Meritocracy and Equity

Charles Ungerleider, Professor Emeritus, The University of British Columbia

[Permission to reproduce granted if authorship is acknowledged]  

In a National Post opinion piece, author Jamie Sarkonak critiques the Toronto District School Board's (TDSB) decision to replace merit-based admissions to specialty education programs with what he describes as a racial lottery system. According to Sarkonak, this system is counterproductive to promoting fairness in education.  

Under the new system, 20% of seats in special programs have been reserved for Black, Middle Eastern, Latin American, and Indigenous students. Sarkonak argues this approach neglects the real issue at hand: socio-economic disadvantage. Instead, it places the problem squarely on race, a move which Sarkonak believes undermines the principles of meritocracy. Some parents and community members have expressed concern about the shift in admissions policy, arguing that it ignores the hard work and achievements of students, replacing merit with sheer luck. Others have applauded the change because it levels the playing field for racialized students who are often under-represented in such programs.  

The principle of meritocracy – that each person's status should be a direct reflection of their individual talent and effort – holds a significant place in The North American mythology: the image of the resilient and plucky young man (yes, man because that is the dominant imagery in the myth) overcoming hardship and becoming rich.  

Equity, on the other hand, calls attention to the broader societal structures that shape individual opportunities. This principle prompts reflection on the systemic injustices that have often been entangled in Canada's progress, asking us to question how to promote fairness in the distribution of resources and opportunities.  

Canadians have contended with these two principles at other points throughout Canadian history. For instance, the late 19th and early 20th century was a time of rapid industrial growth and burgeoning faith in meritocracy. The Canadian Pacific Railway's completion symbolized the triumph of industrial ambition and individual fortitude. However, the harsh realities faced by many workers, including the often-overlooked contributions of Chinese immigrants, underlined the vast inequities that existed.  

Reforms in the 20th century, particularly with the advent of the welfare state after the Great Depression and World War II, demonstrated a growing concern for equity. Policies such as universal health care, introduced in the 1960s, spoke to a collective commitment to diminish systemic barriers and improve access to essential services for all Canadians.  

As evidenced by the debate at the Toronto District School Board, the debate about meritocracy and equity continues to shape Canadian public discourse. Debates about issues such as Indigenous rights, immigration, and social safety nets reflect this ongoing conversation. At the heart of these discussions is a fundamental question about society's values: should individual effort be the sole determinant of success, or must we also address systemic barriers that restrict access to opportunities for certain groups?  

While the concept of meritocracy, the idea that those who work hard and possess talent should rise to the top, has an intuitive appeal, it can be argued that this perspective often overlooks the role of privilege and luck in shaping people's lives. The argument for meritocracy assumes a level playing field, where everyone starts from the same place and has the same opportunities to succeed. However, this is not the reality for most people. In an ideal meritocracy, every individual, regardless of their background, would have equal access to quality education, healthcare, and opportunities to develop their skills. Yet, many are born into circumstances with limited resources, and fewer opportunities to cultivate their abilities. These individuals face greater barriers to success, no matter how talented or hard-working they might be.  

Luck plays a significant part in life's outcomes. Even when someone has worked hard and earned their achievements, it doesn't negate the role that luck may have played. This can take the form of being born into a supportive family, meeting a mentor at a crucial point in life, or simply being in the right place at the right time. To believe one's success is purely a result of their efforts is to overlook the serendipitous nature of many – perhaps most - opportunities.  

It is crucial to remember the systemic nature of many privileges. For example, a person born into a wealthy family has access to better educational opportunities, a broader social network, and a safety net if things go wrong. Societal biases often benefit certain groups, giving them an edge in educational and career opportunities.  

While individual effort and merit are important, they are part of a larger equation. The interplay of privilege and luck can significantly impact a person's opportunities and their capacity to capitalize on them. Recognizing these factors allows us to create a more equitable society where everyone genuinely has the chance to succeed based on their merit.

The slow path to equity, diversity, and inclusion

Charles Ungerleider, Professor Emeritus, The University of British Columbia

[permission to reproduce granted if authorship is acknowledged]  

It is no consolation to those who experience racism, exclusion, and inequities today that since the Second World War Canada has pursued an erratic path to increasing social justice. It is nonetheless important to recognize the changes that have occurred and understand the factors that have led to those changes.  

While there were, no doubt, pre-war antecedents, the effort to unite Canadians of different ethno-linguistic backgrounds for the purpose of pursuing WWII was significant. For without sufficient harmony, Canada’s contribution to the Allied victory would not have occurred. The War made clear that no group was exempt from the possibility of state generated genocide and gave rise to such legislation as Ontario’s Racial Discrimination Act (1944), Saskatchewan’s Bill of Rights Act (1947), and the Ontario Human Rights code (1962).  

Greater equality and inclusion were evident in the changed relationships between French and English Canada. Among the changes were simultaneous translation in Parliamentary proceedings (1959), the issuance of Government of Canada cheques in French (1962), the Royal Commission on Bilingualism and Biculturalism (1963-1969), and the Official Languages Act (1969).  

Immigration reform during the period 1967-1978 was tacit acknowledgement of Canada’s explicitly racist treatment of non-European origin immigrants first by exclusion and later by means of rules stacked against non-whites. In the late 1940s the franchise was extended to persons of Chinese, Japanese, and Indian ancestry. Canadians did not achieve universal franchise until 1960 when "treaty Indians" and Inuit were permitted to vote.  

In 1971, Canada formally proclaimed a state policy of "multiculturalism within a bilingual framework." In 1982, the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms was added to Canada's constitution. The addition significantly strengthened democratic citizenship and social cohesion by declaring that the Charter “shall be interpreted in a manner consistent with the preservation and enhancement of the multicultural heritage of Canadians and enshrining minority language educational rights.    

My UBC colleague, Jason Ellis, traces the changes in educational equity in Canada that were concurrent with the ones I mentioned above. He calls attention to two post-war periods. He calls the period between 1950-1970 “getting everyone to the schoolhouse door.” During that period public education was expanded to include unserved or under-served groups. The  unserved included Indigenous children in the separate federal “Indian” day and residential schools and children with IQs lower than 50 who were legally excluded from schools. The under-served includes rural children, Black children in segregated schools in Ontario and Nova Scotia, children in institutions, and others.  

The second period (roughly 1970 to the present) Ellis describes as “making the schoolhouse welcoming to all.” During this period curricula were broadened to be respectful of and welcoming to difference. Notable changes include tolerating additional instructional languages (a form of multiculturalism), gender-sensitive curricula, the ending of Christian opening exercises and Christian religious instruction.  

Don’t get me wrong, the development of social justice in Canada has not been an inexorable, progressive march. Anything but. Examining the changes that have occurred may help us understand the factors that help to contribute to improved equity, inclusion, and diversity.  

Beginning during the Second World War policy makers recognized that apparent differences among groups would weaken the social fabric. In response, they promulgated legislation and regulation that required people to behave in conformity with the norms expressed. Furthermore, although it took painfully long, policy makers came to recognize that reconciliation among groups required formal acknowledgement of the harms inflected and admission for responsibility for those harms.  

Furthering equity, diversity, and inclusion in education requires that we examine whether the legal and regulatory framework affecting education is consistent with those values. For example, would these values be enhanced with provincial codes of conduct for trustees, staff, and students specifying their obligations to avoid harassment and discrimination on prohibited grounds? How might practices be brought into line with those values? For example, should there be a common investigatory protocol for complaints of discrimination and harassment, and a database of cases in which harassment and discrimination were proven?

Hard truths: choice and equity are incompatible

 Charles Ungerleider, Professor Emeritus, The University of British Columbia

[permission to reproduce granted if authorship is acknowledged]

 School boards try to navigate between two fundamentally incompatible values: choice and equity. The former has been well established in the field of education. “Programs of choice” and “schools of choice” are common in the education vocabulary. And, even where the terms are not used, the practices to which they refer are treasured.  

In some places, ‘choice in education’ is enshrined in legislation. The province of Alberta makes provision for charter schools, for example. British Columbia’s School Act makes provision to enrol students living outside the boundaries of their local school and for students who live outside of the boundaries of a school district.  

Equity in education is less well established, dating most visibly to the decision of the U.S. Supreme Court that over-turned the doctrine that separate facilities were permissible if they were equal. The Court’s decision said that separate educational facilities for white and African American students were inherently unequal.  

Maliciously inclined school boards sought ways to avoid integrating schools and programs. Even well-intentioned school boards have tried to accommodate what the Court recognized are essentially incompatible values. The student composition of programs and schools of choice tends to favour students from advantaged backgrounds. They immediately benefit from what is offered. The advantages they possess as off-spring of advantaged families are perpetuated when their participation in such programs or schools is recognized by selective post-secondary institutions.  

Canada has its own history of [in]equity. My colleague, Jason Ellis addresses equity in the history of education policy course he teaches at UBC. In his examination of equity in Canadian education his divides the postwar period into two. In the first, “getting everyone to the schoolhouse door,” (roughly 1950-1970) he addresses the extension of public education to unserved or under-served groups. Among the unserved Ellis includes Indigenous children in the separate federal “Indian” day and residential schools and children with IQs lower than 50 who were legally excluded from schools. Ellis includes rural children, Black children in segregated schools in Ontario and Nova Scotia, children in institutions, and others among the under-served.  

In the second period (roughly 1970 to the present) that he describes as “making the schoolhouse welcoming to all,” Ellis addresses broadening curricula to make it more respectful of, and welcoming, of difference. Notable among the changes are tolerating additional instructional languages (a form of multiculturalism), gender-sensitive curricula, the ending of Christian opening exercises and Christian religious instruction, etc.  

Contemporary post-secondary education remains economically layered. High school students from advantaged families are over-represented among the student bodies of selective institutions and high school students from less advantaged backgrounds are over-represented in institutions that are not selective. The effect is to reproduce the advantages of advantaged students.  

Many school boards try to moderate the differential impact that schools and programs of choice confer by using mechanisms such as random selection among applicants. Such mechanisms are merely hopeful gestures because advantaged families are over-represented in the pool of applicants from which names are drawn. Advantaged families can afford the transportation to and from the schools/programs and any additional fees that enrollment may require. Less advantaged families disproportionately rely on older siblings to ensure younger ones get to and from school safely.    

Inequities resulting from choice lead school boards to eliminate a program or school of choice or to change the selection criteria. When that happens, they are subjected to pressure from families with disproportionate political and economic capital. Talk about rocks and hard places.  

It would be easy to demonize the advantaged parents for wanting to maximize the benefits that participation in schools and programs of choice confer. I don’t think that gets anyone anywhere. What parent does not want what they perceive to be the ‘best’ for their children?  

Persuading parents to see beyond the horizon of their children’s interest for the common good would be challenging. It would likely require broader social recognition of the inherent conflict between choice and equity. I think it is worth striving for such recognition. The significant fraying of social cohesion is one consequence of favoring choice over equity. I worry that we are approaching the point where the social fabric will shred completely.  

I am encouraged when school boards recognize that choice and equity are incompatible values and make efforts to lessen the impact of choice and increase equity. But social equity will require changes beyond those under the control of school boards.  

In the meantime, I think there is something that school systems might implement that will mitigate the effects of choice and increase equity. But it will be challenging. I suggest that schooling be divided into two parts through the end of grade 10. All students should be immersed in language, mathematics, science, and social studies for seventy per cent of the school week. The remaining 30 per cent should be allocated for elective studies in areas such as art, music, athletics, and second-­language studies.  

I’d label this universal education program through grade 10 the foundation program. We should make every effort to ensure that students have successfully completed the foundation program successfully.  

By the time they are eligible for grade 11, students should possess the foundation for choosing a program of specialized study in areas such as language and literature; trades and technologies; social and behavioural science; mathematics and science; fine and performing arts; and business. There should be no prerequisites for enrolling in a program of specialized study except successful completion of the foundation studies program through grade ten. Specialized study programs might include more than two years of study, as is the case with Collège d’enseignement général et professionnel (CEGEP) in Quebec. Students who successfully complete a specialized study program would be awarded a certificate.  

If implemented well, my proposal would accomplish two important objectives. One is ensuring that all students meet the same standards to the completion of grade ten. The other, is that it provides a common social and educational experience that might contribute to greater social cohesion.  

My proposal does not completely address the incompatibility of choice and equity. But I think it would make a modest contribution to equity and social cohesion.

What is equity in education?

Charles Ungerleider, Professor Emeritus, The University of British Columbia

[permissions to reproduce granted if authorship is acknowledged]

Shortly after posting my blog Good Intentions are not Enough I received an email from a reader asking about my conception of equity. Here is my response:

The promise of education is that who one is, where one lives, and with whom one lives should not affect the educational outcomes one achieves. That means that, all other things being equal, students should receive the same treatment, the same resources, and achieve the same outcomes unless there are good (justifiable) reasons why they should not.

There are two considerations in this assertion. One is all other things being equal (i.e., the same). Obviously no two persons are the same. So, what becomes important is on what relevant dimensions should there be equivalence or sameness.

The second consideration in the assertion is unless there are good (justifiable) reasons why they should not be treated in the same way, receive the same resources, or achieve the same outcomes. The key is what counts as good (justifiable) reasons.

Canadian education is heavily influenced by the United States. Two US documents influenced Canadian thought and discourse about inequities (inequalities) in educational opportunity. One is that the assignment to separate facilities based on the pigmentation of one’s skin is inherently unequal.[1] Notwithstanding the considerable differences of opinion that have emerged about it over the past fifty plus years, another influential document was Equality of Educational Opportunity by the sociologist James S. Coleman and others.[2] A central assertion of the Report was that the educational and economic backgrounds of the parents of Black students (and students of other ethnicities) and White students was the main influence on their achievement.

Those ideas – especially the second - helped enshrine the notion that children from families living in impoverished circumstances and whose caregivers are less well educated enter school at a disadvantage relative to their more affluent peers whose parents are better educated. Provincial practice and the practice of school boards reflect that assumption in their efforts to mitigate that disadvantage.

Many provincial governments have an index of economic and social conditions that they use to allocate funding to school boards, for example. School boards that routinely provide half-day kindergarten have justified providing full-day kindergarten in schools located in impoverished communities.  Arguments for the provision of early childhood education often refer to the notion that such programs will help ameliorate the differences between children living in poverty and their more affluent peers. There are other practices that are justified in the name of equity or equality of educational opportunity that argue that differences in economic and social capital justify the differential opportunities and treatment of students. I have written elsewhere that the educational impact of the additional resources is rarely evaluated.

The provision of additional educational support to children whose behaviour is different from most of their peers is justified based on those differences (intellectual and learning disabilities; behavioural needs or mental illness; physically dependent, physical disabilities or chronic health impairments; deafness or hearing impairment; blindness or visual impairment, etc.). These differences are deemed relevant to ensuring the educational success of these students. A key question is: which, if any, of these differences justifies adjusting one’s expectations regarding the outcomes of education?

Justifying differential outcomes for students whose intellectual capacity is severely impaired is not difficult, though how much of a difference in outcome is more problematic.   Should similar adjustments be made for students who are deaf (or hearing impaired) and or blind (visually impaired)? What, if any, learning disability justifies lowering educational expectations? These questions are not often asked. Nor do we evaluate whether the additional supports are making a measurable difference in performance or outcomes for these students.

In education, there appears to be little difficulty in discriminating among students and arguing that such discriminations are made for good reasons. Justifying differential outcomes is more complicated. Differential outcomes are too often justified in terms of the differences that were used to justify additional resources. That seems a bit circular to me. It makes me wonder whether the additional resources make a difference and in what ways. I am not arguing for the elimination of such resources, just careful evaluation of their impact.

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[1] Brown v. Board of Education, 347 U.S. 483 (1954).

[2] https://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/ED012275.pdf

Good intentions are not good enough

 Charles Ungerleider, Professor Emeritus, The University of British Columbia

[permission to reproduce granted if authorship is acknowledged]

Concerned about equity, some school boards differentiate the allocation of resources among schools. The underlying assumption is that, in some schools, there will be significant numbers of students facing challenges that require additional resources.

There is little doubt that there are additional costs associated with educating students with developmental disabilities whose conditions necessitate the assistance of personnel in addition to the classroom teacher. Students with extreme externalizing behaviour often need placements in  designated classrooms with fewer students and the assistance of additional staff. Students who are deaf or blind often require specialized equipment or additional classroom personnel to enable them to benefit from the instructional program.

Equity allocations often extend beyond the resources provided for such students. Some school boards provide additional resources to schools in catchments with large numbers of children whose families live below the poverty line, or where there are high rates of student mobility, absenteeism, early school leaving (dropouts), or where there are students for whom English or French is an additional language. The thinking is that such challenges require extraordinary effort to ensure that students’ educational progress is commensurate with their peers who do not face such challenges.

The schools receiving additional resources for the reasons stated in the previous paragraph are typically afforded considerable discretion about how those resources can be used. The decisions on resource use are typically idiosyncratic. Some use the resources to increase their staffing, purchase proprietary educational programs to enrich the educational experience, and/or put the resources to other uses in aid of improving outcomes for students and reducing gaps among identifiable groups of learners. We should always remember that scarce resources allocated to one place take resources away from another. If the other activities are not offered, students are deprived of the opportunities afforded by those activities.

Improving outcomes and reducing inequalities are, arguably, the two most important goals of education. It is very important to know if additional resources help in achieving those goals and the best applications of those additional funds. Because resources are scarce, it is important to understand their impact. Program evaluation is crucial. Boards must evaluate the impact of their efforts to improve outcomes and eliminate inequalities. But, in the absence of systematic assessment, it is difficult to know what difference, if any, the additional resources make, or to tell if the resources might be applied to greater advantage in some other way. Most schools and school boards do not systematically assess student performance or outcomes and, thus, are unable to determine the absolute impact of the additional resources, or their impact upon reducing gaps.

Moreover, even if schools and boards did assess performance and gaps systematically, the idiosyncratic application of resources across schools would make it difficult, if not impossible, to determine the relationship between the resources and outcomes. However, the idiosyncratic use of resources at the school level is often justified with the argument that those closest to students are in a better position to know what will work. Educators should welcome systematic evaluation of programs so that they can demonstrate the impact of the additional resources for which they advocate.

By devising and applying formulas for the allocation of resources to students who face challenges, school boards can persuade themselves that they are addressing inequities. Perhaps they are. They can claim having tried to provide for ‘equality of opportunity’ for students – whatever that might mean. But, in the absence of evidence of impact on outcomes, we simply do not know.  That is not good enough.  

Schools might be asked to demonstrate the impact of the resources they have received: how have student outcomes improved because of the new programs, or staffing, or infrastructure. A school might say that it needs the additional resources because, in the absence of those resources, student outcomes would deteriorate. Again, school boards would want evidence that is the case.

And what would a school board do if the schools were unable to demonstrate impact? A school might argue that the problems for which it receives additional resources are beyond the control of the school. It might say that poverty, homelessness, and food insecurity are things over which school have little control. Making such a statement would be tantamount to saying that schools are unable to teach children from such environments, an insupportable claim. If it were true, why would school boards provide the additional resources in the first place.     

My point is that school boards that have an equity allocation formula but fail to assess the impact of the formula on student outcomes are not making effective use of their scarce resources. Some might say that such a gesture was, in today’s terminology, ‘performative’ or ‘virtue signalling.’

A focus on low-performing students produces better system outcomes and greater equity

Charles Ungerleider, Professor Emeritus of Education, The University of British Columbia

[permission granted to reproduce if authorship acknowledged]

In last week’s blog post, I tried to draw attention to other ways of calculating how well a school’s student population is performing. This blog makes the case that how we calculate performance reflects what we value. I argue that we should place greater value on improving the performance of low-performing students because doing so will produce better outcomes for them, for the communities in which they live, and for society.

To save you the effort of clicking to the earlier blog, let me explain that I contrasted two approaches.  One approach was to create a “performance index” by calculating the percentage of students in a school who had achieved or exceeded a “provincial standard” in a jurisdiction. This adopts what I called a levels approach. I explained that, in a levels approach, the score or grade a student earns on some assessment indicates that: the student has not begun learning or was excused from the assessment (level 0); has begun learning but hasn’t made much progress (level 1); is progressing but is not quite at grade level (level 2); is firmly performing at grade level (level 3); or is exceeding the expected performance for students at the grade level (level 4). The levels approach is the same as assigning grades (A, B, C, D, F). 

The problem with this approach is that it ignores what is happening for students in levels 0 and 1. If, for example, school performance is measured by changes in the performance index over time  it is reasonable to consider students who move from level 0 to level 1 and students who move from level 1 to level 2.  As a way of including these students in the performance index I offered the idea of a weighted mean. What I meant by a weighted mean is that I multiplied the number of students at each level by the value of the level achieved (level 0, level 1, level 2, level 3, or level 4), adding the products together, and dividing the sum of those products by the sum of all the students assessed including the students below level one and the students excused from the assessment.

I compared calculating the percentage of students in a school meeting or exceeding the provincial standard with the calculation of a weighted mean. I illustrated how using weighted means provides more information about the performance of students in a school than simply reporting the percentage at or above some level. In my illustration, I created 8 fictional schools in which the proportion of students at or above level 3 was 75% and varied the proportions of students performing below level 3.

This approach showed more clearly the mathematical differences among schools that had the same proportion of students meeting the provincial standard. I argued that the differences conveyed a more subtle and complete picture of student performance.

Let’s go one step further. In the weighted mean I calculated, the weights were the percentage of students in each level. Instead of the weights I assigned in my illustration, imagine that I have assigned greater weight to bringing students from level 0 to level 1, from level 1 to level 2, and from level 2 to level 3. (The weights still must add to 1.) I assign those weights because, I place a greater value on teaching a student who does not know how to read, for example, to read at a rudimentary level or teaching a rudimentary reader to read competently than I do on teaching a competent reader to excel. If one wants to improve the overall performance of an educational system, focusing on the low-performing students is the effective and the most equitable pathway.

I make this argument knowing that, on average, low-performing students come from less affluent backgrounds, have fewer family and community supports, and, if they remain low-performing, are more likely to drop out of school. If low performing students complete school, they are less likely to go on to further education, will have more precarious employment, earn less, pay less tax, and be more likely to have children who suffered from the same disadvantages as they did.

Breaking this cycle by focusing on improving their performance is a benefit to them, to the communities in which they reside, and to society.  

Happy holidays . . . see you in 2020, Charles