What matters for student achievement: updating Coleman on the influence of families and schools.
Hanushek, Eric A.
THE COLEMAN REPORT, "Equality of Educational Opportunity,
"is the fountainhead for those committed to evidence-based
education policy. Remarkably, this 737-page tome, prepared 50 years ago
by seven authors under the leadership of James S. Coleman, still gets a
steady 600 Google Scholar citations per year. But since its publication,
views of what the report says have diverged, and conclusions about its
policy implications have differed even more sharply. It is therefore
appropriate--from the Olympian vantage point a half century
provides--not only to assess the Coleman findings and conclusions but
also to consider how and where they have directed the policy
conversation.
It must be said from the outset that the Coleman team relied on a
methodology that was becoming antiquated at the time the document was
prepared. Almost immediately, econometricians offered major critiques of
its approach. But even with these limitations, as an education-policy
research document, the report was breathtakingly innovative, the
foundation for decades of ever-improving inquiry into the design and
impact of the U.S. education system.
Outside the scientific research community, the Coleman Report had,
if anything, an even broader impact. Reporters, columnists, and
policymakers turned their understanding of results and conclusions into
conventional wisdoms--simplified, bumper-sticker versions of the
report's conclusions. Partly reflecting the nature of the document,
not all of them agreed on which of the findings to emphasize. For
example, early on, President Lyndon Johnson's administration said
the report endorsed its desegregation efforts by showing that blacks
benefited from an integrated educational experience while whites did not
suffer from it. This message dovetailed with the administration's
efforts to implement the Civil Rights Act, a topic discussed by Steven
Rivkin in an accompanying essay (see "Desegregation since the
Coleman Report," Spring 2016). Later, two other, more lasting
conclusions attributed to the report gradually emerged: 1) families are
the most important influence on student achievement, and 2) school
resources don't matter. I focus on these two conclusions.
The greater significance of the Coleman Report--what makes it a
foundational document for education policy research--lies not in any of
these interpretations or conclusions, however. More importantly, it
fundamentally altered the lens through which analysts, policymakers, and
the public at large view and assess schools. Before Coleman, a good
school was defined by its "inputs"--per-pupil expenditure,
school size, comprehensiveness of the curriculum, volumes per student in
the library, science lab facilities, use of tracking, and similar
indicators of the resources allocated for the students' education.
After Coleman, the measures of a good school shifted to its
"outputs" or "outcomes"--the amount its students
know, the gains in learning they experience each year, the years of
further education graduates pursue, and their long-term employment and
earnings opportunities.
Historical Context
The Coleman Report was mandated by the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
The act gave the U.S. Office of Education two years to produce a report
that was expected to describe the inequality of educational
opportunities in elementary and secondary education across the United
States. Congress sought to highlight, particularly in the South, the
differences between schools attended by whites and those attended by
blacks (referred to as "Negroes," as was standard at the
time).
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But Congress, and the nation, got something very different from
what most people expected. Working quickly as soon as the Civil Rights
Act was signed into law, the Coleman research team drew a sample of over
4,000 schools, which yielded data on slightly more than 3,000 schools
and some 600,000 students in grades 1, 3,6,9, and 12. The team asked
students, teachers, principals, and superintendents at these schools a
wide range of questions. The study broadened the measures of school
quality beyond what policymakers envisioned. The surveys gathered
objective information about "inputs," but they also asked
about teacher and administrative attitudes and other subjective
indicators of quality. The most novel aspect of the study was the
assessment of students, who were given a battery of tests of both
ability and achievement.
Coleman's team collected these data from schools across the
country, tabulated them, analyzed them, and produced the mammoth report
(and a second 548-page volume with descriptive statistics) within the
two-year period. This dizzying pace of research is almost inconceivable
at a time when high-speed computers were yet to become available.
The focus on hard, quantifiable facts cannot be overemphasized. It
is difficult to find two consecutive pages in the report that do not
contain at least one table or figure. In fact, it is easy to find 10
consecutive pages of dense tables or figures. As a result, a large
portion of the potential readership was immediately bewildered by
statistics, many of which were not commonly employed or broadly
understood even within the academic community. It is exceedingly
unlikely that more than a very few people actually read the entire
report rather than relying on summaries or a sampling of the
document's contents.
The difficulty of understanding the analysis and its implications
was such that Daniel Patrick Moynihan organized a faculty seminar at
Harvard that attracted some 80 researchers and met weekly for a year.
Even among this erudite group, no clear consensus on what to make of the
Coleman Report emerged. My own participation in this seminar as a
graduate student set my entire career to the study of education policy.
A Summary
After 325 pages of charts, tables, and text, one gets to the
enduring summary of the Coleman Report.
Taking all these results together, one implication stands out above
all: That schools bring little influence to bear on a child's
achievement that is independent of his background and general social
context; and that this very lack of an independent effect means that
the inequalities imposed on children by their home, neighborhood, and
peer environment are carried along to become the inequalities with
which they confront adult life at the end of school.
Wrapped up in this statement are the ambiguities of meaning, the
unclear translation into policies, and the inherent questions about
analytical underpinnings that have persisted. For some, they point to
the need for desegregation; for others, they suggest that schools do not
matter; and for a third group, they highlight the overwhelming
importance of the family.
One of Coleman's principal findings--often overlooked in the
focus on the role of families, schools, and desegregation--was the
shocking achievement disparities across races and regions within the
United States. In 1965, Coleman tells us, the average black 12th grader
in the rural South registered an achievement level that was comparable
to that of a white 7th grader in the urban Northeast. That gap and other
similar performance gaps never received the attention they deserved.
As a result, the Coleman report failed to accomplish one of the key
goals that led Congress to commission the report in the first place: a
forward march toward equal educational opportunity across racial groups.
That simply happened haltingly in most parts of the country.
In both math and reading, the national test-score gap in 1965 was
1.1 standard deviations, implying that the average black 12th grader
placed at the 13th percentile of the score distribution for white
students. In other words, 87 percent of white 12th graders scored ahead
of the average black 12th grader. What does it look like 50 years later?
In math, the size of the gap has fallen nationally by 0.2 standard
deviations, but that still leaves the average black 12th-grade student
at only the 19th percentile of the white distribution. In reading, the
achievement gap has improved slightly more than in math (0.3 standard
deviations), but after a half century, the average black student scores
at just the 22nd percentile of the white distribution.
As Figure 1 shows, the largest gains in both math and reading were
found in the South, where the larger gaps observed in 1965 were brought
in line with the rest of the nation by 2013. But the generally slow
improvements in much of the rest of the country, including an expanded
reading gap in the Midwest, attenuated the overall improvement.
After nearly a half century of supposed progress in race relations
within the United States, the modest improvements in achievement gaps
since 1965 can only be called a national embarrassment. Put differently,
if we continue to close gaps at the same rate in the future, it will be
roughly two and a half centuries before the black-white math gap closes
and over one and a half centuries until the reading gap closes. If
"Equality of Educational Opportunity" was expected to mobilize
the resources of the nation's schools in pursuit of racial equity,
it undoubtedly failed to achieve its objective. Nor did it increase the
overall level of performance of high school students on the eve of their
graduation, despite the vast increase in resources that would be
committed to education over the ensuing five decades (see Figures 2, 3,
and 4).
Coleman did report a good deal of disparity in school resources
from one part of the United States to the other, with the South lagging
far behind the Northeast. But, within regions, racial differences in
available resources were modest. Although it is difficult to make
precise comparisons between then and now, the regional and racial
disparities of today in education inputs are probably quite similar to
those Coleman reported in 1966.
These overall descriptive findings can be taken as given, without
quibbling over statistical methodology. But digging into the weeds of
the Coleman Report, it is evident that the analysis of what determines
achievement leaves much to be desired. The analysis has two major flaws.
First, it attempts to assess what factors drive the observed differences
in student achievement, but it does a poor job. Second, the approach
fails to provide clear policy guidance on how achievement could be
improved.
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In simplest terms, the statistical procedure of the Coleman Report
relies on a problematic stepwise analysis of variance approach, which
makes strong assumptions about which factors are fundamental causes of
achievement and which are of secondary significance. Coleman assumed
that family influences come first, and that school factors are to be
introduced into the analysis only after all effects that can be
attributed to the family are identified. Accordingly, the first step of
the statistical analysis assesses how much of the achievement variation
across schools could be attributed to variations in family background
factors. Only after these background factors are fully accounted for is
the second step taken--a look at the characteristics of the schools that
make the biggest difference in determining the variation in student
achievement.
This approach privileges family background over any indicators of
school resources or peer group relationships, as it implicitly
attributes all shared variation to those variables included in the first
step of the stepwise modeling. For example, if parental education and
teacher experience are both strongly related to achievement, and
children from better-educated families attend schools with
more-experienced teachers, then it will appear as if teacher experience
has little effect while the effect of parental education is magnified.
The first step, looking at just the relationship between achievement and
parental education, actually incorporates both the direct effect of
parental education on achievement and the indirect effect of the
more-experienced teachers in their schools. When the analysis gets to
the point of adding teacher experience to the explanation of
achievement, the only marginal impact will come from the portion of
variation in experience that is totally unrelated to family background.
But, more importantly, this partitioning of the variation in
student achievement according to variations in underlying factors gives
little indication of what could be expected from policies that alter the
school inputs available to students. The statistical analysis relied
exclusively on some crudely measured differences across schools, such as
the number of days in the school year or the presence of a science lab.
Most of their measures were not factors that would drive policy
initiatives. Yet, the larger problem is that simply looking at the
influence of the existing variation in these measures does not indicate
the leverage on achievement that any would have. For example, the days
in the school year showed relatively little variation, and, as such,
variation in the length of school years could not explain much of the
existing achievement variation, even if adding days to the school year
would have a strong impact on achievement. Unfortunately,
misinterpretations of these aspects of the Coleman analysis continue in
the present day.
Among researchers with an understanding of the best ways to
estimate causal effects on educational achievement, none would rely on
the methodology used by the Coleman team to estimate the effect of
schools or teachers. The stepwise regression was problematic even in the
1960s and has been totally discredited as a method for estimating causal
effects in the 50 years since.
Given this, I take the Coleman Report conclusions stated above as
hypotheses, not as findings. What does current evidence say about these
hypotheses?
Only Families Matter
That families have a strong, if not overwhelming, effect on student
achievement is one of the most frequently repeated bumper-sticker claims
of those who cite the Coleman Report. Analysts who claim that poverty
explains the problems of the American school readily refer to Coleman as
proof. The Economic Policy Institute's Richard Rothstein has
declared that "the influence of social class characteristics is
probably so powerful that schools cannot overcome it, no matter how well
trained are their teachers and no matter how well designed are their
instructional programs and climates." The campaign for a Broader,
Bolder Approach to Education hints at the standard interpretation of the
Coleman findings when it asserts that "poverty, which has long been
the biggest obstacle to educational achievement, is more important than
ever."
The Coleman Report itself measured family background by a series of
survey questions given to the students that were combined into measures
of urbanism, parents' education, structural integrity of the home,
size of family, items in the home, reading material in the home,
parents' interests, and parents' educational desires. Coleman
did not measure family income, because he did not think students were a
reliable source for this kind of information. Indeed, the word poverty
appears just once in the entire report, in the summary; it was never
used in the analysis. It is thus quite ironic that 21st-century
references to Coleman regularly claim that he showed the major impact
poverty had on student achievement.
Still, the finding that family-background factors powerfully affect
student achievement is not and never has been disputed. Virtually all
subsequent analyses have included measures of family background
(education, family structure, and so forth) and have found them to be a
significant explanation of achievement differences. Indeed, no analysis
of school performance that neglects differences in family background can
be taken seriously.
At the same time, the importance of this reality for education
policy is quite unclear. Some argue that since poverty is strongly
related to achievement, we must alleviate poverty before we can hope to
have an effect of schools on achievement. For example, Diane Ravitch
states that "[reformers believe] that schools can be fixed now and
that student outcomes (test scores) will reach high levels without doing
anything about poverty. But this makes no sense. Poverty matters."
This type of interpretation of the Coleman Report and subsequent studies
fails on several grounds.
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Existing studies have generally accounted for family background by
whatever measures were in their specific data set, ranging from family
income to parental education to family structure to race and ethnicity.
At some level, all of these measures are correlated with each other, and
scholars are still not sure which is the "right measure." For
example, some of the best research has focused on "family
income" as a predictor of education success, but Susan Mayer, a
University of Chicago sociologist, has shown that unexpected changes in
family income by themselves have little effect on a child's
educational performance.
Moreover, the exact channels through which family resources have
their impact on educational and lifetime successes remain uncertain. Is
reading to the child decisive? Is the vocabulary of the parents? Is it
the greater access to medical and dental services that children of more
resourceful parents enjoy? Is it the more-sensitive child-rearing
practices of the better-educated? Is it the greater interaction with
adults that can occur in two-parent families that counts? Do
more-resourceful parents find ways to place their children in
more-effective educational settings? Most important, little evidence
shows that just providing money to families can change the relevant
family inputs, whatever they are.
Do Schools Matter?
Perhaps the largest long-term impact of the Coleman Report has been
its effect on elite opinion about the contribution schools make to
student achievement. The report's suggestion that schools add
little beyond the family to student performance has provoked a
bifurcated reaction. One side, which includes many school teachers and
administrators, accepts this at face value, as it simply confirms what
they already believe: schools should not be held responsible for poor
student performance and achievement gaps that are driven by family
background factors. The other side raises questions about the Coleman
approach to estimating the relative importance of schools and families,
and searches for other analytical methods and data sets that might open
the question for further consideration.
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The Coleman Report concludes that its measures of most school
resources were only weakly associated with student achievement. Once
family background and the nature of the peer group at school were taken
into account, student achievement was unaffected by per-pupil
expenditure, school size, the science lab facilities, the number of
books in the library, the use of tracking by ability levels to assign
students to classrooms, or other factors previously assumed to be
indicators of what makes for a good school. In general, these findings
have been reaffirmed by the scholarly community over the five decades
since the report was written. Subsequent studies have found little in
the way of systematic impacts of measured differences in resources among
schools. On occasion, a specific study might find any one of these
factors to be correlated with student performance, but, taken together,
the vast proportion of results across a wide array of studies has found
no statistically significant connection between the standard resources
available to schools and the amount of learning taking place within the
building.
Yet that is not the end of the story. While these findings appear
clear, their interpretation calls for considerable care.
The Coleman data did not permit following the learning trajectories
of individual students or looking at what happened within schools.
Coleman tended to look at measures of school quality that administrators
and policymakers rely on when defending their proposals to school
boards. Those variables may not be correlated with student achievement,
but that does not necessarily mean that schools are unimportant. It is
quite possible that other, more-difficult-to-measure factors may be
crucial for student learning.
Little attention was paid to indications in the Coleman Report that
teachers might be a particularly critical school factor. But since the
report's publication, scholars have developed more precise data on
teacher effectiveness, and, by probing at differences in teacher quality
within schools, have found very large impacts of teacher quality on
student achievement. Admittedly, many teacher characteristics commonly
used to measure teacher quality have little, if any impact on student
performance. Whether teachers are certified, or obtain an advanced
degree, or attend a specific college or university, or receive more or
less mentoring or professional development turns out to be almost
completely unrelated to a teacher's effectiveness in the classroom.
But measures of teacher effectiveness in the classroom (as
estimated by the amount of learning taking place in classes under that
teacher's supervision) do correlate with the learning taking place
in that same teacher's classroom in subsequent years. In other
words, qualitative differences among teachers have large impacts on the
growth in student achievement, even though these differences are not
related to the measured background characteristics or to the training
teachers have received.
Scholars remain in the dark even today as to exactly why some
teachers are effective (that is, why some teachers, year after year,
have strong positive impacts on the learning of their pupils) while
others are not. In short, it is easier to pick out good teachers once
they have begun to teach than it is to train them or figure out exactly
the secret sauce of classroom success.
Since most of the variation in teacher effectiveness is actually
found within schools (i.e., between classrooms) and not between schools
(Coleman's focus), the critical role of the teacher remained to be
clearly documented by future scholars. For example, in work that I have
done studying performance in disadvantaged urban schools, a top teacher
can in one year produce an added gain from students of one full
year's worth of learning compared to students suffering under a
very ineffective teacher.
Stanford researcher Raj Chetty and his colleagues have shown that
the effects of the teacher persist into adulthood. Those with the
more-effective teacher will be more likely to pursue their education for
a longer period of time and will earn more income by age 28.
In short, research shows very large differences in teacher
effectiveness. Moreover, variations in teacher effectiveness within
schools appear to be much larger than variations between schools. Thus,
the Coleman study failed to identify the importance of teacher quality
and failed to grasp the policy relevance of within-school variation in
teacher quality. These findings also illustrate vividly the problem
introduced by the Coleman analytical approach: finding that measured
teacher differences have limited ability to explain variations in
student achievement is very different from concluding that schools and
teachers cannot powerfully affect student outcomes.
Does Money Matter?
Coleman found that variations in per-pupil expenditure had little
correlation with student outcomes. Although this was one of the key
findings of the report, little attention was paid to this inconvenient
fact. At the time, the Johnson administration was trumpeting a federally
funded compensatory education program that was supposed to equalize
educational opportunity by concentrating more funding on students living
in low-income neighborhoods. But the finding gradually assumed greater
importance in policy debates, as extensive subsequent research
engendered by the Coleman Report reinforced this conclusion.
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A defining moment came in the 1970s, when the California Supreme
Court in Serrano v. Priest decided that in order to ensure equal
educational opportunity for all children, all school districts in
California must spend equal amounts per pupil, instigating a wave of
school-finance court cases across the country. If expenditures must be
equal in order for opportunity to be equal, then the amount spent per
pupil must be critically important to student learning. Despite the
Coleman findings, the claim that money matters was routinely made in
courtrooms in nearly every state, provoking a bevy of research on the
effects of school expenditure on student achievement. This is not the
place to explore a debate that has relied on a mixture of scientific
evidence, professional punditry, and misleading claims. Given the fiscal
stakes involved, it is hardly surprising that the conversations have
been politically charged and have led to an ongoing battle under the
misleading sobriquet "money doesn't matter."
There remains the simple question as to whether, other things
equal, just adding more money to schools will systematically lead to
higher achievement. Figure 2 shows the overall record of states during
the past quarter century. Changes in real state spending per pupil are
uncorrelated with changes in 4th-grade student achievement in reading.
Similar results are obtained in math and in both math and reading at the
8th-grade level. Clearly, states have changed in many other ways than
just expenditure, but there is no reason to conclude from these data
that just providing money will by itself boost student achievement.
There now appears to be a general consensus that how money is spent
is much more important than how much is spent. In other words, the
research does not show that money never matters or that money cannot
matter. But, just providing more funds to a typical school district
without any change in incentives and operating rules is unlikely to lead
to systematic improvements in student outcomes. That is what Coleman
found, and that is what recent research says.
[FIGURE 4 OMITTED]
Such a conclusion does not, however, resolve the question about the
appropriate level of funding. Some argue that a certain level of funding
is "necessary" even if not "sufficient" for
improving student performance. Nonetheless, no research to date has
defined the level that is necessary or adequate. Such efforts are
continuously confounded by the fact that school funding is a rapidly
moving target, as average U.S. spending on schools has quadrupled in
real terms since 1960 (see Figure 3). Today, expenditures per pupil in
the United States exceed those of nearly every other country in the
world. Yet when it comes to student achievement, we see that U.S.
student performance is virtually unchanged from that in the early 1970s
(see Figure 4).
What remains to be unpacked is the precise ways in which
expenditure needs to be directed and administered if it is to lift
student achievement efficiently and effectively.
Lasting Impacts
The report's release quite dramatically changed the currency
of policy debate to student outcomes. Prior to the report, school
inputs--spending per pupil, teacher-pupil ratios, and the like--were
customarily viewed as roughly synonymous with results. But both the
approach and the conclusions of the Coleman Report altered this
perspective.
The largest impact of the Coleman Report has been in the linkage of
education research to education policy. It is difficult to find other
areas of public policy where there is such a clear and immediate path
from new research to the courts, to legislatures, and to policy
deliberations. It is not unusual for research findings of working papers
still with wet ink to be offered as proof that a new policy must be
enacted.
There is, of course, a downside to this linkage. Often, policy
research is cited when it gives the particular answer for which the
policymaker is searching. As a result, there is a noticeable tendency on
the part of many in the education policy world to cull the scientific
literature for studies that come to a desired result. The Coleman Report
has been twisted and turned in multiple ways by those who have a
specific political agenda. Subsequent studies have suffered a similar
fate.
Vastly more jarring is that the central goal of the report--the
development of an education system that provides equal educational
opportunity for all groups, and especially for racial minorities--has
not been attained. Achievement gaps remain nearly as large as they were
when Coleman and his team put pen to paper, even when better research
has suggested ways to close them and even when policies have been
promulgated that supposedly are explicitly designed to eliminate them.
by ERIC A. HANUSHEK
Eric A. Hanushek is senior fellow at the Hoover Institution at
Stanford University and research associate at the National Bureau of
Economic Research.
The Black-White Achievement Gap Persists (Figure 1)
The black-white achievement gaps for 12th graders, based on the 2013
National Assessment of Educational Progress, remain unacceptably large,
not much smaller than those identified by the Coleman Report for 1965.
Progress in closing the gaps outside of the South has been largely
disappointing.
(1a) Math
Standard deviation
1965 2013
Northeast 1.1 0.8
Midwest 1.0 1.0
South 1.1 0.8
West 1.0 0.9
(1b) Reading
Standard deviation
1965 2013
Northeast
Midwest
South
West
NOTES: Data for 1965 combine the South and Southwest regions as
"South." For the 2013 NAEP results, the foll wing states are included
in each region. Northeast: Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts, New
Hampshire, New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, and
Vermont. Midwest : Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Michigan,
Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, North Dakota, Ohio, South Dakota, and
Wisconsin. South: Alabama, Arkansas, Delaware, District of Columbia,
Florida, Georgia, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maryland, Mississippi, North
Carolina, Oklahoma, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Virginia, and
West Virginia. West: Alaska, Arizona, California, Colorado, Hawaii,
Idaho, Montana, Nevada, New Mexico, Oregon, Utah, Washington, and
Wyoming. For 1965, Colemaninc luded Arizona and New Mexico as part of
the West, and Delaware, Maryland, and Washington, D.C., as part of the
Northeast.
SOURCES: " Equality of Educational Opportunity" (1966), Table 3.121.3;
National Assessment of Educational Progress, National Center for
Education Statistics
Note: Table made from bar graph.