Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Evo-Devo Arguments

From a Few Genes, Life’s Myriad Shapes

Published: June 26, 2007

Since its humble beginnings as a single cell, life has evolved into a spectacular array of shapes and sizes, from tiny fleas to towering Tyrannosaurus rex, from slow-soaring vultures to fast-swimming swordfish, and from modest ferns to alluring orchids. But just how such diversity of form could arise out of evolution’s mess of random genetic mutations — how a functional wing could sprout where none had grown before, or how flowers could blossom in what had been a flowerless world — has remained one of the most fascinating and intractable questions in evolutionary biology.

Skip to next paragraph
Jimmy Turrell

Readers' Questions

Dr. Sean B. Carroll, an evolutionary biologist and a prime force in the field of evo-devo, is answering readers' questions this week. Ask a question.

Related

Life as We Know It (June 25, 2007)

Evolution Is ... (June 25, 2007)

Now finally, after more than a century of puzzling, scientists are finding answers coming fast and furious and from a surprising quarter, the field known as evo-devo. Just coming into its own as a science, evo-devo is the combined study of evolution and development, the process by which a nubbin of a fertilized egg transforms into a full-fledged adult. And what these scientists are finding is that development, a process that has for more than half a century been largely ignored in the study of evolution, appears to have been one of the major forces shaping the history of life on earth.

For starters, evo-devo researchers are finding that the evolution of complex new forms, rather than requiring many new mutations or many new genes as had long been thought, can instead be accomplished by a much simpler process requiring no more than tweaks to already existing genes and developmental plans. Stranger still, researchers are finding that the genes that can be tweaked to create new shapes and body parts are surprisingly few. The same DNA sequences are turning out to be the spark inciting one evolutionary flowering after another. “Do these discoveries blow people’s minds? Yes,” said Dr. Sean B. Carroll, biologist at the Howard Hughes Medical Institute at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. “The first response is ‘Huh?’ and the second response is ‘Far out.’ ”

“This is the illumination of the utterly dark,” Dr. Carroll added.

The development of an organism — how one end gets designated as the head or the tail, how feet are enticed to grow at the end of a leg rather than at the wrist — is controlled by a hierarchy of genes, with master genes at the top controlling a next tier of genes, controlling a next and so on. But the real interest for evolutionary biologists is that these hierarchies not only favor the evolution of certain forms but also disallow the growth of others, determining what can and cannot arise not only in the course of the growth of an embryo, but also over the history of life itself.

“It’s been said that classical evolutionary theory looks at survival of the fittest,” said Dr. Scott F. Gilbert, a developmental biologist at Swarthmore College. By looking at what sorts of organisms are most likely or impossible to develop, he explained, “evo-devo looks at the arrival of the fittest.”

Charles Darwin saw it first. He pointed out well over a century ago that developing forms of life would be central to the study of evolution. Little came of it initially, for a variety of reasons. Not least of these was the discovery that perturbing the process of development often resulted in a freak show starring horrors like bipedal goats and insects with legs growing out of their mouths, monstrosities that seemed to shed little light on the wonders of evolution.

But the advent of molecular biology reinvigorated the study of development in the 1980s, and evo-devo quickly got scientists’ attention when early breakthroughs revealed that the same master genes were laying out fundamental body plans and parts across the animal kingdom. For example, researchers discovered that genes in the Pax6 family could switch on the development of eyes in animals as different as flies and people. More recent work has begun looking beyond the body’s basic building blocks to reveal how changes in development have resulted in some of the world’s most celebrated of evolutionary events.

In one of the most exciting of the new studies, a team of scientists led by Dr. Cliff Tabin, a developmental biologist at Harvard Medical School, investigated a classic example of evolution by natural selection, the evolution of Darwin’s finches on the Galápagos Islands.

Like the other organisms that made it to the remote archipelago off the coast of Ecuador, Darwin’s finches have flourished in their isolation, evolving into many and varied species. But, while the finches bear his name and while Darwin was indeed inspired to thoughts of evolution by animals on these islands, the finches left him flummoxed. Darwin did not realize for quite some time that these birds were all finches or even that they were related to one another.

He should be forgiven, however. For while the species are descendants of an original pioneering finch, they no longer bear its characteristic short, slender beak, which is excellent for hulling tiny seeds. In fact, the finches no longer look very finchlike at all. Adapting to the strange new foods of the islands, some have evolved taller, broader, more powerful nut-cracking beaks; the most impressive of the big-beaked finches is Geospiza magnirostris. Other finches have evolved longer bills that are ideal for drilling holes into cactus fruits to get at the seeds; Geospiza conirostris is one species with a particularly elongated beak.

But how could such bills evolve from a simple finch beak? Scientists had assumed that the dramatic alterations in beak shape, height, width and strength would require the accumulation of many chance mutations in many different genes. But evo-devo has revealed that getting a fancy new beak can be simpler than anyone had imagined.

Genes are stretches of DNA that can be switched on so that they will produce molecules known as proteins. Proteins can then do a number of jobs in the cell or outside it, working to make parts of organisms, switching other genes on and so on. When genes are switched on to produce proteins, they can do so at a low level in a limited area or they can crank out lots of protein in many cells.

What Dr. Tabin and colleagues found, when looking at the range of beak shapes and sizes across different finch species, was that the thicker and taller and more robust a beak, the more strongly it expressed a gene known as BMP4 early in development. The BMP4 gene (its abbreviation stands for bone morphogenetic protein, No. 4) produces the BMP4 protein, which can signal cells to begin producing bone. But BMP4 is multitalented and can also act to direct early development, laying out a variety of architectural plans including signaling which part of the embryo is to be the backside and which the belly side. To verify that the BMP4 gene itself could indeed trigger the growth of grander, bigger, nut-crushing beaks, researchers artificially cranked up the production of BMP4 in the developing beaks of chicken embryos. The chicks began growing wider, taller, more robust beaks similar to those of a nut-cracking finch.

In the finches with long, probing beaks, researchers found at work a different gene, known as calmodulin. As with BMP4, the more that calmodulin was expressed, the longer the beak became. When scientists artificially increased calmodulin in chicken embryos, the chicks began growing extended beaks, just like a cactus driller.

So, with just these two genes, not tens or hundreds, the scientists found the potential to recreate beaks, massive or stubby or elongated.

“So now one wants to go in a number of directions,” Dr. Tabin said. “What happens in a stork? What happens in a hummingbird? A parrot?” For the evolution of beaks, the main tool with which a bird handles its food and makes its living, is central not only to Darwin’s finches, but to birds as a whole.

BMP4’s reach does not stop at the birds, however.

In lakes in Africa, the fish known as cichlids have evolved so rapidly into such a huge diversity of species that they have become one of the best known evolutionary radiations. The cichlids have evolved in different shapes and sizes, and with a variety of jaw types specialized for eating certain kinds of food. Robust, thick jaws are excellent at crushing snails, while longer jaws work well for sucking up algae. As with the beaks of finches, a range of styles developed.

Now in a new study, Dr. R. Craig Albertson, an evolutionary biologist at Syracuse University, and Dr. Thomas D. Kocher, a geneticist at the University of New Hampshire, have shown that more robust-jawed cichlids express more BMP4 during development than those with more delicate jaws. To test whether BMP4 was indeed responsible for the difference, these scientists artificially increased the expression of BMP4 in the zebrafish, the lab rat of the fish world. And, reprising the beak experiments, researchers found that increased production of BMP4 in the jaws of embryonic zebrafish led to the development of more robust chewing and chomping parts.

And if being a major player in the evolution of African cichlids and Darwin’s finches — two of the most famous evolutionary radiations of species — were not enough for BMP4, Dr. Peter R. Grant, an evolutionary biologist at Princeton University, predicted that the gene would probably be found to play an important role in the evolution of still other animals. He noted that jaw changes were a crucial element in the evolution of lizards, rabbits and mice, among others, making them prime candidates for evolution via BMP4.

“This is just the beginning,” Dr. Grant said. “These are exciting times for us all.”

Used to lay out body plans, build beaks and alter fish jaws, BMP4 illustrates perfectly one of the major recurring themes of evo-devo. New forms can arise via new uses of existing genes, in particular the control genes or what are sometimes called toolkit genes that oversee development. It is a discovery that can explain much that has previously been mysterious, like the observation that without much obvious change to the genome over all, one can get fairly radical changes in form.

“There aren’t new genes arising every time a new species arises,” said Dr. Brian K. Hall, a developmental biologist at Dalhousie University in Nova Scotia. “Basically you take existing genes and processes and modify them, and that’s why humans and chimps can be 99 percent similar at the genome level.”

Evo-devo has also begun to shine a light on a phenomenon with which evolutionary biologists have long been familiar, the way in which different species will come up with sometimes jaw-droppingly similar solutions when confronted with the same challenges.

Among the placental mammals of the Americas and the marsupials of Australia, for example, have evolved the same sorts of animals independently: beasts that burrowed, loping critters that grazed, creatures that had long snouts for eating ants, and versions of wolf.

In the same way, the cichlids have evolved pairs of matching species, arising independently in separate lakes in Africa. In Lake Malawi, for example, there is a long and flat-headed species with a deep underbite that looks remarkably like an unrelated species that lives a similar lifestyle in Lake Tanganyika. There is another cichlid with a bulging brow and frowning lips in Lake Malawi with, again, an unrelated but otherwise extremely similar-looking cichlid in Lake Tanganyika. The same jaws, heads, and ways of living can be seen to evolve again and again.

The findings of evo-devo suggest that such parallels might in fact be expected. For cichlids are hardly coming up with new genetic solutions to eating tough snails as they each crank up the BMP4 or tinker with other toolkit genes. Instead, whether in Lake Malawi or Lake Tanganyika, they may be using the same genes to develop the same forms that provide the same solutions to the same ecological challenges. Why not, when even the beaked birds flying overhead are using the very same genes?

Evo-devo has even begun to give biologists new insight into one of the most beautiful examples of recurring forms: the evolution of mimicry.

It has long been a source of amazement how some species seem so able to evolve near-perfect mimicry of another. Poisonous species often evolve bright warning colors, which have been reproduced by nonpoisonous species or by other, similarly poisonous species, hoping to fend off curious predators.

Now in a new study of Heliconius butterflies, Dr. Mathieu Joron, an evolutionary biologist at the University of Edinburgh, and colleagues, found evidence that the mimics may be using some of the same genes to produce their copycat warning colors and patterns.

The researchers studied several species of tropical Heliconius butterflies, all of which are nasty-tasting to birds and which mimic one another’s color patterns. Dr. Joron and colleagues found that some of the main elements of the patterns — a yellow band in Heliconius melpomene and Heliconius erato and a complex tiger-stripe pattern in Heliconius numata — are controlled by a single region of DNA, a tightly linked set of genes known as a supergene.

Dr. Joron said he and colleagues were still mapping the details of color pattern control within the supergene. But if this turned out to function, as researchers suspected, like a toolkit gene turning the patterns on and off, it could explain both the prevalence of mimicry in Heliconius and the apparent ease with which these species have been shown to repeatedly evolve such superbly matching patterns.

One of evo-devo’s greatest strengths is its cross-disciplinary nature, bridging not only evolutionary and developmental studies but gaps as broad as those between fossil-hunting paleontologists and molecular biologists. One researcher whose approach epitomizes the power of such synthesis is Dr. Neil Shubin, an evolutionary biologist at the University of Chicago and the Field Museum.

Last year, Dr. Shubin and colleagues reported the discovery of a fossil fish on Ellesmere Island in northern Canada. They had found Tiktaalik, as they named the fish, after searching for six years. They persisted for so long because they were certain that they had found the right age and kind of rock where a fossil of a fish trying to make the transition to life on land was likely to be found. And Tiktaalik appeared to be just such a fish, but it also had a few surprises for the researchers.

“Tiktaalik is special,” Dr. Shubin said. “It has a flat head with eyes on top. It has gills and lungs. It’s an animal that’s exploring the interface between water and land.”

But Tiktaalik was a truly stunning discovery because this water-loving fish bore wrists, an attribute thought to have been an innovation confined strictly to animals that had already made the transition to land.

“This was telling us that a piece of the toolkit, to make arms, legs, hand and feet, could very well be present in fish limbs,” Dr. Shubin said. In other words, the genetic tools or toolkit genes for making limbs to walk on land might well have been present long before fish made that critical leap. But as fascinating as Tiktaalik was, it was also rock hard and provided no DNA that might shed light on the presence or absence of any particular gene.

So Dr. Shubin did what more and more evo-devo researchers are learning to do: take off one hat (paleontologist) and don another (molecular biologist). Dr. Shubin oversees one of what he says is a small but growing number of laboratories where old-fashioned rock-pounding takes place alongside high-tech molecular DNA studies.

He and colleagues began a study of the living but ancient fish known as the paddlefish. What they found, reported last month in the journal Nature, was that these thoroughly fishy fish were turning on control genes known as Hox genes, in a manner characteristic of the four-limbed, land-loving beasts known as tetrapods.

Tetrapods include cows, people, birds, rodents and so on. In other words, the potential for making fingers, hands and feet, crucial innovations used in emerging from the water to a life of walking and crawling on land, appears to have been present in fish, long before they began flip-flopping their way out of the muck. “The genetic tools to build fingers and toes were in place for a long time,” Dr. Shubin wrote in an e-mail message. “Lacking were the environmental conditions where these structures would be useful.” He added, “Fingers arose when the right environments arose.”

And here is another of the main themes to emerge from evo-devo. Major events in evolution like the transition from life in the water to life on land are not necessarily set off by the arising of the genetic mutations that will build the required body parts, or even the appearance of the body parts themselves, as had long been assumed. Instead, it is theorized that the right ecological situation, the right habitat in which such bold, new forms will prove to be particularly advantageous, may be what is required to set these major transitions in motion.

So far, most of the evo-devo work has been on animals, but researchers have begun to ask whether the same themes are being played out in plants.

Of particular interest to botanists is what Darwin described as an “abominable mystery”: the origin of flowering plants. A critical event in the evolution of plants, it happened, by paleontological standards, rather suddenly.

So what genes were involved in the origin of flowers? Botanists know that during development, the genes known as MADS box genes lay out the architecture of the blossom. They do so by turning on other genes, thereby determining what will develop where — petals here, reproductive parts there and so on, in much the same manner that Hox genes determine the general layout of parts in animals. Hox genes have had an important role in the evolution of animal form. But have MADS box genes had as central a role in the evolution of plants?

So far, said Dr. Vivian F. Irish, a developmental biologist at Yale University, the answer appears to be yes. There is a variety of circumstantial evidence, the most interesting of which is the fact that the MADS box genes exploded in number right around the time that flowering plants first appeared.

“It’s really analogous to what’s going on in Hox genes,” said Dr. Irish, though she noted that details of the role of the MADS box genes remained to be worked out. “It’s very cool that evolution has used a similar strategy in two very different kingdoms.”

Amid the enthusiast hubbub, cautionary notes have been sounded. Dr. Jerry Coyne, an evolutionary biologist at the University of Chicago, said that as dramatic as the changes in form caused by mutations in toolkit genes can be, it was premature to credit these genes with being the primary drivers of the evolution of novel forms and diversity. He said that too few studies had been done so far to support such broad claims, and that it could turn out that other, more mundane workaday genes, of the sort that were being studied long before evo-devo appeared on the scene, would play equally or even more important roles.

“I urge caution,” Dr. Coyne said. “We just don’t know.”

All of which goes to show that like all emerging fields, evo-devo’s significance and the uniqueness of its contributions will continue to be reassessed. It will remain to be seen just how separate or incorporated into the rest of evolutionary thinking its findings will end up being. Paradoxically, it was during just such a flurry of intellectual synthesis and research activity, the watershed known as the New or Modern Synthesis in which modern evolutionary biology was born in the last century, that developmental thinking was almost entirely ejected from the science of evolution.

But perhaps today synthesizers can do better, broadening their focus without constricting their view of evolution as they try to take in all of the great pageant that is the history of life.

“We’re still a very young field,” Dr. Gilbert said. “But I think this is a new evolutionary synthesis, an emerging evolutionary synthesis. I think we’re seeing it.”



What's On My Other Blogs today: (click blog name to go there) = / 1.3rd Eye Blog / 2. Favorites Blog/ 3. Vita Excolatur (Living Well ...) Blog/ 4. Humor Me Blog/ 5. News and Current Events Blog/ 6. Consider This ... Blog/ 7. Consumer Warnings Blog/ 8. New Orleans Pentimento Blog/ 9. We Constant Gardeners Blog/ 10. Chaillot Family Blog/

Friday, June 22, 2007

Roses in New York City


Romancing the Rose in Its Infinite Splendor

Michael Falco for The New York Times

It is Rose Month at the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx where the rose garden has reopened after a comprehensive $2.5 million renovation.


Published: June 22, 2007

AS they always have — and absolutely must — during Rose Month at the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx, fanciers of the queen of flowers will stop, stoop and smell the roses, inhaling the splendor of the Peggy Rockefeller Rose Garden throughout the month of June. But this year visitors will discover a 1.04-acre garden that has been redefined. After undergoing a comprehensive, six-month, $2.5 million refurbishing, the rose garden is presenting its largest and most varied collection ever: 3,373 plants in 621 varieties.


Related

Renewed to Keep the Bloom on the Rose (June 22, 2007)

Michael Falco for the New York Times

A Memorial Day rose with a visitor at the Peggy Rockefeller Rose Garden at the Botanical Garden.

Michael Falco for The New York Times

In the garden: Some rose varieties have been culled and others added.

Michael Falco for the New York Times

Among the 621 varieties of roses featured in more than 3,000 plants in 83 beds is Rosa Mardi Gras, above.

Michael Falco for the New York Times

“What you love about roses, aside from their beauty,” says Peter E. Kukielski, self-described “rose geek” and curator of the garden’s rose collections, “is their names and their stories. It’s fun to personify them.”

As rose lovers visit individually or in groups of “rose friends,” they will find that the garden’s 83 beds, radiating from its central gazebo, have been reorganized and repopulated. New walkways, railings, permanent signs and other embellishments have been installed, in addition to extensive, if often invisible, infrastructure improvements that are intended to ensure that the future of the garden is comfortably rosy.

This weekend there is a busy roster of rose-related tours led by experts, question-and-answer sessions with the garden staff and home-gardening demonstrations. (See accompanying box.) But now, beyond this, the collection itself, the tapestry woven of the garden’s grand inventory, has more big blocks of color. Reds and pinks and whites and oranges and butter yellows fill the garden’s irregular triangular lot, with its planting area of 19,288 square feet. And visitors will encounter a more chronological presentation of the garden’s roses as well.

“We needed to expand the collection to keep up with rose hybridizers and to rationalize our heritage collection,” said Gregory Long, president of the mile-long, 250-acre Botanical Garden, a national historic landmark where roses have been grown since 1790.

A year ago the Botanical Garden brought in a rosarian, or cultivator of roses, from Atlanta, Peter E. Kukielski, whose formal title is curator of the Botanical Garden’s rose collections. He culled 400 of some 2,000 plants, those he deemed underperforming and unsuited to the location; then he added 1,703 new plants.

The setting of the rose garden, to the southeast in the Botanical Garden where it is bordered by the Bronx River Parkway, is a natural bowl just down the hill from the picturesque Stone Cottage, which dates to the mid-19th century, when the surrounding land was part of the Lorillard estate. The slopes of its margins are punctuated by weathered outcrops of Fordham gneiss.

There in 1916, at what is believed to have been the site of a Lorillard garden and pond, the current rose garden was planned, along with its fencing and gazebo, by Beatrix Jones Farrand, a niece of Edith Wharton and the most fashionable landscape designer of her era, Mr. Long said.

But the rose plantings established there were a stepchild of the Botanical Garden for decades, and the rose garden offered few amenities, since the plot was three-quarters of a mile, and a 15-minute walk, from the visitor hubbub near the Enid Haupt Conservatory. Now the garden’s trams make the 13-minute trip from the new visitors center every 10 minutes on weekends.

Video

More Video »

In the 1980s David Rockefeller donated $1 million in the memory of his wife, Peggy, to renovate the rose garden, creating new gates, fencing, walkways and a gazebo, all following the Farrand plan; it opened to the public in 1988.

Now the gazebo and iron lattice fencing have been refurbished and repainted. (The fence is considerably more than ornamental, since it discourages the Botanical Garden’s omnivorous rabbit population, which yearns for rose roots.)

The renovation has also brought the installation of large new decorative medallions of Hudson Valley bluestone at the main western entranceway, and new bluestone border pathways that now augment the crunchy gray stone-dust walks that were the signature of the previous garden. There are also new iron railings and boxwood borders by the main granite staircase to the west.

A sophisticated system of automated irrigation has been installed to keep the flowers watered on hot summer days. The drainage system needed drastic improvement as well, since in severe storms the garden “could be underwater,” Mr. Kukielski said. “Ducks used to swim among the roses,” he added.

For the first time each of the rose garden’s three entrances has its own welcoming garden: pinks and whites at the north, purples and oranges at the south and reds and apricots at the main western entrance.

The four tree roses at the north entrance, a variety named Pillow Fight — their hue is an appropriately fluffy white — are flanked by new varieties like Mystic Beauty and Borderer.

Pillow Fight, Mr. Kukielski explained during a tour on a recent afternoon, is a rare seedling of a hybrid called Gourmet Popcorn, and in the garden the miniature flowers of these white roses have been situated next to their Pillow Fight offspring “because we wanted to tell that story,” he said.

The tree-rose stars of the south entrance are four examples of a new variety called Burgundy Iceberg, a floribunda the color of Burgundy wine.

The main entrance too features some new celebrities: four newly introduced tree roses called Home Run, surrounded by apricots and reds that include Soft Morning and Sans Souci.

Mr. Kukielski said he hoped that the garden could now serve as a living encyclopedia of historic and modern roses. Therefore the eastern border of the garden is now a chronology of cultivation, the garden’s heritage rose collection of varieties — stretching from north to south — that existed generally before 1867, when the first hybrid tea rose, La France, was created. Though there are classic roses in other sections of the garden, they will be consolidated at the eastern margin during the next year.

To the north are species roses, those wild plants that evolved under natural selection. And a group of Rosa gallicas, the first hybridized class of roses, has been moved to the heritage bed, including varieties like Charles de Mills, introduced about 1790, and Cardinal de Richelieu, introduced about 1845.

The library of rose classics also includes damasks, albas, centifolias, China roses, moss roses, Portlands, Bourbons and hybrid perpetuals.

A first for the garden is the display of its collection of Barni roses from Italy, which combine the scent and shape of old roses with the vigor and repeat-flowering penchant of modern hybrids. The Barnis are new to the American rose scene, Mr. Kukielski said, and include exquisitely hued Rita Levis, Montalcinis and Silvina Donvitos.

Also on view is a new collection of Kordes roses from Germany. They are not only fragrant and beautiful, Mr. Kukielski said, but disease resistant as well, requiring no fungicides.

“What you love about roses, aside from their beauty,” he said, “is their names and their stories. It’s fun to personify them.” One example is Elizabeth Taylor — a deep pink hybrid tea rose — planted in the garden next to Julia Child, a butter yellow floribunda. Julia is adjacent to Betty Boop, a white-pink floribunda.

“The right plant in the right place can tell a story worthy of a novel,” Mr. Kukielski added. He offered as an example a plant called Peggy Martin Survivor, a vivid pink cutting from a New Orleans rose fancier’s important backyard collection. Though 450 of Ms. Martin’s heirloom plants were washed away during Hurricane Katrina, the Survivor was the lone rose to bloom again after the waters subsided.

A ruddy, sturdy, self-described “rose geek,” Mr. Kukielski, 41, said of roses on a recent afternoon that “they like to eat a lot and drink a lot, and I do too, so we get along very well together.”

Before joining the Botanical Garden last year, Mr. Kukielski — pronounced koo-KEL-ski — ran his own Atlanta-based company, the Rose Petaler Inc., creating estate rose collections.

A native Nebraskan who came to Atlanta at 5 and grew up there, Mr. Kukielski developed his love of roses from his mother, Elizabeth, and by working in the garden with his grandmother, Helen Gillen.

How did he become a rose geek? “They catch your soul,” he said. “The color, the scent, the uniqueness of them.”

And when people ask him what his favorite rose is, he tells them, “Whatever is blooming that day.”


What's On My Other Blogs today: (click blog name to go there) = / 1.3rd Eye Blog / 2. Favorites Blog/ 3. Vita Excolatur (Living Well ...) Blog/ 4. Humor Me Blog/ 5. News and Current Events Blog/ 6. Consider This ... Blog/ 7. Consumer Warnings Blog/ 8. New Orleans Pentimento Blog/ 9. We Constant Gardeners Blog/ 10. Chaillot Family Blog/

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Birds & Us


Editorial Observer

Millions of Missing Birds, Vanishing in Plain Sight

Published: June 19, 2007

Last week, the Audubon Society released a new report describing the sharp and startling population decline of some of the most familiar and common birds in America: several kinds of sparrows, the Northern bobwhite, the Eastern meadowlark, the common grackle and the common tern. The average decline of the 20 species in the Audubon Society’s report is 68 percent.

Forty years ago, there were an estimated 31 million bobwhites. Now there are 5.5 million. Compared to the hundred-some condors presently in the wild, 5.5 million bobwhites sounds like a lot of birds. But what matters is the 25.5 million missing and the troubles that brought them down — and are all too likely to bring down the rest of them, too. So this is not extinction, but it is how things look before extinction happens.

The word “extinct” somehow brings to mind the birds that seem like special cases to us, the dodo or the great auk or the passenger pigeon. Most people would never have had a chance to see dodos and great auks on their remote islands before they were decimated in the 17th and 19th centuries. What is hard to remember about passenger pigeons isn’t merely their once enormous numbers. It’s the enormous numbers of humans to whom their comings and goings were a common sight and who supposed, erroneously, that such unending clouds of birds were indestructible. We recognize the extraordinary distinctness of the passenger pigeon now because we know its fate, killed off largely by humans. But we have moralized it thoroughly without ever really taking it to heart.

The question is whether we will see the distinctness of the field sparrow — its number is down from 18 million 40 years ago to 5.8 million — only when the last pair is being kept alive in a zoo somewhere. We love to finally care when the death watch is on. It makes us feel so very human.

Like you, I’ve been reading dire reports of declining species for many years now. They have the value of causing us to pay attention to species in trouble, and the sad fact is that the only species likely to endure are the ones we humans manage to pay attention to. There was a time when it was better, if you were a nonhuman species, to be ignored by humans because we trapped, shot or otherwise exploited all of the ones that got our attention. But in the past 40 years, we have killed all those millions of birds or, let us say, unintentionally caused a dramatic population loss, simply by going about business as usual.

Agriculture has intensified. So has development. Open space has been sharply reduced. We have simply pursued our livelihoods. We knew it was inimical to wolves and mountain lions. But we somehow trusted that all the innocent little birds were here to stay. What they actually need to survive, it turns out, is a landscape that is less intensely human.

The Audubon Society portrait of common bird species in decline is really a report on who humans are. Let me offer a proposition about Homo sapiens. We are the only species on earth capable of an ethical awareness of other species and, thus, the only species capable of happily ignoring that awareness. So far, our economic interests have proved to be completely incompatible with all but a very few forms of life. It’s not that we believe that other species don’t matter. It’s that, historically speaking, it hasn’t been worth believing one way or another. I don’t suppose that most Americans would actively kill a whippoorwill if they had the chance. Yet in the past 40 years its number has dropped by 1.6 million.

In our everyday economic behavior, we seem determined to discover whether we can live alone on earth. E.O. Wilson has argued eloquently and persuasively that we cannot, that who we are depends as much on the richness and diversity of the biological life around us as it does on any inherent quality in our genes. Environmentalists of every stripe argue that we must somehow begin to correlate our economic behavior — by which I mean every aspect of it: production, consumption, habitation — with the welfare of other species.

This is the premise of sustainability. But the very foundation of our economic interests is self-interest, and in the survival of other species we see way too little self to care.

The trouble with humans is that even the smallest changes in our behavior require an epiphany. And yet compared to the fixity of other species, the narrowness of their habitats, the strictness of their diets, the precision of the niches they occupy, we are flexibility itself.

We look around us, expecting the rest of the world’s occupants to adapt to the changes that we have caused, when, in fact, we have the right to expect adaptation only from ourselves.



What's On My Other Blogs today: (click blog name to go there) = / 1.3rd Eye Blog / 2. Favorites Blog/ 3. Vita Excolatur (Living Well ...) Blog/ 4. Humor Me Blog/ 5. News and Current Events Blog/ 6. Consider This ... Blog/ 7. Consumer Warnings Blog/ 8. New Orleans Pentimento Blog/ 9. We Constant Gardeners Blog/ 10. Chaillot Family Blog/

Friday, June 15, 2007

Gardening Coaches

Plant! Water! Weed!

Gary Hallgren
Published: June 15, 2007

SINCE the early 1980s, when Arlene Kagle bought a weekend home with her husband in Stanfordville, N.Y., and began gardening, her flower beds have gone through more phases than the moon. “Things went from looking glorious to too many coreopsis to none, and from no black-eyed Susans to endless mounds,” said Dr. Kagle, a psychologist in private practice in New York and Dutchess County.

Skip to next paragraph
Jamie Rose for The New York Times

Arlene Kagle with her coach, Tim Steinhoff, in Stanfordville, N.Y.

Jamie Rose for The New York Times

A client’s garden tools, like Ms. Meek’s, give coaches insight.

Jamie Rose for The New York Times

Susan Harris gives a pointer to Kay Meek in Maryland.

Then early last summer, to prepare for a 25th anniversary party, Dr. Kagle planted everything she could find that would bloom between June 15 and June 25, the day of the event, and then gave the garden the back of her hand in July and August. Needless to say, it was not a pretty sight by Labor Day.

“This year, I decided I needed either to burn it all down and start over or find someone to give me some perspective,” Dr. Kagle said. “I’m an old hand, but I needed a fresh eye.”

One option would have been to hire a landscape architect — someone who would have done all the rethinking and the replanting, leaving Dr. Kagle’s involvement to that of remitting a big payment. Instead, she chose to call Tim Steinhoff, a Germantown “gardening coach.” A new addition to the landscape, gardening coaches — or gardening mentors as they are sometimes called — are the personal trainers of the prune-and-plant set.

Their target audience — do-it-yourselfers in search of enlightenment — occupies a middle ground between the people who simply sit back and watch, while others do the planting and mulching, and amateur plant killers whose gardening strategy can best be summed up as trowel and error.

“Arlene knows what she likes, and she also knows that what she’s done could be better,” Mr. Steinhoff said of Dr. Kagle. “But she doesn’t know how to get there.” To help get her there, he’s recommended a carefully chosen selection of peonies that will keep the garden interesting from April to June, early-flowering annuals (like larkspur) and some later-flowering shrubs (like Japanese snowbells). Next up: frikartii, rudbeckia and nearly constantly blooming shrubs like Daphne transatlantica, with certain varieties of salvia carrying through till first frost.

People who have moved from a city apartment to a suburban home with an established garden, those who have just bought a weekend getaway and now have some acreage but don’t have a clue — Mr. Steinhoff has counted all of them as clients, along with aging baby boomers looking to simplify. “They may have gardened with what I call upholstered plants — annuals and perennials,” he said. “Now, they still want to garden, but they don’t want it to take up so much of their time, so they want to know how to modify their landscape.” The answer is to plant shrubs and small trees.

“Part of the problem is that there’s an excess of information out there, the Internet, catalogs, books and magazines,” Mr. Steinhoff said. “How do you winnow?

“I tell people none of this is magic,” he continued. “I don’t hold any secrets. My whole point in coaching people is giving them information and knowledge they can act on. It’s essentially an extended conversation.”

If life coaches help clients cultivate strategies to realize personal and professional goals, gardening coaches work similar terrain. “I think we give people a hand in setting realistic targets, helping them understand what is achievable and what is not,” said Robin Haglund, owner of Garden Mentors, in Seattle, and until recently a coach with Exteriorscapes, also in Seattle.

“I see so many people who have pie-in-the-sky visions of what they can accomplish,” Ms. Haglund said. Such people want to put in new trees and a patio and a fence all at once. “Putting in a patio is something they can do — but is it something they want to do if they travel a lot or if this is their weekend home. We help them develop a skill set like learning how to prune and how to tackle things in bite-size chunks.”

KRISSY MAYER, a garden coach at Natorp’s Garden Stores in Mason, Ohio, also deals with the overambitious. People who don’t know one end of a hoe from the other “suddenly think they’re going to make an intense life change like they’re going to be in their garden from morning until night every Saturday and every Sunday. I give them a scale of things that are 1, 2 or 3 in importance.”

Depending on their arrangement with a client, coaches may come on site only once, perhaps once a season or once a year, or simply serve as docents at the local nursery to help clients make appropriate plant choices. Fees are generally $65 to $100 an hour.

For a client in the Washington area who had a summer home in Martha’s Vineyard, for example, Susan Harris, a gardening coach from Takoma Park, Md., would suggest spring- and fall-blooming plants for the primary residence.

According to Sara Begg, the executive editor of Horticulture magazine, the emergence of coaches may have something to do with an increased interest in gardening as a hobby among the 30-something crowd — and an utter lack of grounding in it: “While I learned gardening from my mother and grandmother, I don’t know these days if most people have that training passed down.

“They want to learn from someone because they’re afraid to take the risk of doing it themselves, spending all that money for plants and watching them die.”

Ms. Haglund sends prospective clients a worksheet so she can get a sense of their skill level. On her first visit, she always walks the property with them, giving a botany tutorial along the way, and asks to check out their gardening implements so she can learn something about how they’ve worked in the past. “A lot of people don’t know about garden forks that help with hand weeding,” she said.

One thing Ms. Haglund has found “is that people will clean up their garden before I come because they’re embarrassed about how it looks. But I really need to see things in their natural state.”

The need for a coach became clear to Candis Litsey when her husband announced that he did not wish to mow the lawn at their main residence in Seattle (the couple also has a weekend home in Hansville, Wash.) O.K., so the lawn would go. But what was going to replace it? “We knew we needed a mentor,” said Ms. Litsey, a homemaker, who called Ms. Haglund, then at Exteriorscapes. “She had a great questionnaire asking what kind of gardening we wanted to take on, how much time we wanted to devote to it. It really focused us.” Ms. Litsey has two triangular chunks of land, each about 1,500 square feet, and another 800-square-foot section.

The result of the focus: Exteriorscapes took on the planting in one of the large beds; Ms. Litsey, with guidance from Ms. Haglund, took over the other one. So far, she has planted some ground cover and some annuals, built a trellis and taken a stab at pruning an apple tree. “I did a quarter of it and had Robin come back to check on my work,” Ms. Litsey said. “She told me I had cut back too much but that I was right to tie the sagging branches.” She said that thanks to her garden coach, she feels more comfortable about shifting plants around the garden and is coming up with better questions at the nursery. “Instead of being seduced by color or scent, I’m asking whether it’s appropriate for the terrain.”

WHILE Susan Harris is called on to deal with issues like soil conditions and basic plant identification, she sometimes finds herself more referee than coach. “I’ve had people call me to settle an argument with their spouse,” she said. “One wants to get rid of the lawn and one doesn’t. Somebody wants to go all native, and they want to do it in a sunny spot, which in this area isn’t practical.”

And sometimes, Ms. Harris and other gardening coaches are asked to be parent figures. “We had a very sticky bush, an Oregon grape, which we bought to keep a little neighbor boy from running through our flower bed 35 years ago,” said Kay Meek, a retired teacher in Silver Spring, Md. The bush had outgrown the bed and, Ms. Meek noted, was beautiful only once a year. “Susan just said, ‘You don’t like it. It doesn’t look good there. Take it out,’ ” she said, referring to Ms. Harris. “She gave me the courage to move it. She gave me permission.

“You can read gardening books,” Ms. Meek added, “but unlike a coach they don’t pat you on the back and say, ‘Go ahead and do it.’ ”



What's On My Other Blogs today: (click blog name to go there) = / 1.3rd Eye Blog / 2. Favorites Blog/ 3. Vita Excolatur (Living Well ...) Blog/ 4. Humor Me Blog/ 5. News and Current Events Blog/ 6. Consider This ... Blog/ 7. Consumer Warnings Blog/ 8. New Orleans Pentimento Blog/ 9. We Constant Gardeners Blog/ 10. Chaillot Family Blog/

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Class Consciousness

The Class-Consciousness Raiser

Published: June 10, 2007

By the time Ruby Payne sat down for lunch, she had been at it for three hours straight, standing alone behind a lectern on a wide stage in a cavernous convention hall, parked between two American flags, instructing an audience of 1,400 Georgians in the hidden rules of class. No notes, no warm-up act, just Ruby, with her Midwestern-by-way-of-East-Texas drawl and her crisp white shirt, her pinstriped business suit and bright red lipstick and blow-dried blond hair, a wireless microphone hooked around her right ear. She had already explained why rich people don’t eat casseroles, why poor people hang their pictures high up on the wall, why middle-class people pretend to like people they can’t stand. She had gone through the difference between generational poverty and situational poverty and the difference between new money and old money, and she had done a riff on how middle-class people are so self-satisfied that they think everyone wants to be middle class.

For the Glynn County Board of Education, Payne’s visit was a big deal. It was back in 2005 that Marjorie Varnadoe, the board’s director of professional development, called to request a presentation from Payne, and this particular Thursday, two years later, was the earliest available date. Principals had ordered Payne’s books and DVDs by the boxload, mostly her ur-text, “A Framework for Understanding Poverty,” and they made the books required reading for their staffs. All over the county, which is on the coast, down near the Florida border, schools held small workshops on class and education, using Payne’s “Framework” as a guide, and teachers sat down together for informal discussions and lunchroom chats about poverty and wealth. When the big day came, the entire school system was given the day off, and by 8 a.m. almost every single teacher and administrator in the county was packed into the Jekyll Island Conference Center, along with the school board, the Chamber of Commerce and various local dignitaries.

The morning went well. Payne, who is 56, has been giving this presentation for more than 10 years, and she knows how to work it: alternating a funny story with a sad one, mixing anecdotes from her own teaching career with references to the work of learned academics, never lecturing or preaching, keeping up a steady stream of one-liners. At 10 a.m., there was a 15-minute break, but not for Payne. A line quickly formed in front of her, and she sat on the lip of the stage, leaning on one arm, her legs tucked beneath her, signing books and listening attentively as one audience member after another told her their own stories about class and education and, usually, how her books had helped them understand their students and themselves. A few of the teachers hugged Payne. One woman kissed her hand. Another burst into tears.

And now it was time for lunch, fried chicken and sweet iced tea and white sheet cake for 1,400, served in a second giant conference hall just across the atrium from the first. Payne sat in the middle of a small circle of admirers; across the table was Charlotte Lawson, an instructional coach at a local elementary school. Lawson was a veteran of the Ruby Payne system, a graduate of a four-day in-depth certification course that authorized her to train other teachers in the basics of Payne’s framework. But she had never met Payne one on one like this, and she was gushing. “I’m so excited,” she said. “This is like a dream.”

Payne laughed a friendly laugh.

“I’ve shared so much of the training here,” Lawson said. “People are always telling me, ‘It makes all the pieces fit together.’ When you work with children and families from poverty, you don’t understand it till you hear this piece, and then all of a sudden you’re going, ‘Oh, that’s why they did that.’ ”

At the heart of Payne’s philosophy is a one-page chart, titled “Hidden Rules Among Classes,” which appears in most of her books. There are three columns, for poverty, middle class and wealth, and 15 rows, covering everything from time to love to money to language. In a few words, Payne explains how each class sees each concept. Humor in poverty? About people and sex. In the middle class? About situations. In wealth? About social faux pas. In poverty, the present is most important. In the middle class, it’s the future. In wealth, it’s the past. The key question about food in poverty: Did you have enough? In the middle class: Did you like it? In wealth: Was it presented well?

It may be that the only people with abiding faith in the power of class divisions in America are the country’s few remaining Marxists and Ruby Payne. And while Payne may not believe in class struggle, per se, she does believe that there is widespread misunderstanding among the classes — and more than ever, she says, the class that bears the cost of that misunderstanding is the poor. In schools, particularly, where poor students often find themselves assigned to middle-class teachers, class cluelessness is rampant.

Your class, Payne says, determines everything: your eating habits, your speech patterns, your family relations. It is possible to move out of the class you were born into, either up or down, she says, but the transition almost always means a great disruption to your sense of self. And you can ascend the class ladder only if you are willing to sacrifice many of your relationships and most of your values — and only if you first devote yourself to careful study of the hidden rules of the class you hope to enter.

Payne’s critics say she is oversimplifying the complexities of poverty in the United States, perpetuating offensive stereotypes of irresponsible, disorganized poor people who play the TV too loud and like to solve disputes with their fists. Payne is quick to caution that her portrait is a general one. She would be “heartsick,” she said on stage, “if anyone used this information to stereotype.” But she also says that if teachers and other professionals don’t look below the surface of class — if they don’t make an effort to understand the habits and styles and traditions that persist in many poor families — they will never be able to recognize the deep obstacles that poor people, and especially poor children, often face.

Payne’s journey into class consciousness began more than 30 years ago, when she met Frank, the man who would become her husband. Ruby was raised in a middle-class Mennonite family in Ohio, while Frank grew up in extreme poverty in Goshen, Ind. As Ruby began to spend time in Frank’s impoverished neighborhood, she realized that she didn’t understand the first thing about the lives of the people who lived there — and they didn’t get her, either. Frank’s friends were appalled that Ruby didn’t know how to defend herself in a fight; Ruby was stunned that her neighbors would regularly get paid on Friday and, after a weekend of carousing, be broke by Monday.

As Payne studied her new surroundings, she came to appreciate more subtle nuances of class division. She realized that her husband’s family’s poverty was what she would later come to call “situational”: they had been middle class until Frank’s father died when Frank was 6, and only then had they slipped down to the economy’s bottom rung. Most of their neighbors, by contrast, were in “generational poverty,” meaning their families had been poor for as long as anyone could remember. Each group, she discovered, had its own distinct set of beliefs and customs.

Payne’s next lesson came when her husband took a job on the floor of the Chicago Board of Trade. He wasn’t rich, but he was now spending his work life with men who were, which meant that Ruby was expected to socialize with their wives. She didn’t fit in with the rich any better than she had fit in with the poor. More miscommunications and social awkwardness ensued, generating more fodder for Payne’s growing understanding of class difference.

Payne wasn’t quite sure what to do with this new knowledge. As her career in education developed, from teacher to principal to administrator, she found that her understanding of class came in handy. Because of her exposure to her husband’s family and neighbors, it seemed, she was better able to communicate with poor students than most other middle-class teachers. Her colleagues began to ask her for help and advice on dealing with their most troubling students, and Payne worked up an informal set of strategies and tips that she would pass along.

Then in 1993, after moving to Texas, Payne read a book that had a profound effect on her: “Creating Money,” a New Age-infused guide to “the spiritual laws of money.” It’s an odd book, ostensibly dictated to the authors by two “spirit guides” named Orin and DaBen. But Payne was inspired. “The book said, Make a list of what you want in your life and ask the universe to bring it to you,” she told me. “So I did. I wrote: ‘I want a life without financial constraints. I want a life without institutional constraints. And I want to make a difference with children.’ And it happened!”

Payne began to give talks on class for small groups of teachers, and they were a hit. Word spread. Soon she was addressing audiences all across the Texas school district where she worked. Over spring break in 1995, she banged out a manuscript based on her ideas and quickly published it herself. This was “A Framework for Understanding Poverty,” which, she says, has gone on to sell more than a million copies. As Payne’s following grew, she quit her job and became a full-time speaker, author and trainer.

She now owns and runs her own business, called aha! Process, Inc.; it has more than 50 trainers on contract and accrues millions of dollars in annual revenues. Ruby Payne has become a small industry: her company offers training sessions, workshops, DVDs, audiotapes, T-shirts, autographed Ruby Payne coffee mugs and lots and lots of books: a book about the hidden rules of class in the workplace, a workbook to help people in poverty learn the rules to pull themselves out, a Spanish translation of “A Framework for Understanding Poverty.” In “What Every Church Member Should Know About Poverty,” which Payne wrote with Bill Ehlig, a minister in Baytown, Tex., she not only urges middle-class and wealthy churches to welcome poor parishioners in the door but she also lays out the extra steps they need to take to make the newcomers feel at home. In “Crossing the Tracks for Love,” Payne takes on romance, offering advice for those who enter into a relationship with a person from another class. It’s not easy, Payne cautions: everything from disciplining children to interior decoration is a potential flashpoint for a class-based quarrel. So she provides tips:

“If you’re from middle class and marry or otherwise move into poverty, understand the need of your spouse/partner to protect you,” she writes. “You are his/her possession. Try to see the positives in this.”

And later: “If you come from a middle-class background and marry into wealth . . . learn about extended silverware and silver settings and the different pieces of crystal used to drink different beverages — and take cooking classes. Never, but never, make fun of yourself as a deficient cook. Be extremely knowledgeable about wine.”

In “Crossing the Tracks,” as in all of her work, Payne emphasizes that she is not making value judgments about the relative merits of the different classes; she’s just explaining how they work. “I’m not interested in changing your behavior or the behavior of your spouse or significant other,” she writes. “My only goal is to provide you with options — and awareness. When you know the hidden rules, you have more choices. You can choose whether or not you want to alter your behavior or embrace a different way of doing things. But unless you’re informed, you won’t get the opportunity to decide.”

Despite Payne’s counsel, the reality is that in the nation’s bedrooms and churches, bridges across the class divide are increasingly rare: most Americans worship with and marry people who are just like them. In public schools, though, class divisions are a frequent part of daily existence, sometimes within the student body but also, and more significant, between teachers and students.

The passage of the No Child Left Behind law in 2002 brought a new urgency to the issue of poverty in the classroom. For the first time, schools were required not only to report their overall test results but also to calculate the scores for various “subgroups,” including racial minorities, students for whom English is a second language and students whose parents’ income is low enough to qualify them for a free or reduced-price lunch. It soon became impossible to ignore that there was a problem: poor students were scoring well behind their wealthier peers. And schools suddenly had a powerful incentive to try to address that disparity. Even otherwise well-performing schools could be labeled failures if their poor students weren’t catching up.

Payne believes that teachers can’t help their poor students unless they first understand them, and that means understanding the hidden rules of poverty. The second step, Payne says, is to teach poor students explicitly about the hidden rules of the middle class. She emphasizes that the goal should not be to change students’ behavior outside of school: you don’t teach your students never to fight if fighting is an important survival skill in the housing project where they live. But you do tell them that in order to succeed at school or later on in a white-collar job, they need to master certain skills: how to speak in “formal register,” how to restrain themselves from physical retaliation, how to keep a schedule, how to exist in what Payne calls the “abstract world of paper.”

At the Jekyll Island seminar, I met Steve Kipp, a science teacher at Brunswick High with a ponytail and a jumpy, eager energy. He looked as if he might be the kind of guy whom the other teachers would call when they couldn’t get their computers to work right. Kipp sat in the front row, dead center, and at the break he was the first person to come up and ask Payne for advice.

In 10th grade at Brunswick High, Kipp told me later, the advanced students usually take chemistry, and the other students, the ones who are more likely to wind up in technical college, take Kipp’s class, which is called General Physical Science. And each year it’s the same, Kipp said: the rich and middle-class kids are tracked into chemistry, and he gets the kids from poverty. Kipp grew up in the middle class, and in the past, he said, before he read Payne’s book, he would get frustrated by his poor students. They seemed unwilling or unable to learn; they laughed when he tried to mete out discipline. And so he found it hard to keep exerting himself. What was the point in teaching them, he thought, if they weren’t going to make an effort?

But after he immersed himself in Payne’s work, about five years ago, Kipp’s ideas changed. “I realized, these kids aren’t dumb,” he said. “They just haven’t had the enriching experiences that I had growing up.” So he pushes himself harder now to provide more experiments in the classroom, more hands-on learning to help his students develop the same kind of instinctive understanding of nature that he got running around in the woods as a boy.

Payne’s work in the schools has attracted a growing chorus of criticism, mostly from academia. Although Payne says that her only goal is to help poor students, her critics claim that her work is in fact an assault on those students. By teaching them middle-class practices, critics say, she is engaging in “classism” and racism. Her work is “riddled with factual inaccuracies and harmful stereotypes,” charges Anita Bohn, an assistant professor at Illinois State University, in a paper on Payne’s work. Paul Gorski, an assistant professor at Hamline University in St. Paul, writes that Payne’s central text “consists, at the crudest level, of a stream of stereotypes and a suggestion that we address poverty and education by ‘fixing’ poor people instead of reforming classist policies and practices.” (“LeftyHenry,” a recent poster on a political blog, was less subtle in his criticism; he called Payne “the Hitler of American academics.”)

Payne’s critics seem less aggrieved by what she includes in her analysis than by what they say she has left out: an acknowledgment that the American economy and American schools systematically discriminate against poor people. In this way, Payne finds herself in the middle of one of the central debates about poverty today. On one side are those, like Payne, who believe that poor people share certain habits and behaviors that help keep them in poverty. Recognizing and changing those behaviors, Payne and those who share her views believe, will help poor people to succeed. On the other side are those like Payne’s critics, who think that the game is so thoroughly fixed that most poor people can’t succeed no matter what they do. To them, locating any of the causes of persistent poverty among poor people themselves is, in effect, blaming the victim.

Academics in the latter group can’t stand Payne. And academics in the former group find it hard to defend her. There are plenty of sociologists, psychologists and economists who have reached conclusions similar to Payne’s: poor parents are more inclined to use corporal punishment; poor students are more eager to work hard in a teacher’s class when they feel a personal relationship with a teacher; poor homes are more often chaotic and loud. The problem is Payne’s methodology, or rather her lack of one. She does have a Ph.D. in social policy, and her book does have a few pages of footnotes. Her seminars include occasional references to popular scholarly works of sociology and history, like Robert Putnam’s “Bowling Alone” and Jared Diamond’s “Guns, Germs and Steel.” But clearly, Payne’s preferred unit of research is the anecdote. Her talks are nothing like university lectures. They’re a blend of cracker-barrel wisdom, Tony Robbins-style motivational speaking and a Chris Rock comedy routine. And that means that among academics in good standing, saying something nice about Ruby Payne is a good way to invite the disapproval of your peers.

You would think that Payne wouldn’t fret about a few angry assistant professors whose collective audience is a tiny fraction of the size of hers. But somehow, like gnats at a backyard barbecue, they drive her to distraction. Each time a progressive education journal publishes a detailed Foucauldian critique of her book (which she wrote, don’t forget, in a single week), Payne feels compelled to write in with a paragraph or two in her own defense. It doesn’t work, of course; the author invariably blasts back with another extended volley of withering scorn. In the pages of the Teachers College Record, the rich blond-haired white lady from Corpus Christi is never going to come out ahead.

Still, Payne won’t give up. She told me that she plans to spend a good part of this summer bolstering the scholarship behind her work, digging into the latest research, adding footnotes and references to her 11-year-old book.

For now, though, she’s got her stories, one after another, some from her own life, some from her trainers or from teachers and principals she has worked with. They can seem rehearsed, a little neat; some she repeats almost verbatim from one or another of her books. But for the teachers in the Jekyll Island conference center, that didn’t seem to matter much. For many of them, the real struggle of teaching wasn’t about keeping up with the latest in the debate on phonics versus whole language. It was about figuring out how to teach, how to help — even how to connect with — students who sometimes seemed as if they weren’t just from a different neighborhood but from a different planet.

As the afternoon drew to a close, Payne cut out the jokes and grew serious. “I think the hardest part about teaching is the stories that kids tell you that just pull your heart out,” she said, gripping the sides of the lectern and scanning the audience. “There isn’t a person in here who doesn’t have a student whose stories still haunt you.” Her voice was quiet, and her accent had softened. Every pair of eyes, it seemed, was on her. “What I’ve learned to say to kids is this: ‘You know, I respect you so much that you can handle this situation. I don’t know that I could. But if you don’t want to live that way the rest of your life, then I can give you the tools that will help you do things differently. It’s your choice. I can’t change your situation right now, but I can certainly give you the tools to help you change.’ And I think that’s the gift we bring. It’s a huge gift.”

Paul Tough is an editor of the magazine. He is writing a book about the Harlem Children’s Zone, a community organization.



What's On My Other Blogs today: (click blog name to go there) = / 1.3rd Eye Blog / 2. Favorites Blog/ 3. Vita Excolatur (Living Well ...) Blog/ 4. Humor Me Blog/ 5. News and Current Events Blog/ 6. Consider This ... Blog/ 7. Consumer Warnings Blog/ 8. New Orleans Pentimento Blog/ 9. We Constant Gardeners Blog/ 10. Chaillot Family Blog/