Tag: education

  • The Ethics of AI and Education

    Sermon copyright (c) 2026 Dan Harper. As delivered to First Parish in Cohasset. The text below has not been proofread. The sermon as delivered contained substantial improvisation.

    Readings

    The first reading was by John Dewey, from his book Democracy and Education:

    The second reading was from a June 4, 2023, article in the Financial Times titled “Sci-fi writer Ted Chiang: ‘The machines we have now are not conscious’”:

    Sermon

    Let’s talk about artificial intelligence and education. First of all, let’s think about what AI actually is. One problem here is the phrase “artificial intelligence” is so imprecise. I’m a science fiction fan, and to my ears it sounds like a phrase left over from 1950s science fiction. I agree with science fiction author Ted Chiang, that the phrase “artificial intelligence” is inaccurate; I’d even go so far as to say it represents sloppy thinking. I much prefer Chiang’s term “applied statistics.”

    Nevertheless, we’re stuck with the phrase “artificial intelligence.” But if by remembering that so-called AI is actually applied statistics, it becomes obvious that AI is a set of tools — just as hammers and saws belong to a set of tools, or armed drones and nuclear weapons belong to another set of tools. As with any set of tools, we as a society can choose which tools we use and how we use them.

    With all that in mind, I’d like to present three case, as a way to consider the ethics of AI in education. As you listen to these case studies, try not to go directly to your gut feelings. If you’re an AI booster, don’t immediately say AI is good; if you’re an AI gloom-and-doomer, don’t immediately say AI is bad. Instead of immediately rushing to judgement, let’s see if we can think through both the positive and the negative implications.

    Here’s the first case study:

    A young man named Russell is extremely bright and creative, and he has undiagnosed dyslexia. As a boy, Russell dabbled in the creative arts and experimented with various technological innovations; he also struggled with school, having great difficulty reading and writing. Now, at age 19, he has been admitted to a prestigious college, with plans to major in social sciences. However, he has to drop out after a semester because he is unable to complete his written work in time, and as a result fails a couple of his classes.

    Now here’s the question: Should Russell’s prestigious college allow him to use generative AI to assist him in completing his written assignments?

    On the one hand, here is someone who is obviously bright and creative, and potentially has a lot to offer to the world. By allowing him to use generative AI to help him edit his written assignments, the college could offer support for his learning disability, which would help him to become a productive member of society. On the face of it, this seems like a no-brainer — let Russell use AI to complete his writing assignments, as long as he makes it clear to his professors that he is doing so.

    On the other hand, remember that Russell has not been diagnosed with dyslexia; we know that he has dyslexia because we have the benefit of hindsight. His college does not know that he has dyslexia; for all they know, he could be lazy, or not bright enough for their prestigious college, or have some other fault. Plus, if they let him use generative AI, they have no way of determining if he’s only using it to help him edit, as opposed to letting AI completely write his papers.

    In addition, both Russell and his college should consider the privacy policy of whoever is providing the AI. Will that company store information about Russell, and what will they do with that information?(1) Both Russell and the college should also consider the inevitable biases that are present in generative AI, and consider that when generative AI injects third party biases into Russell’s work, it is likely that he will unthinkingly adopt those biases as his own.(2) How will Russell and his college address these biases? And of course we have to consider the environmental impact of the data centers used by AI companies due to their large power consumption.(3) As a society, how do we balance support for Russell’s dyslexia and the environmental impact of generative AI?

    Some of these ethical concerns might be addressed by having the college host an open-source AI model on its own servers; the college would then have some awareness of the biases in that AI model; they would have to possibility of finding renewable energy sources for that AI model; and so on. We might also suggest to that college that when a student seems to have difficulty completing assignments, they might want to have that student assessed for learning differences or learning disabilities. The point of fictional case studies like this one is to help us begin to consider what questions we will want to ask in the real world.

    This case study raises the larger issue of how we educate persons who have learning disabilities. Generative AI has obvious potential for helping students with certain learning disabilities, and given the tight budgets of most school districts, AI might be a crucial tool for special education programs. Which are the AI tools which might best help students with dyslexia? What are the downsides to those tools — might AI exploit them, or inject hidden biases into their thinking? These are the questions we be addressing here.

    One final comment: the young man in this case study is based on a real person — Russell Varian, who was extremely bright and seriously dyslexic; who struggled to graduate from Stanford University (in fact, Stanford refused to admit him to their doctorate program); and who went on to found Varian Associates, one of the very first Silicon Valley hi-tech companies.

    Let’s try another case study.

    A high school sophomore named Dolores has to write a four page paper for her English composition class. Dolores wants to go to college, and like most college-bound high school sophomores, she is already building her college resume. She is active in several extracurricular activities including Model United Nations, her school’s gay straight alliance, and the school newspaper. She’s active in sports, and having researched in which of her preferred sports she is most likely to receive a sports scholarship — her family cannot pay for her college education without some kind of scholarship — she has chosen rowing. In addition, she is active in her local congregation, where she volunteers regularly.

    As you can imagine, she has almost no free time, and she often has to cut short her sleep time in order to have enough time to complete her school work to the level of excellence for which she strives. She finishes a complete draft of her four page paper, and only needs to do some final editing, when her mother has a relapse of a recurring mental health problem, leaving Dolores to take on some household duties, including supervising her sixth-grade brother. She no longer has the time to do the final editing she had planned. The paper is due tomorrow. Is it ethical for her to use generative AI to help her complete the final edit of her four-page paper?

    On the one hand, we might say absolutely not. Her task as a high school sophomore in an English composition class is to learn the complete process of writing, from start to finish, including the final editing. So for her own sake, to maximize her personal learning, she should forgo using generative AI to edit her paper, even though it might result in a lower grade.

    On the other hand, we might say she should be allowed to use generative AI for this purpose, as long as she discloses the fact to her teacher. For one thing, more and more workplaces are integrating AI into employee workflows, and by learning how to use generative AI responsibly, under the guidance of a teacher, she will be better equipped to handle the challenges of using AI when she gets into the workplace. It’s also important to remember that Dolores is typical of many college-bound high school students, who feel compelled to fill their schedules with activities that will build her college resume; she does not have the luxury of earlier generations who could take all the time they needed to learn how to write and edit their own work. And finally, given her mother’s sudden health crisis, we could ask whether she should have to receive a lower grade because she prioritizes her family responsibilities over school work.

    This case study is based on a composite of teens I have known. As a composite, the details are going to be vague. Nevertheless, there should be enough here for us to explore some of the questions we have about using generative AI in school.

    First of all, the reality is that college-bound students face lots of external pressures, and many of them are already using generative AI to complete assignments. Instead of trying to close the barn door after the horse has escaped, perhaps we should shift our expectations of our educational system so that we teach teens how to use AI responsibly.(4) If we start thinking along these lines, that raises the question of how generative AI might be used responsibly in the classroom. In one obvious example, AI could be used for doing research in much the same way that Wikipedia is already being used by students; in both cases, we can teach students that the results they get may not be correct; that they have to look for hidden biases; that they need to track down original sources of information; and so on.

    We can also consider irresponsible uses of AI in education. Cheating is one obvious irresponsible use of AI. But remember, students are already using technology to cheat. For example, there are online services that will write your paper or complete your homework for a modest fee — and since generative AI is basically free, perhaps AI is good insofar as it helps make cheating accessible to poor students as well as to more wealthy students.

    Beyond cheating, what are other irresponsible uses of AI in education? And we might ask: Why do we need AI to assist students? AI is often promoted as a way to increase efficiency, so we might ask why is it important for education to become more efficient. Is it because greater efficiency improves learning, or is it because greater efficiency makes it more likely to be accepted by an elite college, or is there some other reason? Or perhaps greater efficiency means a cost savings to the school district, allowing costly human employees to be replaced with machine tutors — and this may sound harsh in the relatively wealthy school districts of our area, but there are some school districts where AI tutors might be hugely helpful.

    The reality is that we rely on a factory model of education. Educational historians have shown that in the mid-twentieth century our schools were quite literally designed to be factories. We haven’t ever broken away from that model. The factory model of education is designed to deal with masses of children with ever greater efficiency, so we can lower costs and increase productivity. By the inherent logic of our educational system, of course we should be using AI to help teach kids. Yet this might prompt us to ask: In our educational system, are children always considered to be ends in themselves rather than means? And if we deploy AI in our educational system, will that help us to treat children as ends in themselves rather than means? Educational philosopher John Dewey, the author of our first reading, was asking similar questions a hundred years ago as the factory model of schooling was emerging; we have to constantly ask these kinds of ethical questions.

    Having said that, we might then ask whether AI tools are being developed that are designed specifically for supporting teaching and learning. We’ve already seen how other technological innovations can be adapted to work specifically for education — for example, course management software has helped make teachers more efficient by relieving them of some of the administrative drudgery of teaching. Both students and teachers are already using AI tools. How might things be different if the people designing generative AI worked with teachers and students so that AI tools would actually meet the needs of students and teachers? Who would pay for developing these hypothetical education-specific AI tools (the nonprofit education company Khan Academy offers one such model)?

    Let’s do one more quick case study.

    I recently learned about a company that’s developing an AI-based tool to create curriculum supplement with location-specific content for middle school and high school biology teachers to teach about local ecosystems. This company plans to draw on open source biodiversity data to generate lesson plans about specific organisms that have been found in the immediate area of any given school. This would help the teacher customize a generic curriculum and allow them to carry out a biology project rooted in local biodiversity.

    On the one hand, we could say this is a good use of AI because it allows a teacher who ordinarily wouldn’t the time to customize a biology curriculum to their local ecosystem. Furthermore, it allows teachers to remain in charge of their teaching; it makes the teacher more efficient, while leaving the final use of the curriculum supplement up to their professional judgement.

    On the other hand, in this specific case, it is not clear to me that biology teachers need or want this kind of curriculum supplement. In other words, do we start with the needs of the teachers and students and educational systems, or do we instead simply create AI-based tools without asking if they provide any real educational value? Many discussions of AI in education do not discuss what teachers and local schools actually need, let alone what students actually need.

    Additionally, many discussions of AI in education show little awareness of curriculum design principles, educational philosophies, the psychology of learners, pedagogical methods, and so on. Yet there are really good models of how an independent company can develop technological resources based on sound educational principles. One example is Khan Academy, an educational technology nonprofit currently developing AI tools. The staff of Khan Academy includes both technology experts and professional educators to guide the development of educational technology, and they are already developing AI tools for students based on sound educational principles. This might prompt us to ask whether the nonprofit sector is the best place to develop educational technology; for-profit companies do not have the same luxury of hiring a large staff of educators.

    That’s the end of the case studies. Let me see if I can wrap this up.

    Earlier this week, I was talking with Kate Sullivan, our director of education, about AI and education; as you may know, Kate has a doctorate in developmental psychology, so I wanted to hear her opinions. She said, “It all goes to the question, ‘What is humanity?’” As she so often does, Kate got right to the heart of the issue. What is it to be human? This question lies at the root of all education. Many of our school systems have to focus on education as a way to learn how to earn a living: education is a means to an end, and the end is getting a good job; children are a means to an end, and the end is contributing to the economy. Obviously we have to eat to live, and so we have to earn a living. But as a wise rabbi once said, human beings do not live on bread alone; we also need that which is sacred or divine, in order to be fully human. The best teachers bring out that sacred spark in their students. And so we ask ourselves: Can AI be used for something more than helping children become productive economic units? The current hype around AI emphasizes cost savings, better test scores, and so on. What if the hype emphasized the sacredness of every child, of every human being? How would that change the conversation?

    So while I don’t have any final answers about the ethics of AI in education, I can give you some questions to ask. When we are trying to decide together about how we will use AI in education, we are going to want to ask: Is AI being used merely to help children become means to someone else’s economic ends? Or is it being used in service of the sacredness of every human being?

  • Religion and Public Education

    Sermon copyright (c) 2025 Dan Harper. As delivered to First Parish in Cohasset. The sermon as delivered contained substantial improvisation. The text below has typographical errors, missing words, etc.

    Readings

    The first reading was the poem “Theme for English B” by Langston Hughes.

    The second reading was from the essay “The Need of an Industrial Education in an Industrial Democracy” by John Dewey:

    “It is no accident that all democracies have put a high estimate upon education; that schooling has been their first care and enduring charge. Only through education can equality of opportunity be anything more than a phrase. Accidental inequalities of birth, wealth, and learning are always tending to restrict the opportunities of some as compared with those of others. Only free and continued education can counteract those forces which are always at work to restore, in however changed a form, feudal oligarchy. Democracy has to be born anew every generation, and education is its midwife.” [John Dewey, Manual Training and Vocational Education (1916)]

    Sermon: “Religion and Public Education”

    Unitarian Universalism has a long history of being concerned with public education. This begins at least as far back as the work of Horace Mann, a Unitarian who served as Secretary of Education in Massachusetts in the mid-nineteenth century, and did more than anyone to establish the idea of universal, free, non-sectarian public schools as the norm in the United States. Our own congregation was also deeply involved in public education in the mid-nineteenth century; we allowed our then-minister, Joseph Osgood, to serve as the superintendent of the town’s schools while he was serving as minister. Osgood worked tirelessly at the local level for the same goal of universal, free, non-sectarian schools.

    The involvement of Unitarians, and to a lesser extent Universalists, in public education continued through the late twentieth century. Many Unitarians became teachers; many Unitarians served on their local school boards; and Unitarians also advocated tirelessly for universal, free, non-sectarian public education at the national and state levels. Our reasons for doing so are fairly straightforward. We Unitarian Universalists believe that public schools are essential for a strong democracy; and we believe in democracy as the governmental system best designed to help us establish a society oriented towards truth and goodness. We are well aware that both democracy and public education are imperfect vehicles for helping to establish a society devoted to truth and goodness. Both democracy and public education can be diverted away from truth and goodness, towards lesser goals like personal gain and power politics. But, to paraphrase the old saying, so far they’re better than any other system anyone has come up with. And public education is essential to democracy because an informed electorate is essential to democracy.

    Besides, we Unitarian Universalists are idealists, in the sense that we believe in the perfectibility of humanity. As the Unitarian minister Theodore Parker said, and as Martin Luther King, Jr., later paraphrased, the moral arc of the universe may be long, but it bends towards justice. Thus the reasons why we Unitarian Universalists support public education are fairly straightforward. I’d like to review with you some of our past support for public education, and then I’d like to talk about why we should recommit ourselves to public education.

    And by looking back at education in Cohasset, we can see how far we’ve come. Prior to about 1830, those who wanted their children to have more than basic literacy had to pay for their children’s schooling. Younger children paid to attend “dame schools,” often taught by a widow who needed income. For young teens who wanted the equivalent of a high school education, Jacob Flint, minister at First Parish until 1835 and one of the few people in town with a college education, would prepare students for college for a fee. There was also the Academy, a private school organized in 1796 by well-to-do parents who wanted to prepare their children for college. Cohasset finally established a public high school in 1826. At first, the town’s high school was so poorly funded that it shared a teacher with the Academy, and only operated when the Academy was not in session.

    Cohasset finally established a school board in 1830, and that committee slowly improved the town’s public education offerings. By 1840, the “dame schools” had mostly given way to publicly funded primary education. It took longer to establish a year-round high school; it wasn’t until 1847 that the town finally provided funding to keep high school open for all year.

    When our congregation hired Joseph Osgood as our minister in 1842, we specifically chose him because he had a background in education. According to town historian Victor Bigelow, Joseph Osgood brought about “uniform teaching and systematic promotion in our schools.” Osgood established graded classrooms and regular oversight of teachers. To support his efforts, Osgood could point to the work of Horace Mann. To train teachers, Mann had founded three so-called “normal schools” across the state; one of these normal schools was in Bridgewater (now Bridgewater State University). Mann also published “The Common School Journal,” a periodical filled with practical advice and best practices. No doubt Joseph Osgood read “The Common School Journal,” and (when he could) hired his teacher from the Bridgewater normal school.

    Of special interest to us today, given what’s going on in public education elsewhere in the United States, is that both Osgood and Mann believed that publicly funded education should be non-sectarian. This did not mean that Horace Mannn believed that religion should be excluded from the public schools; it only meant that no one denomination or sect should have control over what was taught. In 1848, Mann wrote: “our system earnestly inculcates all Christian morals; it founds its morals based on religion; it welcomes the religion of the Bible; and, in receiving the Bible, it allows it to do what it is allowed to do in no other system — to speak for itself. But here it stops, not because it claims to have compassed all truth; but because it disclaims to act as an umpire between hostile religious opinions.”(1)

    I think Mann was wrong in saying that public schools should be founded on Christian morals. In his own day, there were Jews and freethinkers in Massachusetts who did not wish to have their children inculcated with Christian morals. Even among the Christians of Massachusetts, it proved impossible to find common ground. Roman Catholics felt that Massachusetts public schools taught Protestant Christianity, with the result that they established Catholic parochial schools to provide appropriate schooling for their children; indeed, Catholics sometimes referred to public schools as “Protestant parochial schools.”

    Yet although I don’t agree with everything that was done by the mid-nineteenth century educational reformers, people like Horace Mann and Joseph Osgood, I give them credit for greatly extending the reach of free public schools. Here in Cohasset, Joseph Osgood provided leadership to extend the school year, and to open the schools to as many children as possible. Over time, other educational reformers worked to further extend the reach of the public schools, and to further reform the content of public schooling.

    One of those reformers was one of my personal heroes, Elizabeth Palmer Peabody. A Unitarian and a teacher, Peabody became interested in the education of young children. She traveled to Europe to learn about a new educational approach called kindergarten. Peabody and other educators helped to establish kindergarten as an accepted part of the public school system, extending free schooling down to five-year-olds.

    One of the people Elizabeth Palmer Peabody trained was Lucy Wheelock, who went on to found Wheelock College. My mother got her teacher training at Wheelock College while Lucy Wheelock was still active, and thus had a direct connection to Elizabeth Palmer Peabody. My mother was both a career schoolteacher and a lifelong Unitarian, and I’d like to use my mother’s example to talk about the connection between mid-twentieth century Unitarians and public education.

    Unitarianism in the mid-twentieth century was deeply influenced by the Progressive movement. Please note that what was meant by “Progressive” back then is not what is meant by the adjective “progressive” today. The Progressives of that time (spelled with a capital “P”) wanted to reform human society: they believed in the essential goodness of human beings; they believed in the capacity of human beings to progressively establish a more just and humane society; they believed in the power of reason; they believed in democracy. They differed from today’s progressives (spelled with no capital “P”) in that the older Progressives founded their Progressivism in their liberal religious outlook; by contrast many of today’s progressives either have no religious outlook, or they try to divorce their religious outlook from their politics. I’d even say that the earlier Progressivism was not so much a political movement as it was a religious movement.

    The wars and economic disasters of the mid-twentieth century caused many people to abandon Progressivism, to abandon their hope for progressively establishing a more humane and just human society. These other people turned to a grim view of humanity, and a grim view of human society; we can see some of this grimmer outlook in today’s political progressives.

    But we Unitarians and the Universalists, and some other liberal religious groups, held on to our belief that human beings are basically good. We held on to our belief that human society can be improved through human effort. My mother was one of that generation of mid-twentieth century Unitarians who believed we could make the world better. Like so many Unitarians of her generation, she and her twin sister both trained to become teachers. This was a classic strategy of Progressivism: to reform the world through education. With their sunny view of human nature, my mother and her twin were drawn to John Dewey’s educational philosophy. Dewey said that it was through public education that we could establish a truly democratic society. Dewey taught that “only free and continued education can counteract those forces which are always at work to restore, in however changed a form, feudal oligarchy.”

    My mother’s idealism was quickly tested. She got her first job right after the Second World War ended, teaching kindergarten in the public schools in Fort Ticonderoga, New York. In 1946, Fort Ticonderoga was a backwater. At the end of her first year of teaching, the school principal told her that if she wanted to continue teaching in Fort Ticonderoga, she would have to begin to use corporal punishment. This went against my mother’s belief in progressive education. She found another job.

    She wound up teaching in the Wilmington, Delaware, public schools when those schools were being desegregated. Once while she was walking down the street with her class, some men drove by and shouted racial slurs because she, a White woman, was holding the hand of a Black kindergartener.(2) The Progressive Unitarian teachers of the mid-twentieth century believed, with John Dewey, that “Democracy has to be born anew every generation, and education is its midwife.” In the 1950s and 1960s, the crisis in democracy centered on racial segregation; and educators and education were the midwives to a very messy birth of equal access to the public schools, all in service of strengthening democracy.

    Today, seventy-five years later, we face a different educational crisis, and we Unitarian Universalists are still trying to figure out how to respond. The current presidential administration is in the news this week with their efforts to dissolve the U.S. Department of Education. While this act grabbed the headlines, it’s actually just one event in a longer history of efforts to privatize education. These efforts can be traced in part back to the work of the influential economist Milton Friedman. In 1955, about the time when thugs were shouting racial epithets at my mother, Milton Friedman wrote an essay titled “The Role of Government in Education,” in which he advocated for what he called school choice, based on a voucher system. School choice has been widely adopted both by both political and religious conservatives, and by political and religious liberals. Friedman’s ideas for school choice are rooted in his notion that economic freedom is the crucial freedom that a democracy needs to flourish.

    We are in the process of discovering some of the downsides to school choice as promoted by Milton Friedman. School choice policies have encouraged for-profit companies to get involved in education. In theory, this is not a bad thing, but it has led to a definite tendency to establish financial profit as the most important goal of a school, rather than education. School choice also means that one city can see separate schools reflecting the values of a small group of families rather than the wider community. In theory, this is not a bad thing, and indeed Unitarian Universalists have used school choice to establish charter schools that reflect their ideals and values. But this goes against the notion that public schools are where we can learn to live with people who are different from us, an essential skill in a democracy.

    At the same time, school choice could be a useful tool for promoting educational reform, because it allows for the testing of innovative ideas. If school vouchers existed in the day of Elizabeth Palmer Peabody, perhaps she might have established a charter school to demonstrate that kindergartens really do benefit young children. Similarly, we can imagine John Dewey establishing a charter school, to show that the educational methods he first tried out in the University of Chicago laboratory school could also work in a public school.

    And we do face some serious educational problems today. For example, the quality of the schooling a child gets depends a great deal on what city or town they live in. In 2023, the high school graduation rate in Cohasset, where I now live, was 98.3%; in that same year, the high school graduation rate in New Bedford, where I used to live, was 78.6%.(3) Nor can this disparity be explained solely by the per-pupil expenditures; for while Cohasset does spend more, at $23,212.40 per pupil in 2023, New Bedford is not that far behind, at $20,943.37 per pupil in 2023. The reasons behind these educational disparities in Massachusetts are hotly debated, and I’m certainly not qualified to end that debate. My point is simply this: educational reform is still necessary to ensure that all children have equal access to education, and to ensure an informed electorate which is necessary for democracy.

    Unitarian Universalists used to see education as a key area where we could make a difference in helping to improve human society. After all, we are one of the top two or three most-educated of all religious groups; thus not only do we place a high value on education ourselves, but our educational attainments mean we should be able to help strengthen the educational system of this country. And as a religious group, we remain committed to education, both as a way to strengthen democracy, and as a way to allow human potential to flourish.

    Yet it feels to me as though Unitarian Universalism, as a wider movement, has drifted away from seeing education as a key area where we can make a difference. In the past couple of decades, I’ve heard lots of Unitarian Universalists talk about their commitment to social justice, but I’ve rarely heard a Unitarian Universalist say that their commitment to social justice led them to get elected to their local School Committee, or try to influence state or local policy on education. Similarly, in the past couple of decades, I’ve often heard older Unitarian Universalists encouraging young people to go to college to “get a good job”; much less often have I heard older Unitarian Universalists encouraging young people to go to college so they can become teachers. And in our denominational publications, I read quite a bit about how we should be active in promoting justice, but I don’t read much about the importance of teachers and teaching and education.

    Our own congregation is better at seeing education as a central way for us to make a difference. We have quite a few teachers and educators in our congregation, and we honor them and their profession. I’ve listened to older Unitarian Universalists in our congregation encourage young people to follow careers in teaching. A primary part of our mission as a congregation is operating Carriage House Nursery School, a progressive educational institution providing innovation in the area of outdoors education for young children. I should also mention that our congregation provides state-of-the-art comprehensive sexuality education for early adolescents and a week-long ecology day camp; these are both small programs, but they fill an educational need here in Cohasset.

    In these and other ways, we’re continuing Joseph Osgood’s legacy. We still consider teaching and education to be a central part of our purpose; we still consider teaching and education to be a central part of how we contribute to the betterment of human society. It might be worth our while to be a little more forthcoming about taking credit for all the ways our congregation supports public education, supports early education, supports teachers, supports other kinds of education — and for us to be a little more forthcoming in taking credit for the way we are thus supporting and strengthening democracy.

    Notes

    (1) Horace Mann, Life and Works of Horace Mann, vol. III, ed. Mary Mann, “Annual Report on Education for 1848,” pp. 729-730.
    (2) I don’t know when exactly this took place. My mother left Wilmington, Del., c. 1956; I can’t find out when primary schools were desegregated. One source I consulted said that desegregation didn’t occur until after the 1954 Supreme Court ruling; see: Matthew Albright, “Wilmington has long, messy education history”, The [Wilmington, Del.] News Journal, 10 June 2016 accessed 22 March 2025 https://www.delawareonline.com/story/news/education/2016/06/10/wilmington-education-history/85602856/
    (3) The Massachusetts Department of Education has a website where you can compare educational outcomes between school districts: go to the “DESE Directory of Datasets and Reports” webpage, click on “School and district performance summaries.” https://www.mass.gov/info-details/dese-directory-of-datasets-and-reports#school-and-district-performance-and-indicators-

  • Education and Our Congregation

    Sermon is copyright (c) 2022 Dan Harper. Delivered to First Parish in Cohasset. The sermon text may contain typographical errors. The sermon as preached included a significant amount of improvisation.

    Reading: “For You O Democracy”

    Come, I will make the continent indissoluble,
    I will make the most splendid race the sun ever shone upon,
    I will make divine magnetic lands,
    With the love of comrades,
    With the life-long love of comrades.

    I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of America, and along the shores of the great lakes, and all over the prairies,
    I will make inseparable cities with their arms about each other’s necks,
    By the love of comrades,
    By the [life-long] love of comrades.

    For you these from me, O Democracy, to serve you…!
    For you, for you I am trilling these songs.

    — Walt Whitman


    Sermon: “Education and Our Congregation”

    We Unitarian Universalists have our “seven principles,” a statement of values that our congregations agree to. These seven principles are not a creed, mind you; they’re a set of value statements. And one of those seven values statements talks about how we “affirm and promote” … “the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large.” I will make an even stronger statement than this. We do not just affirm and promote democratic process. I’m convinced our Unitarian Universalist congregations have an important role to play in maintaining a healthy democracy.

    Yet in spite of my firm conviction that our Unitarian Universalist congregations help maintain a healthy democracy, I find it difficult to explain how we do this. The role we play in maintaining a healthy democracy is not simple and straightforward; it is subtle and complex. This morning, I would like to speak with you about one of the more important ways we help maintain a healthy democracy. And that is that we train our young people — our children in teens — in the democratic process. Our religious education programs support healthy democracy. It may not be part of the explicit curriculum we teach, but democratic process is central to our implicit curriculum; it is woven into everything our young people do in our congregation.

    Our Unitarian Universalist religious education programs have four main goals. First, we aim have fun together and build community. Second, we want children to gain basic skills associated with liberal religion, such as public speaking, skills of cooperation, interpersonal skills, intrapersonal skills, basic group singing, and so on. Third, we aim to teach basic religious literacy. Fourth, we want to prepare young people to become Unitarian Universalists, if they choose to do so when they’re old enough to decide on their own.

    Now let me explain how each of these four educational goals helps teach young people how to participate in democracy.

    The first of our educational goals is to have fun and build community. On the surface, this is an entirely pragmatic goal. Religious education is but one of a great many options open to children and teens. If our programs are going to compete with sports, robotics, or video games, our programs had better be fun. But on a deeper level, we need children and teens to feel that they are a part of a community before we can reach some of the other goals. For example, when we offer Our Whole Lives comprehensive sexuality education classes, young people need to feel relatively safe talking with one another when it comes time to talk about difficult issues and to think about personal goals.

    This same principle applies to us adults. We can work more effectively together on committees if we first take the time to get to know one another. It’s easier to rely on one another for help during life’s adversities, if we’ve taken the time to get to know one another first. Then, too, when the inevitable conflict arise, it is easier to manage those conflict productively if we know one another first.

    For both adults and young people, we know the basic techniques of building community and having fun together. Eating together is a great way to have fun and build community. Before starting a Sunday school class, or a committee meeting, we take time to check in with one another, each person sharing something about what’s going on in their personal lives. Working together on a common project is actually one of the most effective ways to build community.

    This is true of society beyond our congregations, too. Out in California, I volunteered at a homeless shelter, and one of the other volunteers belonged to the local Christian evangelical church. We strongly disagreed with each other about things like abortion, homosexuality, and climate change, but our shared work at the homeless shelter meant we developed respect for each other. Once people have developed mutual respect through sharing work and fun, we are much less likely to demonize one another when we start debating polarizing political issues. Since demonizing others is destructive to democracy, then we can see how learning to build community helps strengthen democracy.

    The second goal for our religious education programs is to build the skills associated with liberal religion. Partly, we want to give young people skills to work together towards common goals. We want them to be able to serve on committees when they get older, so we teach them how to compromise, how to look for common ground, how to disagree respectfully, and so on. We want them to be able to communicate their ideas clearly and without being nervous, so we help them speak in small groups such as classes — and a key feature of our Coming of Age programs for grade 8 through 10 is helping young people to speak with ease and comfort in front of the entire congregation. We teach them interpersonal skills, skills like listening well to others, searching for common goals, being empathetic, and so on. We teach them intrapersonal skills, skills like learning how to identify one’s own feelings, learning where the core of one’s being is, moderating one’s own feelings.

    Our democracy would be stronger if more people learned these skills. Our democracy needs people who can aim for the highest ideals but who also know when and how to compromise. Our democracy needs people who know how to speak well in public, not to manipulate others, but to encourage people to work together. Our democracy needs people who have enough self-awareness to know what they feel and to know how to listen to the feelings of others.

    Another of the skills associated with liberal religion is group singing. Believe it or not, group singing can also serve to strengthen democracy. When we sing together, interesting physiological and psychological things happen to us. Group singing releases hormones that help moderate the amygdala. The amygdala, sometimes called the “lizard brain,” generates some of our most primitive and destructive emotions, so moderating the amygdala is a good thing. In addition, when we sing together, our breathing and our heart rates synchronize, and I believe this physiological response can help people of all ages learn empathy at a deep level.

    So all these skills associated with liberal religion, even group singing, can help young people build a strong democracy.

    On to the third educational goal: religious literacy. This is not an abstract academic educational goal. Several years ago, I attended a presentation by a doctoral candidate who was researching religious literacy. She found that good religious literacy programs in high school and middle school measurably reduce bullying. Her research supports what the American Academy of Religion says about religious il-literacy: “One of the most troubling and urgent consequences of religious illiteracy is that it often fuels prejudice and antagonism, thereby hindering efforts aimed at promoting respect for diversity, peaceful coexistence, and cooperative endeavors in local, national, and global arenas.” So says the American Academy of Religion in their religious literacy guidelines for grades K-12.

    You have to understand that for most people, religion has little to do with intellectual assent to doctrines or philosophical positions. Instead, religion has more in common with the expressive arts, with political life, with culture more generally. The big divide is not between religion and science, but between science and the arts and humanities. Just as the arts and humanities teach us how to have a deeper understanding of other human beings, so too does religious literacy.

    And thus we can conclude that learning religious literacy will help strengthen democracy.

    Finally, a brief mention of our fourth educational goal: we want to prepare children and teens to become Unitarian Universalists if they choose to do so when they’re old enough to decide on their own. Even this educational goal has a bearing on educating for democracy. Large democracies are made up of smaller groups with different priorities and values. In a healthy democracy, people in these smaller groups have a firm understanding of who they are. They have a nuanced understanding of their core values, and they know that they can choose these values freely. This is exactly the kind of self-knowledge that’s involved in helping young people decide if they are Unitarian Universalists. So even this fourth goal of ours strengthens democracy, by helping young people grow in self-knowledge and self-awareness.

    So we teach community building. We teach skills that happen to be useful in a democracy. We teach religious literacy, or cross-cultural understanding. We teach self-knowledge and self-awareness.

    All these educational goals teach things that lead to a healthy democracy. A healthy democracy needs people who are know how to build community with one another. A healthy democracy needs people who have skills like empathy, listening well to others, public speaking, and many of the skills that are associated with doing liberal religion. A healthy democracy needs people with skills in cross-cultural understanding. A healthy democracy needs people with self-knowledge and self-awareness.

    So you see, the ways in which we teach democratic process to our young people are sometimes subtle and often complex. Yet these are exactly the kinds of skills our young people need to learn. We live in a time when our democracy is in danger precisely because so many Americans lack the skills we teach. When we teach our children the things we teach, we are sending people out into the world who have the skills our country needs.