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Lawrence A. Cremin: A Biographical Memoir

by Ellen Condliffe Lagemann & Patricia A. Graham - 1994

A memoir describing the life, work, and accomplishments of Lawrence A. Cremin.

Lawrence Cremin was truly a giant among us. A man of boundless energy, consistently high competence, lively spirit, twinkling eye, and great personal warmth and generosity, Cremin was a gifted scholar, teacher, administrator, and educational statesman. He could be courtly and gracious, wise and empathetic, or witty and fun, depending on the occasion. He could turn from one task to another with keen concentration and attend to a myriad of details without loss of humor or patience. Whether delivering a lecture, telling a story, writing a letter, giving a toast, or playing a tune on the piano, he performed with exceptional skill, verve, and life. He had many talents and many interests, and, to those of us who were his students and colleagues, he was a loyal and much loved mentor and friend.


In a very real sense, Cremin's career began when he first arrived at Teachers College as a graduate student in September 1946. It ended forty- four years later when he suffered a heart attack and died, at the age of sixty-four, on his way to Teachers College, where he had just begun his forty-first year on the faculty. In between, he wrote sixteen books (five of which were coauthored or had multiple authors) and scores of reviews and articles; he sponsored thirty-one doctoral students and taught countless others; he helped found many organizations, including the History of Education Society and the National Academy of Education; he served as president of Teachers College (1974-1984) and of the Spencer Foundation (1985-1990); and he was a member of many distinguished boards and panels. By any measure, his was an outstanding career.

At the time Cremin first entered Teachers College as a student, he was en route to a career in the family's music business. His parents, Arthur T. Cremin and Theresa Borowick Cremin, had grown up on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, married at a young age, and founded "The New York Schools of Music." As the elder of their two children, Cremin spent much of his youth working with them at one or another of their music schools. He distributed leaflets advertising the twenty-five-cent lessons; he sold musical instruments; he fixed up the prose in the story books his father wrote about the good violin named "Violinco"; he told jokes to the audiences in Carnegie Hall when music school concerts were delayed; and he played the piano and conducted the music school's orchestra.

Through it all, the young Cremin was engaged in a continuous dialogue with his father-indeed, the two were in steady conversation until Arthur Cremin died in the spring of 1985. The elder Cremin was a powerful, commanding man, to whom the younger Cremin attributed much of his own drive. His expectations for his son were enormous, and even though the younger Cremin resisted some of his father's wishes, notably the hope that he become a concert pianist, interchange with his father (often over one of the Horn & Hardart apple pies the two liked to devour together) was a vital element in Cremin's education.

Almost as an incidental sideline, it would seem, the young Cremin also attended school, first, the Model School of Hunter College, then Townsend Harris High School, and finally the College of the City of New York. Owing to his unusually keen memory, he could recollect many of the subjects he studied in school, the "old" chemistry, the psychology of personality, and music history, among them, and he could also recall what he later described as the absurdity of expecting a boy of fifteen to understand and appreciate Yeats, Shakespeare, and T. S. Eliot-reading those poets with insight and pleasure was an experience that came later. Reflecting on his early schooling, Cremin talked fondly of some of the fine teachers he had encountered, especially the elementary school teacher who taught him, he said, that he had an unusual talent for synthesis. Most of all, though, he talked of the small, close circle of friends with whom he went through school and roamed New York City, kayaking around Manhattan, playing tennis, and talking endlessly.

Graduated from Townsend Harris at the age of fifteen and a half, Cremin enrolled at City College, where his studies were interrupted by nineteen months of active service in the U.S. Army Air Corps. He was based in Miledgeville, Georgia; the separation from his family, friends, and native New York forced him to grow up, he always said. Three days after his discharge from the army in November 1945, he returned to City College, where he was elected to Phi Beta Kappa and graduated with a B.S. in Social Science the following year. Soon thereafter, he enrolled at Teachers College, initially as a student in music education-to wit, his first published article, "The Outdated Technical Exercise," which appeared in the Spring 1946 issue of the Bard Review. Owing to Teachers College course requirements, Cremin also enrolled in "foundations of education" courses, in the process encountering the extraordinary group of thinkers who then comprised the department of social and philosophical foundations of education-Lyman Bryson, John L. Childs, George S. Counts, R. Freeman Butts, and R. Bruce Raup, among them. Their passionate involvement in cultural and political causes and their rigorous intellectual commitment apparently captivated him, just as his quick intellect and dauntless energy drew them to him. Under their tutelage and with their help, he transferred the aspirations he had developed as a youngster to a career of his choice. He received the M.A. in 1947 and the Ph.D. in 1949.


Cremin's first publications were typical of historical scholarship in education of the late 1940s and 1950s. They focused on the institutional development of the public school and sought to illuminate how public schools reflected and fit into American society. Thus, in The American Common School: An Historic Conception, which was originally his Ph.D. dissertation, Cremin located the origins of the common school in the tensions that inevitably arose as different peoples sought to create a new, unified republican society. "The proponents of the common school were seeking the nurture of a common core of sentiment, of value, and of practice within which pluralism would not become anarchy," he maintained.[1] Several years later, in Public Schools in Our Democracy, which Cremin wrote with Merle L. Borrowman, the theme was similar. "The public schools are the public's schools," Cremin and Borrowman insisted, and their achievements and problems are of crucial importance to all communities.[2] Although The American Common School was a scholarly work, and characteristic of Cremin's later scholarship in the rich density of data it presented, and Public Schools in Our Democracy was a more popular treatise, both exemplified an instrumental view of education history. As a graduate student, Cremin had been George Counts's closest prot-g- and, though he rejected some of Counts's more critical views, Cremin came to share his mentor's concern for developing a usable past for educational policy. Indeed, historical accounts that might inform contemporary public policy debates remained a staple of his craft.

A prolific writer even during the early years of his career (though he often reminded people that no one, not even he, wrote easily), Cremin produced a constant stream of interesting, intelligent, timely articles for journals like the Teachers College Record, the Journal of Teacher Education, and the NEA Journal. He was coauthor of several books and became the associate editor of the Teachers College Record (1952-1959) as well as the editor of the Classics in Education series, which was published by the Teachers College Press and eventually numbered fifty- two volumes. Ten years elapsed, however, between Cremin's first book, The American Common School, and his next major study, The Transformation of the School: Progressivism in American Education, 1876-1957. It was a brilliant work. The Transformation of the School linked progressive education to "progressivism" writ large, seeing "progressive education . . . as part of a vast humanitarian effort to apply the promise of American life . . . to the puzzling new urban-industrial civilization that came into being during the latter half of the nineteenth century," and explicating the varied sources of progressivism and their manifestations in schools, colleges, social settlements, and government programs as well as in the thought of significant intellectuals and important social reformers.[3]

Unlike many earlier works in the history of education (including some written by Cremin), The Transformation of the School drew from, was directed toward, and added to important lines of research in American intellectual, social, and political history, Its provenance was the discipline of history and not the professional study of education. Winner of the 1962 Bancroft Prize in American History, it was seen as a model of the "new" historiography that had been championed by the Ford Foundation's Fund for the Advancement of Education since the middle 1950s. As part of a general effort to involve more discipline-based scholars in the study and professional practice of education, the fund had established the Committee on the Role of Education in American History in 1954. Its members were scholars of American history; none was "a 'specialist' in American education." Finding that "for almost three quarters of a century the history of American education has had a promising future and a disappointing present," the committee recommended a number of correctives. It urged a broadened focus for historical studies: "For the historian . . . an agency need not be labeled a school. The embodiment of the intent to teach or otherwise to influence attitudes is in our sense an educational agency." It advocated efforts "to examine education as a creative force in United States history" and "thoughtful interpretation of the role of educational forces in certain great movements of American history." Although his primary academic affiliation was still at Teachers College, after publication of The Transformation of the School, Cremin became a member of the Columbia University Department of History and was invited to join the committee.[4]

In that capacity, he helped organize a 1964 symposium at which he presented (as one of thirteen invited addresses) an essay that was subsequently published as The Wonderful World of Ellwood Patterson Cubberley. Concurring in criticisms of the history of education initially advanced by the full committee and then by Bernard Bailyn, in Education in the Forming of American Society (1960), Cremin argued that professional historians no less than "educationists" had been responsible for the narrow, whiggish, anachronistically school-centered accounts that had dominated the field since the nineteenth century. More important, perhaps, he went on to describe a vision for a new "general interpretation." Turning first to questions of scope, he maintained that a more inclusive history would, of course, include study of the origins of the public school, but should ask in addition "what agencies, formal and informal, have shaped American thought, character, and sensibility over the years, and what have been the significant relationships between these agencies and the society that has sustained them." That question, he maintained, would focus attention "beyond the schools to a host of other institutions that educate: families, churches, libraries, museums, publishers, benevolent societies, youth groups, agricultural fairs, radio networks, military organizations, and research institutes." In addition, Cremin argued, a new, more inclusive history should allow for cross-fertilization between the history of education and other subfields of American history, for example, the history of science and the history of communication, and should draw from the social sciences for its methods. It should include comparative studies, contrasting the role of education in the United States with the role of education in other countries, and it should allow educational historians to become "bolder" in their appraisals of the impact of education on American culture. "Cubberley may well have been correct in his judgment that at least one clue to the genius of American civilization lay in education," Cremin concluded. "It remains to be seen whether anyone in our own time can portray the relationship more accurately, comprehensively, and imaginatively." The challenge he announced in The Wonderful World of Ellwood Patterson Cubberley became one of the essential aims of his mature career.[5]

Soon after The Wonderful World of Ellwood Patterson Cubberley appeared, Cremin was invited to write "a comprehensive history of American education" to celebrate the centennial of the U.S. Office of Education.[6] With financing from the Carnegie Corporation of New York, he began the project at the Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences in Stanford, California, during a 1964-1965 sabbatical year. The undertaking yielded a masterful three-volume study: American Education: The Colonial Experience, 1607-1783 was published in 1970; American Education: The National Experience, 1783-1876 was published in 1980 and won the Pulitzer Prize for history in 1981; and American Education: The Metropolitan Experience, 1876-1980 was published in 1988.[7]

Each volume of American Education was built around a broad definition of education (one that actually expanded as the work proceeded): "I have defined education . . . as the deliberate, systematic, and sustained effort to transmit, evoke, or acquire knowledge, values, attitudes, skills, and sensibilities, as well as any learning that results from that effort, direct or indirect, intended or unintended," Cremin explained.[8] Each began with an extended discussion of ideas about education, for example, the colonial educational ideals of piety, civility, and learning; each included many cameo portraits of important reformers and thinkers accompanied by discussions of their thought and its bearing on educational philosophies and practices; each presented analyses of the major educational dilemmas of the particular era, the mounting sectional conflicts of the nineteenth century thus becoming, as one example, "education by collision"; and each concluded with discussions of institutions, configurations, lives, and characteristics, followed by an extended bibliographic essay.

American Education defies simple summation. All three volumes were concerned with the emergence and modification over time of what Cremin called an American paideia-"an explicit philosophy of the good life"-and with the translation of that paideia into a great variety of intentional efforts to instruct young children, to inform grown men and women, to shape public opinion, to influence political action, and to transfer American culture abroad.[9] Sounding through all three volumes was Cremin's belief in the generative significance of ideas, values, and purposeful actions in efforts to educate-hence, the attention given to religious institutions, to thinkers both great and popular, and to individual educational biographies. An emphasis on the nobility of the aspirations associated with movements ranging from Puritanism to progressivism was also present from beginning to end. Imperfections in actual achievements were noted, but they were treated less centrally and sometimes merely implied. Essential to the whole enterprise was a conception of education as ubiquitous, "multitudinous," complex in its manifestations and outcomes, and essential to all people and all activities. As no history had done before, Cremin's masterwork demonstrated that American education had been essential to American history and American life.

After 1964, work on American Education became a constant feature of Cremin's daily routine, but he also continued to write articles and published four other books: The Genius of American Education, originally delivered as the 1965 Horace Mann Lecture; Public Education, originally delivered as the 1975 John Dewey Lecture; Traditions of American Education, originally delivered as the 1976 Merle Curti Lectures; and Popular Education and Its Discontents, originally delivered as the 1989 Inglis and Burton Lectures.[10] In these works, Cremin presented the conceptual underpinnings of his historical studies, differentiating between and among processes like education, development, socialization, and acculturation, explaining concepts like "configurations of education," and setting forth the main interpretative lines of a new "problematics" for educational history. In addition, he commented on trends in educational policy and sketched the institutional outlines of American education over three centuries, always avoiding polemical debate. "Cremin respected ideas but abhorred ideological commitment as antithetical to sound historical scholarship," a former student once wrote.[11] He thought it more important to illuminate the importance of the American commitment to popular education and to lend perspective to the challenges that commitment presented than to take sides or advocate specific solutions to problems. His last book, Popular Education and Its Discontents, was less concerned with the purported failings of the public schools than with the need to acknowledge in contemporary public policy the fact that "many institutions educate" and to develop more and better knowledge that might help to ensure that those institutions were effective in educating all people. Popular Education was "the coda" to his trilogy, Cremin often said, and the book exemplifies his scholarship at its best. It is wise, humane, sprinkled with humor, rich with data, gracefully written, and deeply informed by a respect for research, intellect, and historical definitions of contemporary problems and dilemmas.


After publication of The Transformation of the School, Cremin became increasingly involved in public affairs. He had been active in professional associations since the start of his career, and he had already served as president of the History of Education Society (1959) and of the National Society of College Teachers of Education (1961). But now, joining forces with his friend Israel Scheffler, a philosopher of education at Harvard, he also helped to formulate plans for the National Academy of Education and to gain for those plans the endorsement of James B. Conant, former president of Harvard, and the backing of John W. Gardner, then president of the Carnegie Corporation of New York. Modeled on the National Academy of Sciences, the National Academy of Education was intended "to create a body of distinguished investigators who will set the highest standards of educational inquiry and discussion" and to provide "a forum for conversation, debate, mutual instruction, a rostrum for the communication of scholarly information and opinion, a stimulus for imaginative and fruitful research, and a source of counsel for such public and private agenda as require and request it."[12] The academy was formally chartered on March 26, 1965. Following Ralph W. Tyler, who served as its first president, Cremin became its president from 1969 until 1973. Also during the middle 1960s, he served as chairman of the Curriculum Improvement Panel of the U.S. Office of Education (1963- 1965), of the Regional Laboratories Panel of the U.S. Office of Education (1965-1966), and of the Carnegie Commission on the Education of Educators (1966-1970). In addition, he served as a vice-chairman of the White House Conference on Education in 1965 and became a trustee of the Children's Television Workshop (from 1971 until 1987) and of the Dalton School (from 1975 until 1982).[13]

In 1958, Cremin had been appointed chairman of the department of social and philosophical foundations of education at Teachers College, which was renamed the department of philosophy and the social sciences in 1964. In 1961, he was awarded the Barnard Professorship of Education, a Columbia University professorship named in honor of Frederick A. P. Barnard, Columbia's president from 1864 until 1889. From 1965 until 1974, he also served as director of the Teachers College Institute of Philosophy and Politics of Education. Frequently called on by TC president John H. Fischer to lead committees, meet with trustees, help with fund raising, and otherwise participate in college administrative matters, Cremin's election to the presidency of Teachers College in May of 1974 was hardly a surprise-although, as he himself liked to point out, it was hardly assured. At his typically modest inaugural lecture, he repeated Amos A. Lowell's remark that "accepting a college presidency is a bit like getting married: one shouldn't do it unless one is in love," and then added: "I told the Trustees that by Lowell's criterion, I was prepared to accept the presidency of Teachers College. I have loved the traditions of this College and I have loved its aspirations. And I invite you to honor and cherish those traditions and aspirations with me."[14]

When he became president of Teachers College, Cremin had a full agenda of hopes for progress and for improvements. He wanted to build on the college's strengths internally and externally "to advance the sciences and arts of education in all its forms, wherever it proceeds, across the entire life-cycle, and throughout the world"; and he hoped to translate a broadened view of education into actual programs of teaching, publication, and professional development.[15] His accession to the presidency was auspicious, but as Harold J. Noah, who served as dean of Teachers College from 1976 until 1981, recalled with poignancy at Cremin's Memorial Service, "by 1976 a severe downturn in enrollments and external funding hit the College, as it hit every other school of education, . . . [and] lasted for virtually the entire remaining eight years of Larry's presidency. The debt the College owes to Larry . . . is that his leadership pulled us through that bad patch, and secured our future not just in terms of bare, meager survival, but in splendidly good order, with a College ready to prosper and to serve in the upturn of the later 1980s."[16] Much was accomplished during Cremin's presidency: the AEGIS Program (in adult education) was initiated; the Klingenstein Center for Independent School Education was established; the Center for Infants and Parents was opened; the Milbank Memorial Library was renovated; the Gardner Cowles, Cleveland E. Dodge, Elbenwood, William Heard Kilpatrick, Isabel Maitland Stewart, and Edward L. Thorndike professorships were created; and the donors to the TC Annual Fund as well as the amounts of money raised were increased fourfold.[17] And yet, as Cremin was prone to remark, his greatest contribution may have been preserving the essential character of Teachers College, the "wide range of talents, interests, approaches, and styles"-the pluralism-that he believed was "absolutely essential" to the college's "health and prosperity as an institution."[18]

In line with his well-known modesty and preference for understatement, Cremin retired from the presidency of Teachers College quietly. He refused dinners, luncheons, awards, and offers of retirement parties capped with gifts of golf clubs (a horrifying prospect, he said!) and instead planned his own "celebration of ten years of colleagueship"-a party in the courtyard of Teachers College with beer and popcorn to which all members of the community were invited. Privately, he referred to the party as the perfect culmination to "the great escape." By the spring of 1984, he was eager to return to full-time teaching and scholarship.

After a sabbatical spent at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, New Jersey, Cremin returned to full professorial duties at Teachers College, while also assuming the presidency of the Spencer Foundation. He continued to live in New York City, usually commuting to Chicago for several days every other week. Having served as a member of the foundation's board of directors since 1973, he quickly agreed with the board to continue most aspects of the foundation's program, while increasing grants for basic disciplinary research about the organization and processes of education inside and outside of schools, focusing more attention on studies that might illuminate problems of educational equity, and directing additional funds to fellowship programs that could help to renew the educational research community.

Cremin had planned to retire from the Spencer presidency in 1995, when he reached his seventieth birthday. He was fascinated by the possibilities and problems associated with nurturing first-class research and convinced that a "genuine commitment to universal education" required diversity within the educational research community and a broad range of "approaches to educational institutions and processes."[19] He was particularly hopeful of the knowledge to be gained from studies of "individual development in a variety of social contexts," studies of "the social construction of knowledge" and of "political learning," and studies "intended to improve access to educational opportunities and to reduce barriers to learning . . . in all of the various settings in which teaching and learning go forward."[20] Untroubled by colleagues and critics who urged more school- focused and applied research, Cremin continued to believe that basic research into education, broadly conceived, held the clue to educational progress.


There was a remarkable resonance between the beliefs Cremin expressed in the Spencer Foundation annual reports and the conclusion he wrote for Popular Education and Its Discontents, where he said: "We must place our education programs on a sufficiently solid basis of tested knowledge so that educational opportunity for all people becomes a genuine opportunity to master the knowledge and skills and to learn the values, attitudes, and sensibilities that will enable them to live happily and productively in the modern world."[21] The resonance sprang from convictions that were sure but not stubborn, confident but not arrogant, frequently opened to reconsideration, sometimes modified or discarded, and often reaffirmed. A person of powerful mind and unusual capacity to live with deliberate purpose and direction, Cremin was tenacious in the commitments, values, and beliefs that were evident throughout his career. His ability to maintain his convictions and to live a life of steady and consistent achievement was a result of a fortunate mix of intellect, character, and community.

A bright person, Cremin had a quick mind. His insights were acute, his perceptions were exact. He was also a person who found life in ideas. He thought about what he read; he mused upon experiences and how they illuminated or were illuminated by poems he liked, historical figures he admired, theories he had encountered, or novels he had perused; and he tested insights in practice, through imitation of what he had heard or read, or through observation of new relationships, metaphors, and patterns, or through discussion with other people.

Principled, honest, and genuinely respectful of other people, Cremin was a man of high character. A prudent and private person, he treasured uninterrupted time to read, write, and think. He could be forthright, but he preferred gentle words, appreciative commentaries, and respectful, pleasant exchanges of either the informal, hallway type or the formal, professional variety. He had innumerable acquaintances and a rare capacity to make people feel understood and important, but his circle of close friends was always very small. He wrote about "the family as educator" and lived the concept. Married to Charlotte Raup for thirty-three years, the daughter of R. Bruce Raup, his former teacher and colleague, he was the proud father of two children, Joanne Laura and David Lawrence. Having dedicated The American Common School to his parents and The Transformation of the School to his wife, he dedicated all three volumes of American Education to his children.

Always a proud New Yorker, Cremin was enlivened by the buzz of Broadway. He loved the restaurants, stores, and parks of Manhattan; he took vacations by walking through the city, often headed for a bookstore. "New Yorkers dare to live their dreams," he used to say, and there was truth in the phrase for him. Because he knew himself well, he had the good sense and good fortune to recognize that there was a special symbiosis between his talents, his aspirations, and the people and places that nurtured him. His tastes and style were urban and his creativity was rooted in New York. In important ways, it was inseparable from Teachers College.

Lawrence Cremin died too young and he had too much left to do-and yet, his accomplishments were vast. Through his writing and his teaching, he shaped many minds and changed many lives. Through his scholarship and his leadership, he strengthened many institutions and contributed mightily to the scholarly communities of education. His humane and rigorous approach to the study of education, his example as a scholar, teacher, administrator, colleague, and friend, and his zest for life made this world a better place. He will always be remembered for having been true to himself and to standards uncompromisingly his own.


1 Lawrence A. Cremin, The American Common School: An Historic Conception (New York: Bureau of Publications, Teachers College, Columbia University, 1951), p. 221.

2 Lawrence A. Cremin and Merle L. Borrowman, Public Schools in Our Democracy (New York: Macmillan, 1956), p. 210.

3 Lawrence A. Cremin, The Transformation of the School: Progressivism in American Education, 1876-1957 (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1961), p. viii.

4 Paul H. Buck, The Role of Education in American History (New York: Fund for the Advancement of Education, 1957), pp. 1, 5, 6, 9. The other members were Paul H. Buck, Clarence H. Faust, Richard Hofstadter, Walter P. Metzger, Arthur M. Schlesinger, Sr., Richard J. Storr, O. Meredith Wilson, Robert K. Merton, Bernard Bailyn, and Timothy L. Smith.

5 Lawrence A. Cremin, The Wonderful World of Ellwood Patterson Cubberley (New York: Bureau of Publications, Teachers College, Columbia University, 1965), pp. 47, 48, 51-52.

6 Lawrence A. Cremin, American Education: The Colonial Experience, 1607- 1783 (New York: Harper & Row, 1970), p. xii.

7 Lawrence A. Cremin, American Education, 1607-1980, 3 vols. (New York: Harper & Row, 1970-1988).

8 Lawrence A. Cremin, American Education: The Metropolitan Experience, 1876-1980 (New York: Harper & Row, 1988), p. x.

9 Cremin, American Education: The Colonial Experience, p. 9.

10 Lawrence A. Cremin, The Genius of American Education (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1965); idem, Public Education (New York: Basic Books, 1976); idem, Traditions of American Education (New York: Basic Books, 1977); and idem, Popular Education and Its Discontents (New York: Harper & Row, 1990).

11 Sol Cohen, "The History of the History of American Education, 1900- 1976: The Uses of the Past," Harvard Educational Review 46 (August 1976): 322.

12 National Academy of Education, Background, Activities, Constitution, Members, Spring 1969, p. 4.

13 Cremin was also a trustee of the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching (1979-1987), of the Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences (1984-1989), of the Kettering Foundation (1981- 1990), of the John and Mary Markle Foundation (1986-1990), and of the Spencer Foundation (1973-1990).

14 Lawrence A. Cremin, "The Sciences and Arts of Education, Inaugural Lecture as President of Teachers College, Columbia University, September 12, 1974" (New York: Teachers College, Columbia University, 1974), p. 12.

15 Ibid., p. 4.

16 Tribute by Harold J. Noah, in "Lawrence A. Cremin, October 31, 1925- September 4, 1990, A Memorial Tribute, St. Paul's Chapel, Columbia University, Sunday, September 30, 1990" (New York: Teachers College, Columbia University, 1991).

17 Teachers College, Columbia University, Annual Report (1977), p. 14; Teachers College, Columbia University, Annual Report (1984), p. 23.

18 Cremin, "The Sciences and Arts of Education," p. 10.

19 Spencer Foundation, Annual Report (1989), p. 9.

20 Spencer Foundation, Annual Report (1989), pp. 5 and 6, and Spencer Foundation, Annual Report, (1990), pp. 5 and 7.

21 Cremin, Popular Education and Its Discontents, p. 124.

Cite This Article as: Teachers College Record Volume 96 Number 1, 1994, p. 102-113
https://www.tcrecord.org ID Number: 20, Date Accessed: 5/17/2022 4:42:00 PM

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  • Ellen Lagemann
    Teachers College, Columbia University

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