There isn’t much empirical evidence that raising the drop-out age actually reduces drop outs. So this feels a little retro. Kind of like No Child Left Behind: all stick, no carrot. You can hammer on kids (and teachers) all you want; but if you don’t simultaneously raise the quality of the whole system, then it won’t get you very far.

For 10 years, most American school districts kept the same inequitable funding schemes, the same lackluster principal and teaching pools, the same subpar education colleges. Then, under federal duress, they injected a bunch of lame tests into the system and pounded on schools to do better. Guess what? Most of them didn’t.

Washington, DC, requires that kids stay in school until they are 18. Let me tell you what that looks like. I have been in classes in DC schools that were fantastic, classes in which I had to consciously stop myself from joining in. Classes in which all the kids came in below grade level in the fall, and all the kids left at or above grade level come spring.

I have been in other classes—sometimes in the same schools—that would have driven me to drop out, too. I swear to God, the message in those classrooms was: Your time doesn’t matter. You don’t matter. It was like time stood still.  Nothing happened. The teacher moved at the speed of mud. When she spoke, it was to tell kids to shut their mouths.

I know kids should stay in high school. Kids know kids should stay in high school. The cash price for dropping out has never been higher. You can’t even join the military if you drop out of high school. The disincentives are all in place. What’s missing are the incentives.

I want kids to stay in high school. But more than that, I want kids to want to stay.

It’s important to listen to the reasons kids drop out, as summarized in this 2009 Rennie Center policy brief:

Both national and local research studies have found that dropping out of high school is a gradual process of disengagement. Loss of interest in school, poor relationships with teachers and impersonal learning environments are among the factors that lead to the decision to drop out.

Spend the money on empirically proven methods to engage human beings. Then see if your dropout rate goes down—all by itself.

From the BBC:

“We told the guests everything was OK and under control and we tried to stop them panicking,” cabin steward Deodato Ordona recalled.

It was about an hour before a general emergency was announced, he said.

Then the ship rolled again, now listing to the right, and the captain ordered the ship to be abandoned.

From the Daily Mail:

...But although it soon became clear that the problem was far worse, passengers continued to be told for a good 45 minutes that there was a simple technical problem. Even when the situation became clearer crew members delayed lowering the lifeboats even though the ship was listing badly. ‘We had to scream at the controllers to release the boats from the side,’ said Mike van Dijk, a 54-year-old from Pretoria, South Africa. ‘We were standing in the corridors and they weren’t allowing us to get on to the boats. It was a scramble, an absolute scramble.’ Robert Elcombe, 50, from Colchester but who now lives in Australia, said he and his wife Tracy got into a life boat – but were ordered out again when staff said it was ‘only a generator problem’ that could be fixed.

In almost every disaster, predictable human distortions slow down the response. This is normal—which is not the same thing as inevitable.

The first predictable phase is a period of profound denial—a disbelief that the ship could really be sinking (or the plane could really be crashing or the hurricane could really be barreling towards you). The brain works according to pattern recognition, so it fits whatever is happening into scripts for what has happened before. It usually takes a surprisingly long time to accept that something terrible has happened.

The second behavioral threat is the fear of panic. People—especially people in charge—fear the crowd, sometimes more than they fear plunging into the cold sea. They do this even though most people do not panic in most disasters. They are frightened, and they try to escape death—but widespread anti-social behavior rarely happens. The bigger problem, time and again, is the fear of panic—which causes officials to withhold vital information.

Both of these tendencies can be overcome with realistic and smart training that includes the passengers and the crew. The research on this—especially from plane disasters—is very clear and reassuring. But if that kind of training doesn’t happen (and too often, it does not, for all sorts of reasons), then you can be sure that things will slip quickly from bad to tragic, as minutes are lost and people are left without information—the one thing they need more than anything else.

The anniversary has me thinking back to the story of one person who happened by the crash site on Jan. 13, 1982. The man who jumped into the river when no one of sound mind would. From the heroism chapter of The Unthinkable:

The snow started out lovely, blurring the edges of Washington’s hard buildings and bleaching the memorials storybook white. But by midafternoon, it had turned unforgiving.

Great groaning piles of snow fell from the sky like mud. Government employees were liberated early, stacking the city’s streets with traffic. Normally, it took Roger Olian, a sheet-metal worker at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital, half an hour to get home. On this day, after driving for two hours, he was only halfway there. It would have been faster to walk.

By the time he got to the Fourteenth Street Bridge, which crosses over the Potomac River from D.C. into Virginia, Olian’s old red Datsun pickup truck was protesting. It had needed a new battery for a while and now it was desperately low on gas, too. Worried the car might stall and never start again, Olian kept the radio and the windshield wipers off.

When the Boeing 737 sliced into the bridge span next to him at 4:01 P.M., Olian didn’t even see it. Encased in his snow-covered truck, he didn’t hear or feel the crash. It was only when the car in front of him stopped that Olian had any indication that something strange had happened. The driver got out and walked back to his truck. Olian rolled down his window, and the man’s shouts jangled through the snowbound quiet.

“Did you see that?”

“What’s that?”

“A plane! A plane just crashed into the river!” the man screamed.

Olian dismissed him. “I thought, ‘This guy is nuts.’ All I wanted to do was to get out of there.”

But the man kept yelling. “I think that plane might explode!” “So get in your car and go!” Olian told him, rolling up his window. The man did as he was told. But as Olian started to follow him, he noticed that the other cars were behaving oddly too. “It was as if you’d dropped food into the middle of an anthill and all of a sudden the ants started to move in weird ways. So I thought,‘Maybe that guy was right.’”

Without thinking too much about what he was doing or how he would start his truck again, Olian eased over to the shoulder and parked. If a plane had gone down without him even noticing, he thought, it must have been a small private plane. “Well, maybe I could see what’s going on,” he said to himself. “Or maybe somebody needs help, maybe I could do something—some nominal thing, and it will be interesting.”

Restaurant and banquet staff rushed people to safe locations such as kitchens and basements. Telephone operators stayed at their posts, alerting guests to lock doors and not step out. Kitchen staff formed human shields to protect guests during evacuation attempts. As many as 11 Taj Mumbai employees—a third of the hotel’s casualties—laid down their lives while helping between 1,200 and 1,500 guests escape.

Interestingly, the authors, Rohit Deshpandé and Anjali Raina, look to the corporate culture of the Taj hotel to explain this behavior. They interviewed the hotel staff and reviewed the company’s HR policies, and came up with a theory of heroism:

We believe that the unusual hiring, training, and incentive systems of the Taj Group—which operates 108 hotels in 12 countries—have combined to create an organizational culture in which employees are willing to do almost anything for guests. This extraordinary customer centricity helped, in a moment of crisis, to turn its employees into a band of ordinary heroes.

It is surely true that the culture of a company—or a family or a city—can encourage (or discourage) heroism. Organizations like the Coast Guard, for example, systematically empower their lowest-level members to use their discretion—and maintain a bias for action.

But in my experience, the heroism of the Taj employees is the norm, not the exception. When disasters happen, people tend to stick to whatever role they were playing before everything fell apart. They feel responsible for fulfilling their duties, even when they are earning pennies (or rupees) per hour.

On May 28, 1977, an explosive fire ripped through the Beverly Hills Supper Club near Cincinnati, killing 165 people. It was, as the Cincinnati Enquirer later described it, “a night of horror and heroism, of unspeakable carnage and unshakeable courage.” Sociologists Norris Johnson and William Feinberg later conducted an analysis of the behavior of everyone involved, and, as I describe in The Unthinkable, they found a remarkable pattern—that should sound familiar to the survivors from the Taj:

As word of the fire slowly spread, people reacted like actors in play, each according to role. Servers warned their tables to leave. Hostesses evacuated people that they had seated, but bypassed other sections. Cooks and busboys, perhaps accustomed to physical work, rushed to fight the fire. In general, male employees were slightly more likely to help than female employees, maybe because society expects women to be saved and men to do the saving. Age mattered too. The younger cocktail waitresses seemed more confused. But the banquet waitresses, who tended to be older, were calm and reassuring.

But this role-playing works both ways. Employees are more likely to become rescuers, and customers are more likely to, well, sit back and watch:

And what of the guests? Most remained guests to the end. Some even continued celebrating, in defiance of the smoke seeping into the room. One man ordered a rum and Coke to go. When the first reporter arrived at the fire, he saw guests sipping their cocktails in the driveway, laughing about whether they would get to leave without paying their bills.

An estimated 60 percent of the employees tried to help in some way—either by directing guests to safety or fighting the fire. By comparison, only 17 percent of the guests helped. But even among the guests, identity influenced behavior. The doctors who had been dining at the club acted as doctors, administering CPR and dressing wounds on the grounds of the club like battlefield medics. Nurses did the same thing. There was even one hospital administrator there who—naturally—began to organize the doctors and the nurses.

Does this mean we shouldn’t celebrate the employees of the Taj? No, by all means, we should, and I am so glad the authors interviewed the employees and collected their stories.

But if we recognize that this kind of behavior is predictable and not exceptional, then perhaps we can move the dial one notch further—beyond customer-centric HR policies. For example, how can we train employees so that their urge to help the guests will be even more productive—and less deadly? Can we train them to expect guests to become passive—and override that instinct with aggressive commands (as well-trained flight attendants have learned to do in aviation disasters)? What happens if we anticipate heroism (or at least decency), and work backwards from there?

But I have to say, I didn’t feel that same level of bliss when I was in Finland. I mean, I felt like it was an inspiring place—a lot more civilized in many ways, a place we can learn from. But in real life, it seemed like it was also a complicated place inhabited by…human beings.

It’s important to keep this in mind, so that we don’t dismiss the Finns as another Nordic fantasy land that has no connection to our lives and schools.

In that spirit, here is a quick reality check from the Finland media…

Some parents in Finland choose not to send their kids to the neighborhood school because of the high level of immigrant students there. Sound familiar?

Helsinki parents at pains to avoid schools with high proportion of immigrants

Pasi and Merja live in a neighbourhood of small houses in Metsälä in the north of Helsinki. More than a dozen children who start school next autumn live in the neighbourhood of about 1,000 residents, and nearly all of them applied for admission to a school outside their neighborhood. Many of the neighbours have pulled similar stunts….Some have even acquired a second home to make sure that their children attend school somewhere other than their nearest one in Maunula.
   
...An invisible wall exists along the border of Maunula and Metsälä.
    The average income of Maunula residents is EUR 22,400 a year, while the Metsälä residents earn EUR 37,000.
    Maunula has many low-income pensioners, and half of the homes in the area are built on the partially publicly-funded Arava subsidy scheme, compared with only ten per cent in Metsälä.
    And then there is the sensitive issue: about a tenth of the residents in Maunula speak a language other than Finnish or Swedish as their mother tongue.
    In Metsälä, with its 1,000 residents, just 43 speak a foreign language at home. The entire foreign language-speaking population there could nearly fit in a single city bus.
   
    ...“Undoubtedly we all want to live in a multicultural and tolerant atmosphere, but the fact is that if there are many children who do not speak Finnish, the teacher’s time is spent on them”, the mother of two says.
    She does not know any children who have actually attended school in Maunula, but she has “heard stories”.—Helsingin Sanomat 2011

Violence and substance abuse affect the lives of Finnish kids, too…

Tens of thousands of children exposed to violence or substance abuse at home
Study shows that thousands of children in need of help remain unnoticed

Thousands of children living in conditions in which they are exposed to violence and substance abuse fail to get the help that they need, says Dr. Mirjam Kalland, a family research expert at the University of Helsinki.
    A substance abuse problem of some kind affects one in six families, while violence afflicts one in five. “For instance, 20 to 30 percent of children in the Helsinki region live in fairly serious risky conditions. Only five to six percent are within the scope of child protection support measures. Quite a few of the children who would need help are never noticed”, Kalland says.—Helsingin Sanomat 2006

And Finnish teachers sometimes complain about Finnish parents…!

Nearly one in five Finnish schoolteachers and one in three principals are targeted with bullying and mental violence by students’ parents. The primary level comprehensive school headmasters, in particular, are harassed.
    This was the finding of a survey conducted by the Opettaja (Teacher) magazine.
    Teachers interviewed by the trade journal said the bullying manifests itself in various forms varying from the spreading of unfounded rumours to verbal abuse and phone calls that can last for hours.
   
Bullying parents have threatened they would contact the board of education, the provincial administrative board, or the press.
    The root of the problem is often diverging views on education and upbringing.—Helsingin Sanomat 2005

Why do I bring this up? Must I ruin everything? Really? Well, it’s a bit perverse, I guess. But I find it encouraging to remind myself that while the US has its own extremes of dysfunction, we are all human. And excellent education outcomes are possible—-even in imperfect places occupied by humans.

OK, first let’s talk about the PISA index on socioeconomic status. The data for that index is indeed self-reported by the students taking the test, as some of the commenters have noted. I can see why people would wonder if that is reliable. In fact, I had the same question when I first heard about this.

Two things:

First, the research suggests that students are surprisingly accurate when asked specific questions about their family’s situation (for example, see this report on students’ reliability on such questionnaires.)

Secondly, the students are not asked to give their parents’ income per se; they are asked a long list of questions about their parents’ education levels, occupations, the number of books and computers in the home, etc.—all things that give a holistic sense of SES (and some of which, including education level, can better predict educational success than income alone).

Alright, as for the Free/Reduce Price Lunch (FRPL) breakdown of the PISA data referenced by people who insist our low-poverty schools are “No.1” in the world: this data comes from a totally different survey done in the U.S. only. Principals at U.S. schools where some number of students took the PISA were asked this question. They were told to respond in reference to the entire school—not just the students who took the test. So this is already a different unit of measurement than the average PISA scores for, say, Finnish students.

Moreover, the number of principals who said that between 0 and 10% of their students are eligible for FRPL is small; only about 10% of the 2009 U.S. PISA sample attended these schools.

But that’s all well and good. This FRPL data surely gives us a sense of the huge gap between the performance of the 10 percenters and the rest of the schools in the U.S.

But those last three words are key. This data is collected only to look at variance in the U.S. I agree that it would be fascinating to compare these figures to the same figures in Finland and around the world. However, we don’t have that information. We don’t know how Finnish schools with 0-10% of students from families earning less than 185% of the U.S. poverty level do on PISA.

We do know that Finland overall has far less poverty than the U.S. But the oft-cited figure—that Finland has about 4% child poverty—refers to a totally different definition of “poverty” than the FRPL definition. That 4% figure refers to the percent of people who earn less than 50% of the median income in Finland. (The comparable figure for poverty in the U.S. is about 20%—whereas under the FRPL definition of “poverty,” it’s about 40%, to give you a sense of the difference.)

Just to be sure, I spoke to the data experts who crunch this FRPL data in the U.S. and know it far better than I ever will, and they confirmed that it is inappropriate to use this data in the way that Ravitch is using it. You can’t compare the FRPL data from US schools to an entire country; it’s apples to oranges. The best option that I know of to compare apples to apples is PISA’s own ESCS index. And again, on that index, our richest kids do fine in reading—and not well in math and science.

OK, now back to writing the book! If you’ve read this far, you are probably trying to procrastinate doing something, too… Thanks for the company!

Our richest kids rank No. 7 in reading. OK, so it is not No.1, as others keep insisting, and we spend way more money per student to get there. But I’ll take it. No. 7 is still a perfectly respectable performance—well above the OECD average for rich kids.

But it got me thinking: What about math and science? How did our most privileged kids (who are, by the way, more privileged than most countries’ well-off children) do in math and science?

Oh Lord…Brace yourselves, suburban parents:

With thanks to the folks at the Education Trust who helped me ferret out this data from the PISA results, here we go:

MATH ACHIEVEMENT of the most privileged teenagers around the world:

1. Belgium

2. Netherlands

3. South Korea

4. Finland

5. New Zealand

6. Japan

7. Switzerland

8. Czech Republic

9. Canada

10. Australia

11. Germany

(Still going…)

12. Denmark

13. France

14. Sweden

15. Austria

16. Hungary

17. Slovak Republic (!)

18. Iceland

(Hang in there…)

19. Luxembourg

20. Ireland

21. Norway

22. Poland

23. UNITED STATES

There it is, No. 23 out of 29 countries in math, according to the 2003 PISA exam (which was the last time math was the primary focus of the test, yielding enough data to make such comparisons).

Wow. How to explain this? Our most privileged kids attend, on average, the most well-resourced schools in the world with some of the smallest class sizes and among the most credentialed, experienced, well-paid teachers. They have educated parents, books at home and computers to use, and this sample includes our private-school students.

And yet they score below the OECD average in math when compared to other countries most-privileged students. What is going on here?

SCIENCE ACHIEVEMENT of the most privileged teenagers around the world:

1. Finland

2. New Zealand

3. Netherlands

4. Canada

5. Australia

6. Germany

7. United Kingdom

8. Czech Republic

9. Belgium

10. Switzerland

11. Japan

12. France

13. Austria

14. Hungary

15. Ireland

16. Sweden

17. South Korea

18. UNITED STATES

In science, our most privileged students ring in 18th out of 30 countries, per the 2006 PISA test (the last one that had science as its primary focus.) This is, as in math, just below the OECD average for similarly affluent kids.

Why does it matter?

I bring this up just to point out that it is possible for kids to learn at much higher levels than our kids are learning—even our most-advantaged kids. I am not (repeat, not!) saying that poverty doesn’t matter; it obviously matters enormously. Let’s just stop talking about poverty as if it is some dark force that acts in isolation from the rest of our institutions.

Even if we could magically eliminate poverty in America (which would be a beautiful thing and something we should try much harder to do), then we still would not have world-class education outcomes.

Anyone care to offer a theory for why our most affluent kids score 23rd in math and 18th in science? Is it a lack of motivation? An overabundance of wealth? If so, why aren’t we below average in reading, too?

*And remember, before you send me links to wildly misleading blog posts and demand a recount: these rankings listed here rely upon PISA’s own carefully administered survey of students’ socioeconomic status known as the index of Economic, Social and Cultural Status—not a hijacked table regarding free-or-reduced price lunch ratios that was never ever intended to be used for international comparisons.

Edu-pundits like Diane Ravitch like to say that America’s education problems have everything to do with poverty. This is actually a debate that goes back centuries in American schools. It takes different forms at different times, but it almost always follows the same equation: poverty (or race) is a problem so intractable that schools cannot be expected to overcome it. (Fun fact: the same debate was used to defend low-performing, segregated public schools in New York City in the 1960s. Check out this New York Times story from 1963.)

Interestingly, this is not the kind of talk you hear in places with higher-performing education systems. In those countries, the very same countries that Ravitch says should be models for US schools, educators also think poverty is a big problem. But they think it is their problem. They think it is a problem so intractable that our schools must be outstanding in order to help overcome it. See the difference?

Of course, if we think about it calmly for more than 5 minutes, we can probably agree that poverty interacts with schools, like a chemistry experiment. Bad schools make poverty worse, and great schools make it possible to overcome poverty. In fact, great schools are among the most effective anti-poverty measures known to humanity. Neither schools nor poverty work in isolation.

And yet this debate rages on, with a stunning lack of sophistication. To show you what I mean, let’s consider the latest talking point.

Ravitch and others have been saying over and over again that America’s low-poverty (i.e. affluent) schools do even better than Finland. “Low poverty schools, low poverty districts in the US perform just as well in the US as schools with similar demographics in the top nations in the world. They’re number 1. In fact, our children are number 1 in the low poverty districts.”

So if we took away our pesky poverty problem, we’d rank at the top of the world! This point is meant to defend all schools, but mostly it makes upper-income parents feel better about their own kids’ schools.

Too bad it’s not true.

The most respected international tests of teenagers around the world (PISA) has consistently shown that our most-affluent kids do not perform as well as the most-affluent kids in the highest-performing countries around the world (even though our rich kids are richer than their rich kids). PISA measures students’ economic, social and cultural status to get a sense of their socio-economic background. In reading, American kids’ best subject, our most affluent students still rank behind the most affluent kids in six other countries. (Even though we spend far more money per student than all of those countries.)

Rich Kids Ranking (PISA Reading 2009)

1. New Zealand

2. Korea

3. Belgium

4. Finland

5. Canada

6.  Australia

So where is Ravitch coming from? She is, after all, a professor at New York University. Surely she can’t just make these things up, right?

Here’s what’s happening. Bear with me, because it is revealing.

Ravitch’s claim can be traced back to a small table on page 15 of a government report that broke down the PISA results based on the percentage of kids who qualify for free or reduced-price lunch. When you do that, you see that kids at U.S. schools where less than 10% of the students qualify for free/reduced-price lunch score on average very high—indeed higher than the average for, say, Finland.

But then she makes the magical leap. She says that since Finland has less than 10% poverty, and those schools do, too, then…ta da! Our low-poverty schools are best in the world—when you compare rich kids to rich kids.

Here’s the problem: she is using 2 different definitions of “poverty.”

The free/reduced-price lunch figure measures the number of kids from families making 185% of federal poverty line, right? So that means a family of 4 needs to make less than about $40,000 to qualify. Under this measure, roughly 40% of American kids qualify as “poor.”

OK. Then the other measure is the measure usually used in international comparisons of poverty. That is the percentage of kids from families earning less than 50% of the median income in that country. (In the US, this comes out to about 22%. NOT 40%.)

In other words, Ravitch is comparing the test scores of kids from families that earn more than $40,000 in the U.S. to the scores of all kids in Finland (where the median household income is about $40,000).

I don’t have tenure, but even I know you can’t mix and match data like this. Unless you are really, really desperate to find a certain answer, that is. [Edit: After this post went up, an alert reader informed me that Ravitch does not have tenure either; NYU confirms that she is a nontenured “research scientist.”]

Conversely, PISA’s own measure of socio-economic background, the one you can find detailed in Table II.3.1 in PISA Volume II, offers a more valid comparison. And yet Ravitch does not cite it—because it does not show what she wants it to show.

I have been to Finland, Korea and Poland working on this book, and I have the luxury of spending hours reading PISA results. Most writers do not. They just repeat what Ravitch and others say. And so the magical thinking continues.

On Friday, David Sirota repeated this myth in Salon. And it ran again yesterday in the Oregonian.

As 2011 draws to a close, we can confidently declare that one of the biggest debates over education is — mercifully — resolved. We may not have addressed all the huge challenges facing our schools, but we finally have empirical data ruling out apocryphal theories and exposing the fundamental problems.

We’ve learned, for instance, that our entire education system is not “in crisis,” as so many executives in the for-profit education industry insist when pushing to privatize public schools. On the contrary, results from Program for International Student Assessment exams show that American students in low-poverty schools are among the highest achieving students in the world.

What interests me is not so much that fiction gets reported as fact. That is an old story. What interests me is why so many people—particularly liberals—seem to want to believe that poverty is even more intractable than it is…  Why would this be?

Before Jesus Christ was born, human beings were taking tests. Civil service exams date back to China’s Han Dynasty (206 BC – 220 AD.) Hiring test-prep tutors - and cheating - go back about as far, by the way.

U.S. students now take more standardized tests than ever. Under the federal No Child Left Behind law, our kids get tested in grades three through eight, and at least once between tenth and twelfth grade.

Have we lost our minds? Many teachers and critics of school reform insist that we have, citing other, higher-performing nations as evidence of our relative insanity…

First of all, let’s be clear: Finland does have standardized testing. They have had it for at least 159 years. They have less of it, for sure. (Which is not to suggest that they have less testing overall, but more on that later.) In fact, in every high-performing nation, tests are embedded in the wiring of schools - particularly in high schools. In the developed world, 76 percent of students attend high schools that use standardized tests, according to the OECD.

Read more here.

* Entrepreneurs come out of the closet early. Both Steve and Zoe started businesses before they could be legally hired as employees. Zoe sold greeting cards as a little girl, and Steve did, too. But both had trouble getting taken seriously. We say we love innovation in this country, but we don’t always celebrate the just-this-side-of-crazy risk-taking and hard work it takes to start a business.

* Steve Jobs could have ended up in a jumpsuit instead of a black turtleneck. We talked a bit about Jobs, since he had just passed away. He knew the value of a great education—and how it can make or break a child. Here is what Jobs said in 1995:

“I know from my own education that if I hadn’t encountered two or three individuals that spent extra time with me, I’m sure I would have been in jail. I’m 100% sure that if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Hill in fourth grade and a few others, I would have absolutely have ended up in jail. I could see those tendencies in myself to have a certain energy to do something. It could have been directed at doing something interesting that other people thought was a good idea or doing something interesting that maybe other people didn’t like so much.”

* The recovery of the U.S. economy and U.S. jobs will be led by entrepreneurs. We can choose to help them—by changing immigration laws to help attract and retain talented entrepreneurs from around the world, by making it easier for people to start businesses without worrying about losing their health insurance, and by helping successful companies grow more quickly. Or not.

Case and others recently met with President Obama to push him to pursue a 16-point plan for energizing entrepreneurship in America. I don’t know if this strategy is the right one—or if it has any chance of succeeding, given what has happened with Obama’s jobs bill.

But I agreed with Case when he says this:  “If we’re worried about the economy, and everybody should be, if you’re worried about employment, and everybody should be, the answer is really doubling down on entrepreneurship as a core American value….We have to. Because there really isn’t a Plan B.”

After that, the judges announced their winner: Congratulations to Hayley Hoverter, CEO of Sweet (dis)SOLVE from Los Angeles, CA, the 16-year-old winner of the NFTE 2011 Challenge. Hayley won $10,000 in venture money to grow her business selling dissolvable sugar packets (no paper, no nonsense) to high-end coffee shops. Watching Hayley pitch her business plan, which was meticulous and smart, I started to think there may be hope for America after all…

But the strangest moment came when I did a ride-along with the local study-crackdown squad. Check out my new Time Magazine story about Korea’s crusade to get its kids to chill out.

On a wet Wednesday evening in Seoul, six government employees gather at the office to prepare for a late-night patrol. The mission is as simple as it is counterintuitive: to find children who are studying after 10 p.m. And stop them.

In South Korea, it has come to this. To reduce the country’s addiction to private, after-hours tutoring academies (called hagwons), the authorities have begun enforcing a curfew — even paying citizens bounties to turn in violators.

The raid starts in a leisurely way. We have tea, and I am offered a rice cracker. Cha Byoung-chul, a midlevel bureaucrat at Seoul’s Gangnam district office of education, is the leader of this patrol. I ask him about his recent busts, and he tells me about the night he found 10 teenage boys and girls on a cram-school roof at about 11 p.m. “There was no place to hide,” Cha recalls. In the darkness, he tried to reassure the students. “I told them, ‘It’s the hagwon that’s in violation, not you. You can go home.’”

Cha smokes a cigarette in the parking lot. Like any man trying to undo centuries of tradition, he is in no hurry. “We don’t leave at 10 p.m. sharp,” he explains. “We want to give them 20 minutes or so. That way, there are no excuses.” Finally, we pile into a silver Kia Sorento and head into Daechi-dong, one of Seoul’s busiest hagwon districts. The streets are thronged with parents picking up their children. The inspectors walk down the sidewalk, staring up at the floors where hagwons are located — above the Dunkin’ Donuts and the Kraze Burgers — looking for telltale slivers of light behind drawn shades.

At about 11 p.m., they turn down a small side street, following a tip-off. They enter a shabby building and climb the stairs, stepping over an empty chip bag. On the second floor, the unit’s female member knocks on the door. “Hello? Hello!” she calls loudly. A muted voice calls back from within, “Just a minute!” The inspectors glance at one another. “Just a minute” is not the right answer. Cha sends one of his colleagues downstairs to block the elevator. The raid begins.

You can find the rest of the story here.

But if it was an earthquake, then we had another problem: most of us had no clue what to do.

The earthquake that shook the East Coast on Tuesday left many people—officials included—baffled. What are you supposed to do in an earthquake anyway?? To the amusement of some (especially grizzled West Coast quake veterans), many of us did not exactly follow earthquake protocol.

Running into the streets of Midtown Manhattan while the shaking is still going on is not generally considered safe—although it is certainly understandable. Most New Yorkers think one thing when buildings shake—that there has been a terrorist attack, and they need to get out fast.

But now that the aftershocks have quieted and we await the arrival of a more-traditional hurricane, it’s a good opportunity to get smarter. New York City officials, to their credit, did not pretend to know everything. They set up a conference call to get advice from the California Emergency Management Agency on what to tell the public. The advice? Next time, stay inside. Drop under anything sturdy and brace yourself until the shaking stops. In other words, get away from anything that could fall you, from shelves to windows, but don’t try to run too far. In most earthquakes in the U.S., where most buildings are semi-sturdy, you are more likely to get hurt while running (and falling) during an earthquake than you are to get flattened by the building collapsing.

And once you get outside, you are not necessarily safer. If you can get out into the open, great! Go for it. But in dense cities, the danger from flying glass and other detritus can make the sidewalk more dangerous than the inside of a room.

Or, as FEMA puts it:

The greatest danger exists directly outside buildings, at exits and alongside exterior walls. Many of the 120 fatalities from the 1933 Long Beach earthquake occurred when people ran outside of buildings only to be killed by falling debris from collapsing walls. Ground movement during an earthquake is seldom the direct cause of death or injury. Most earthquake-related casualties result from collapsing walls, flying glass, and falling objects.

Seems simple enough. But unless you have experienced earthquakes before, it is going to be very hard to remember and follow this advice in real life. The brain defaults to its most worn scripts when it is frightened. So if you want to improve your performance for the next quake, the only way to do it is to practice physically ducking, covering and holding on—at least twice a year. You need the muscle memory, because that’s all you’ll be able to rely on. You won’t have time to search FEMA on Google.

Which may be a blessing, since FEMA’s What to do in an earthquake advice, while generally useful, starts off with this classically absurd line: “Stay as safe as possible during an earthquake.”

Compare that pearl of wisdom to the first line of the earthquake page on the Israeli homeland security site:

Do not regard earthquakes as an invincible force – experience accumulated throughout the world proves that appropriate preparations and correct behavior during an earthquake can and will save lives!

The difference in tone speaks volumes about our different approaches to surviving disasters.

On Tuesday, when the rumbling had stopped, my fellow shoppers stood around dumbstruck for a few minutes, unsure of whether to continue shopping. Many of us automatically went to our phones to check on loved ones. There were a lot of uncomfortable chuckles and strangely bemused employees trying to clean up broken salsa jars. Just like in all kinds of disasters, even ones with far worse consequences, most people focused on normalizing the situation—aftershocks be damned.