The dogmatism that kills reading

As long as the Reading Wars persist—our own version of Dr. Seuss’s “Bread and Butter Wars”—we reveal something uncomfortable ironic: even educators cling to certainty more than understanding.

What's the highest goal of education? To recognize that all knowing is partial.

When we elevate one model as the model, we fall into a familiar trap: mistaking a partial truth for the whole truth. A single, linear path to literacy—no matter how well-researched—cannot serve every child, every teacher, or every context.

Rigid certainty isn’t expertise. It’s dogmatism.
And dogmatism is the opposite of education.

💰 Who Benefits From the War?
Here’s the uncomfortable part. The battles are not only philosophical—they’re structural at the personality (need for the power of certainty) and economic (need to make money) levels.

Enter the Educational Industrial Complex (EIC).
These pedagogical “holy wars” function as an economic engine:
• The Scapegoat Cycle:
When scores dip, the “old” method is blamed (demonized), and districts are pressured into a system-wide shift.
• Curriculum Turnover:
Perfectly usable materials are discarded so schools can buy the latest proprietary package.
• Perpetual Profit:
The EIC thrives on fragmentation. An integrated and adaptive model—one that evolves with students and continuous improvement of knowledge—would reduce the need for constant replacements and armies of consultants.

No one designed this intentionally. It’s simply what systems do when people seek overly simple truths and incentives reward disruption over integration.

Result: Students and teachers caught in the crossfire!

A Better Way Forward
We don’t need evangelists for one method—we need diagnosticians and synthesizers. Educators capable of integrating the best research, observing what a child actually needs, and adapting accordingly.

Diagnostic flexibility is the antidote to dogma.
Because complexity doesn’t reward purity.

It rewards integration—bringing together structured decoding, rich language experiences, cultural knowledge, student identity, and the full range of human learning.

If we are serious about literacy—and about children—we must be serious about complexity. This means silencing our certainty, testing complementary hypotheses, and meeting the diverse needs of our children.