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How Do We
Tell the
Workers?
The Socioeconomic
Foundations ofWork and
Vocational Education
Joe L. l(incheloe
Pennsylvania State University
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v
vi Contents
4 Good Work, Bad Work, and the Debate over Ethical Labor 64
Workplace Democracy, 64
Good Work and the Struggle for Worker Dignity, 65
IdentifYing and Subverting Bad Work, 70
Debating Work Ethics and Economic Policy: The Rise of
the New Right, 74
Adam Smith, the Sequel: The Emergence ofNeoclassical
Economics, 78
Automation and the Future of Good Work, 81
The Buck Stops over There: Reshaping the Workplace, 87
Developing a Vocational Education That Challenges
Bad Work, 89
References 421
Index 437
Foreword
Fred Schied
Pennsylvania State University
Over thirty years ago, when I was taking my first high school shop class, vo-
cational education seemed to be a much simpler undertaking than it is to-
day. Everyone, or so those of us enrolled in shop classes assumed, under-
stood the rules of the education game. The smart kids were placed in
academic English, math, and history classes. The dumb kids were enrolled
in a mind-numbing series of courses euphemistically called "practical" math
and "practical" English. These courses were allied to an array of shop classes
including wood, electric, machine, automotive, print, forge, foundry, and
even aviation shop. My high school was inordinately proud of its shops. The
number and types of shop classes were trumpeted as examples of a rich and
varied vocational education program.
The view from the shop class floor was somewhat different. The main task
of our shop teachers-tough, hard-nosed, World War II veterans who had
escaped working in Chicago's mills and factories by earning their teaching
certificates through the GI Bill-was to police a restless student body almost
exclusively made up of male ethnic working-class whites and a sprinkling of
African Americans and Latinos. What I understood, at least at some level,
was that the shop classes were microcosms of the factories we were being
prepared to work in. The skills we were supposedly being taught were
mostly useless, the shops' equipment being badly out-of-date. But we were
taught the rules of factory work, and went to class with the types of people
we would be working with in the mills and factories. All this was accom-
plished under the watchful eye of a teacher, acting out the role of the fac-
tory foreman.
Yet despite the boredom, the harsh discipline, and the inadequate equip-
ment, some amazing creativity and intelligence managed to seep through.
There were shop students who at age fifteen could tune a car by simply lis-
tening to the sound of the engine, others who could machine tool a piece of
metal down to specifications as small as one-twentieth of an inch by eyesight
alone, and even one student who in a magnificent creative outburst, pro-
Xtt
Foreword Xttt
How Do We Tell the Workers? is an appropriate title for this book because
education, with its central vocational function, whether consciously or not,
has always been grounded on this question. The dilemma we now face in-
volves how to tell workers about the workplace they will enter in the
twenty-first century-a workplace with its downsizing, its profits being gen-
erated at the expense ofworkers' financial well-being, and its demand that
workers compete with low-paid laborers around the world. How do voca-
tional educators, progressives, and labor leaders tell workers about the
stressful and dif1icult conditions they will inevitably face? With these issues
at the forefront, this book is designed to help vocational educators and labor
educators from various domains make sense of the social, economic, cul-
tural, political, and educational world that shapes work, work education,
and worker consciousness at the end of the twentieth century. This effort is
contextualized within a vision of "what could be"-the special role that vo-
cational education can play in the larger effort to make work a source of joy,
satisfaction, respect, and financial reward.
In this context, How Do We Tell the Workers? The Socioeconomic Founda-
tions of Work and Vocational Education becomes in a sense a worker civics-
a citizenship book for workers, union members, cultural workers, and edu-
cators. A rigorous understanding of work and its context is essential
knowledge for such individuals in an era where noncorporate-filtered infor-
mation has become harder and harder for citizens to obtain. It is certainly
not provided on television by the major networks or CNN or by mainstream
newspapers and magazines. In response to the August 1997 teamsters'
strike against United Parcel Service (UPS), "America's newspaper," USA
Today, wrote of its inability to understand the strikers' motives. Arguing
that increasing the number of part-time workers only made practical busi-
ness sense, the editors of the newspaper dismissed the concerns of employ-
ees working two or three jobs without benefits. To provide such workers
with full-time jobs would malce the company less ef1icient and should there-
fore be rejected as a solution, they concluded (Jackson, 1997). Such report-
ing is typical of the mainstream press's coverage oflabor issues. The message
3
4 A Sense ofPurpose
they choose to give the workers is clear: Labor's needs and concerns do not
count.
In this information environment, worker civics becomes more important
than ever before. The insights that emerge in this exploration ofthe "peda-
gogy ofwork"-the lmowledge and values that are produced and transmit-
ted in both schools and the society at large about work-are central to
workers' ability to malce sense of and actively respond to the obstacles they
face. Such insights are essential to vocational and work educators' ability to
understand and deal with the numerous vocational reform proposals of the
last decade. The understandings that emerge from these considerations lead
observers, I believe, to the vocational reform that makes the most sense: the
end of vocational tracking of students and the integration of academic and
vocational education. In this plan, all students would take an integrated
form of vocational and academic education that would help students to un-
derstand concrete and practical applications of academic knowledge and the
academic groundings of particular vocational tasks. For example, physics
might be taught in an automobile repair lab, as physics and automobile me-
chanics teachers would work carefully together to build a curriculum that il-
lustrated the connections between the workings of a car and the disciplinary
knowledge of physics. If carefully planned, such an integration could pro-
duce new levels of motivation and understanding for students from a wide
variety of backgrounds.
Although academic and vocational integration is an important dimension
of how we choose to tell workers about the world that confronts them, it
will not be emphasized in this book. I have written a previous book devoted
to the topic; see Toil and Trouble: Good Work, Smart Workers, and the Inte-
gration of Academic and Vocational Education ( 199 5). I also deemphasize
much cognitive-related material in this work, since I have discussed worker
thinking in detail in Toil and Trouble. This book concerns the nature and
purpose of work and work education in a democratic society in an era
marked by dramatic economic, political, and cultural change. Too often, the
study of vocational education has focused on the practice and technique of
teaching while ignoring the larger purposes of vocational programs. The na-
ture of work, the workings of the economy, the social impact of technology,
the power of cultural representations, and the ethics of business are not cen-
tral concerns of the vocational field. How Do We Tell the Workers? makes no
pretense of neutrality as it engages these topics: It begins with the assump-
tion that present economic organization is unhealthy on many fronts. In-
deed, corporations have gained inordinate power, in the process creating an
atmosphere of unfairness that especially affects students who are pushed
into vocational educational paths. Because of this reality, vocational teach-
ers, students, union leaders, and workers more than anyone else must gain
the ability to expose such injustice. To protect their own self-interest and
A Sense of Purpose 5
the spirit of democracy, they must understand the way power works to un-
dermine our way of life, our values, and our sense of right and wrong.
humane way of reconceiving economic policy but also the meaning and role
of vocational education in the economic and philosophical context created
by this third way.
Vocational education and the everyday world of work do not contribute
to the development of a coherent picture ofthe world. In fact, such experi-
ences tend to fragment our understandings of who we are and how our
work fits into the larger society. We are isolated, shielded from many pieces
of the social jigsaw puzzle, separated from a cognizance of the purpose of an
operation. As a result, we become apathetic and withdrawn, released from
responsibility for what ultimately happens in the schools, workplaces, and
other organizations to which we belong. A humane vision of a democratic
society demands that vocational education confront this fragmentation of
reality and its resulting debilitation ofthe human spirit. A democratic voca-
tional education struggles to empower future workers by helping them see
themselves as living systems within larger living systems. In other words, an
education of this sort induces students to ask, "How does my work fit into
the larger economy, the ecosystem, the historical tradition of professionals
or crafts people in this field?" Students and workers come to appreciate the
fact that they are not Clint Eastwood-like "High Plains drifters," uncon-
nected to anybody else, living and working in isolation. Workers are pro-
foundly dependent on one another for the food they eat, the clothes they
wear, and the homes they inhabit (Ferguson, 1984; Wirth, 1983; Bellah et
al., 1991).
On the foundation of this interdependence, democratic vocational educa-
tors build an ethic of solidarity. While retaining their individual integrity, vo-
cational students in democratic programs come to understand their connec-
tions to other people. Vocational teachers with a democratic ethic attempt
to address the manipulative, inhumane tendencies that undermine the quest
for authentic interpersonal relationships. In no way should this quest for hu-
man connectedness be interpreted as a demand to conform to a common set
of precepts. Indeed, the best way to build community may be around a con-
cept of difference. A heterogeneous community with differing principles
may better contribute to the cultivation of critical thinking, moral reason-
ing, and good work. A community based on consensus is often unable to
criticize the injustice and exclusionary practices that produce social pathol-
ogy. We always profit in some way from a confrontation with another system
of defining that which is important. Consciousness itself is spurred by the
concept of differences, something we begin to understand when we gain
our first awareness of who we are, that is, that we exist independently of an-
other person or another's way of seeing.
The appreciation of difference between men and women, black and
white, rich and poor must always be grounded on our notion of solidarity.
Solidarity has two main aspects: ( 1) it grants social groups enough respect
A Sense of Purpose 9
for others to listen to their ideas and to use them to consider existing social
values, and ( 2) it permits us to realize that the lives of individuals in differ-
ent social groups are interconnected to the point that everyone is account-
able to everyone else. No assumption of uniformity exists here-just a com-
mitment to work together to bring about mutually beneficial social change
(Welch, 1991). In the vocational classroom, this valuing of dif1erence cre-
ates a dialogue that helps students to understand their personal points of
view as one socially constructed way of perceiving. As the classroom devel-
ops, vocational students are exposed to more and more diverse voices, to
more and more ways of perceiving work. Through such exposure to differ-
ing points of view, their ways of seeing are expanded, their social imagina-
tion of what could be is broadened. Work no longer has to be a degrading
and grueling trial by which we make our living. New vocational possibilities
are open to discussion.
As we continue to develop a democratic vision for vocational education,
the concept of freedom must be examined and reconsidered. In contempo-
rary America, freedom has too often come to mean the right to be left
alone. In the contemporary world, with its bombardment of information
and unimagined forms of surveillance, freedom can no longer mean just
getting away from other people. Institutions must take democracy and free-
dom seriously, in the process redefining freedom to involve the right to par-
ticipate in the economic and political decisions that shape our existence and
the future ofthe planet (Bellah et al., 1991). Of course, in the context of
vocational education and work, this means that individuals play an impor-
tant role in shaping both the nature of their education and the quality of
their work. The word empowerment is promiscuously tossed around in the
1990s and has lost its impact as a result. But a true democratic empower-
ment of vocational students and American workers forms the basis for our
vision. This book will attempt to reinvest meaning in the concept of em-
powerment, as it pertains to vocational students and American workers.
In order to act on this vision, vocational educators must delineate what
active popular participation means in the everyday life of economic and edu-
cational institutions. As we redefine our notion of individualism, with its
blindness to the ways the social context af1ects individual consciousness and
performance, we must place individuals and their well-being at the begin-
rung and the end of any social and educational reform (Bluestone and Har-
rison, 1982). The enhancement of the individual's ability to participate in
social and educational movements is a centerpiece in our philosophy of edu-
cation.
The difference between the democratic vision of empowered, self-
directed vocational students and workers that is presented here and the
many other "visions" discussed daily involves one key concept: The vision
demands that we identity the social forces that impede its realization. No
10 A Sense ofPurpose
one in this society rejects outright the call for democratic institutions or
smart empowered workers. Every expert guest on Rivera Live or Sally pro-
claims that men and women should be self-directed, be their "own person."
You may ask, "So what's the argument, don't we all agree?" Sure, we agree
that democratic self-direction is a good thing until we get down to specifics.
As we begin to identifY the way power elites undermine self-direction, the
way business managers with their scientific modes of administering subvert
the empowerment of their workers, we start to see what happens when the
rubber meets the road. The key to uncovering the difference between our
vision of self-direction and the pop psychologist on The Vicki Lawrence Show
is that we name names, we identifY the race, class, and gender oppression
that undermines democracy. We finger from the witness stand the scientific
conventions and the cult of experts who use their authority to prove the
"deficiencies" of students and workers. We expose the mental models cre-
ated by our interactions with school, media, and everyday life that insulate
us from the consternation that learning entails.
To overcome the threats to empowerment, students and workers must act
on their understanding of the forces that undermine their self-direction,
their ability to participate in democratic communities. A democratic voca-
tional education, unlike many technical programs of the present, helps stu-
dents make sense of the way the world works, how the economy operates,
and what the role of the everyday worker is in these processes. Vocational
educators with a democratic vision endeavor to graduate students as "mean-
ing-makers"-young people who can get behind the surface, understand
the social construction of their identities, and detect the fingerprints of
power at various "crime scenes." As vocational detectives, these students
display a socially grounded consciousness that allows them to reinterpret old
evidence, reopening cases in order to expose the way the world actually
works.
Why, for example, are workers treated with such disrespect at the local
meat processing plant? The managers of the plant are not bad people; in-
deed, on a one-to-one basis they are quite friendly and compassionate. As
empowered, analytical workers examine the crime scene (the social dynam-
ics of the workplace), they uncover some startling evidence. The procedures
for management used by the supervisors and the top managers are derived
from the tradition of scientific management. Such procedures assume that
workers are incapable of running a plant themselves and that they must be
controlled and supervised at all times to guarantee productivity. Their job
descriptions must be narrowly and precisely delineated so that they will
know what to do at any particular moment. The company managers act as
the science of their field dictates they act. They do not understand that the
very principles on which their managerial training was based creates an in-
humane and degrading work life for their employees. As vocational students
A Sense of Purpose 11
and workers begin to understand these realities, they refuse to accept de-
grading work as simply a necessary evil in our daily lives. They reject politi-
cal officials' explanations that poverty is a permanent part of the human
condition. Such visionary workers do not accept the notion that the vio-
lence and social pathology that accompany poverty is an inevitable reality
(Senge, 1990; Coontz, 1992).
As demystifiers of the language of management and the public conversa-
tion about work, visionary students and workers challenge the legitimacy of
the condescending cult of the expert (Giroux, 1993). This challenge con-
fronts the very meaning of work in contemporary America. The democratic
vision renders work less like a technical and utilitarian act and more like a
calling. Interesting work that contributes to the good of others becomes its
own reward. Our democratic vision moves students and workers to rethink
the dogma that insuring private profit is the only criterion for an industrial
policy (Bellah et al., 1991). Instead, a reconceptualized industrial policy in-
sists that a rising standard of living for working people becomes a primary
goal. A policy of this sort requires that there be an adequate supply of useful
goods and services, whether or not they can be produced for a profit. The
model for democratic work becomes an ethos of art and craftsmanship that
engages the spirit of the worker. Working men and women are regarded as
sacred individuals whose thoughts, feelings, and insights are valuable re-
sources to be protected at all costs (Wirth, 1983). From this perspective, the
democratic society demands that work become more hospitable, more en-
gaging, less authoritarian, and safer. Our dedication to our sacred workers
allows nothing less.
tivity (Copa and Tebbenhof1~ 1990; Rehm, 1989; Goodlad, 1992; Kolberg
and Smith, 1992).
To provide insight into the ef1ects of this lack of respect for workers and
vocational education, consider the fact that this nation financially subsidizes
students who attend college seven times more than those who plan to enter
the worldorce as full-time workers (Hudelson, 1992). It is no wonder that
such vocational students are often referred to as "the forgotten majority." In
a democratic society with fundamental values demanding respect for work-
ers and their work education, such disrespect and unfair funding could not
take place. The renewal of this democratic respect is a necessity. But until
certain attitudes change, such renewal will remain a dream. One of the most
important themes ofthis book involves the notion that it is the role of voca-
tional educators to help in the larger ef1ort to renew such democratic values.
Here at the end of the twentieth century, many American leaders have come
to believe that the restoration of our moral and economic strength depends
on it (Wirth, 1983).
Powerful agencies such as the media and corporate management have
portrayed workers as incompetent. If workers can be portrayed as lazy and
inadequate, then managers can justifY the disparity between their own
salaries and workers' wages. This portrayal allows managers greater freedom
to design jobs that allow workers little input into how the workplace is ad-
ministered or how particular tasks should be performed (Ferguson, 1984).
It also releases corporate leaders from any responsibility for American eco-
nomic decline: "You must understand," they tell the American people, "that
workers these days have little commitment to their jobs" (Zunker, 1986).
And their poor work habits are deplorable. Many analysts make the argu-
ment that workers are treated like children in industrial and clerical facto-
ries. Despite all the rhetoric of workplace reforms that "empower" workers,
still in the late 1990s only a small percentage of workplaces have joined such
a movement. Working is still very similar to going to high school, workers
report. The principal turns into your general foreman, and teachers mutate
into your superintendents; constant surveillance based on distrust joins the
workplace and schooling in an antidemocratic alliance. Such unproductive
arrangements are perpetuated by the Great Deception-the argument that
American workers are unable to take responsibility for the direction of their
own lives.
These excluded workers find it dif1icult to engage in their work with their
hearts and their brains. How can you commit yourself when jobs require
only minimal thinking? Workers execute plans they do not develop and that
mean little to them. Rarely do workers know how their everyday tasks fit
into the larger goals of the business or into the general economy. When they
do understand these concepts, they typically figure things out on their
own-not with the help of their superiors. Too often, workers in America
A Sense of Purpose 13
are seen as economic instruments, men and women estranged from not only
their fellow workers but from meaning itself. The great educational philoso-
pher John Dewey argued years ago that workers often become no more
than "industrial fodder" in a society controlled by money interests. Denied
access to information and accumulated wisdom, workers are disempowered
and removed from the realm of decisionmaking. This reality holds dramatic
implications for the health of a democratic society (Brosio, n.d. ).
When the society views workers as clerical and industrial fodder, it loses
respect for workers' bodies. America has allowed its workers to breathe as-
bestos, to endanger their eyes and ears, to develop cancers from exposure
to carcinogens, and so on. The job insecurity that workers increasingly ex-
perience, with its dramatic psychological and physiological effects, is
viewed by neoclassical economists as a positive trend. Too much security
undermines work efTort and productivity, they argue. In this way worker
security subverts the capital accumulation process, the conservatives con-
clude. How has such "logic" become the "common sense" of American
economics? This book attempts to answer this question (Copa and Tebben-
hoff, 1990).
Although Chapter 5 deals with this question more fully, the answer to it
begins with the development of industrialization in the nineteenth century.
The early industrialists saw work as a system based not on the creativity and
autonomy of the individual producer but on the rational division of labor
and the standardization of prod nets. As a result, craftspeople such as shoe-
malcers were turned into machines, or at least into extensions of machines
(Brosio, 1985). For those who performed only one small function in a shoe
factory (gluing a heel to the sole of a shoe), the sense of craft was lost.
Thought was removed from the execution of everyday tasks. Many critics
have argued that this deskilling of workers af1ected not only blue-collar fac-
tory workers but white-collar office workers as well. The legacy of this early
deskilling can be found in the workplaces of the late twentieth century. Re-
cent studies have found that many employers are more interested in the "at-
titudes" of workers than in their skills. Employers frequently want depend-
able, passive, and cheerful workers who will fit into a simplistic work
organization that demands little analysis or creativity. As the Commission on
the Skills of the American Workforce puts it: "U.S. businesses have adopted
a low skills, low wages outlook" (Kolberg and Smith, 1992 ).
This deskilled orientation toward workers and the workplace spills over
into other social venues-schools, in particular. The disrespect shown work-
ers is similar to the disrespect shown teachers, especially vocational educa-
tion teachers. In the view of many business leaders and popular politicians,
the blame for American economic problems in the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s
rests squarely on the shoulders of our educators. The job shortages of the
last couple of decades have been reinterpreted for the public as skill short-
14 A Sense ofPurpose
ages. In media discussions of this issue, viewers almost see the message
"Blame the Schools" trailing like a tornado warning across the bottom of
the TV screen (Jonathan, 1990). All of this disrespect transfers to vocational
teachers and students who reside, unfortunately, at the lowest rung of the
educational status ladder. Students from vocational programs are often seen
as undesirables, as people who could not make it in the academic track. Such
perceptions must be challenged and clarified. This is not to argue that
American education (vocational education, in particular) should not be im-
proved; it should be (Oakes, 1985). But it is important to set the record
straight and provide fair criticism of the responsible institutions. In other
words, business and industrial leaders must be held accountable for their de-
humanized and failed economic policies.
to tell their bosses, in the words ofWayne and Garth, "We're not worthy."
As vocational teachers locate work in a moral context, such students and
workers must be taught that they are indeed worthy. They must come to ex-
pect that in a progressive democratic society, all jobs-oHice work in-
cluded-should encourage creative input and the exercise of judgment.
When individuals argue that low-skill jobs constitute the reality young
workers face, progressive vocational educators tell them that workers may
face such a reality but they do not have to accept it as inevitable. Workers
can be empowered to imagine democratic forms of work and join in the
struggle to make such visions a reality. Students in progressive vocational
education programs learn that the way they see themselves as workers often
reflects the way power elites want them to see their roles. When vocational
education fails to challenge such domination, it plays into the hands of the
dominant culture. It plays the social role of simply adapting vocational stu-
dents to jobs that are unfair and undesirable (Giroux, 1993; Richmond,
1986).
As a construction worker during my years in high school and college, I
came to understand on a variety of levels the brutality of the workplace. I
learned that any attempt to question the sadomasochistic male culture of
the construction site could be construed as not simply misdirected but as
dangerous. Because of my refusal to accept the violence of the interpersonal
relations among bosses, craftspeople, and laborers, I was subjected to forms
of physical violence by my bosses. Generally, in fact, the language of the
workplace is often violent, as it expresses itself in metaphors of war: We "at-
tack" a task, "raid" the stock of a company, prepare "action commandos,"
engage in "cutthroat competition," wage economic "warfare," develop
marketing "strategies," participate in corporate "espionage," and so on.
The study of economics, of course, often reflects the same metaphors, as it
erases human concerns and questions of work and identity from its curricu-
lum. The dismal science, as economics has been called, needs to rethink its
goals vis-a-vis the moral imperatives of the democratic tradition ( Ches-
neaux, 1992).
vocational students and future workers? The purpose of this book is to de-
velop a democratic system of meaning and then ask these questions in light
of it. In accomplishing this task, assumptions about vocational education
that have long been taken for granted will naturally be exposed. Also, a
starting place for conversation between vocational education practitioners,
workers, and managers will be provided. Regardless of our perspectives, we
must begin to consciously address these important issues that shape our
working lives and our society (Copa and Tebbenhof1~ 1990).
In this "foundational conversation" about the central questions of voca-
tional education, democratic educators challenge the political innocence of
power elites. They expose the taken-for-granted "neutrality" of TV news
programs, for example, that provide hours of business news and no labor
news. They challenge the authoritarianism that accepts a rigidly hierarchical
workplace and the complicity of schools in the production and acceptance
of social and economic inequality and oppression (Giroux, 1992). In the
name of democratic justice, they confront the legitimacy of private busi-
nesses and corporations that are dedicated to private gain while denying
their public responsibilities. And management, while denying its public re-
sponsibility and claiming the absolute right to control the production system
of businesses and industries, is uneasy with our conception of the public re-
sponsibilities of private interests-but that is OK. In a democratic society,
we can disagree about such issues. Vocational students can make up their
own minds about the role of industry, work, and schooling in a democratic
society. We owe them, however, the right to confront what is typically taken
for granted in America in the last years of the twentieth century.
One of the most annoying of these generally accepted assumptions is that
vocational education students are not capable of understanding the eco-
nomic and work system into which they are being taught to fit. They are
learning "how" not "why"; indeed, "why questions" are often deemed
downright insubordinate. Such educational assumptions, like most educa-
tional assumptions, are derived from larger social understandings. In this
case, many Americans hold a view of economics that assumes that it does
not matter whether workers understand the socioeconomic "big picture,"
nor should their educators be much concerned with providing them with it.
This so-called neoclassical view of economics requires that if workers simply
do what they are told, the big picture will take care of itself. This means that
if workers will merely "do their jobs," this automatic mechanism we call the
economy will, through the self-interested actions of millions of unrelated
men and women, produce prosperity. Such a simplistic and dehumanizing
view of the social and economic realms of American life cannot simply be
taken for granted in a society that sees itself as democratic ( Copa and
Tebbenhof1~ 1990). Workers need to be told about these dynamics.
I can almost see Rod Serling stepping out of a bathroom at Frederick W.
Taylor Vocational High School and speaking to the camera:
A Sense of Purpose 21
Witness if you will a vocational student, a frustrated young woman being told
that she is unable to understand the ambiguities and complexities of the work-
place. We will call her "Martha the clerical worker," her mind controlled by a
larger society intent on filling her both with democratic platitudes and a bar-
rage oflow expectations packaged as a vocational education curriculum. In the
backdrop of this dilapidated typing classroom, Martha learns to type on her an-
cient typewriter. But, more important, she learns her place in the hierarchy,
learns to take orders from the man who is her boss and to consider herself
merely a clerical worker unequipped to direct the day-to-day operations of an
enterprise. Consider the flagrant contradiction, if you will, between these atti-
tudes and the democratic notion that in America anyone can make it. (Serling
takes a putT otT his Winston, then concludes while exhaling.) A contradiction is
a dangerous entity, a time bomb ticking in the mind of an innocent ready to ex-
plode in the most unexpected of places. Now witness, if you will, what happens
when the phosphorus of low expectations is thrown into the water of democ-
racy. Join us, as we follow Martha's vocational journey into the Twilight Zone.