinion for evidence, simplifies complex implementation challenges, constructs straw-man arguments, and mistakes implementation failures for failures of the underlying science often generates attention, but rarely advances understanding or improves children’s reading outcomes.

What does a straw man argument look and sound like?

             Actual argument: “Early reading instruction should include direct, explicit, and  systematic teaching of word level skills to support reading fluency and comprehension.” 

            Straw man: “So you think that word level skills are the only thing children need and that comprehension and literature don't matter".

The original argument advocated including word level skills as an essential component; the response attacks the false claim that word level skills are all that matters. 

            Actual argument: “Schools should use instructional programs supported by rigorous evidence implemented with fidelity.”

             Straw man: “You think teachers should become robots who simply follow scripts and teach students concepts they already know.”

Academic pontificating grounded in opinion will drain us and our students emotionally.  It is not time wasted - it is time LOST.  I have made the decision to refrain from getting in the mud with these debates.  There are many reasons for my decision, many of which are related to the predictability of the reading community’s need to shoot itself in the foot.  By not relying on objective evidence to guide reading instruction, we have left our students, teachers and leaders stranded in a zone where they are whip-sawed by many who have no idea of the complex world in which they work. 

One of the most persistent errors in today’s reading debates is the failure to distinguish between the quality of scientific evidence and the quality of its implementation. It is essential to keep in mind that scientific evidence tells us whether an instructional approach can produce desired outcomes under specified conditions. Implementation science asks whether those conditions exist in classrooms. Failure of implementation is not evidence against the underlying science. Likewise, strong scientific evidence does not guarantee successful implementation. Both questions must be answered. Medicine, aviation, engineering, and every evidence-based profession recognize this distinction. Education too often does not.  

Enough time has been spent debating abstractions while millions of children continue to struggle to read. The next chapter of basing our understanding of reading development and instruction on scientific evidence should not be defined by social media arguments or academic tribalism. It should be defined by visible improvements in children’s reading proficiency, documented transparently through student reading data, studied rigorously, and shared generously. The next frontier is no longer demonstrating that reading science is valuable. The next frontier is understanding how reliable and valid scientific knowledge becomes effective professional practice at scale.  

I propose the following.  All of us involved, including teachers, parents, leaders, researchers, and policymakers, in improving reading proficiency for all children focus intently on becoming ambassadors of tangible and deliverable hope and solutions in schools and classrooms.  These efforts can accompany formal research efforts by reading scientists if they are underway.  However, because formal experimental effectiveness studies may not be in place, school-based data-driven examples should be standard practice and provided to the community whenever claims are made, or criticisms leveled. The point is we strive to document our efforts now and continuously by providing visible details of our students’ progress.  

Some examples of ambassadorship among many may include: 

1.      We focus on the improvement of reading proficiency in real schools identifying, in detail, the conditions under which gains in reading abilities were realized, and the barriers that frustrated our progress, for example: 

·         What instructional conditions existed?

·         What leadership practices were present?

·         How was fidelity monitored?

·         What types of data were collected?

·         What assessments were used?

·         Which students benefited?

·         What barriers remained?

2.  We document and disseminate the actions of leaders, teachers, parents, and policy makers whose specific contributions contributed to improvements in reading proficiency.  Conclusions drawn about progress must be supported by video examples and reliable and valid data across multiple observers. 

3.  We interview leaders, asking them detailed questions that get to the heart of the complexities they are dealing with—the need to support common knowledge and language among staff; the challenges of top-down directives from ill-informed sources; the ubiquitous implementation barriers present in all districts and schools. 

4.  We interview teachers and ask them detailed questions about their preparation for teaching reading in the complex world of schools and classrooms. We ask them about the demoralizing impact of the lack of support for navigating professional knowledge acquisition and implementation barriers. We ask them about the qualities of leadership in their schools and the teacher-leader partnerships that are essential for their instructional success. 

5.  We highlight success in improving reading proficiency through documenting, with multiple forms of data, implementation and instructional models across different schools with different demographics, different ages, and different funding supports.  The documentation should provide visible, clear, and understandable evidence for multiple audiences. 

6.  As standard community practice we interview high school seniors who are leaving their education as struggling readers. How do they feel about themselves?  Are they optimistic about achieving higher education goals or gainful employment? Let’s interview them again one year post graduation.  Have they been able to support themselves?  Do they see a promising future? How do they characterize their life options?  What would they like to say to the school board? 

7.  We take time to celebrate that much of the reading community has made heroic efforts to understand how scientific findings inform our common knowledge of reading development, reading difficulties, reading instruction, and implementation fidelity. Now we must design systems that ensure translation of research into practice and monitor this linkage through what Pam Snow from Australia terms “practice-based evidence”. 

By focusing on the data from continuous assessments of reading proficiency, we will observe in real time the impact of our reading instruction on students’ acquisition and application of all componential reading skills. We become ambassadors of effective implementation of evidence-based instruction rather than combatants in ideological battles. 

Children will not remember our squabbles and debates.  They will live with the consequences of whether we succeeded in providing them with the instruction they needed to become confident, capable readers and writers.

  

© Reid Lyon (2026)

The dog ate my homework: Education’s evidence-excuses echo-chamber

 

 Image source: ChatGPT

I am not the first to write about the fact that education has a fraught and not very pretty history when it comes to generating, critiquing, and applying rigorous evidence in order to maximise student academic and wellbeing outcomes. Examples of this commentary can be found here, here and here. Way back in 1996, David Hargreaves observed in a Teacher Training Agency Annual Lecture in London, that

“Teaching is not at present a research-based profession. I have no doubt that if it were, teaching would be more effective and more satisfying”.

In 2000, Dr Louisa Moats commented that

“Unfortunately, lack of rigor and respect for evidence in reading education are reinforced by the passivity of education leaders who feel that any idea that can muster a vigorous advocate is legitimate and deserves to be aired”.

Dr Moats was discussing reading instruction, but her words are no less applicable to other curriculum areas, most notably mathematics instruction.

Of course, there’s a bias from me right there in my opening paragraph – the idea that education exists to maximise student outcomes, academically and psychosocially. So yes, let’s be clear that that is, for me, a strong ethical and civic responsibility for those who work in education, across the university, policy, research, and classroom practice levels. And yes, I am of the view that transmission of knowledge as well teaching students how to apply said knowledge, is core business for schools. For some, that immediately casts me as “neoliberal” in my political views. I’m not now, nor have I ever been, a member of any political party but if my position that accountability matters as much in education as it does in other professional fields makes me neoliberal, I’ll take that over being what I’ve termed previously, paleoprogressive.

On social media platforms, I see some astonishing approaches to evidence, sadly, often from other education academics, but also from education consultants whose steady-as-she-goes operating models cleverly create illusions of change while simultaneously minimising it (often with a great deal of fee-for-service “busy work” in the middle).

Meanwhile, classroom teachers are making it their business to learn the language of evidence, and often do so in their own time, via teacher-led platforms such as researchED around the globe. Others engage in further study and/or join closed communities of practice on platforms such as Facebook. They are not waiting for those in the academy to take the lead on prioritising evidence-based practice, and sadly, that’s probably just as well. I have blogged previously about the fact that much change is occurring on the metaphorical forest floor (classrooms), while the tall trees, whose branches thrive in rarefied air (education academics) are somewhere between oblivious and hostile to these efforts.

“Evidence-based medicine” is a term that entered clinical parlance as recently as the 1990s, though it had antecedents that go back much further than that, such as the US Flexner Report in the early 20^th century.  Critically, it was a call to medical practitioners (and rapidly, by extension, all health professionals) to move beyond blind and often uncritical faith in practitioner judgement, beliefs, and established practice, to a recognition that independent research might offer different, more effective, sometimes more efficient approaches, to patient care.

Evidence-based practice in health is not about

• so-called "cookbook" practice (aka “one-size fits all approaches)
• practitioners blindly following research findings
• replacing/overriding professional judgement
• ignoring the context of the individual
• pretending that endless resources are available.

Medicine, like education is an interface of science, craft, and the complex vagaries of human nature and human behaviour. Claims by some in education that “it’s easy in medicine, you just do a clinical trial and find the answer” betray a phenomenal ignorance of the psychological, socio-cultural, cognitive, linguistic, and economic factors that introduce enormous variability into clinical trials and have to be taken account of in research analysis.

Education is not special. Like health, it deals with human beings in all their complex and unpredictable glory. Like health, too, its practitioners have ethical obligations to (a) do no harm and (b) deliver effective services that improve the human condition. The difference, however, lies in the misconceptions and misrepresentations of research that are perpetuated in education university lecture theatres, and by extension in classrooms around the globe. 

Education has enabled excessive permeability on ideas and practices that have low or no empirical evidence to support them (e.g., learning styles, left-brain-right-brain learners, Brain Gym, whole language, coloured lenses for struggling readers, etc etc - e.g., see here) while paradoxically resisting approaches that do have substantial evidence to support them (explicit reading instruction being a case in point). 

I’ve compiled a list below of what I see most commonly on social media and have quoted to me by teachers who are grappling with change processes at school and sector-levels. 

These all amount to poorly conceptualised excuses as to why education should be given an evidence leave-pass. They should not go unchecked. 

Line of argument against evidence-based practice	My response
Teaching is too complex to be studied scientifically	Complexity does not take systematic investigation off the table. Researchers in medicine, allied health, economics, psychology, nursing, criminology, and public health all study highly complex humans and human systems. They do so using research methodologies and tools that are appropriate for the questions being asked. They then triangulate findings across research methodologies and findings to find the best direction of travel, based on current evidence, knowing that this will need to change as the evidence evolves. This is not the same as "choose your own adventure".  Research in education is not about achieving “perfect certainty” – that’s an unhelpful straw man argument. Rather, it should seek to identify practices that are more likely than alternatives to improve outcomes, for the majority of students. Education research, like health research, should allow practitioners to play the probabilities in measured, careful ways.
Every child is different, therefore findings based on aggregated data are meaningless	Children are individuals, yes, as are patients. However, there are more similarities than there are differences between humans with respect to how they learn (see for example, the work of Dan Willingham and Stanislas Dehaene). Human variation exists in every field where evidence is used; this is not unique to education. Research identifies tendencies and probabilities within and across populations. In so doing, it is drawing on amounts of data that extend way beyond the bounds of individual practitioner experience. The late Daniel Kahneman, author of Thinking, Fast and Slow reminded us that “The confidence that individuals have in their beliefs depends mostly on the quality of the story they can tell about what they see, even if they see little.”
Experience is more important than research evidence	Experience is of course valuable, but it can also reinforce misconceptions and create blind spots where new evidence is concerned, especially if this challenges existing beliefs and practices. People are often poor judges of cause and effect, partly because they do not have clean line of sight of all of the factors in play. This is one reason that we are all prone to various forms of cognitive bias (see here and here): mental heuristics that have a place in everyday thought-processes, but need to be kept in check to allow us to verify assumptions and revise beliefs and practices in response to new evidence, even when this creates cognitive dissonance or ideological discomfort. Many educational practices that “felt” effective to teachers for a number of decades were later shown to have little or inadequate impact on student learning. Emily Hanford’s award-winning  Sold a Story podcast laid this bare in relation to the pernicious harm done to tens of thousands of children, around the globe, by balanced literacy and its antecedent, whole language. Teachers used these approaches in good faith and because they had not been presented with alternatives. In many cases, though, when alternatives are made available, teachers seize them with enthusiasm.
Evidence-based practice threatens teacher professionalism and autonomy	Professions that we hold in high esteem (e.g., medicine, aviation) actually have very low levels of autonomy, and high levels of accountability. I have blogged about this aspect of professionalism previously.  There is a double-standard in the fact that folk in education expect evidence-based decision-making when they are the patient/client/passenger in a transaction but don’t see that the rest of the community expects the same rights as “consumers” of education. What threatens teacher professionalism (and workforce longevity) is the creeping realisation that they have not been adequately equipped for classroom practice, using effective approaches for positive behaviour support and instructional success. Evidence-based practice does not inherently require pre-prepared lesson plans but it’s difficult to understand opposition to practice that reduces variability and promotes consistency within and between classrooms. High variability and high quality cannot co-exist. Schools and sectors need to choose one. In most professional fields, expertise involves integrating evidence with professional judgement. This can occur when teachers are well-equipped by their initial teacher preparation to critique and use research evidence. The application of evidence does not remove the need for teacher decision-making. It enhances and refines teacher judgement and allows teachers to apply their pattern-recognition skills in decisions across the day. Classroom practices should be dictated by the best interests of the students, not the personal preferences/ideologies of the teacher. Think about how this principle plays out in medicine, nursing, and aviation. When teacher unions (mis)play the autonomy card, they are working against the best interests of their members.
Randomised controlled trials are not applicable / ethical in education.	Randomised controlled trials (RCTs) are sometimes described as the “gold standard” for establishing cause-and effect with respect to whether an intervention works. I won’t provide a tutorial on RCTs here as readers can easily learn more from online sources. Suffice to say that when they are well-designed, RCTs give us the greatest clarity about the efficacy of a teaching or intervention approach, as they control for the interference of many variables that can sit between cause (the teaching or intervention) and effect (student outcomes).  It is important to distinguish between efficacy (how well an approach works under well-controlled experimental conditions) and effectiveness (how well it performs “in the wild” of the real world). If an RCT supports efficacy, then the next step is an effectiveness trial. A common misconception is that when RCTs are done in schools, some students receive “something” while those in the control arm receive “nothing”. This is incorrect. Those in the control arm may receive business-as-usual teaching, or they may receive another intervention that is considered worthy of testing. In some cases, there is a cross-over design, where students are shifted from one arm of the study to the other, and so are exposed to more than one approach. RCTs, like all research carried out in schools, are subject to rigorous review by human research ethics committees.   For a fascinating account of how RCTs have transformed our world, across health, criminology, education and economics, have a read of Andrew Leigh’s Randomistas. Schools are no more or less complex as research environments than hospitals, community health settings, prisons or rehabilitation facilities. All must grapple with the vagaries of human nature and variation in all its guises.
Research changes all the time, so teachers can’t rely on it	Revision in light of new evidence is a strength of science, not a weakness. Science is by definition self-correcting. The story of stomach ulcers is a good example of this. While once thought to be due to stress, ground-breaking and paradigm-shifting research by Australian investigators, Marshall and Warren showed that bacterial infection, not stress, is the culprit, and management was overhauled at scale, via revised clinical care pathways that all practitioners were expected to adopt, and did so, because that it is their ethical responsibility. The fact that some findings evolve / are modified over time does not mean that all findings are equally uncertain. It means that we need to be open to calibration and in some cases, de-implementation of current practices, as the evidence evolves.
It’s insulting to talk about a “hierarchy of evidence”. All methodologies are equally valid.	This is an unsophisticated play for egalitarianism in the face of both common sense and Research Methods 101 principles. Research methodologies should be primarily selected for their goodness-of-fit with the question(s) under investigation. In many cases, researchers are faced with choices, e.g., if they are asking “What is the lived experience of teachers who have been abused and bullied by dissatisfied parents?”  they may elect to carry out qualitative, in-depth interviews, or they may elect to construct a survey that is framed in such a way that responses can be quantified, e.g., via Likert-type scales; or they may do a mix of both. In all cases, their study scope will be constrained by resource issues, and we cannot escape the reality that a large, representative survey sample will have higher validity and generalisability, than will a small, qualitative study of say, 6 to 8 teachers’ experiences. This does not “dismiss” the latter; it just means that one is going to add more weight to the evidence scales than the other.
Medicine is a so-called evidence-based discipline, and errors still occur in that field.	This is reminiscent of the school-yard defence that “other people were throwing stones too, so why am I getting into trouble?”. Yes, errors and even malpractice and snake-oil interventions do occur in medicine (and other health fields) but that it is no reason for education, or any other discipline to not be applying the highest standards of research rigour and accountability. Disrespect for the scientific method (by which I mean all methodologies, applied rigorously in ways that are appropriate for the questions under investigation) ultimately leads away from improvements in the human condition.
There’s conflicting evidence about X/Y/Z, so in the meantime teachers should just make up their own minds.	When we think about evidence, it’s most helpful to think of a set of scales and ask where does the current weight of evidence sit? We should not overlook the fact that some studies seem to be outliers, but we also can’t wait for every question, about every practice to be answered.  Staying curious and open-minded, while getting on with it in the meantime is what happens in schools that roll up their sleeves and go on change journeys towards improved practice. See examples here and here.
Quantitative research reduces complex phenomena in ways that make them overly simplistic. Just because you can count something, doesn’t mean it counts.	Like some other arguments in this debate, there is some truth to this claim, but it is not the whole story. Yes, quantitative tools (like surveys that use numerical rating scales) by necessity, represent something complex (like anxiety level) as a number. This does not mean, however, that the data is somehow meaningless. If, on a 5-point scale, I tell the researchers that my anxiety level is “5”, that is a meaningful representation of my subjective experience. I may also find it easier to circle a 5 on an anonymous survey than to take part in an in-depth research interview. Large-scale quantitative studies often provide persuasive arguments to funders and policymakers, because they enable researchers to say things like “55% of Year 7 students experience anxiety associated with poor reading skills”.
Education has a history of fads and fashions, and evidence-based practice is just another one. It too shall pass.	Sadly, it is true that education's history is one of fads and fashions, so teachers who have been around for a few decades do see many approaches come, go, and sometimes come again, slightly dressed up but not heavily enough disguised that they are not recognisable. It’s one thing to experience change fatigue when it leads to improvement, but change fatigue when the only outcome is change, is understandably frustrating and disheartening for teachers. The fact that this is true is no tribute to education as a discipline and speaks to the fact that while other disciplines have moved forward over the last 50 years, education has changed, but has not necessarily progressed. This cycling and recycling approach to practice in education was summed up by Hewitt and Sachdeva in 2025 this way: Education, on the other hand, lacks this cycle of progressive improvement. In spite of decades of reform and billions spent on improvement initiatives, it’s not clear that teachers are any more effective today than they were fifty years ago. While the curriculum has evolved over that period, it would be difficult to claim that the quality of education has significantly improved or that the gap in student outcomes has narrowed substantially.
Evidence-based practice is just a political ideology	This is essentially an ad hominem argument and flags a reluctance to engage with substance. While stakeholders may have ideological/political alignments (as is their right), the central claim—that educational decisions should be informed by the best available evidence—should not be inherently ideological (or political). We’re in big trouble if it is. Criticising those who argue in favour of education’s better engagement in the generation, critiquing and application of evidence does not address the quality of the evidence itself. It’s just an attempt at deflection. Pleasingly, as noted above, we’re seeing schools generate practice-based evidence that complements the body of scientific evidence about how children learn and optimal ways to teach them. See here and here. This is powerful evidence in its own right and is gaining a seat at the policy decision-making table. It also needs to start re-focussing debates in education faculties.
If there’s a paper to support an approach in a peer-reviewed journal, it must be evidence-based.	This is lazy reasoning and betrays ignorance of the academic publication food-chain in practice. Some journals only publish papers that adhere to rigorous methodological standards, and as a consequence, reject 90%-plus of the submissions they receive. Others are less fussy about methodological rigour and accept a wider array of manuscripts, inevitably of variable quality. So no, being able to locate a peer-reviewed paper that says the earth is flat does not, in fact mean that if you walk out your back door and keep walking, you will eventually fall off the edge.
Facts are malleable – it’s a cultural imposition to say that “2+2=4”.	I know, I know, I know, but I saw an example of this on social media just recently. I’ll just make the observation here that I’m pretty sure the academic who made this claim would not accept this position from their payroll department if a previously agreed salary loading was then reduced by their employer.
Approach XYZ was tried and failed	Implementation science is a complex field and claims that something was tried/implemented in a school or system often fall well short of what is required to create replicable and testable conditions that can shed light on whether something is ·         likely to have benefits, and if so for whom ·         likely to maintain the status quo, and if so for whom, or ·         likely to worsen outcomes, and if so for whom. Fidelity of implementation and evidence of it are no trivial matters but are often underdone in policy shifts at sector level. One of my greatest concerns in the current transition to more explicit teaching in Australia is that it goes without saying that implementation will be uneven, but we will have poor line of sight of this. This will result in all sorts of unsubstantiated claims about what did and did not work, and for whom.
Children’s academic achievement reflects their parents’ socio-economic status, and no research will change that.	This is a particular heart-sink one for me because it betrays an underlying belief that schools and the teachers who work in them are impotent; that teachers’ everyday instructional practices don’t matter, because biology-is-destiny. Yes, family socio-economic status is a strong predictor of student academic achievement, but shouldn’t we be disrupting that trajectory through high-quality, impactful teaching and support? Fortunately, in many cases we are (see practice-based evidence, above). My colleagues and I have addressed this argument here as well.

I could do on, but hopefully this list gives readers a sense of the unproductive and in many cases, unsophisticated arguments that education does not need to hold itself to the same standards of evidence as other disciplines.

In health, we have the Therapeutic Good Administration in Australia (and cognate bodies in other industrialised nations) to systematically test the safety and efficacy of medicines, devices, and other therapeutic goods before they can be prescribed for or purchased by the public. Imagine the chaos, harm, and exploitation that would rain down on us if we were not the beneficiaries of such protection.

Where is this product and practice protection in education?

Teachers cannot be gatekeepers in

• the adoption of practices that are consistent with current scientific evidence
• the de-implementation of superseded approaches, and
• the identification and avoidance of pseudoscientific approaches

where leaders (academics and policy makers) in their profession do not subscribe to the scientific method, as applies in other fields of human endeavour. I repeat, education is not special.

Education is, ironically though, a slow learner, it would seem of the maxim that when you stand for nothing, you fall for everything. 

 

© Pamela Snow (2026)