It was once possible, in New Zealand, to criticise Americans in general, and American foreign policy in particular, without being called 'irresponsible', or 'a traitor', or an 'uninformed member of the long-haired brigade'. Newspaper editors could, and did, take the Eden line on SEATO. They quoted 'The Times' on 'the somewhat nebulous SEATO.' They wrote of 'the folly of thinking only in terms of formal arrangements or pacts, such as SEATO.' They preferred 'an intensification of economic help to the most needy countries and a development of patient, frank explanation of motives and intentions.' They wrote of 'the hotheads in Washington'.

Not the ideal time, you might think, for the publication of a book by an American author condemning New Zealand's secondary school system. And you might remember the outcry when Dr. David Ausubel called our secondary school system 'the most anachronistic segment of New Zealand Life'; when he called the secondary school 'the most authoritarian, tradition-bound, and hierachically organised institution in New Zealand society'; when he wrote of the 'small minority of brutal martinets in the post-primary teaching profession (who) tend to wield an influence far out of proportion to their actual number in determining the disciplinary tone of the secondary school'. Loyal Kiwis defended their alma mater. Lovingly, they recall the Hoggings that made them what they are today. Let no jumped-up new arrival dare to criticise! What about Little Rock? What about the Blackboard Jungle? Even Grogzone's learned journals joined in unholy alliance to put 'The Fern and the Tiki' in its place. They sourly noted its invective, its jaundiced undercurrents, its choleric interpretations, its cathartic rancour.

And two years later a commission on education listened to or read 400-odd submissions, dropped a few in the rubbish bin, parcelled the rest up into 320 recommendations, and loaded them into the 900 page Currie Report. Then this vehicle, driving slowly and vaguely but oh so solidly down both sides of the road, demolished Ausubel's ramshackle framework before you could say Heath Robinson.

To illustrate the Currie Report driving technique. Ausubel wrote. 'The secondary school and its characteristic attributes—corporal punishment, the prefect system, school uniforms, segregation of the sexes, exaggerated deference to the masters, military drill —tend to enjoy the status of sacred cows.' Said the Currie Report, 'Criticisms crop up from time to time over such things as school uniforms, prefects, military training, corporal punishment, school government, and other matters relating to the control of pupils. The basic accusation is that in these things secondary schools arc too authoritarian.' The Currie Report mentioned no names here, but it obviously had Ausubel in its headlights. And in fact it didn't demolish Ausubel, but turned aside from what looked like an awkward obstacle and in its answer drew attention to home circumstances: '… the situation in the schools is no more than a reflection of the situation in the homes.' From the highway of educational reform the Report drove off into the byways of sociology.

Not that all of its 320 recommendations dodge the issue. Some do point the way, although they are vague as to an expected time of arrival. 'Bluntly put', said the Report, 'our provision for education is not enough.' Fine words, but not blunt enough for the powers-that-be who find the Currie Report on educational expenditure as easy to ignore as Unesco reports on the same subject- (Ausubel put it bluntest and best: 'New Zealanders annually spend on T.A.B. betting about 80% of what it costs to operate all the schools and universities in the country.') And schoolteachers would be more than happy to see the Report's recommendations on pupil/staff ratio implemented.