Why does nobody want to become a teacher?

JDN 2457366

The United States is currently suffering a large and growing shortage of qualified teachers, particularly in grades K-12. In some particular areas, this shortage is extremely acute; high schools are not able to teach some courses because there is simply no one qualified to teach them. Science and math teachers are in particularly high demand, because these programs are being expanded even as the people qualified to teach them are shifting over to working at the college level or in the private sector.

Other countries are also suffering severe teacher shortages, including the UK and several other countries in the EU.
The problem is projected to get worse: Enrollments in teacher training are rapidly declining. Meanwhile, because somewhere along the way people got convinced that the problem with education is that our teachers aren’t smart enough (this is completely, totally wrong by the way), standards for becoming a teacher are becoming ever more stringent, narrowing the pool even more.

This is a very serious problem, because education—often called “human capital investment” in economic jargon—is one of the most important investments any society can make. Indeed, it may be the most important, the one factor of production that is absolutely indispensable. If you run out of one raw material, you can make products out of something else. Manual labor can be replaced by machines. If you don’t have enough machines, you can build more. But if you find yourself without anyone who knows how to read and do arithmetic, how are you going to replace that? If we imagine a scenario like being trapped on a desert island or colonizing Mars where we have to start from scratch and we are only allowed to have one factor of production, education is the one we would want to have. (I guess if it’s Mars you do need a certain bare minimum of physical capital, like a spacesuit.)

The teacher shortage is most acute in high-poverty areas, where educational outcomes are terrible. Indeed, the most important cause of the failings of the US education system has always been poverty.

Why are teachers in poor schools so underqualified? Because their working conditions are terrible. Turnover is extremely high because teachers are underpaid, the schools are undersupplied, and their administrators do not support them.

Why are there so many teachers not qualified to teach their subjects? Because people who are qualified can find better jobs in other places. Jobs just as rewarding, that make just as large a contribution to society, which are more pleasant, offer more autonomy, and pay a lot better.

If you are an expert in physics, you could become a physicist and make a median income of $106,000.

If you are an expert in economics, you could become an economist and make a median income of $92,000.

If you are an expert in biology, you could become a biochemist and make a median income of $81,000.

Or, instead of all those things, you could become a high school teacher and make a median income of $55,000. Gee, I wonder which one you’re going to do?

Keep that in mind if it sounds ridiculous to you to pay teachers $100,000 salaries.

Even in wealthy schools, teachers are miserable; I have this on direct testimony from my father, who has taught high school in Ann Arbor for almost 20 years now. There are a lot of teachers who believe in making a difference through education, but quickly become burnt out and leave for better working conditions.

I know in my own case that I’m not planning on teaching high school, even though I know I’d be very good at it and I’ve always found teaching very rewarding. I’d actually be qualified to teach several subjects, from mathematics to social studies and even including physics and Latin. Any public school would be thrilled to have me—but probably not thrilled enough to pay me as much as I’d get from a university, international institution, or policy think-tank. So it’s hard for me to justify the career decision of going into public education.

The absolute highest-paid teacher in the Ann Arbor Public Schools is paid $109,000 gross—and Ann Arbor is one of the highest-paying school systems in the nation, and not coincidentally also one of the best. Most of the professors at the University of Michigan are paid over $100,000 gross and some are paid over $300,000. (As a public school, the University of Michigan releases all its salaries.)

So, you’re living in Ann Arbor… you have a graduate degree… you want to work in education; you could either start at $40,000 and maybe work your way up to $100,000 by teaching high school, or you could start at $100,000 and maybe work your way up to $300,000 by teaching college. (Admittedly, to teach in college you generally also need to do research work and probably get a PhD; so it’s not quite an equal comparison. But the most-qualified educators would be good at either job.)

Economics, along with most science and math fields, pays particularly well outside education. This senior economist position at the World Bank pays at grade GG, which is a minimum starting net salary of $102,000.
How can we solve our teacher shortage? It’s really quite simple: Offer higher salaries for teachers. If you want the best-qualified people in your classrooms, you must pay salaries that attract the best-qualified people. If you pay substandard salaries, you’re going to attract substandard talent. “Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach” isn’t a law of nature; it’s a result of public policy decisions to keep teachers systematically underpaid.

Most of the time when people say “It’s just ECON 101”, they don’t actually understand economics very well and likely have not actually taken ECON 101. But this really basically is a question of ECON 101: Supply and demand. If you have a shortage of something, not enough people willing to produce it compared to the number of people who want to buy it, you must raise the price.

Would that be expensive? Yes it would. Doubling the salary of every teacher would raise total spending on education by about 75%, because teacher compensation is about three-quarters of education spending. This would raise US K-12 education spending from about $600 billion per year to more like $1.05 trillion per year, an additional $450 billion per year in public spending, or a little less than $1,500 per American per year. That is not a small amount of money; indeed, it’s about three times what we’d need to end world hunger. And this is actually an underestimate, since we also hope to hire more teachers and should also improve facilities while we’re at it. So a truly comprehensive educational reform project could very well double our total spending on K-12 education to $1.2 trillion.

And if you want to go up there on a podium and actually tell people, “It would be nice to improve our educational system, but we simply can’t afford to do it without raising taxes unreasonably high!” then that is absolutely a reasonable argument to make. There are always tradeoffs in life. At some point, maybe it really isn’t worth spending an extra million dollars to educate one more child. (Is it worth an extra million dollars to educate two more children? Based on net present value of earnings, yes. And frankly I don’t think net present value of earnings even gets close to assessing the true value of an education; it’s a very weak lower bound.)

But I am sick and tired of people saying “Education is our highest priority!” and then refusing to actually spend the money it would take to improve our educational system. This is not a question of “finding solutions”; we know what to do. Raise teacher salaries. Improve schools. Buy new textbooks. People just aren’t willing to actually pony up the cash to do it. They want an easy way out, some simple way of making education better that somehow won’t cost anything. But we’ve been searching for that for awhile now—don’t you think we’d have found it by now?

What’s wrong with academic publishing?

JDN 2457257 EDT 14:23.

I just finished expanding my master’s thesis into a research paper that is, I hope, suitable for publication in an economics journal. As part of this process I’ve been looking into the process of submitting articles for publication in academic journals… and I’ve found has been disgusting and horrifying. It is astonishingly bad, and my biggest question is why researchers put up with it.

Thus, the subject of this post is what’s wrong with the system—and what we might do instead.

Before I get into it, let me say that I don’t actually disagree with “publish or perish” in principle—as SMBC points out, it’s a lot like “do your job or get fired”. Researchers should publish in peer-reviewed journals; that’s a big part of what doing research means. The problem is how most peer-reviewed journals are currently operated.

First of all, in case you didn’t know, most scientific journals are owned by for-profit corporations. The largest corporation Elsevier, owns The Lancet and all of ScienceDirect, and has net income of over 1 billion Euros a year. Then there’s Springer and Wiley-Blackwell; between the three of them, these publishers account for over 40% of all scientific publications. These for-profit publishers retain the full copyright to most of the papers they publish, and tightly control access with paywalls; the cost to get through these paywalls is generally thousands of dollars a year for individuals and millions of dollars a year for universities. Their monopoly power is so great it “makes Rupert Murdoch look like a socialist.”

For-profit journals do often offer an “open-access” option in which you basically buy back your own copyright, but the price is high—the most common I’ve seen are $1800 or $3000 per paper—and very few researchers do this, for obvious financial reasons. In fact I think for a full-time tenured faculty researcher it’s probably worth it, given the alternatives. (Then again, full-time tenured faculty are becoming an endangered species lately; what might be worth it in the long run can still be very difficult for a cash-strapped adjunct to afford.) Open-access means people can actually read your paper and potentially cite your paper. Closed-access means it may languish in obscurity.

And of course it isn’t just about the benefits for the individual researcher. The scientific community as a whole depends upon the free flow of information; the reason we publish in the first place is that we want people to read papers, discuss them, replicate them, challenge them. Publication isn’t the finish line; it’s at best a checkpoint. Actually one thing that does seem to be wrong with “publish or perish” is that there is so much pressure for publication that we publish too many pointless papers and nobody has time to read the genuinely important ones.

These prices might be justifiable if the for-profit corporations actually did anything. But in fact they are basically just aggregators. They don’t do the peer-review, they farm it out to other academic researchers. They don’t even pay those other researchers; they just expect them to do it. (And they do! Like I said, why do they put up with this?) They don’t pay the authors who have their work published (on the contrary, they often charge submission fees—about $100 seems to be typical—simply to look at them). It’s been called “the world’s worst restaurant”, where you pay to get in, bring your own ingredients and recipes, cook your own food, serve other people’s food while they serve yours, and then have to pay again if you actually want to be allowed to eat.

They pay for the printing of paper copies of the journal, which basically no one reads; and they pay for the electronic servers that host the digital copies that everyone actually reads. They also provide some basic copyediting services (copyediting APA style is a job people advertise on Craigslist—so you can guess how much they must be paying).

And even supposing that they actually provided some valuable and expensive service, the fact would remain that we are making for-profit corporations the gatekeepers of the scientific community. Entities that exist only to make money for their owners are given direct control over the future of human knowledge. If you look at Cracked’s “reasons why we can’t trust science anymore”, all of them have to do with the for-profit publishing system. p-hacking might still happen in a better system, but publishers that really had the best interests of science in mind would be more motivated to fight it than publishers that are simply trying to raise revenue by getting people to buy access to their papers.

Then there’s the fact that most journals do not allow authors to submit to multiple journals at once, yet take 30 to 90 days to respond and only publish a fraction of what is submitted—it’s almost impossible to find good figures on acceptance rates (which is itself a major problem!), but the highest figures I’ve seen are 30% acceptance, a more typical figure seems to be 10%, and some top journals go as low as 3%. In the worst-case scenario you are locked into a journal for 90 days with only a 3% chance of it actually publishing your work. At that rate publishing an article could take years.

Is open-access the solution? Yes… well, part of it, anyway.

There are a large number of open-access journals, some of which do not charge submission fees, but very few of them are prestigious, and many are outright predatory. Predatory journals charge exorbitant fees, often after accepting papers for publication; many do little or no real peer review. There are almost seven hundred known predatory open-access journals; over one hundred have even been caught publishing hoax papers. These predatory journals are corrupting the process of science.

There are a few reputable open-access journals, such as BMC Biology and PLOSOne. Though not actually a journal, ArXiv serves a similar role. These will be part of the solution, most definitely. Yet even legitimate open-access journals often charge each author over $1000 to publish an article. There is a small but significant positive correlation between publication fees and journal impact factor.

We need to found more open-access journals which are funded by either governments or universities, so that neither author nor reader ever pays a cent. Science is a public good and should be funded as such. Even if copyright makes sense for other forms of content (I’m not so sure about that), it most certainly does not make sense for scientific knowledge, which by its very nature is only doing its job if it is shared with the world.

These journals should be specifically structured to be method-sensitive but results-blind. (It’s a very good thing that medical trials are usually registered before they are completed, so that publication is assured even if the results are negative—the same should be done with other sciences. Unfortunately, even in medicine there is significant publication bias.) If you could sum up the scientific method in one phrase, it might just be that: Method-sensitive but results-blind. If you think you know what you’re going to find beforehand, you may not be doing science. If you are certain what you’re going to find beforehand, you’re definitely not doing science.

The process should still be highly selective, but it should be possible—indeed, expected—to submit to multiple journals at once. If journals want to start paying their authors to entice them to publish in that journal rather than take another offer, that’s fine with me. Researchers are the ones who produce the content; if anyone is getting paid for it, it should be us.

This is not some wild and fanciful idea; it’s already the way that book publishing works. Very few literary agents or book publishers would ever have the audacity to say you can’t submit your work elsewhere; those that try are rapidly outcompeted as authors stop submitting to them. It’s fundamentally unreasonable to expect anyone to hang all their hopes on a particular buyer months in advance—and that is what you are, publishers, you are buyers. You are not sellers, you did not create this content.

But new journals face a fundamental problem: Good researchers will naturally want to publish in journals that are prestigious—that is, journals that are already prestigious. When all of the prestige is in journals that are closed-access and owned by for-profit companies, the best research goes there, and the prestige becomes self-reinforcing. Journals are prestigious because they are prestigious; welcome to tautology club.

Somehow we need to get good researchers to start boycotting for-profit journals and start investing in high-quality open-access journals. If Elsevier and Springer can’t get good researchers to submit to them, they’ll change their ways or wither and die. Research should be funded and published by governments and nonprofit institutions, not by for-profit corporations.

This may in fact highlight a much deeper problem in academia, the very concept of “prestige”. I have no doubt that Harvard is a good university, better university than most; but is it actually the best as it is in most people’s minds? Might Stanford or UC Berkeley be better, or University College London, or even the University of Michigan? How would we tell? Are the students better? Even if they are, might that just be because all the better students went to the schools that had better reputations? Controlling for the quality of the student, more prestigious universities are almost uncorrelated with better outcomes. Those who get accepted to Ivies but attend other schools do just as well in life as those who actually attend Ivies. (Good news for me, getting into Columbia but going to Michigan.) Yet once a university acquires such a high reputation, it can be very difficult for it to lose that reputation, and even more difficult for others to catch up.

Prestige is inherently zero-sum; for me to get more prestige you must lose some. For one university or research journal to rise in rankings, another must fall. Aside from simply feeding on other prestige, the prestige of a university is largely based upon the students it rejects—its “selectivity” score. What does it say about our society that we value educational institutions based upon the number of people they exclude?

Zero-sum ranking is always easier to do than nonzero-sum absolute scoring. Actually that’s a mathematical theorem, and one of the few good arguments against range voting (still not nearly good enough, in my opinion); if you have a list of scores you can always turn them into ranks (potentially with ties); but from a list of ranks there is no way to turn them back into scores.

Yet ultimately it is absolute scores that must drive humanity’s progress. If life were simply a matter of ranking, then progress would be by definition impossible. No matter what we do, there will always be top-ranked and bottom-ranked people.

There is simply no way mathematically for more than 1% of human beings to be in the top 1% of the income distribution. (If you’re curious where exactly that lies today, I highly recommend this interactive chart by the New York Times.) But we could raise the standard of living for the majority of people to a level that only the top 1% once had—and in fact, within the First World we have already done this. We could in fact raise the standard of living for everyone in the First World to a level that only the top 1%—or less—had as recently as the 16th century, by the simple change of implementing a basic income.

There is no way for more than 0.14% of people to have an IQ above 145, because IQ is defined to have a mean of 100 and a standard deviation of 15, regardless of how intelligent people are. People could get dramatically smarter over timeand in fact have—and yet it would still be the case that by definition, only 0.14% can be above 145.

Similarly, there is no way for much more than 1% of people to go to the top 1% of colleges. There is no way for more than 1% of people to be in the highest 1% of their class. But we could increase the number of college degrees (which we have); we could dramatically increase literacy rates (which we have).

We need to find a way to think of science in the same way. I wouldn’t suggest simply using number of papers published or even number of drugs invented; both of those are skyrocketing, but I can’t say that most of the increase is actually meaningful. I don’t have a good idea of what an absolute scale for scientific quality would look like, even at an aggregate level; and it is likely to be much harder still to make one that applies on an individual level.

But I think that ultimately this is the only way, the only escape from the darkness of cutthroat competition. We must stop thinking in terms of zero-sum rankings and start thinking in terms of nonzero-sum absolute scales.