As it "illuminates the crisis of liberal education and offers proposals for reform which deserve full debate" (Morton Halperin, American Civil Liberties Union), "Illiberal Education" "documents how the politics of race and gender in our universities are rapidly eating away traditions of scholarship and reward for individual achievement" (Robert H. Bork). (Education/Teaching)

How ed tech was born: Twentieth-century teaching machines--from Sidney Pressey's mechanized test-giver to B. F. Skinner's behaviorist bell-ringing box. Contrary to popular belief, ed tech did not begin with videos on the internet. The idea of technology that would allow students to "go at their own pace" did not originate in Silicon Valley. In Teaching Machines, education writer Audrey Watters offers a lively history of predigital educational technology, from Sidney Pressey's mechanized positive-reinforcement provider to B. F. Skinner's behaviorist bell-ringing box. Watters shows that these machines and the pedagogy that accompanied them sprang from ideas--bite-sized content, individualized instruction--that had legs and were later picked up by textbook publishers and early advocates for computerized learning. Watters pays particular attention to the role of the media--newspapers, magazines, television, and film--in shaping people's perceptions of teaching machines as well as the psychological theories underpinning them. She considers these machines in the context of education reform, the political reverberations of Sputnik, and the rise of the testing and textbook industries. She chronicles Skinner's attempts to bring his teaching machines to market, culminating in the famous behaviorist's efforts to launch Didak 101, the "pre-verbal" machine that taught spelling. (Alternate names proposed by Skinner include "Autodidak," "Instructomat," and "Autostructor.") Telling these somewhat cautionary tales, Watters challenges what she calls "the teleology of ed tech"--the idea that not only is computerized education inevitable, but technological progress is the sole driver of events.

The odd reader (here in England "odd" means occasional) may be interested in how a book comes about. Members of the SIECUS Board of Directors were planning a Festschrift and dinner for Mary Calderone on the occasion of her 75th birthday. One planning idea was to have a booklet, filled with brief essays from prominent sex educators, distributed between the roast beef and the ice cream. My reaction was that such "souvenirs" find their burial place in the same dusty drawer as the program from the high school prom and ticket stubs from South Pacific. I suggested a more lasting, noticeable "monument," a "proper" (as the English say) book which would draw contributions from both SIECUS and non-SIECUS scholars. 1 was too clever to be trapped as editor (in a 1974 preface, I had written "I swore 1 wouldn't edit another book"). And so I seduced Lorna Brown (into being editor). I contacted a few potential con tributors, suggested a few others, convinced Leonard Pace at Plenum Press that this was a worthwhile venture, and left the country. To my amaze ment, six months after settling in Cambridge, England, the rough draft of the book arrived along with areminder from Lorna that during the se duction I had promised to write an Introduction.