CJE Volume 30, Number 1

Revue canadienne de l’éducation
Canadian Journal of Education
Volume 30
Numéro / Number 1
2007
Rédacteur
François Larose
Editor
Sam Robinson
Production Editor
Diane Favreau
Assistant to the Editor
Diane Favreau
Conseil aviseur de rédaction / Editorial Advisory Board
Lisa Loutzenheiser, The University of British Columbia, CACS/ACÉC
Cecila Reynolds, University of Saskatchewan, ACDE/ACDÉ
Robert Sandieson, The University of Western Ontario, CAEP/ACP
Janice Wallace, University of Alberta, CASWE/ACÉFÉ
Sharon Cook, The University of Ottawa, CAFE/ACÉFÉ
Matthew Meyer, St. Francis Xavier University, CASEA/ACÉAS
Kathy Sanford, University of Victoria, CATE/ACFE
Helen Raptis, University of Victoria CERA/ ACCE
Reva Joshee, Ontario Institute for the Study of Education, CIESC/SCÉCI
Virginia Stead, Ontario Institute for the Study of Education of the
University of Toronto, CCSE/CCÉE
________________________
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La Revue canadienne de l’éducation est répertoriée dans/
The Canadian Journal of Education is indexed in
Répertoire canadien sur l’éducation/Canadian Education Index, Canadian Magazine Index,
Index des périodiques canadiens/Canadian Periodical Index, Canadian Women’s
Periodicals Index, Contents Pages in Education, Current Index to Journals in Education,
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Abstracts, Studies in Women Abstracts.
Revue canadienne de l’éducation / Canadian Journal of Education
VOLUME 30
NUMBER / NUMÉRO 1
2007
Table des matières / Contents
Articles
1
Rapport à la culture et approche culturelle de l’enseignement
Erick Falardeau et Denis Simard
25
Learning to Teach: Teacher Candidates Reflect on the Relational,
Conceptual, and Contextual Influences of Responsive Mentorship
Finney Cherian
47
An Alternative Practicum Model for Teaching and Learning
George Belliveau
68
“A great program... for me as a Gramma”: Caregivers Evaluate a
Family Literacy Initiative
Jim Anderson & Fiona Morrison
90
Questioning Masculinities: Interrogating Boys’ Capacities for SelfProblematization in Schools
Michael Kehler
113
From Storybooks to Games, Comics, Bands, and Chapter Books:
A Young Boy’s Appropriation of Literacy Practices
Kim Lenters
137
The Importance of Home Environment and Parental
Encouragement in the Academic Achievement of AfricanCanadian Youth
Henry M. Codjoe
157
Learner Characteristics as Predictors of Online Social Presence
David Mykota & Randy Duncan
— iii —
171
A Community Just for Practice: A Case Study of an Inclusive/
Special Education Course
S. Anthony Thompson
193
Critical Literacy for Democratic Learning in Career Education
Emery J. Hyslop-Margison & Laura Pinto
211
Innovative Models of Web-supported University-School
Partnerships
Thérese Laferrière, Gaalen Erickson, & Alain Breuleux
239
School Life and Community
Newfoundland Case Study
Ken Fowler
269
An Unwarranted Fear of Religious Schooling
Frances Kroeker & Stephen Norris
291
Racial/Cultural Identity: Transformation Among School-based
Mental Health
Christine Wihak & Noorfarah Merali
323
International Project Participation by Women Academics
Nancy Arthur, Wendy Patton, & Christine Giancarlo
349
Research in the Service of Co-Learning: Sustainability and
Community Engagement
Rob VanWynsberghe & Cynthia Lee Andruske
Economic
Challenge:
A
Recensions / Book Reviews
377
D. Jean Clandinin, Janice Humber, Marilyn Huber, M. Shaun
Murphy, Anne Murray Orr, Marni Pearce, and Pam Steeves. (2006).
Composing Diverse Identities: Narrative Inquiries into the Interwoven Lives
of Children and Teachers
by Cheryl Craig
380
Rita M. Kissen. (Ed.). (2002). Getting Ready for Benjamin: Preparing
Teachers for Sexual Diversity in the Classroom
by André P. Grace
— iv —
384
Guofang Li. (2005). Culturally Contested Pedagogy: Battles of Literacy
and Schooling between Mainstream Teachers and Asian Immigrant Parents
by Yu Liu
387
Fred L. Johnson and Alan L. Edmunds. (2006). From Chaos to Control:
Understanding and Responding to the Behaviors of Students with
Exceptionalities
by Laureen McIntyre
390
Robert Fisher. (2003). Teaching Thinking
by Kathleen Ronsyn
394
Mary Kay Moskal and Camille Blackowicz. (2006). Partnering for
Fluency
Timothy Rasinki, Camille Blackowicz, and Kristin Lems. (2006).
Fluency Instruction: Research-based Best Practices
by Carolyn Thauberger
399
Auteurs / Authors
Les opinions exprimées et les résultats de recherche transmis dans
la Revue canadienne de l’éducation n’engagent pas la Société
canadienne pour l’étude de l’éducation, les membres de leur Bureau
de direction et les membres de leur Conseil d’administration.
The opinions and findings expressed in the Canadian Journal of
Education are not necessarily those of the Canadian Society for
the Study of Education or their respective Directors and Officers.
—v—
FÉLICITATIONS / CONGRATULATIONS
Prix Audet-Allard
L’ACCÉ a décerné le prix Audet-Allard pour le meilleur article en français
publié dans la Revue canadienne de l’éducation en 2005 et 2006 (volumes 28 et 29)
à Michèle Dery, Jean Toupin, Robert Pauze et Pierrette Verlaan pour leur article
intitulé “Les caractéristiques d’élèves en difficulté de comportement placés
en classe spéciale ou intégrés dans la classe ordinaire”.
R.W.B. Jackson Award
The R.W.B. Jackson Award for the best English-language article published in
the Canadian Journal of Education in 2006 was shared by Ottilia Chareka and Alan
Sears for “Civic Duty: Young People’s Conceptinos of Voting as a Means of
Political Participation”, Volume 29(2), and W. Todd Rogers, Xin Ma, Don A.
Klinger, Teresa Dawber, Laurie Hellsten, Denise Nowicki, and Joanna
Tomkowicz for “Examination of the Influence of Selected Factors on
Performance on Alberta Learning Achievement Tests”, Volume 29(3).
CAFE Publication Award
The CAFE Publication Award, recognizing scholarly publication in Educational
Foundations, was presented to Jacqueline Kennelly, “Acting Out in the Public
Sphere: Community Theatre and Citizenship Education,” Canadian Journal of
Education, Volume 29(2).
— vi —
RAPPORT À LA CULTURE ET APPROCHE CULTURELLE DE L’ENSEIGNEMENT 1 Erick Falardeau & Denis Simard Cet article présente les résultats d’une recherche exploratoire qui visait à comprendre la relation entre le rapport à la culture d’étudiants en formation initiale à l’enseignement et la mise en œuvre d’une approche culturelle de l’enseignement dans la discipline « français », ainsi qu’à préciser le cadre théorique du rapport à la culture. Nous avons analysé les textes de trente‐cinq étudiants (n=35), dans lesquels ils devaient définir ce que signifie pour eux la culture ainsi que leur conception du rôle de l’enseignant dans le développement culturel de leurs futurs élèves. L’analyse de contenu et de discours, réalisée dans chacun de ces textes, combinée à plusieurs travaux sur le rapport au savoir − notamment ceux de l’équipe ESCOL − nous a permis dans un premier temps de circonscrire quatre types de rapport à la culture : désimpliqué, instrumentaliste, scolaire et intégratif/évolutif. De plus, comme il s’agit de futurs enseignants, nous avons dégagé deux plans de leur rapport à la culture, soit les plans individuel et pédagogique − ce dernier étant compris comme l’accompagnement de l’élève dans son appropriation de la culture. Enfin, l’analyse montre que le rapport à la culture de type intégratif‐évolutif sur le plan individuel semble être un préalable à la mise en œuvre d’une approche culturelle de l’enseignement. Mots clés : Culture, rapport à la culture, approche culturelle de l’enseignement, formation initiale à l’enseignement 1
Ce texte adopte l’orthographe rectifiée. CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 1‐24 2 E. FALARDEAU & D. SIMARD In this article, we present the results of an exploratory research which aimed at understanding the relationship between the relation to culture of students in a teacher education program and the undertaking of a cultural approach to French teaching, and at specifying the relation to culture’s theoretical framework. We have analyzed texts written by thirty‐five aspiring teachers (n=35), who had to tell how they define culture and how they conceive the teacher’s role in students’ cultural development. The combination of content and discourse analysis of each of these texts and of writings on the relation to culture – especially those of the ESCOL team – led us at first to circumscribe four types of relation to culture: the non‐implicated type, the instrumentalist type, the schooled type and the integrative‐evolutive type. Furthermore, since the research’s participants are prospective teachers, we have identified two sides of their relation to culture, the individual side and the pedagogical one – the latter being understood as the accompanying of the learner in his or her appropriation of culture. Finally, the analysis shows that an integrative‐
evolutive type of relation to culture on the individual side seems to be a prerequisite to the undertaking of a cultural approach to teaching. Key words: Culture, relation to culture, cultural approach to teaching, teacher education program _________________ PRÉSENTATION Depuis plusieurs années, bon nombre de systèmes contemporains d’éducation et de formation à l’échelle internationale se trouvent engagés dans un vaste mouvement de recomposition qui vise à resserrer les liens entre l’école et la culture (Sharp et Le Métais, 2000)2. Le Québec n’y fait pas exception. En effet, depuis le début des années 1990, on a vu les réformateurs se préoccuper explicitement de la place et du rôle de la culture à l’école, dans les programmes d’études et la formation des enseignants (MEQ, 1996, 1997, 2001; CSE, 1994). Cette préoccupation se retrouve aussi dans plusieurs travaux de recherche qui ont tenté de préciser les jalons d’une approche culturelle de l’enseignement (Audet 2
L’étude comparative de Sharp et Le Métais a été menée dans dix-neuf
systèmes éducatifs : Australie, Canada, Angleterre, France, Allemagne, Hong
Kong, Hongrie, Italie, Irlande du Nord, République d’Irlande, Japon,
République de Corée, Pays-Bas, Nouvelle-Zélande, Singapour, Espagne, Suède,
Suisse, Etats-Unis.
RAPPORT À LA CULTURE ET APPROCHE CULTURELLE DE L’ENSEIGNEMENT 3 et Saint‐Pierre, 1997 ; Collès et al., 1998 ; Falardeau, 2005 ; Gauthier, 2001 ; Gohier, 2002 ; Inchauspé, 1997 ; Kerlan, 1999, 2003 ; Mellouki et Gauthier, 2003; Monférier, 1999; Saint‐Jacques, 2001 ; Simard, 2000, 2002, 2004 ; Zakhartchouk, 1999, 2006). Si ces travaux rappellent l’importance de faire une meilleure place aux productions culturelles à l’école et dans l’enseignement, ils mettent surtout l’accent sur l’effort de mise en contexte et d’interprétation que requiert l’œuvre de culture et sur les effets de l’approche culturelle dans la transformation du rapport de l’élève à la culture, au monde et à l’autre. Ce qui semble central dans ces travaux, c’est le rapport de l’élève à la culture, compris comme un ensemble de relations dynamiques d’un sujet situé avec des acteurs, des pratiques, des savoirs et des objets culturels. Cet article présente donc une recherche exploratoire qui visait à comprendre la relation entre le rapport à la culture d’étudiants en formation initiale à l’enseignement et la mise en œuvre d’une approche culturelle de l’enseignement, ainsi qu’à préciser le cadre théorique du rapport à la culture. De façon précise, l’article se divise en quatre parties. Les principaux éléments de la problématique sont présentés dans la première partie. Les assises théoriques que nous expliquerons dans la deuxième partie s’appuient sur la théorie microsociologique du rapport au savoir, telle que développée notamment par l’équipe ESCOL3. La troisième partie décrit la méthodologie que nous avons utilisée et nous présenterons les résultats de l’analyse que nous avons menée dans la quatrième partie. 1. ÉLÉMENTS DE PROBLÉMATIQUE Pour définir le rapport à la culture, il nous faut d’abord nous situer parmi les nombreuses acceptions du terme de « culture ». Quand nous parlons de la fonction de transmission culturelle de l’école, nous retenons une définition à la fois moins large que la culture au sens sociologique et moins limitative que la culture au sens individuel et normatif. Nous proposons alors de l’envisager comme objet et comme rapport (Simard, 2001, 2004 ; Gauthier, 2001). 3
Équipe de recherche Éducation, socialisation, collectivités locales de
l’Université Paris VIII, fondée par Élisabeth Bautier, Bernard Charlot et JeanYves Rochex.
4 E. FALARDEAU & D. SIMARD La culture comme objet désigne essentiellement un héritage collectif, « un patrimoine de connaissances et de compétences, d’institutions, de valeurs et de symboles constitué au fil des générations et caractéristique d’une communauté humaine particulière définie de façon plus ou moins large et plus ou moins exclusive » (Forquin, 1989, p. 10). Il s’agit là d’une définition assez courante pour expliquer la fonction de transmission culturelle de l’école. On peut aussi concevoir la culture comme l’élaboration d’un triple rapport : rapport au monde, rapport à soi, rapport aux autres (Charlot, 1997). La culture opère alors comme un médiateur de la conscience, qui module les relations d’un individu avec lui‐même, avec les autres et le monde. Selon Fernand Dumont (1994), le phénomène culturel se dédouble en deux sphères de symboles, de signes et d’objets qui donnent au monde une forme et une signification. Il y a une culture première, assimilée au gré de l’interaction symbolique quotidienne, et une autre culture, seconde celle‐là, qui est comme une reprise de la première pour en dégager un sens. Ce qui est central chez Dumont, c’est le thème de la réflexivité, qui recouvre à la fois l’idée d’une prise de distance à l’égard de la culture première, et l’idée d’une élaboration d’une culture seconde, réfléchie, incarnée dans des œuvres, des systèmes symboliques, des pratiques, qui permet de dépasser ou de transcender le sens habituel de la vie quotidienne. Comme le montre la figure 1, la culture peut être ainsi comprise comme un processus de construction et de transformation mettant en relation un individu, qui comprend toujours le monde d’une certaine manière (A), avec des acteurs, des objets et des pratiques culturels (B), lesquels entrainent un travail d’apprentissage conscient et volontaire (C) s’intégrant de façon créative à la structure de compréhension de l’individu. De cet apprentissage résulte une appropriation (D) des références de la culture seconde qui transforment la culture première du sujet et son rapport au monde (D→A’→B’…). RAPPORT À LA CULTURE ET APPROCHE CULTURELLE DE L’ENSEIGNEMENT 5 Figure 1 E
Cette double boucle représentant le symbole mathématique de l’infini illustre notre conception de l’apprentissage et de la culture, compris comme un processus dialogique continu, toujours situé dans un contexte, un ensemble de circonstances matérielles et relationnelles (E). Une telle approche de l’apprentissage et de la culture interpelle les enseignants et leurs formateurs d’une façon toute particulière. C’est qu’on ne saurait escompter la prise en compte du rapport de l’élève à la culture en formant les futurs enseignants au regard des seuls objets de culture à enseigner. Autrement dit, il ne s’agit pas tant d’ajouter des cours de culture dans un programme de formation que de travailler sur le rapport des futurs enseignants à la culture. Le rapport à la culture semble déterminant dans l’articulation de la culture avec les contenus disciplinaires et dans la mise en œuvre de pratiques pédagogiques et didactiques qui tiennent compte des capacités cognitives et symboliques des élèves et de leur rapport à la culture. Cela signifie en formation initiale à l’enseignement qu’il faut amener les étudiants à réfléchir sur leur rapport à la culture, sur leur implication ou leur engagement personnel et sur le sens qu’ils donnent aux pratiques et aux objets culturels dans leurs relations avec le monde et les autres. 2. CADRE THÉORIQUE Le cadre théorique de notre étude s’appuie sur la théorie microsociologique du rapport au savoir : « Le rapport au savoir est rapport d’un sujet au monde, à soi‐même et aux autres. Il est rapport au monde comme ensemble de significations mais aussi comme espace d’activités ». (Charlot, 1997, p. 90) Comme le savoir – ou l’apprendre –, la 6 E. FALARDEAU & D. SIMARD culture doit être envisagée non pas uniquement comme un ensemble d’objets constitués, mais aussi et surtout comme un processus dynamique à travers lequel l’individu entre en relation avec lui‐même et les autres. On peut dès lors définir le rapport à la culture comme un ensemble de relations dynamiques d’un sujet situé avec des acteurs, des pratiques, des savoirs et des objets culturels. C’est ce rapport qu’il s’agit de comprendre, en analysant le rôle et l’importance de ses différentes dimensions : épistémique, subjective et sociale. La dimension épistémique désigne principalement la nature, la place et le rôle des savoirs dans les relations que le sujet tisse avec le monde, les autres et lui‐même. Elle amène le sujet à mobiliser les savoirs – institués ou d’expérience – comme des médiateurs qui influenceront à des degrés variables ses pratiques culturelles et sa compréhension du monde. C’est dire que les savoirs peuvent jouer un rôle actif dans les pratiques culturelles quelles qu’elles soient, des plus esthétiques, intellectuelles et complexes aux plus populaires et spontanées. La dimension subjective désigne le sujet, son histoire comme sujet de culture (Jellab, 2001), son activité réflexive à l’égard des objets qu’il s’approprie et des pratiques auxquelles il se livre, ainsi que ses représentations de la culture. La dimension subjective recoupe aussi les projets qui mobilisent le sujet et qui l’amèneront à s’engager dans des pratiques culturelles, à se développer comme un sujet de culture. Les aspects axiologiques y jouent aussi un rôle de premier plan. Ils désignent la valeur ou le sens (Charlot, Bautier et Rochex, 1992) que l’individu attribue à la culture. Cette question du sens est à la source de la mobilisation du sujet dans des projets culturels : « […] fait sens pour un individu quelque chose qui lui arrive et qui a des rapports avec d’autres choses de sa vie, des choses qu’il a déjà pensées, des questions qu’il s’est posées ». (Charlot, 1997) Enfin, les aspects psychoaffectifs du rapport à la culture considèrent les sentiments et les désirs qui animent le sujet (Beillerot, 2000) dans sa relation avec des objets ou des pratiques culturels. La dimension sociale place le sujet et son objet au cœur des relations qu’ils tissent avec les hommes, les objets et les diverses interprétations du monde – ce que Charlot (1997) distinguait sous les appellations de « rapport à l’autre » et « rapport au monde ». Les relations qu’entretient RAPPORT À LA CULTURE ET APPROCHE CULTURELLE DE L’ENSEIGNEMENT 7 un individu avec ses camarades, ses pairs, sa famille, ses professeurs, ses élèves… jouent un rôle prédominant dans son rapport à la culture, dans la mesure où ces relations constituent des influences qui structurent le rapport du sujet à la culture. De la même façon, les différentes interprétations du monde auxquelles est confronté un individu dans toutes ses relations sociales participent à la définition de son rapport à la culture. Le développement du sujet ne peut se faire que dans l’interaction avec l’autre, qui sera nécessairement porteur de culture, que l’individu intègrera ou non à ses projets personnels. DEUX PLANS D’UN MÊME RAPPORT Dans la classe, le rapport à la culture de l’enseignant semble avoir un impact sur le développement de la culture des élèves. C’est pourquoi il nous faut distinguer deux plans complémentaires du rapport à la culture, soit le plan individuel et le plan pédagogique. Chaque individu entretient un rapport à la culture, réflexif ou non, en adoptant une distance plus ou moins critique à l’égard de ses pratiques et des acteurs culturels, peu importe sa profession, son éducation, son origine sociale, ses idéologies, etc. Il en est de même pour celui ou celle qui enseigne. La différence se situe dans l’intervention professionnelle de l’enseignant, qui doit considérer ses élèves à se faire des sujets de culture. C’est pourquoi nous distinguons clairement le plan individuel du plan pédagogique, qui désigne le rapport qu’entretient l’enseignant avec la culture, dans la mesure où il doit jouer le rôle du passeur culturel au sens où l’entend Zakhartchouk (1999), de l’éveilleur, et pas seulement du transmetteur de contenus institués, figés. QUATRE TYPES DE RAPPORT À LA CULTURE En considérant différentes typologies du rapport au savoir (Charlot, Bautier et Rochex, 1992 ; Jellab, 2001 ; Caillot, 2001), nous avons distingué quatre types de rapport à la culture : désimpliqué, scolaire, instrumentaliste et intégratif‐évolutif. Dans le rapport de type désimpliqué, le sujet occupe une place très importante, mais il fonctionne sur le mode de l’autosuffisance, dans un rapport d’extériorité à la culture seconde, comme le représente la figure suivante. 8 E. FALARDEAU & D. SIMARD Figure 2 Il comprend le monde à partir de ses références premières (A), sans vivre de rencontres significatives ou marquantes avec des acteurs, des objets ou des savoirs culturels (B), d’où le tracé en pointillés qui illustre une discontinuité dans le processus d’appropriation de la culture tel que nous l’avons défini avec la figure 14. Les quelques rencontres furtives que vit l’individu avec la culture n’ont pas de valeur à ses yeux et lui procurent peu de plaisir. Dans le rapport de type scolaire, l’individu reproduit la forme scolaire dans ses activités culturelles, c’est‐à‐dire qu’il se soumet à des procédures connues qu’il reproduit, apparentées au « métier d’élève » (Bautier et Rochex, 1998, p. 42). Le rapport à la culture fonctionne ainsi comme un rapport à l’objet, qu’il s’agit de saisir, de façon morcelée, sans qu’il y ait reconstitution du tout dans lequel s’insèreraient les savoirs mis en jeu. Ces derniers restent extérieurs au sujet, qui se plie à des prescriptions qu’on ne remet pas en question et qui commandent l’apprentissage de contenus légitimés. Le sujet accepte donc d’adopter une posture de soumission à l’autorité institutionnelle, caractérisée par une passivité à l’égard des savoirs, dans la mesure où il ne cherche pas à questionner les objets, à les reconstruire pour les intégrer à un projet personnel; s’il y a rencontre avec des objets culturels (B), on ne peut parler de rencontres significatives donnant lieu à un apprentissage conscient et volontaire (C) ni d’un niveau élevé d’activité du sujet, d’où la rupture entre les phases B et C, dans le processus illustré par la figure 3. 4
Dans la suite de ce texte, les tracés en pointillés dans les différentes versions
de cette figure seront toujours à comprendre de la même manière.
RAPPORT À LA CULTURE ET APPROCHE CULTURELLE DE L’ENSEIGNEMENT 9 Figure 3 Le sujet qui entretient un rapport à la culture de type instrumentaliste accepte de se prêter au jeu de l’apprentissage (C) parce qu’il sait fort bien qu’il en retirera un bénéfice symbolique ou matériel. Il ne cherche toutefois pas à s’approprier (D) la culture pour enrichir sa compréhension du monde (aucune continuité de D→A’, comme l’illustre la figure 4); il l’utilise plutôt comme un instrument fait sur mesure pour des projets qui impliquent un investissement fermé sur la tâche à accomplir, sur l’étape à franchir (réussir un examen, obtenir un diplôme, occuper un emploi, etc.). Figure 4 La culture est alors abordée dans une perspective instrumentale, conception très proche de celle qu’a adoptée le ministère de l’Éducation du Québec (MEQ) dans le Programme de formation de l’école québécoise : « Un programme axé sur le développement de compétences vise, entre autres choses, à ce que les connaissances puissent servir d’outils pour 10 E. FALARDEAU & D. SIMARD l’action, comme pour la pensée qui est aussi une forme d’agir. » (MEQ, 2001, p. 5) Comme le montre la figure 5, le rapport intégratif‐évolutif à la culture est un processus éminemment dialogique, qui génère des échanges ouverts, dynamiques, pluriels, en constante évolution, parce que la culture première de l’individu (A) s’alimente (D→A’) constamment de nouveaux signes, de nouvelles significations, qui l’amènent à se redéfinir, et donc à redéfinir son rapport à l’autre et au monde. Figure 5 L’individu se fait alors le sujet d’un projet évolutif (Jellab, 2001), qui repose sur un rapport réfléchi à la culture. 3. PRÉCISIONS MÉTHODOLOGIQUES Cette étude constitue une recherche de type exploratoire5 et descriptif réalisée auprès d’un échantillon de convenance, soit l’ensemble de la cohorte (n = 35) inscrite en deuxième année d’un programme de formation initiale à l’enseignement du français au secondaire. Ces étudiants ont été sélectionnés parce qu’au moment de répondre à notre questionnaire, en septembre 2003, ils n’avaient suivi aucun cours abordant la notion de culture ou l’approche culturelle de l’enseignement. Leurs représentations de la culture et de son enseignement ne 5
L’étude présentée dans cet article a débouché sur une recherche de plus grande
envergure financée par le CRSH et le FQRSC (2005-2008) : Le rapport à la
culture des enseignants de français dans le développement d’une approche
culturelle de l’enseignement.
RAPPORT À LA CULTURE ET APPROCHE CULTURELLE DE L’ENSEIGNEMENT 11 s’appuyaient donc pas sur des contenus fraichement appris à l’université, mais bien sur les pratiques et les connaissances qui sont les leurs depuis plus de vingt ans. En outre, n’ayant réalisé qu’un seul stage d’observation en milieu scolaire – huit journées réparties sur une session de 15 semaines l’hiver précédent –, il est permis de penser que leurs conceptions relatives à la culture n’ont pas été significativement modifiées par les discours et les pratiques des enseignants. Ils nous semblaient donc les mieux à même de nous aider à décrire et à explorer les relations possibles entre rapport à la culture et l’approche culturelle dans l’enseignement. Les étudiants ont été invités à répondre par écrit, de façon libre, sans aucune indication conceptuelle, à deux seules questions : « Que signifie pour vous le terme de “ culture ” ? » « Quel est, selon vous, le rôle de l’enseignant dans le développement culturel des élèves? » Cette méthode de cueillette de données s’inspire des « bilans de savoir » utilisés par l’équipe ESCOL auprès d’élèves pour mieux comprendre leur rapport au savoir sans leur fournir d’indications quant aux réponses attendues (Charlot, Bautier, et Rochex, 1992). De plus, ces deux questions ouvertes nous permettaient de recueillir des données concernant les deux plans du rapport à la culture : individuel et pédagogique. Les données obtenues ont été soumises à deux types d’analyse : de contenu et de discours. L’analyse de contenu (L’Écuyer, 1990) a été menée à l’aide d’une grille d’analyse à catégories mixtes, c’est‐à‐dire que certaines catégories avaient été préalablement déterminées à partir de notre cadre théorique – dimensions, plans et types de rapport à la culture ; d’autres ont émergé au cours du traitement des données (Miles et Huberman, 2003). Il nous est par exemple apparu nécessaire de créer un ensemble « scolaire », puisque cette posture s’est avérée déterminante dans le rapport à la culture qu’entretenaient plusieurs étudiants et dans le rôle qu’ils s’attribuaient dans le développement culturel de leurs futurs élèves. Il nous a aussi fallu prendre en considération la mise en forme des textes recueillis, en menant une analyse de discours de type intratextuel (Reboul, 1984) : l’analyse des mots‐clés, des expressions favorites de chaque discours, l’interrogation sur les prémisses du discours ainsi que la structure du discours en tant que telle. En analysant l’écriture des 12 E. FALARDEAU & D. SIMARD textes, nous avons ainsi porté attention à la variété des citations, à leur intégration et à leur pertinence. Le langage choisi est‐il référentiel ou réflexif? L’idée est‐elle développée? soutenue? argumentée? exemplifiée? Quelles sont les métaphores qu’utilise l’étudiant pour définir la culture? la personne? l’enseignant? Il s’agissait aussi d’analyser le non‐dit dans les textes, soit les notions auxquelles les étudiants ne se réfèrent pas, parce que, spontanément, sans suggestion de réponses, ils ne les intègrent pas dans leur définition de la culture. Les pratiques constituent à cet égard un exemple très évocateur : plusieurs étudiants ne définissent la culture qu’en référence aux savoirs qui la composent, représentation limitée qui se traduit également dans leur réflexion sur le rôle de l’enseignant dans le développement culturel des élèves. L’analyse des énoncés s’est faite non pas par représentativité statistique mais en fonction de leur caractère typique (Charlot, Bautier et Rochex, 1992), c’est‐à‐dire que les énoncés retenus traduisaient des constellations de caractéristiques dominantes dans la population étudiée, pour les quatre types de rapport à la culture – désimpliqué, scolaire, instrumentaliste et intégratif‐évolutif. Ces derniers se sont précisés au fil de l’analyse, se cristallisant autour des formes qui apparaissaient les plus dominantes dans les textes des étudiants. 4. PRÉSENTATION ET INTERPRÉTATION DES RÉSULTATS La présentation des données recueillies se fait en étroite relation avec le développement et la clarification du cadre théorique du rapport à la culture. Ainsi, le commentaire interprétatif occupe‐t‐il par endroits un espace important, les énoncés typiques rapportés nous amenant à préciser le cadre théorique présenté dans la deuxième partie de notre article. LE RAPPORT À LA CULTURE DE TYPE DÉSIMPLIQUÉ Plan individuel On retrouve dans les textes exprimant ce type de rapport plusieurs lieux communs pour désigner la culture, qui relèvent du discours ambiant, de l’école surtout : « Je définirais donc la culture comme étant un RAPPORT À LA CULTURE ET APPROCHE CULTURELLE DE L’ENSEIGNEMENT 13 englobement6 de connaissances. Et de découvertes nécessaires à une bonne ou à une meilleure communication avec la société et le monde en général. » (É57) L’expression approximative du sujet laisse entendre que la culture joue un rôle marginal dans sa compréhension du monde. Elle est d’ailleurs souvent limitée à un « bagage de connaissances » (É17) – ou un « englobement »! Elle se réalise peu dans des pratiques ou, encore, si ce mot est prononcé, il l’est de façon si allusive que le sujet ne montre pas qu’il s’est approprié cette dimension active de la culture. La mise en discours des sujets désimpliqués traduit souvent un malaise profond dans la définition de la culture : « L’importance de la culture pour un enseignant est primordiale pour être crédible devant nos élèves, alors il est important de développer notre compétence culturelle. » (É29) Cette seule phrase présente de graves lacunes en ce qui concerne le lexique (une importance primordiale), la clarté des sujets des verbes à l’infinitif (être crédible), le sens des marqueurs de relation (alors), le caractère tautologique de l’explication (la culture est importante, donc il faut développer notre culture). Cette difficile appropriation n’empêche toutefois pas le sujet d’adopter par moment une attitude très critique à l’égard des savoirs et des pratiques mis en jeu (leur pertinence sociale, leur intérêt, leurs finalités, etc.). Cette posture n’intègre toutefois pas une attitude réflexive à l’égard des objets et des pratiques de culture première ou seconde, plutôt un rejet, total ou partiel. On ne peut toutefois penser ce type de rapport de façon stagnante : le rapport au monde de l’individu évolue, mais en considérant d’autres pratiques que la culture, en écartant même de son interprétation du monde la culture et les réflexions qu’elle porte. Plan pédagogique L’analyse des textes des étudiants qui entretiennent un rapport désimpliqué, sur le plan pédagogique, montre qu’ils intègrent peu les 6
7
Les citations tirées des textes d’étudiants sont reproduites telles quelles, avec
leurs erreurs de lexique, d’orthographe ou de syntaxe. Ces difficultés
d’écriture nous apparaissent révélatrices du rapport à la culture des individus,
dans la mesure où elles traduisent des problèmes d’expression à l’égard d’un
objet qu’ils se sont plus ou moins approprié.
Ces codes renvoient au numéro attribué à chacun des étudiants.
14 E. FALARDEAU & D. SIMARD savoirs et les processus culturels dans leur enseignement. Ils nommeront des objets de savoir, mais ne susciteront pas de rencontres significatives entre les élèves et la culture – figure 2, phase B : « L’enseignant qui a un bagage culturel développé peut faire part de ses voyages ou encore des pièces de théâtre et des expositions auxquelles il a assisté. Lorsque l’enseignant discute de ses propres expériences, les élèves sont souvent plus intéressés. » (É5) La participation à la culture est alors unidirectionnelle : l’enseignant raconte, présente, discute; les élèves écoutent, ils ne sont nullement appelés à s’impliquer dans des projets culturels. La réflexion sur la culture étant plutôt ténue, les savoirs produits sur le monde, qui sont pourtant présentés dans la classe, ne sont les savoirs de personne, ni de ceux qui les produisent ni de ceux qui les apprennent. C’est pourquoi l’objet reste extérieur à l’élève; l’enseignant se campe dans un rôle de transmetteur et ses approches pédagogiques favoriseront très peu les échanges, les projets collectifs, les communautés d’apprentissage, autant d’approches qui mettent l’accent sur la construction sociale de la culture : l’enseignant « représente un agent important de transmission d’informations » (É33). La culture est alors souvent perçue comme un objet de savoir élitiste, sacralisé, très peu motivant pour les élèves. Éprouvant lui‐même des difficultés à définir la culture, l’enseignant pourrait difficilement aider les élèves à comprendre les objets et les activités culturels : « Je suis tentée de penser [que la culture] représente un groupement très large d’une multitude de facteurs. Donc, la culture est englobante et beaucoup de phénomènes peuvent s’y rattacher. » (É33) En raison de cette difficile appropriation, l’enseignant ne planifie aucune tâche qui mettrait l’élève en position de construction et d’appropriation des savoirs – figure 2, phases C et D. Ses habitudes culturelles ou son histoire scolaire écartent la perspective de l’élève, c’est‐à‐dire sa position de sujet, ses désirs, ses questions, ses projets : « Il suffit simplement d’encourager la participation de ces élèves à des activités culturelles comme aller au théâtre, visiter un musée, lire de la littérature, etc. » (É11). L’autre n’est pas compris comme un apport essentiel au développement culturel, à la compréhension du monde; il dicte des contenus à l’élève qui apprend (ou résiste à) ce qu’on lui demande d’apprendre. RAPPORT À LA CULTURE ET APPROCHE CULTURELLE DE L’ENSEIGNEMENT 15 LE RAPPORT À LA CULTURE DE TYPE SCOLAIRE Plan individuel Pour le sujet scolaire, le projet à faire reste dicté de l’extérieur, comme si le sujet acceptait d’apprendre parce qu’il le faut bien. Il peut percevoir la valeur de l’objet, mais sans en retirer nécessairement de plaisir. Ainsi, le sujet apprend des savoirs culturels, mais ne prend pas sur lui de les transposer dans des pratiques réflexives, intégrées et évolutives : « Par exemple, il existe des faits historiques dont il ne faut pas passer sous silence. On n’a qu’à penser à l’holocauste de la seconde Guerre mondiale, à la commotion, dans le monde de la musique, causée par les Beattles ou bien à la chute du mur de Berlin. Ces connaissances universelles font partie d’une culture dite générale. » (É1) Comme cette liste de savoirs l’illustre, la culture se résume à un ensemble de savoirs morcelés, juxtaposés. Ces savoirs à saisir sont dictés par une doxa anonyme qui n’institue aucune relation à un ensemble culturel : l’individu est laissé à lui‐même et les objets et les pratiques culturels ne sont pas pour lui des moyens d’échanges avec les autres. Le sujet reste alors en périphérie du monde de la culture, sans intégrer dans son interprétation du monde les significations qu’elle porte. Il se soumet à des manières de faire, à des critères de légitimité qui viennent d’une autorité symbolique sans identité : « Par exemple, il importe, pour un Québécois, de connaitre des artistes tels Michel Tremblay, Robert Charlebois, ou de connaitre certains faits politiques comme la crise d’octobre de 1970 ou la découverte du Canada par Jacques Cartier. » (É1) Plan pédagogique L’élève est mis dans des situations où il développe un rapport passif à la culture, c’est‐à‐dire qu’il se prête au jeu de l’école, est capable d’apprendre les contenus prescrits par les programmes, les disciplines, mais il ne se développe pas comme sujet de culture. En classe, la culture est posée, imposée (phase B); on ne questionne ni sa légitimité ni ses qualités qui lui sont toutes deux intrinsèques et arrêtées par une institution qu’on ne cherche pas à comprendre. Les élèves n’ont ainsi accès qu’à des objets morcelés, découpés selon des 16 E. FALARDEAU & D. SIMARD critères très arbitraires, le plus souvent dictés par les programmes ou les manuels et transmis par l’enseignant. C’est un objet à apprendre, à réciter, dont on ne questionne ni l’histoire ni la pertinence sociale et qui n’est pas transposé dans des pratiques signifiantes : « À l’école, la source majeure des connaissances acquises par l’élève provient définitivement de l’enseignant. Ce dernier doit lui‐même être cultivé afin de transmettre de l’information à ses élèves et ainsi, les cultiver à leur tour. » (É16) En référence à la figure 3, on ne peut parler d’un apprentissage conscient et critique (phase C). L’élève n’est alors pas invité à réaliser des projets évolutifs qui sont médiatisés par la culture, parce que, aux yeux de l’enseignant, il ne saurait la construire, la remodeler, vu son manque de connaissances, de « culture » justement : « Essayer de faire apprendre quelque chose de nouveau à des élèves quand ils n’ont pas les notions de base pour le comprendre équivaut à parler aux murs. » (É22) L’élève peut être alors vu comme un sujet qu’il s’agit d’édifier à travers le savoir culturel qui représente le meilleur de ce que l’homme a construit au fil de son histoire, mais sans que le sujet ne soit partie prenante de cette édification : « L’enseignant transmet de l’information à l’élève comme le cultivateur plante des graines dans la terre. […] Une fois poussées, les graines transformées en fruits, en légumes, en céréales, en fleurs, etc. parsèmeront le sol comme les connaissances acquises façonneront l’esprit de l’élève. » (É16) Les rapports dans la classe sont organisés autour de la dominance de l’enseignant qui est porteur des savoirs : « L’enseignant est et agit en modèle auprès de ses étudiants en adoptant lui‐même des pratiques culturelles, […] pour que les élèves en viennent à adopter, eux aussi de telles habitudes. » (É2) Ici, le modèle culturel n’amène pas les élèves à se faire des sujets de culture. Ce sont eux qui devront « adopter », sans médiation, « de telles habitudes ». Une vision du développement culturel que l’on pourrait appeler « darwiniste », ou « élitiste », pour employer un terme plus près de notre sujet. La culture participe ainsi aux représentations du monde amenées en classe dans la mesure où elle témoigne de leur légitimité, de leur pérennité. Elle représente alors essentiellement le pôle normatif vers lequel chacun doit tendre. La RAPPORT À LA CULTURE ET APPROCHE CULTURELLE DE L’ENSEIGNEMENT 17 culture ne médiatise donc pas les échanges à l’intérieur de la classe; elle est un donné qui n’est pas reconstruit collectivement. LE RAPPORT À LA CULTURE DE TYPE INSTRUMENTALISTE Plan individuel Les discours rattachés au type instrumentaliste, comme celui de É28, mettent clairement en scène un sujet (A) et des savoirs culturels (B). Seulement, celui‐là utilise plutôt ces savoirs comme des instruments faits sur mesure pour des projets impliquant un investissement fermé sur la tâche à accomplir, sur l’étape à franchir. Les savoirs culturels sont considérés d’abord en vertu de leur « rentabilité » pragmatique ou symbolique, dans la mesure où ils permettent l’action efficace, l’obtention d’un poste, d’un diplôme, l’ascension sociale : […] les gens qui n’ont pas une grande culture générale ne peuvent entretenir des conversations intéressantes avec certaines personnes, selon ces dernières. Nous sommes tous amenés, un jour ou l’autre, à discuter avec une personne qui en sait tellement plus que nous sur certains sujets qu’elle nous rend mal à l’aise. Toutefois, nous admirons cette personne et voudrions lui ressembler. […] les hommes, depuis toujours, accordent plus de valeur aux gens qui sont savants. (É28) En dehors de ces aspirations à sortir d’un statut de dominé, la culture médiatise peu les rapports qu’entretient le sujet avec l’autre. Son utilité est reportée à un ailleurs. Comme le sujet désimpliqué, le sujet qui entretient un rapport instrumentaliste à la culture considèrera d’autres objets que la culture dans son interprétation du monde. Plan pédagogique L’enseignant propose des situations d’apprentissage qui visent à former des individus compétents, capables d’utiliser à bon escient des savoirs comme réponses à des situations réelles : « En ayant plus de connaissances générales, les apprenants seront en quelque sorte plus intelligents. Cela aura pour conséquence d’améliorer leur jugement donc, ils auront plus de possibilités pour régler un problème. » (É20) Le sujet n’est pas invité à se réaliser, à se développer, en dehors de l’action. L’élève est vu comme un individu que l’on cherche à motiver, qui ne se satisfait pas de poursuivre le savoir pour lui‐même; il faut diversifier 18 E. FALARDEAU & D. SIMARD les contenus scolaires pour maintenir son intérêt : « […] la culture semble être un bon moyen pour augmenter la motivation scolaire des jeunes. […] Partout autour de nous le monde change, évolue et les professeurs doivent être au fait de ces changements pour accomplir adéquatement leur mandat d’éducation et de préparation des jeunes à côtoyer le monde de demain. » (É30) La culture vient alors comme renfort de la motivation à l’école. L’élève n’est donc pas amené à se développer à l’intérieur d’un processus qui reposerait sur des pratiques et des objets culturels. Ceux‐ci sont amenés en classe, parfois fréquemment, mais dans une optique instrumentaliste : le savoir est subordonné à l’action, au développement de compétences transférables dans des situations réelles, proches de la vie courante. Objet de légitimation sociale, la culture doit être intégrée en classe, parce qu’elle est utile : « […] l’utilisation de diverses notions culturelles dans l’enseignement permettra de varier les explications des notions obligatoires, de capter l’attention des élèves par d’autres moyens ». (É20) Les motifs de son intégration ne viennent donc pas de ses qualités et de son potentiel développemental, mais bien de prescriptions externes, qui ne relèvent d’aucun sujet. L’enseignant n’amène pas ses élèves à interagir entre eux sur des objets de culture, mais bien sur des objets qui répondent au cadre des disciplines scolaires et auxquels la culture peut amener une contribution qui sera toujours secondaire, pour apporter de la diversité, une touche de légitimité patrimoniale dans la classe ou pour mieux assoir l’autorité intellectuelle de l’enseignant : « La culture personnelle d’un maitre augmente sans aucun doute sa crédibilité auprès des élèves, puisqu’elle rend plus évidente la figure d’autorité qu’il représente. » (É4) Les projets dans lesquels elle s’intègre seront toutefois sans prolongement, sans considération d’un quelconque apport à la formation éducative et culturelle des élèves – d’où la phase D en pointillés dans la figure 4. LE RAPPORT À LA CULTURE DE TYPE INTÉGRATIF‐ÉVOLUTIF Plan individuel Les textes des étudiants présentant un rapport intégratif‐évolutif conçoivent la culture comme un objet d’apprentissage signifiant qui structure leur identité : « La culture est structurante », écrit l’un des étudiants (É23), elle permet « de comprendre le monde et de se RAPPORT À LA CULTURE ET APPROCHE CULTURELLE DE L’ENSEIGNEMENT 19 construire une représentation du monde », écrit un autre (É9). Ou encore : « La culture […] fournit des éléments de réponses aux grands questionnements qui tenaillent l’être humain depuis toujours, plus encore, elle amène l’individu à pousser encore davantage son questionnement. » (É23) Comme le montrent ces citations, la culture est valorisée pour elle‐même, elle permet de structurer sa vision du monde et d’élargir ses horizons, de trouver des réponses provisoires à ses questions et de poursuivre le questionnement. La culture se trouve ainsi dessinée par une réflexion qui suppose une posture épistémologique interrogeant les savoirs et les pratiques. Cette posture implique donc une position de recherche, de questionnement, de critique par rapport à la culture. Ainsi comprise, la culture occupe une place centrale dans la vie de l’individu, qui s’investit dans des pratiques régulières, diversifiées, réflexives; elle est liée à ses intérêts, à ses désirs, à son histoire de vie. C’est l’individu qui se développe à travers la culture, qui se mobilise parfois lui‐même comme une ressource, en prenant des initiatives qui prolongent les projets initiés par lui ou par d’autres. Il envisage donc son rapport à la culture de façon dynamique où l’autre joue un rôle très important, comme médiateur de significations et de savoirs. C’est un passeur en quelque sorte, dans la mesure où il dynamise le rapport à la culture d’un individu : « En confrontant régulièrement nos pensées à d’autres points de vue, [nous augmentons] les différents angles sous lesquels nous observons le monde, ce qui nous amène à mieux le comprendre. » (É35) En d’autres mots, le sujet ne peut développer son rapport à la culture sans l’apport de l’autre, qui peut être fait de chair ou incarné dans des objets, des textes, des œuvres. L’individu qui vit un rapport intégratif et évolutif à la culture, c’est celui qui inscrit sa vie dans un horizon plus large. C’est celui qui connait bien et qui surtout souhaite mieux comprendre certains problèmes, certains modes de vie éloignés du sien et qui mettent sa vie en perspective. Plan pédagogique Pour les étudiants présentant ce type de rapport à la culture, le savoir est conçu comme un objet dynamique qui s’incarne dans des pratiques scolaires et extrascolaires, et qui structure le rapport de l’élève au 20 E. FALARDEAU & D. SIMARD monde. Il s’organise autour des disciplines mais sans s’y réduire. Le développement de l’élève passe donc nécessairement par les savoirs et des pratiques culturelles, qui sont les relais obligés de l’apprentissage et du développement, mais non son unique finalité : « Le but n’est pas seulement d’élargir la culture des jeunes, mais de les amener à adopter une distance critique à l’égard de leurs actions, de leurs opinions, de leurs valeurs. » (É9) L’enseignant place les élèves non pas en présence de réponses toutes faites, mais dans une position de recherche et de questionnement et les encourage à développer une attitude critique à l’égard des savoirs et des pratiques culturelles. Dans cette perspective, l’enseignement ne saurait se réduire à une simple transmission de connaissances que l’élève n’aurait qu’à reproduire. Il cherche plutôt à proposer des rencontres significatives (phase B, en référence à la figure 5) pour ouvrir des projets de compréhension qui prennent appui sur la structure préalable de compréhension de l’élève (phase A), transformant et modifiant ainsi ce que l’élève savait déjà (C→D). L’apprentissage devient alors mouvement de soi par lequel on se transforme (D→A’). L’enseignant se fera très sensible à la question du sens des savoirs et des pratiques culturelles pour l’élève : « Considérer l’enseignement comme une pratique essentiellement culturelle permet de faire le lien entre ce qui est abordé à l’école par le biais des activités d’apprentissage et ce à quoi les jeunes sont confrontés dans leur milieu ou dans la société.» (É9) Il s’agit de prendre en compte les savoirs et les pratiques des élèves, leurs intérêts, leurs questions et leurs désirs, pour en faire de véritables sujets de culture qui s’approprient les savoirs, c’est‐à‐dire qui ne se limitent pas à les apprendre, mais qui les intègrent de façon critique dans des pratiques culturelles, dans des projets personnels. Toutes les interventions pédagogiques sont donc teintées par la nécessité de faire de l’élève le sujet réfléchi d’un projet de culture idéalement intégré à des pratiques signifiantes. Comme l’écrit l’étudiant É9 : « Il revient à l’enseignant d’aider les élèves à interpréter les éléments culturels. C’est important pour que chaque jeune développe la connaissance qu’il a de lui‐même et du monde qui l’entoure et que chacun parvienne à prendre position envers les enjeux et les débats qui animent la société. » Reprenant la distinction entre culture première et culture seconde, nous dirions que l’effort de médiation pédagogique ne RAPPORT À LA CULTURE ET APPROCHE CULTURELLE DE L’ENSEIGNEMENT 21 vise pas à abolir la distance que constitue la culture seconde, mais à en restaurer la signification ou la pertinence pour la vie humaine, pour un sujet situé. Si l’enseignant accompagne l’élève et le met en contact avec des réseaux de significations plus complexes qui le positionneront différemment dans son rapport à l’autre et au monde, s’il demeure un acteur essentiel dans l’élaboration par l’élève d’un rapport avec le monde, il n’est pas cependant le canal unique de l’apprentissage. Aussi privilégie‐t‐il des approches pédagogiques qui placent l’élève dans des situations de co‐construction des savoirs, des idées, des représentations, en échange continu avec l’autre, qui peut toujours lui apprendre quelque chose. À la lumière des analyses que nous avons réalisées, le développement d’un rapport à la culture intégratif et évolutif sur le plan individuel semble être un préalable à la mise en œuvre d’une approche culturelle de l’enseignement. Divers textes, où les étudiants n’arrivent pas à articuler une pensée pédagogique en matière de développement culturel dans la classe, nous amènent à penser que l’on ne peut inciter l’élève à se faire le sujet d’un projet intellectuel, culturel, si on ne se pense pas soi‐même le sujet d’un tel projet, de façon réflexive, intégrative et évolutive. En d’autres mots, on peut difficilement espérer former des pédagogues de culture si on ne forme pas aussi des sujets de culture; inversement, il nous apparait vain de former des enseignants cultivés si on ne les amène pas, de façon explicite et réflexive, à penser également l’élève comme un sujet de culture, qui doit lui aussi développer un rapport réflexif à la culture. L’approche culturelle de l’enseignement s’enracine donc en amont de la classe. Avant de prendre forme dans des activités d’enseignement et d’apprentissage, elle s’incarne dans le rapport de l’individu avec la culture − plan individuel −, mais aussi dans le rapport de l’enseignant avec la culture de l’élève − plan pédagogique. CONCLUSION Les résultats que nous avons présentés ici à larges traits mettent en lumière la complexité de la formation culturelle des futurs enseignants de français. Nos analyses méritent toutefois d’être examinées à la lumière d’un corpus de données plus vaste (voir note nº 5), dans une recherche qui donnera aux sujets la possibilité d’expliquer plus à fond 22 E. FALARDEAU & D. SIMARD leurs représentations et leur rapport à la culture, au moyen d’entretiens individuels notamment. Néanmoins, l’analyse que nous avons menée nous autorise à penser que le cadre théorique présenté ici constitue une avancée théorique féconde pour penser la formation des enseignants au regard de la dimension culturelle de l’enseignement. Dans cette perspective, le développement du rapport à la culture des futurs enseignants ne peut être pensé de façon homogène et encore moins de façon implicite. L’université doit amener les étudiants en enseignement sur le terrain de la réflexion théorique, afin de tracer clairement la bidimensionnalité du rapport à la culture qu’il s’agit de développer pour devenir des passeurs culturels, soit des êtres de culture capables d’accompagner les élèves dans l’élargissement de leurs cercles de culture première, vers des horizons qui leur permettront de jeter un regard neuf, interrogateur et critique sur les objets et les pratiques qui constituent leurs références culturelles spontanées. RÉFÉRENCES Audet, C. et D. Saint‐Pierre (dir.) (1997). École et culture, des liens à tisser. Sainte‐
Foy : IQRC. Beillerot, J. (dir.) (2000). Formes et formations du rapport au savoir. Paris : L’Harmattan. Caillot, M. (2001). Y a‐t‐il des élèves en didactique des sciences? Ou quelles références pour l’élève? Dans Terrisse, A. (dir.). Didactique des disciplines. Les références au savoir (p. 141‐155). Bruxelles : De Boeck Université. Charlot, B. (1997). Du rapport au savoir. Éléments d’une théorie. Paris : Anthropos. Charlot, B., É. Bautier et J.‐Y. Rochex (1992). École et savoir dans les banlieues et ailleurs. Paris : Armand Colin. Conseil supérieur de l’éducation (1994). Rénover le curriculum du primaire et du secondaire. Québec : Ministère de l’Éducation. Dumont, F. (1994). Le lieu de l’homme. Montréal : Fides. Collès, L., Briet, G., Destercke, L., Sekhavat, A., Blondel A. (1998). Que voulez‐vous dire ? Compétence culturelle et stratégies didactiques. Buxelles : Duculot. Falardeau, É. (2005). « Intertextualité et didactique : le préalable de la compétence culturelle ». Dans J.‐M. Pothier (dir.) Seules les traces font rêver. Enseignement de la littérature et génétique textuelle (p. 49‐60). Reims : CNDP. RAPPORT À LA CULTURE ET APPROCHE CULTURELLE DE L’ENSEIGNEMENT 23 Forquin, J‐C. (1989). École et culture. Bruxelles : De Boeck‐Wesmael. Gauthier, C. (2001). Former des pédagogues cultivés. Vie pédagogique, 118, 23‐25. Gohier, C. (2002). La polyphonie des registres culturels, une question de rapports à la culture. L’enseignant comme passeur, médiateur, lieur. Revue des sciences de l’éducation, vol. XXVIII, 1, 215‐236. Inchauspé, P. (1997). Comment corriger des lacunes des curriculums en matière de culture ? Dans C. Audet, C., D. Saint‐Pierre (dir.). École et culture, des liens à tisser (p. 103‐117). Sainte‐Foy : IQRC. Jellab, A. (2001). Scolarité et rapport aux savoirs en lycée professionnel. Paris : PUF. Kerlan, A. (2003). Philosophie pour l’éducation. Paris : ESF. Kerlan, A. (1999). L’école à venir. Paris : ESF. L’Écuyer, R. (1990). Méthodologie de l’analyse développementale de contenu : méthode GPS et concept de soi. Sillery : PUQ. Mellouki, M. et C. Gauthier (2003). Éducation et culture. Les enseignants, les jeunes et les musées : regards croisés. Québec : Presses de l’Université Laval (collection Éducation et culture). Miles, M. B. et Huberman, A. M. (2003). Analyse des données qualitatives. Bruxelles : De Boeck. 2e éd. Ministère de l’Éducation (2001). La formation à l’enseignement. Les orientations. Les compétences professionnelles. Québec : Gouvernement du Québec. Ministère de l’Éducation (1997). L’école, tout un programme. Québec : Gouvernement du Québec. Ministère de l’Éducation (1996). Rénover notre système d’éducation : dix chantiers prioritaires. Rapport final de la Commission des États généraux sur l’éducation. Québec : Gouvernement du Québec. Monférier, C. (1999). La culture au secours de l’école. Paris : L’Harmattan. Reboul, O. (1984). Le langage de l’éducation. Analyse du discours pédagogique. Paris : PUF. Saint‐Jacques, D. (2001). Différentes manières d’intégrer la perspective culturelle à l’école. Vie pédagogique, 118, 42‐44. 24 E. FALARDEAU & D. SIMARD Sharp, C. et J. Le Métais (2000). The Arts, Creativity and Cultural Education : An International Perspective. London : Qualifications and Curriculum Autority. Simard, D. (2004). Éducation et herméneutique. Contribution à une pédagogie de la culture. Québec : Presses de l’Université Laval. Simard, D. (2002). Contribution de l’herméneutique à la clarification d’une approche culturelle de l’enseignement. Revue des sciences de l’éducation, vol. XXVIII, 1, 63‐82. Simard, D. (2001). L’approche par compétences marque‐t‐elle le naufrage de l’approche culturelle dans l’enseignement ? Vie pédagogique, 118, 19‐23. Simard, D. (2000). L’éducation peut‐elle être encore une éducation libérale ? Revue française de pédagogie, 132, 33‐41. Zakhartchouk, J.‐M. (2006). Transmettre vraiment une culture à tous les élèves. Amiens : CRAP‐Cahiers pédagogiques‐CRDP. Zakhartchouk, J.‐M. (1999). L’enseignant, un passeur culturel. Paris : ESF. LEARNING TO TEACH: TEACHER CANDIDATES REFLECT ON THE RELATIONAL, CONCEPTUAL, AND CONTEXTUAL INFLUENCES OF RESPONSIVE MENTORSHIP Finney Cherian University of Windsor Using interviews, focus groups, and observations, I examined teacher candidates’ experiences with their mentoring teachers over two student teaching periods. Using Feiman‐Nemser and Rosaen’s (1997) mentorship model of guiding teacher learning, I investigated the relational, conceptual, and contextual aspects of the student teaching experience. Results suggest that opportunities to question teaching practices as well as co‐
planning and co‐teaching with associates supported the development of self‐reflection and educational philosophies. Data suggest that mentor beliefs and pressures to maintain board and provincial standardized curriculum reforms prevented teacher candidates from exploring social justice, constructivist, and inquiry‐oriented pedagogies. Key words: preservice teacher education, conceptual orientation, field‐based education, mentorship À l’aide d’entrevues, de groupes de discussion et d’observations, l’auteur a étudié les expériences de stagiaires en enseignement avec leurs professeurs d’accueil au cours de deux périodes d’enseignement. Se servant du modèle de mentorat de Feiman‐
Nemser et Rosaen (1997) pour guider l’apprentissage des enseignants, l’auteur a analysé les aspects relationnels, conceptuels et contextuels de l’expérience pédagogique de ces stagiaires. Les résultats semblent indiquer que la possibilité de remettre en question les méthodes pédagogiques ainsi que la coplanification et le coenseignement avec des enseignants associés contribuent au développement de l’autoréflexion et de philosophies de l’éducation. Les données laissent supposer que les croyances des professeurs d’accueil et les pressions pour maintenir en place les réformes des programmes standards à l’échelle des conseils scolaires et de la province ont empêché les stagiaires en enseignement d’explorer des pédagogies constructivistes, axées sur la justice sociale et orientées vers la recherche. Mots clés : formation à l’enseignement, orientation conceptuelle, stages d’enseignement, mentorat. _________________ CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 25‐46 26 FINNEY CHERIAN A key component of teacher education programs is the practicum. Associate teachers (AT) are key players in giving substance and support to such experiences (Clarke, 2001; Cochran‐Smith, 1991; Shulman, 2004). Stanulis (1995) writes, “[I]t is the classroom teacher who, because of the close interaction during the practice of teaching, potentially exerts the greatest influence on the development of a perspective teacher” (p. 331). Given the central role the classroom plays in the practicum setting, it is disheartening to see that research grounded in the perceptions of student teachers to the role their mentors played in their journey as teachers has not thrived as a research area. However, a number of teacher educators call for more extensive research in this area (Feiman‐Nemser, 2001).1 Where does knowledge to teach come from? And who is best suited to teach it to the novice? I believe the narratives of six teacher candidates (TCs) presented in this study unearth important findings that may bring clarity to these questions. Exploring the relational aspects of mentorship will bring educators closer to challenging past assumptions and create new opportunities for advancing teaching mentorship. THE SPREAD OF MENTORING Since the late 1980s and early 1990s, numerous education reformers saw mentoring as a viable vehicle to reform teaching and teacher education (Wang & Odell, 2002)., They hoped that on‐site assistance for beginning teachers with seasoned teachers acting as mentors would counter the high attrition rate of new teachers in the first three years of their work. With respect to teacher candidates, they hoped that seasoned teachers would be models to guide novices in learning new pedagogies and to socialize them to new professional norms (Shulman, 2004). In October, 2005 the Ontario Ministry of Education announced the New Teacher Induction Program (NTIP), devised to curb the abrupt and unassisted entry into the profession that many novices report. Although the numbers might vary in different contexts, 20‐30 per cent of beginning teachers leave the field within the first three years, and after about five years, an estimated 50 per cent have left the profession entirely (Brewster & Railsback, 2001). However, although the ministry of education may regard this as a “new initiative,” mentorship programs of this nature have existed in North America for the last two decades. In reviewing LEARNING TO TEACH 27 such initiatives, researchers like Sharon Feiman‐Nemser (2001) and Edwin Ralph (2003) both independently conclude that enthusiasm of policy makers for mentoring new teachers has not been matched with empirical clarity from the academic community as to what constitutes effective mentorship. Research is needed to clarify what mentors are envisioned to do, what they actually do, and what novices learn as a consequence. In the absence of such clarity, new mentoring initiatives run the risk of becoming new pathways that lead back to old cul‐de‐sacs where the conservative influence of cooperating teachers and school cultures promote conventional norms and practices. Such ends limit faculties of education developing programs that promote the development of new teachers who see themselves as intellectual leaders responsible for progressive social reforms (Volante & Earl, 2002). EXPECTED ROLES FOR MENTORS Wang and Odell (2002), having conducted an extensive literature review of the expected role of teaching mentors in times of standards‐based learning, have identified four global expectations that faculties of education currently hold for associate teachers (expectations endorsed by the preservice program in which this study took place). The four expectations can be summarized in the following manner: 1. Mentors need to guide and support novice teachers to pose questions about current teaching practices to uncover the assumptions underlying curriculum and practices and encourage them to reconstruct curriculum and practices to suit the teaching contexts in which they find themselves. 2. Mentors are encouraged to assist novices in developing mastery of subject matter, and connect subject matter knowledge to meet the needs of diverse linguistic and cultural populations. 3. In the current climate of the standards‐based movement, student teaching should not be reduced to the singular focus of developing specific teaching techniques and procedures, but to develop a strong understanding of the relationship between teaching principles and practice. 4. Finally, mentors will not simply impart teaching knowledge to novices, but that teaching knowledge would be achieved as a 28 FINNEY CHERIAN product of inquiry and reflection about one’s own teaching. Novices need to be guided to discover of knowledge rather than be imparted with it. GUIDING TEACHER LEARNING: A CONCEPTUAL FRAMEWORK Numerous educational scholars have proposed a number of conceptual orientations that would assist in studying the mentorship needs and experiences of TCs (Cochran‐Smith, 1991; Franke & Dahlgren, 1996; Kagan, 1992; Lave & Wenger, 1991; Little, 1990; Zeichener, 1996). There is substantial overlap among these frameworks, specifically in their ability to explore the complexity of mentoring in relation to such variables as academic role of mentors (teachers as scholars); the technical expertise mentors are required to offer; the personal issues mediating the mentor/novice relationship; and the critical social elements of teaching (the critiquing of schooling and envisioning possible reforms from such critique). Learning to teach is a meaning‐making process, mediated by time, place, and the relationships that exist between novices and mentors. The primary objective of this study was to draw upon the experiences of teacher candidates to determine the contextual, conceptual, and relational aspects of student teaching that supported their learning. For this reason I used the Feiman‐Nemser and Rosaen (1997) framework, Guiding Teacher Learning, in this study because it provided a comprehensive mentorship framework to explore the mentor‐novice relationship in relation to the aforementioned variables. The insights distilled from the experiences of the teacher candidates offer important implications for teacher‐education programs in supporting the learning of their TCs and those who supervise them in on and off campus sites. RESEARCH QUESTION With respect to the issues of effective mentorship by associate teachers, I posed the following question: How did the mentorship experiences of TCs shape their teaching and learning? This question required a conceptual framework capable of accommodating multiple schema and variables potentially influencing the process of mentoring. Feiman‐
Nemser and Rosaen’s (1997) framework brought resolution to these LEARNING TO TEACH 29 needs. Of equal importance is the fact that the framework proved an ideal categorization system for examining the perception the mentoring of TC’s in relation to the relational, conceptual, and contextual influences upon their work. Learning to teach is a socio‐cultural process, situated in complex and diverse communities of practices and mediated by multiple variables. Hence, the structure of Feiman‐Nemser and Rosaen framework provided a consistent and organized approach to data gathering and analysis of teacher candidates’ perceptions. Feiman‐Nemser and Rosaen’s (1997) framework, entitled Guiding Teacher Learning, focuses on the influence between internal factors such as dispositions and beliefs as well as external factors such as program philosophies and school cultures and the effect these may have upon mentor‐novice relations. The framework is composed of five elements, which I have summarized in the following manner: 1. Mentoring Relationship – In the mentor, student teacher relationship is an important unit of analysis, particularly to explore issues of power between mentor and novice. 2. Goals and Purposes – The teacher candidate should be guided to (a) seek new visions and possibilities in their daily teaching, (b) implement new or novel curricular experiences and teaching strategies, (c) be guided to reflect and study their practice and those of their mentor in systematic ways through activities such observation, conferencing, and reflective journal writing, and (d) restructure their teaching based on reflections. 3. Practices – Associates teachers need to guide TCs through observation, co‐planning, and co‐teaching. 4. Context – The tone, tact, and character of mentorship/guidance are shaped by the contexts in which it takes place − the classroom, school, program, community, and larger culture. How these contexts constrain or support the work of beginning teachers can prove to be of significant empirical significance for the improvement of teaching and teacher education. 5. Conceptual underpinnings – The work of ATs and the ethos of student teaching classrooms are informed by the personal beliefs ATs bring to their work. (pp. 8‐19) 30 FINNEY CHERIAN METHOD Research Site I conducted my study in a one‐year, post‐baccalaureate teacher‐
education program. The program enrolled approximately 1200 student teachers, 500 of whom were in the in elementary division (K‐8) which was divided into cohorts of about 65 students, each with two coordinators and one faculty team of four to six preservice instructors. Each cohort coordinator dealt directly with about 10 to 12 schools. Co‐
coordinators directly worked with school principals requesting the number of ATs and classrooms that would be required for practice teaching sessions. Principals sought and selected ATs willing to participate in the practicum mentoring. The six students who participated in this study were drawn from a preservice teaching class of 32 primary junior and 34 junior intermediate teacher candidates. The entire class consisted of 12 male and 54 female teacher candidates. The study was comprised of three male and three female TCs. Two candidates had advanced graduate degrees: One held a Ph.D. in biology while the other held a masters degree in psychology. The remaining candidates held undergraduate degrees in arts and science. Students in the cohort engaged in a four to five week practice teaching session in the same classroom (a practicum classroom consisted of one TC in a single class for five weeks). TCs were required to complete two practicum sessions to meet degree program requirements and provincial licensing requirements. They completed each practicum session in different schools. At the end of each practicum block, students received a detailed evaluation of their performance by their ATs. These summative evaluations not only helped students reflect on the effectiveness of their skills, but were used by boards of education in evaluating student teachers for potential employment. Field Work I collected field notes in practice teaching classrooms from the first week in October to the first week in April. In each of the two practicum sessions, each participant was visited twice in their respective LEARNING TO TEACH 31 classrooms. Each visitation was approximately 2‐3 hours in length. Using Merriam’s (1988) outline of participant observation, my field notes drew upon the following elements: the physical setting, the participants, activities and interactions, conversations, subtle factors (informal and unplanned activities, symbolic and connotative meaning of words, nonverbal communication), as well as reflections of my own behaviour during the observation sessions. During visitations, I was at times an observer (practicum supervisor observing lessons and providing feedback) as well as a participant (I was often encouraged by TCs to participate in class activities with their pupils). Opportunities to fully participate were crucial to my building rapport with TCs and ATs in the sphere of interaction. All participants in the study were supervised by another faculty allowing me to interact with associate teachers and teacher candidates, free from ethical issues associated with supervising and researching one’s own students. Interviews Data collection procedures incorporated field work, focus groups, reflection journals, and semi‐structured interviews. However, the individual and group interviews provideD the richest data and have become the centrepiece of the study. I conducted a total of six individual interviews (1‐2 hour sessions) with each participant. For each of the two required practicum sessions, I interviewed participants prior to the beginning of each student‐teaching session, at the midpoint in the practicum, and immediately following the student‐teaching sessions. During final interviews, I gave students their transcripts (review of their transcripts in this manner allowed an opportunity for them to provide input on the categories and themes identified by the researcher in analysis of transcripts, field notes, and document analysis). Participants were involved in three focus group sessions, in which they discussed commonalities and differences in their student‐teaching experiences, as well as the perspectives shared in their individual interviews. Group sessions followed the same interview protocol as the individual interviews. The interview protocol contained two main questions: 32 •
•
FINNEY CHERIAN To what extent (if any) have your initial conceptions of what it means to be a teacher changed as a result of your mentoring and teaching experiences with your associate teacher? Three probing questions were used to elicit detailed answers to the primary question: How have your practicum experiences influenced your educational philosophy? How have your practicum experiences nurtured your instructional and theoretical understanding of teaching? Thinking back on your working relationship with associates, what factors liberated or constrained your ability to adhere to your teaching beliefs and philosophies? Reflecting on your experiences with your associate teacher, how did he or she facilitate your learning in the following areas: (a) interpretation of curriculum mandates, (b) planning and instructional support, (c) classroom management and relationship with students, (d) diversity and social justice, (e) evaluation and feedback of your daily work, and (f) reflection on daily work and personal beliefs Data Analysis The analysis of all data sources followed the simultaneous analysis method outlined by Merriam (1988). This process of constant comparison involving the simultaneous analysis of all data sources is similar to data analysis protocols traditionally suggested by Glesne and Peshkin (1992). In this method researchers develop an inductive stance to data analysis, that is, researchers redefine and reformulate the category to fit data drawn from the perspectives of participants rather than selecting data to match predetermined categories. In reviewing transcripts and developing themes and codes, I again drew upon the procedures outlined by Merriam (1988, pp.183‐184). My analysis began by reading participant interview transcripts, group transcripts, and field notes. I assigned codes to emerging themes that I placed directly in the margins of the transcripts. I then merged entries with codes of similar meaning into a new category. I reread transcripts several times to check the reliability of the codes created and then merged items in the various thematic categories. LEARNING TO TEACH 33 I cross‐referenced codes assigned to data sources of individual participants with transcripts and material from other participants. Crossing‐referencing responses and questions was important because this process provided a generalized understanding of student responses to each question, which in turn helped identify themes that were held commonly by all the participants, as well as those that were in contrast to one another. I repeated this process carrying codes from the first field notes transcript to the second and so forth. I also used this process for the transcripts from each of the focus group interviews. I then compared all students across each of the data sources, using this procedure. FINDINGS Mentoring Relationships Throughout all data sources, participants felt that one of the most significant aspects of student teaching was a caring associate. When asked to define a caring associate, teacher candidates provided a clear statement of the kind of teacher associate who would make an ideal supervisor. A caring associate is one who is open‐hearted and open‐minded. Open‐hearted in the sense that they want you to be in their class, and open‐minded to accepting the kind of person you are and the teacher you want to become. They want to get to know you. My first associate teacher on the first observation day had a bulletin board with balloons on it, welcoming me to her class. And my first job was to use the board to teach her and the students about me. (TC, practicum interview) I hate when she [referring to AT] interrupts my lessons throwing in her two cents worth. The kids just look at me with smirks like, “she got you.” It really makes me feel incompetent in front of the class. I wish she would intervene with her insights when I’m planning my lessons. I have come to believe that a caring associate is one who knows the difference between independence and abandonment. Associates should plan with their student teachers and set them up for success in front of the class instead of making you feel stupid and small. (TC, practicum interview) 34 FINNEY CHERIAN All participants reported that receiving emotional support and experiencing a sense of acceptance was critical in developing a positive working relationship with their ATs. This comment proves to be a consistent finding in the literature (Odell & Wang, 2002; Sanders, Dowson & Sinclair, 2005). Knowing that they were welcome and wanted in their practice teaching classrooms helped them find their sense of place in someone else’s domain and provided a sense of security in dealing with the uncertainties of classroom management, lesson planning, and the anxieties of being evaluated throughout the practicum. During group sessions, participants expressed that caring and emotionally supportive associates were conscious of the power differentials in their relationship with TCs. Those associates who were identified as caring took the opportunity to discuss these issues with their TCs to assure them that they were sensitive to their anxieties and would work to be fair and compassionate in balancing their roles with regards to assistance and evaluation. ATs identified as caring actively made evaluation a collaborative activity with their TCs and encouraged TCs to voice their opinions concerning their own progress, while ATs who were not described as caring used their roles as evaluator to maintain power over TCs. The relationship between associate and student teacher is inherently asymmetrical in terms of power and status (Britzman, 1991). The sentiments expressed by the participants were consistent with the work of Feiman‐Nemser and Rosaen (1997) and Christensen and Conway (1991) who suggest that if novices are to feel supported, mentoring teachers need to seek ways that students can express their opinions, experiment with their teaching, and share their anxieties without running the risk of a bad teaching evaluation. Goal and Purposes In interviews before the first practicum, all participants consistently indicated that an associate teacher provided technical guidance, procedural guidance related to school routines and policies, and encouragement during their teaching. They saw their teaching as their responsibility and the associates were to be supportive guides who LEARNING TO TEACH 35 modeled effective teaching and offered solutions and resources when teaching problems were encountered. Truthfully, I don’t know what to expect. But, I do see the practicum as the place where you can see if you can cut it as a teacher. I am hoping that my associate will leave me to teach, figure things out, but also be around when things go south [laughing to self]. I see them teaching me everything from the curriculum for the grade to managing student behaviour. (TC, practicum interview) As the year progressed and students approached the end of their second practicum, their interviews, focus group sessions, and field work indicated major shifts in their goals and expectations for associates. Although the theme of caring and support remained a priority, expectations and goals strayed from technical and procedural support to other philosophical matters. Four of the six participants desired the role of mentor to make stronger connections with assignments and philosophical issues they were encountering in their various faculty courses and their own emerging teaching styles and philosophies. I asked my associate about comparing weapons and technological advancement in other countries during the medieval period [in reference to the issue of Eurocentrism]. She just shut me down and said, “We can’t teach them the whole world.” What does that mean? You need to find associates who believe in the stuff we are learning in the faculty. You need associates who can help you to ask the question “why?” Why do we teach this stuff? Why are these kids doing well? Why are these kids failing? Why are we teaching this way? (TC, practicum focus group interview) TCs in which this study was conducted, participated in an action research capstone assignment. Grades for the assignment were shared by all methods courses in their cohort section. TCs, with guidance of faculty supervisors and ATs, conducted research on the curricular impact of their teaching on students. My associate feels that this action research assignment is taking too much time away from the stuff we really need to know like reading assessment and report cards; which meant that I had to rely on someone who did not seem to think action research was worth while. (TC, practicum interview) 36 FINNEY CHERIAN In contrast, one candidate, whose associate was in the process of completing a master’s degree in education, had a different experience. My associate showed me her graduate school research with gender issues in math. She gave me a ton of help with my action research, like designing my objectives, helping me with interview questions for the kids, and analyzing the data. She taught me so much about action research. She was so excited about the assignment she was almost doing the assignment for me. (TC, practicum interview) As their teaching experiences and knowledge broadened, TCs saw the role of associates as not only providing technical support, but in exploring and critiquing their emerging teaching philosophies and practices as teachers. Mentors played crucial roles in assisting them to use knowledge of pupils to mitigate and reconstruct prior beliefs and images of teaching in critical and theoretical ways. Practices: Finding Openings for Curricular Planning and Reflection In interview and focus group sessions reflecting on mentoring relations, participants felt that supportive associates vigorously engaged in creating openings for TCs to guide and model the many nuances associated with thoughtful reflection and curricular planning. I think that one of the successes of my work with my associate was the fact that we talked about everything. After she taught a lesson she would ask questions getting me to deconstruct her work. At first she would even ask me for my opinions about improving her lessons. At first I found it hard to judge her work; I thought it was a trap. But I realized that she really wanted me to reflect and critique what we did as teachers in her class. My ability to reflect grew because I had an associate who did it herself and valued open communication with her students. (TC, practicum interview) My associate would read over my lesson plans and ask me questions to justify my rationale and decisions. Sometimes he would say “right‐on kid”, or “we need to think this over.” At first we would sit around a blank lesson plan sheet and plan my lesson together. Later he would make me re‐teach a lesson helping me to make modifications based on my reflections and what didn’t work in the lessons. At the faculty we talk about the importance of reflection, but never really LEARNING TO TEACH 37 do it. My associate helped me to live reflective practice. (TC, practicum focus group interview) Some TCs reflecting on their experiences described effective mentoring as a duet, where both associates and teachers candidates discussed each other’s teaching success and problems as avenues to develop grounded theories about teaching and learning. In contrast, others described being faced with ATs who held a sink‐or‐swim mentality to introduce them to the realities of teacher work. These sentiments are congruent with Lortie’s (1975) observances that teaching is one of the few professions in which new teachers experience an abruptness to take on the full responsibilities of a professional role. My own field notes reflected numerous notations where associates described their work with TCs as helping TCs to fend for themselves by leaving TCs to cope with large amounts of classroom responsibility on their own with little to no guidance. When I shared these sentiments with TCs during a focus group session, one remarked: I worked with an associate who felt that the best way to teach was to jump into teaching headfirst. He provided little help planning and left the room when I taught. The only thing I learned from him was the effects of abandonment on learning. (TC, practicum focus group interview) All data sources indicate that ATs who placed an emphasis on observation, conversation, co‐planning, and co‐teaching can help novices pin‐point problems and deepen novice thinking about their work in analytical ways. For TCs, the process of being guided to frame problems in their teaching became an important attribute of what it meant to be reflective about one’s practice. Context Successful mentorship does not occur in a vacuum. Its nature and quality are shaped by the context in which it takes place (Feiman‐Nemser & Rosaen, 1997). Many TCs expressed that mentorship was not only defined by the associates they were assigned, but by all the teachers in the school. Not surprisingly, when ATs encouraged TCs to visit and 38 FINNEY CHERIAN observe multiple classes, TC’s felt that that their awareness of multiple teaching styles, philosophies, and practices was significantly broadened. Today I got to spend the afternoon in Mr. Richies’ [pseudonym] class. I’m glad I got a chance to visit. My associate is amazing at art and language arts. She is passionate, but stays away from political things like social justice and equity. Mr. Richie deals with things like race and homelessness straight on. The kids in his class were working on posters and poems to raise awareness of the homeless in the neighborhood. I really got a chance to see how literacy skills could be developed in the context of social issues, while Mr. Richies’ TCs got to see all the great visual arts activities my associate does with her students and me. If I didn’t have an associate who encouraged me to explore other classrooms I would not have gotten to see things like social justice activities. The school is filled with talented teachers, and it would be a loss to TCs to be confined to one class and not be allowed to benefit from the collective experiences of all the teachers in the school. (TC, practicum interview) A number of the students noted that their associates were not only guides in the classroom but to the whole school and local community; such was the case of AT Mr. Fritz (pseudonym): Mr. Fritz made sure that I got to visit as many different classrooms as possible during the practicum. The best thing he did was after school he took me for a ride through the neighborhood. As we drove he pointed to some subsidized housing complexes where some of the kids came from. Seeing where some of the kids lived gave me a whole new understanding about the children I was teaching. (TC, practicum focus group interview) Isolation is an enemy to the work of teachers. As Little (1990) expresses, teachers often work in the privacy of their own classrooms, with little opportunity to discuss and observe the work of their colleagues. Although some teachers prefer the autonomy and privacy of their work, such conditions become environments of isolation for teacher candidates who develop a narrow view of teaching and schooling emerging out of the narrow, bounded work of individual classrooms and the highly contextualized discussions found within them. LEARNING TO TEACH 39 Conceptual Orientations Results from interview, focus‐group, and field work data indicated the beliefs held by the ATs in the value of teaching from constructivist practices and anti‐racist and social justice pedagogy greatly influenced TCs opportunities to teach from such perspectives. Solomon and Allen (2001) identify two key factors at play in such circumstances: the associates’ politics of practice in relation to their commitment to diversity; the pressure ATs felt to adhere to standardized curriculum practices. Such curriculum leads many associates to believe that time constraints prevented them from pursuing such issues. This understanding is clearly reflected in the following interview responses. I wanted to explore the issue of racism with my students. My associate just looked at me and said stick to Pioneers. I tried to convince him that yesterday’s pioneers are today’s refugees and kids need to wrestle with these issues. He just said it was too controversial and I should stick to what was in the standard curriculum. In the class we had at least five kids who were refugees. Controversy! It was the reality of those kids’ lives. He was fixated on sticking to every aspect the provincial curriculum and getting them ready for standardized tests. (TC, practicum interview) I really fell in love with constructivist teaching practices [in reference to university classes]. I wanted to explore constructivist activities in math class. But my associate told me that the math series we were using was designed to help students with the standardized tests they are expected to take. I tried to convince her but she just said constructivism is a faculty thing which does not work when you are responsible for preparing students to succeed in standardized test. I just gave up. (TC, practicum interview) Not surprisingly, other participants felt their ATs, many of whom at one time taught from constructivist perspectives or dealt with issues of equity, abandoned these practices when standardized curricular reforms took place. Students reported being forced to teach similar curriculum and take up teaching practices that would maintain consistency in teaching the standardized grade level curriculum. TCs had little opportunity to pursue autonomously some of the teaching orientations like constructivism modeled at the faculty, reducing philosophy of this 40 FINNEY CHERIAN nature as ideals better suited for discussion and exploration in faculty courses. DISCUSSION I return to the research question: How did the mentorship experiences of TCs shape their teaching and learning? The findings of the study address this question in the following manner. Liberating Circumstances Participants reported that having an associate who was emotionally supportive and accepting of their faculty program was crucial in meeting their personal teaching goals and successfully making connections with what they were learning in their university courses. This statement proves to be a consistent finding in the literature (Sanders, Dawson & Sinclair, 2005; Odell & Wang, 2002). Findings from these studies suggest that knowing that they were welcome and wanted in their practice teaching classrooms helped TCs find their sense of place in someone else’s domain of authority. Knowing that they were wanted in their practice teaching classrooms helped them psychologically deal with uncertainties of classroom management, lesson planning, and the anxieties of being evaluated throughout the practicum. TCs repeatedly mentioned that ATs who placed a consistent emphasis on guiding them to reflect on their teaching practices through observation, conversation, co‐planning, and co‐teaching helped them to identify problems and deepen their reflective thinking about their teaching. Feiman‐Nemser (2001), working with effective mentors, defined such practices as opportunities to “co‐think” about the complexities of teaching (p. 20). Her study suggests that invitations for productive consultations where mentors guide TCs’ thinking about their daily work through open‐ended questioning, in the context of safe, open conversations, can move the notion of reflective practice from the realm of abstraction to that of the tangible. TCs emphasized that effective mentors acted as local guides to broaden not only their understanding of individual classrooms, but the communities in which their host schools were located. These opportunities broadened the perspectives of novices to the socio‐
LEARNING TO TEACH 41 economic and cultural influences communities place on local schools. In addition, such opportunities created opportunity for TCs to envision new possibilities for educational reform that could benefit their pupils and school communities Zeichner (1996) argues that one goal of an educative practicum is to help TCs become researchers of their own practice within the context of their own classrooms, and to go beyond the idiosyncratic confines of single classrooms to observe multiple teaching styles in a school and explore the communities within which schools are situated. Participants of the study indicated that effective mentorship was a role fulfilled not only by individual associates but was supported as a vision that the whole host school held. When the entire staff (administrators, ATs, and support personnel) was committed to being mentors, TCs were exposed to numerous teaching styles and practices. This support helped to breach the isolation and narrowness of experiences many TCs experienced by working with a single associate and her or his students. Constraining Aspects of Mentorship and Practice Teaching TCs reported that associates who did not attempt to create a collaborative, democratic partnership limited their opportunities for critical reflective teaching. Such mentors also proved ineffective in guiding TCs to question and reform their beliefs and practices. During group interviews, participants felt that some associates were best at providing technical input, but were ineffective in helping them to analyze their emerging thoughts and personal philosophies about teaching. One teacher candidate candidly described her situation where she felt trapped between her classroom context and university expectations, between theory and practice. I am sandwiched between professors who tell me theory is very practical and associates who tell me that theory should be left at the faculty. There is no point talking to my associate about my action research project and philosophy of education paper. It would just trigger the same old rant from her. I would love to meet these classroom teachers who teach, reflect and do action research to inform their classroom practice ─ Maybe the reason why I can’t find them is because they all teach us in the faculty. (TC, practicum reflection log) 42 FINNEY CHERIAN These realities, in turn, increase the gap between theory and practice, as is consistently reported in the literature. Stanulis (1995), for instance, urges faculties of education to encourage mentoring teachers to see theory as a guide to frame and interpret daily teaching experiences. TCs described ineffective mentors as those who created an ethos of subservience in their working relations by not attempting to balance the asymmetrical power relations in their roles. Such circumstances severely restricted opportunities for TCs to pursue their own ideals and passions for teaching. To question these imbalances of power lead to conflict situations that many TCs felt would have negative consequences to their teaching evaluations. Consequently, many tolerate these imbalances in silence and intimidation (see, Grant & Zozakiewicz, 1995; Solomon and Allen, 2001). Similarly, Volante and Earl (2002), investigating the perceptions of TCs and the conceptual orientations, found in faculty reports of practicum experiences that participants expressed frustration with not being able to experiment with issues like constructivist teaching practices as well as social justice and equity pedagogy. Pressures and attitudes directed to support teaching practices maintaining standardized curriculum and testing procedures contradicted the faculty’s initiatives to encourage TCs to create and adapt curriculum to explore issues like social justice or equity through constructivist methods. Participants reported that associates justified their reluctance to support such teaching paradigms because they did not reflect true realities of teaching and would not be beneficial to candidates’ development as teachers. A review of candidates’ lived experiences, as presented in this study, indicates that their practicum experiences revealed strong tensions between personal intentions, individual politics, and contradicting institutional objectives. The work of the TCs was sandwiched between the education faculty, who sought inquiry and critical social commentary and reflection, and ATs who demanded practical orientations directed to deepening technical expertise to support accountability demands of the Ministry. Feiman‐Nemser and Rosaen’s (1991) model, Guiding Teacher Learning, provides a suitable conceptual framework for assisting individual ATs and TCs to develop and mediate working relations that LEARNING TO TEACH 43 honour the vision and practices of both groups. However, although their model has the potential to foster powerful learning partnerships, TCs need opportunity to break free from the confinement of individual classrooms where the propensity of mentors to perpetuate standard teaching practices and reinforce norms of individualism remains high. The complexities of teaching cannot be reduced to isolated experiences and forms of knowledge that are localized to individual classrooms. The experiences of the teacher candidates in this study suggest that effective mentorship requires support by multiple relationships, with all the members of the practice‐teaching school community. Lave and Wenger’s (1991) concept of communities of practice offers a dynamic framework for broadening and deepening the mentorship experiences of TCs. Their book, Situated Learning: Legitimated Peripheral Participation, describes the community of practice as ideally characterized by three dimensions: (a) community as a joint enterprise, continually renegotiated by its members, (b) within the community of practice the experienced and the novice are engaged in mutual engagement, which in turn binds members together into a social entity, and (c) within this activity the novice and the experienced teachers shared a repertoire of communal resources (routines, sensibilities, artifacts, vocabulary, styles) that members have developed over time. It is unfair to place the issue of effective mentorship solely in the laps of classroom teachers working under the pressures of accountability‐
based curricular reforms. These realities continue to be persistent burrs that have often irritated the bonds between faculties of education and partnering practicum schools—community dialogue is a necessary balm if such institutional bonds are to heal and strengthen. Community dialogue in the form of ongoing liaison meetings between faculty, ATs, and TCs can be seen as opportunities for supporting personal and organizational transformation. Such dialogue is fundamental to increase capacities in the following areas: inquiry‐based teaching and learning, diversity, conflict exploration, decision making and problem solving, leadership, organizational planning, and the blending of institutional cultures. Antonek, Matthews, and Levin (2005) suggest that the practicum is not only a time for TCs to explore the complexities of classroom 44 FINNEY CHERIAN teaching, but it is a time for ATs to explore the complexities of teaching adults. In light of the experiences of participants, researchers need to explore the process of teacher mentoring with respect to the following issues: (a) Examine the role of standardized curriculum and teaching in relation to reform‐minded teaching; (b) Model and challenge associates to reflect on critical moments of teaching and learning that can bring about alternative interpretations and solutions that compensate for the short comings and contraints of standards‐based teaching; (c) ATs need to communicate consistently and flexibly in a manner that helps TCs to interpret and reinterpret how conceptual orientations like social justice, inquiry‐based teaching, and constructivism fit with standards‐based teaching. In an era of standardized teaching practices and curriculum, this study emphasizes the need for faculties of education to assist ATs, to guide TCs to raise questions concerning the impact of prevailing curriculum and teaching practices on democratic ideals. Mentorship devoted to assisting new teachers in becoming transformative intellectuals who do not compromise the needs of their students to justify the latest educational trend is of great importance to the vision of democratic teaching. Solomon and Allen (2001) remind educators, “Democratic ideals cannot be maintained through compromise” (p. 241). ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I thank Dr. Grace Feuerverger for her tireless support of this work as well as Drs. Patrick Diamond and Pat Rogers for their guidance. This article is also dedicated to the memory of Dr. Howard Russell (OISE/UT) whose assistance in this study will never be forgotten ─ Semper Fi. NOTES In this article the term associate teacher (AT) and mentor will be used interchangeably. Equivalent terms in other contexts are supervising teacher, co‐
operating teacher, mentor teacher, and master teacher. 1 REFERENCES Antonek, J. L., Matthews, C. E., & Levin, B. B. (2005). A theme‐based, cohort approach to professional development schools: An analysis of the benefits and shortcomings for teacher education faculty. Teacher Education Quarterly, 32(1), 131‐150. LEARNING TO TEACH 45 Britzman, D. (1991). Practice makes practice: Critical study of learning to teach. New York: State University of New York Press. Brewster, C., & Railsback, J. (2001). Supporting beginning teachers: How administrators, teachers and policymakers can help new teachers succeed. Retrieved October 12, 2005, from http://www.nwrel.org/ request/textonly/html Christensen, J. E., & Conway, D. F. (1991). The use of self‐selected mentors by beginning teachers and new‐to‐district teachers. Action in Teacher Education, 12(4), 21‐28. Clarke, A. (2001). Characteristics of co‐operating teachers. Canadian Journal of Education, 26(2), 237‐256. Cochran‐Smith, M. (1991). Reinventing student‐teaching. Journal of Teacher Education, 42(2), 104‐118. Duquette, C. (1996). Partnerships in preservice education: Perspectives of associate teachers and student teachers. McGill Journal of Education, 31(1), 59‐81. Feiman‐Nemser, S. (2001). Helping novices learn to teach: Lessons from an exemplary support teacher. Journal of Teacher Education, 52(1), 17‐30. Feiman‐Nemser, S. & Rosaen, C. (1997). Guiding teacher learning. New York: American Association of Colleges for Teacher Education Publications. Franke, A., & Dahlgren, L.O. (1996). Conceptions of mentoring: An empirical study of conceptions of mentoring during school‐based teacher education. Teaching and Teacher Education, 12(6), 627‐641. Glesne, C., & Peshkin, A. (1992). Becoming qualitative researchers: An introduction. White Plains, N.Y: Longman. Grant, C. A., & Zozakiewicz, C. A. (1995). Student teachers, cooperating teachers and supervisors: Interrupting the multicultural silence of student teaching. In J. M. Larkin & C. E. Sletter (Eds.), Developing multicultural teacher education curricula (pp. 259‐278). Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Kagan, D.M. (1992). Professional growth among preservice and beginning teachers. Review of Educational Research, 62(2), 129‐169. Lave, L., & Wenger, E. (1991). Situated learning: Legitimate peripheral participation. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press. 46 FINNEY CHERIAN Little, J. W. (1990). The mentor phenomena and the social organization of teaching. In C. Cazden (Ed.), Review of research in education (pp. 297‐351). Washington, DC: American Education Research Association (AERA). Lortie, D. C. (1975). Schoolteacher: A sociological study. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Merriam, S. B. (1998). Qualitative research and case study applications in education. San Francisco: Jossey‐Base. Ralph, E. G. (2003, Winter). Enhancing mentorship in the practicum: Improving contextual supervision. McGill Journal of Education, 38(1), 28‐48. Sanders, M., Dawson, M., & Sinclair, C. (2005). What do associate teachers do anyway? A comparison of theoretical conceptualizations in the literature and observed practices in the field. Teachers College Record, 107(4), 706‐738. Shulman, J.H. (2004). From inspired vision to impossible dream: The dangers of imbalanced mentoring. Journal of Teacher Education, 55(5), 393‐406. Solomon, R. P. and Allen, A. M. A. (2001). The struggle for equity, diversity, and social justice in teacher education. In J. P. Portelli & R. P. Solomon, The erosion of democracy in education: From critique to possibilities (pp. 217‐244). Calgary, AB: Detselig Enterprises. Stanulis, R. N. (1995). Classroom teachers as mentors: Possibilities for participation in a professional development school context. Teaching and Teacher Education, 11(4), 331‐344. Volante, L., & Earl, E. (2002). Teacher candidates’ perception of conceptual orientations in their preservice program. Canadian Journal of Education, 27(4), 419‐438. Wang, J. & Odell, S. J. (2002). Mentored learning to teach according to standards‐
based reform: A critical overview. Review of Educational Research, 72(3), 481‐546. Zeichner, K. (1996). Teachers as reflective practitioners and democratization of school reform. In K. Zeichner, S. Melnick, & M. L. Gomez (Eds.), Currents of reform in preservice teacher education (pp. 199‐214). New York: Teachers College Press. Finney Cherian is a professor in the Faculty of Education, University of Windsor. AN ALTERNATIVE PRACTICUM MODEL FOR TEACHING AND LEARNING George Belliveau University of British Columbia In this article, I have examined how a drama‐based practicum had an impact on learning in meaningful ways for preservice teachers and grade‐6 students during a three‐week alternative teaching placement. Because the nature of drama‐based teaching and learning invites participants to think and feel with ideas and emotions continually intersecting, I investigated cognitive and affective learning moments during a collective play development unit. Participants’ recorded responses indicate that using this process to address social justice issues created a conducive and rewarding learning environment. Key words: practicum, drama, collaboration, bullying Dans cet article, l’auteur explique comment un stage de trois semaines faisant appel à l’art dramatique a eu des répercussions positives sur l’apprentissage chez des étudiants‐maîtres en stage et des élèves de 6e année. Comme les idées et les émotions sont continuellement en interaction dans l’enseignement et l’apprentissage basés sur l’art dramatique, l’auteur a étudié les apprentissages cognitifs et affectifs des participants au cours des trois semaines durant lesquelles s’est déroulé un projet d’élaboration collective d’une pièce de théâtre. Les réponses enregistrées des participants indiquent que le recours à ce processus pour traiter de questions de justice sociale a créé un environnement propice à l’apprentissage. Mots clés : stage, art dramatique, collaboration, intimidation _________________ CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 47‐67 48 GEORGE BELLIVEAU The creativity and excitement from the students made it all worth while. They were happy to learn and eager to participate in each lesson. After teaching in this style, why would you go back to the traditional style? (Preservice teacher) Instead of completing a traditional teaching practicum, 12 preservice teachers from the University of Prince Edward Island engaged in a drama‐based teaching unit with grade‐6 students for a component of their final school placement. In groups of three, the preservice teachers led four elementary classes in a variety of drama‐based activities before guiding the students into a collective play development process that highlighted their learning about bullying and drama. Prior to working with the elementary students, the preservice teachers developed their own collective drama and toured their social justice play to schools across Prince Edward Island. The three‐week team‐teaching project with elementary students enabled these preservice teachers to apply their recent learning of collective playbuilding, and, equally important, to create a meaningful learning experience for grade‐6 students. Over the last few decades, researchers have reported the positive effects of the arts on academic and student development (Catterall, 1998; Csikszentmihalyi, 1997; Deasy, 2002; Eisner, 1998; Greene, 1995; Rose, Parks, Androes, & McMahon, 2000; Wagner, 1998.). Furthermore, a number of studies have specifically considered the impact of drama on social learning (Basourakos, 1998; Beale 2001; Belliveau, 2004; Bouchard, 2002; Courtney, 1980; Edmiston, 2000; Gallagher, 2001; Winston, 1998). Of these studies, however, the impact of drama‐based teaching on preservice teachers’ professional growth and students’ perception of learning has yet to be thoroughly researched. This article builds and expands on current research in drama and learning, as I examine how a drama‐based approach had an impact on learning about teaching (and social justice) for preservice teachers and their students during a three‐week practicum. The nature of drama‐
based teaching and learning invites participants to think and feel because ideas and emotions continually intersect; therefore, it is important to recognize and highlight both cognitive and affective learning occurrences within the drama practicum. Because the interplay AN ALTERNATIVE PRACTICUM MODEL FOR TEACHING AND LEARNING 49 between the approach (drama) and the content (bullying) became a site for meaning making, I examined through participants’ responses how the pedagogy fostered a deeper understanding of teaching as well as social justice. BACKGROUND RESEARCH Drama A primary goal of using drama in schools, according to O’Neill (1995), is to help students better understand themselves and their world. Using drama to explore curriculum and self can enhance students’ understanding (of various content and issues) and allow them to critically reflect on what they are experiencing through the arts‐based learning (Basourakos, 1998). Henry (2000) suggests that by improvising and role playing, younger students develop emotional (as well as cognitive) intelligence, negotiating skills, and the ability to translate ideas to a new situation. Drama is unique because it allows participants to imagine without having to live with the consequences of their imaginative actions (Edmiston, 2000). Therefore, it provides a safe approach to learning, and, according to Bouchard (2002), “drama creates a distance between individuals and their real‐life situations through the characters and situations being enacted” (p. 410). By the same token, as drama activities unfold, the line between what is being symbolically represented and the so‐called real life experiences begins to blur. Needlands (1990) suggests that “the fictional situation and characters become more and more recognizable to the creators of the drama, and the relationships begin to form between what is happening in the drama and what happens in the outside world” (p. 69). What is more, the drama allows, indeed encourages, participants to shift positions, to represent multiple perspectives and points of view. Ultimately, the dramatic activities enable participants to experience vicariously that which the other may be living through (Gallagher, 2001). Theatre practitioners and activists interested in community building and/or social justice issues often engage in collaborative play development (Boal, 1995; Lang, 2002; Taylor, 2003; Van Erven, 2001). This collaborative approach includes various drama strategies (e.g., role playing, improvisation, tableaux) in the collective play building, and 50 GEORGE BELLIVEAU equally important it represents an innovative pedagogical approach (or structure) for teaching and learning. Collaborative play development (ideally) fosters a constructivist, student‐centred, community approach, where peer learning occurs, group dynamics are developed, and a greater appreciation for each others’ strengths is recognized and celebrated. PRACTICUM Although Seagall (2002) and others claim that the practicum experience is the most valuable aspect of teacher education programs, Schulz (2005), Goodlad (1990), and Zeichner (1996, 1999), who question some of the ways conventional practica are approached in teacher preparation programs, suggest alternative models. The technical model of focusing on skill development, mastering lesson plans, and classroom management should be, and continues to be, an important component, but it is not sufficient preparation for preservice teachers. Schulz (2005) sees a need for a change towards “a practicum experience that provides teacher candidates with opportunities for inquiry, for trying and testing new ideas within collaborative relationships, and for talking about teaching and learning in new ways” (p. 148). Instead of demonstrating instructional skills learned in methods courses, Zeichner (1996) suggests that the practicum should be a time for growth and learning, where preservice teachers come to understand the broader implications of being a teacher, and to appreciate the ultimate aim of teaching: to help children learn. The UPEI drama practicum aimed to broaden what it means to be a teacher, offering an arts‐based approach to learning that included cognitive as well as affective ways of knowing, working in collaboration with others, and looking at social justice as an integral part of a learning environment. The three‐week drama project was designed as a fresh turn in practica experiences because it set out to broaden the scope of teacher education. With the inclusion of drama‐based teaching, along with a social justice component, this practicum took teacher and student learning in new directions and opened possibilities for new ways of knowing. AN ALTERNATIVE PRACTICUM MODEL FOR TEACHING AND LEARNING 51 CONTEXT OF STUDY The majority of teacher education programs in North America consist primarily of course work and teaching placements in schools. These practica generally require preservice teachers to spend from two weeks to three months in a classroom, working with another teacher, learning the skills of the profession. At UPEI, preservice teachers must complete four teaching blocks of five to six weeks duration spread across the two‐
year program. In the first three placements they generally work in traditional school environments; however, in their fourth and final six‐
week block they are encouraged to experience an alternative practicum. Over the last few years, the UPEI alternative practicum has evolved, with more and more preservice teachers taking advantage of placements to further develop their pedagogical skills. Placements have included preservice teachers working with children who are hospitalized for extended periods of time; developing and delivering curriculum material with local museums and Parks Canada; offering pedagogical support in a women’s shelter, specifically teen mothers; and working in international placements in developing countries. Each preservice teacher has to develop a clear plan for the alternative practicum, with objectives suitable for the agency where she or he will work. As important, a faculty member has to be willing and able to supervise such placements. Because of my drama background, I proposed a drama‐focused alternative practicum to interested preservice teachers in 2002‐03. In my course work, I had introduced drama as a way of learning across the curriculum, a way of creating a student‐centred environment, building community, and interrogating social justice. Eight preservice teachers took on this challenge with me in 2002‐2003. During our initial meetings and through drama‐based activities, we brainstormed potential topics to discover a theme for our collective play development process. Because Joan MacLeod’s (2002) play about the Reena Virk incident The Shape of a Girl kept reoccurring in our discussions and role playing sessions, the theme of bullying emerged, with a particular focus on the bystander.1 In 2004, in the second year of the alternative drama practicum, 12 preservice teachers were selected.2 The candidates once again collectively decided to tackle the issue of bullying because they had found this as an 52 GEORGE BELLIVEAU important issue during their previous practica.3 Of the 12 participants, only two had any prior theatre or drama experience before entering the education program; the group included preservice teachers from various levels (primary, intermediate, and secondary) and disciplines (science, English, social studies, French). Prior to their six‐week (March‐April, 2004) practicum, the preservice teachers began collectively developing an anti‐bullying play with a grade‐6 audience in mind.4 This drama process built on some of the skills the preservice teachers developed from an Integrated Arts class they had previously taken with me, where we worked on various drama strategies (tableaux, role playing, improvisation, forum theatre, among others) through our playbuilding and process drama work. The play development process used during the practicum was primarily based on Tarlington and Michaels’ (1995) collective playbuilding, Boal’s (1985) forum theatre, and Rohd’s (1998) theatre and community.5 After two months of researching, writing, and rehearsing, the preservice teachers spent the first three weeks of their practicum touring their collective piece You Didn’t Do Anything! to over 40 elementary schools in Prince Edward Island. Along with the production, the preservice teachers developed some cohesive pre‐ and post‐learning activities whereby the elementary students met the cast members in small groups and did some interactive forum theatre activities (Boal, 1985). The second component of the practicum, and the focus of this article, had the preservice teachers work closely with four elementary classes in a three‐week drama unit. Because six of the 12 preservice teachers had a French background, two of the four classes the group worked with during the practicum were French Immersion, whereas the other two elementary classes were part of the regular English stream.6 Both schools would be considered urban, although a number of rural children attended the two public institutions because of their French Immersion programs. During the three‐week teaching practicum, the elementary students experienced a variety of interactive lessons, exploring different ways of knowing: reading, writing, improvising, music, visual art, poetry. After the initial process of building a community through drama‐based AN ALTERNATIVE PRACTICUM MODEL FOR TEACHING AND LEARNING 53 activities with the grade‐6 students, the preservice teachers began collaborative playbuilding (Tarlington & Michaels, 1995). They developed one‐liners about bullying, created tableaux that looked at power imbalance, built scenes from the tableaux, and presented forum theatre activities. The practicum culminated with the elementary students collectively creating their own script around the theme of bullying. They rehearsed their devised script then performed it for other students within their schools as well as for parents. The three‐week drama practicum in elementary schools provided preservice teachers with a rich opportunity to re‐think their experience of collectively creating and presenting a social justice drama, and then directly applying their learning and understanding with elementary students. METHODOLOGY To uncover the learning that emerged during the three‐week drama practicum in elementary schools, participants’ perceptions about drama as a pedagogical approach were examined, using several methods of assessing outcomes. The research method consisted of open‐ended questionnaires, journals, and focus groups. The variety of methods, or triangulation, guarded against a narrow perspective of the research project. The information was collected from elementary students, in‐
service teachers, and preservice teachers. Collecting data from three participant groups offered more insights into the learning process because of the multiple perspectives. The data collection took place in April and May 2004, with the analysis beginning soon after. The elementary students taught by the preservice teachers completed an open‐ended questionnaire at the end of the drama‐based unit (n = 74) and they periodically wrote journal responses about their learning during the three‐week process. These comments offered ways to understand how and why the grade‐6 students felt the drama project had an impact on their perceptions about learning. The 12 preservice teachers also completed an open‐ended questionnaire at the end of the project. As well, they kept a journal using semi‐focused questions over the preparation and implementation period. They were asked to comment on their growth as teachers, their perceptions of elementary students’ learning, and the impact of using drama as a pedagogical 54 GEORGE BELLIVEAU approach. A focus group session was conducted with the four teachers in whose classes the preservice teachers led the drama‐based unit. There were four open‐ended questions on which teachers could comment on perceived student learning, plus time to add any other feedback. All participant responses (journals, open‐ended questionnaires, and focus group) were coded and analyzed for reoccurring themes and insights.7 FINDINGS Elementary Students’ Responses The research question asked in this article centres on understanding how the drama‐based approach had an impact on learning. To examine this larger question in respect to the elementary student responses, I analyzed and clustered three sub‐themes that emerged. Overlap occurs within the sub‐themes, yet the following groupings offer lenses into the learning perceived by the grade‐6 participants during the process. All 74 elementary students reflected in their journals about using drama to address and deal with social justice. As well, they responded to the question “Was drama an effective way to learn about bullying?” in the open‐ended questionnaire at the end of the project. Three dominating categories emerged during the analysis: meaningful learning, experiencing feelings, team environment. The drama approach made learning meaningful. ‚ Acting out helped me to learn about bullying because we experienced it. ‚ By doing drama I will remember it more than writing it down. ‚ Drama helped me express my feelings in a different way and to learn about others. ‚ It was like real life situations and it helped us to know how to cope. The students were eager to play out their thoughts in the drama‐based activities, and because the preservice teachers created a safe environment, many of the elementary participants felt comfortable expressing their ideas vocally and physically. Students expressed feelings experienced during the drama activities. AN ALTERNATIVE PRACTICUM MODEL FOR TEACHING AND LEARNING ‚
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55 The songs we listened to made me feel empathy. I felt unwanted as a low status person in the drama activity ‐ sad, embarrassed, alone. The role play made me think how people who are bullied must feel. I feel for them. Being a bystander was hard for me because I didn’t know if and when I should get involved. It didn’t always feel real or right to step in. The various drama‐based activities appear to have helped students tap into their affective domain, which allowed them to feel what someone may experience in a bullying situation. As a result this encouraged empathy development among individuals and groups. A team environment was created. ‚ Creating a play is working together as a group and making sure everyone feels comfortable. ‚ Everyone worked together and no one was left out. ‚ We all put our thoughts in to it. ‚ Teamwork, everyone wanted to participate. The written comments in the open‐ended questionnaire and the journals personalized the data, and their comments support ways in which the drama‐based project had an impact on learning. Over 75 per cent of the written comments suggested that students learned a number of strategies to address bullying through the interactive drama process. As well, the majority of students constantly referred to how learning through drama was fun and meaningful for them as individuals. Preservice Teachers The 12 preservice teachers who participated in the project kept journals, in which they reflected on various issues about teaching and learning during the drama practicum in schools. They also responded to an open‐
ended questionnaire at the end of the project that focused on questions about their perception of student learning as well as their own professional growth. A number of themes emerged within the journal 56 GEORGE BELLIVEAU and questionnaire responses; I highlight the dominant responses under two clusters: perceived student learning and professional growth. Perceived student learning. In the preservice teachers’ responses two main themes recurred about their perceptions of student learning through drama during the three‐week practicum. Meaningful learning can be fun. ‚
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The students had fun, learned and were on task. They were always eager and excited. Students who look forward to learning are students who will give and get the most out of it. Not only did the use of drama help the students express themselves and learn about bullying, but it also allowed them to look at this kind of learning as “fun”! The material was not forced upon them. It was brought to them in interesting ways, enabling them to learn through the different teaching methods. The three‐week process has proven to me that learning can be fun. In using drama, our students were able to clearly demonstrate through writing and performing their understanding and feelings towards the issue. The project proved that learning doesn’t have to be painful, and at one point the students wondered if they were learning since we were having so much fun with all the activities. However, their journal reflections indicate how they were able to tap into all our objectives and learning outcomes. Most preservice teachers noticed a significant difference in student motivation during this practicum experience, when comparing it to their previous three practica. They noted how the grade‐6 students were intrinsically motivated to learn, and they felt this was largely due to the way the content was presented. The drama‐based approach was perceived to be engaging for the elementary students, challenging them to explore social justice as well as their personal beliefs and values. The preservice teachers expressed how they met the curriculum objectives during the drama unit, and all the while making the content relevant and fun. AN ALTERNATIVE PRACTICUM MODEL FOR TEACHING AND LEARNING 57 Cooperative teamwork – learning by doing. ‚ Grade six students are perfectly capable of doing productive small group work, and of solving differences in opinion without teacher interference. They need to have expectations, yes, but beyond guidelines, I think students thrive on being able to create something new, on their own. ‚ The collective play building process gave everyone an equal chance to talk, and I noticed that both the outgoing and the quieter students worked together to discuss the best way to display a scene. ‚ Every student was equally important within their productions, and they really responded to “doing” what they were learning about which really made the important parts stick out. They put the play together themselves with us only guiding them. ‚ All students were involved in each activity. And not only did they learn about the various types of bullying, but they also learned about solutions. One student commented that she had been told about solutions before, but never had she actually applied them in role play. She thought that now that she had done the action and said the words out loud, it would be easier to do it for real. Team‐building is often a natural result of drama‐based learning because to collectively create a piece everyone needs to be part of the process (Lang, 2002). The preservice teachers facilitated an environment that fostered positive group dynamics, and within this structure, they quickly realized how grade‐6 students could work cooperatively and respectfully in groups when given the opportunity. The preservice teachers noted how the act/process of collectively building the plays with the elementary students became significant learning moments by creating space for students to clarify and openly discuss their understanding and feelings. Professional Growth. The preservice teachers noted in their journals and in the open‐ended questionnaire how they felt the alternative drama practicum had had an impact on their beliefs about teaching. Three categories emerged that reflected how preservice teachers saw the experience as professional growth: 58 GEORGE BELLIVEAU Drama is a meaningful approach for learning. ‚ The creativity and excitement from the students made it all worth while. They were happy to learn and eager to participate in each lesson. After teaching in this style, why would you go back to the traditional style? Learning is happening for both the teacher and students and it is meaningful and enjoyable. ‚ The practicum helped me become more comfortable in using drama in the classroom, and ultimately more comfortable and aware of who I am as a teacher. This solidified the fact that drama is one of the best ways to teach students. I saw firsthand how effective drama is, how much the students enjoyed it, how to bring the curriculum to life. ‚ The project enhanced my desire to continue to incorporate the arts into my classes. I am always trying to think of ways to make my classes more creative and stimulating for the students. ‚ My teaching style was perhaps most greatly affected by this project, from the perspective of tapping resources and talents that I never knew I had. Because of this experience, I feel that I will be able to encourage my students to take risks and try things they otherwise believe they are not suited for. Drama as an approach to teaching was relatively new to most of the preservice teachers in the project; therefore, they were unsure how elementary students would receive their planned lessons. They also questioned whether or not students would be engaged, and, consequently, if they would learn from the drama‐based activities. The preservice teachers’ reflections strongly support that their drama experience expanded their understanding of what teaching and learning could entail. Team teaching and cooperative learning. ‚ I felt teaching with peers was phenomenal in that we were all equals and open to others’ ideas. I hope to replicate this team environment in my future classroom. ‚ It was interesting working in a team atmosphere, there were some definite challenges, but things turned out really well for all of us, AN ALTERNATIVE PRACTICUM MODEL FOR TEACHING AND LEARNING ‚
59 as well as for the students. It was wonderful to be able to create something in a cooperative effort, have it come together and be viewed by a wide audience and then (best of all) have it be considered a great dramatic comment on a subject of serious importance. This reinforced my belief that cooperative efforts in the classroom, although sometimes chaotic, can pull together and result in something wonderful and relevant. Working in groups is a complex endeavour, fraught with negotiations and compromises.8 The preservice teachers had to plan their lessons in groups of three, and most of their lessons had the elementary students working in groups. Because bullying issues tend to be about tensions between individuals and groups, the pedagogical approach awakened and opened up discussions about felt experiences from the group. A respectful atmosphere was created by the preservice teachers; as a result, groups were able to overcome and productively work through differences through the drama‐based learning. Similar to many teacher‐
education programs, preservice teachers at UPEI frequently presented lessons in groups during their coursework; therefore, they had prior experience in team‐teaching. In addition, the collective playbuilding process they had experienced prior to the alternative practicum was focused on developing understanding of others and team‐building strategies. This is not to say that tension did not exist among the preservice teachers as they were team‐teaching – it did – but they were able to deal with it in a professional manner. Confidence in Teaching, Risk Taking • This project was the highlight of my education program experience. It provided me with an opportunity to learn more about myself and what I can offer the teaching profession, and also gave me the confidence to do a quality job in the classroom. Not only do I have confidence in what I am doing, I now believe in what I am doing. • This project has contributed to my growth tremendously. I was interested in this project because I knew it would be a risk in my learning and I wanted to challenge myself. I am very proud of the students, my peers, and myself in what we accomplished with this 60 GEORGE BELLIVEAU •
project. After this drama project, I know that I can do, or try, anything and feel successful. After this experience, I am a confident teacher again. Through the risk I found out that I can be a teacher. Teaching is not a recipe, it’s about leading kids towards learning, and the path will be different for each kid. Taking risks and expanding what it means to be a teacher were central objectives of the alternative practicum. Because a safe and collaborative environment was created in the planning and teaching, most preservice teachers commented on how they gained confidence to try new things and how they saw possibilities for innovation in teaching. They also commented on how they felt that their own beliefs about using drama as a teaching approach were validated and reinforced through the process. They also alluded to the positive impact that team‐teaching had on their professional growth, and how it provided a model for elementary students to work cooperatively. IN‐SERVICE TEACHERS The four elementary teachers who opened their classes to the preservice teachers during the three‐week practicum responded to guided questions. Listed below is a synthesis of the recurring comments that the teachers made during the focus group session. Their reflections are in response to three of the questions from the focus group. How Do You Think the Drama Project Benefited Your Students? ‚ The drama project helped struggling students to express themselves in different ways. ‚ My students gained tremendously from the hands on, interactive process. Through the doing they absorbed much more on the topic. ‚ Many students let go and laughed. Some of the students had never released this joy in class before. Can You Comment on the Drama‐based Approach? ‚ Everyone was involved in the process, and the ideas of most individuals were valued and shared in the process. ‚ Kids were highly motivated during the entire project. They wanted to AN ALTERNATIVE PRACTICUM MODEL FOR TEACHING AND LEARNING 61 be there. They wanted to participate and learn. ‚ The play they developed has become reference point for discussions. Other Comments about the Process? ‚ The activities reinforced some of my beliefs about integration and using different teaching methods. ‚ Project could have lasted longer. Perhaps more time for debriefing. Once the production was done, the pre‐service teachers had to leave, leaving a void. ‚ This type of initiative is how to reach students on sensitive topics. The four teachers unanimously reported that this practicum project had a very positive impact on their classes and that their students developed a cohesion that has lasted beyond the three weeks. One feature of drama‐based teaching is that all voices are included in the process, and the students generally find common links with one another through the creative work. The teachers emphasized how all students were able to get involved and participate, taking pride in their drama work. They reported that students often mentioned how the process was so enjoyable that they were forgetting they were actually learning. An insightful suggestion shared by an in‐service teacher was to create more time for the preservice teachers to debrief the play development process with the elementary students. The practicum ended with the grade‐6 students sharing their collective play, but no time remained to reflect on the learning with their mentors. An extra few days could be added, or presenting the play prior to the end of the practicum to make time for debriefing would be beneficial. In analyzing the in‐service teachers’ comments, it became clear that the practicum, to a certain extent, became an extended professional development opportunity because the four teachers respectively stated throughout the process how they learned different strategies, largely drama‐based, to approach curriculum and social justice. CONCLUSION The learning that emerged from the three‐week practicum is difficult to fully measure. Nonetheless, this snapshot of participants’ stated perceptions and beliefs about engaging in a drama‐based teaching 62 GEORGE BELLIVEAU experience offers insights to teacher educators, educators, and policy makers. The study clearly indicates that participants saw great advantages of engaging in an alternative practicum where drama was used as the central pedagogical approach. And, although the long‐term effects are not clear, the immediate impact of the drama practicum on students, preservice, and in‐service teachers suggests a positive growth. A community of learners developed among the teachers and the four selected classrooms, where teamwork and respect were fostered. The process itself of working in groups through drama activities seems to have reinforced and supported the social justice theme within the practicum. Most often, antisocial behavior such as bullying comes from a lack of communication and understanding, and drama often opens up these misunderstandings or at least helps people appreciate and explore other perspectives (Basourakos, 1998; Bouchard, 2002; Winston, 1998). In this sense, the pedagogical process of drama informed the content because as the group worked through the challenges of team dynamics, they gradually found ways to collaborate more effectively. The participants became more aware of inner power relations and how to address these in productive ways. By the same token, the content they were studying (bullying) allowed the groups to explore their own behaviour and feelings about social justice, and it seemed natural to explore this through improvisation, creative writing, and role playing. In effect the content had an impact on the teaching style. Over the course of the three weeks, the four teachers who shared their grade‐6 classrooms for the drama unit observed a gradual change in dynamics within their respective classrooms. They commented on seeing the development of different strengths in particular students, strengths such as collaboration which they had not noticed before. As well, some of the lower academically achieving students emerged as leaders during the drama work which seemed to boost their self‐esteem and motivation. The preservice teachers, for their part, had personally experienced a drama‐based process as they created their own collective drama You Didn’t Do Anything!, yet their responses clearly indicated that only while leading the grade‐6 students did they fully appreciate the learning that occurs when using drama as a pedagogical approach. A number of written comments suggested how the drama‐based approach AN ALTERNATIVE PRACTICUM MODEL FOR TEACHING AND LEARNING 63 fostered a respectful team environment, in turn generating a more conducive learning milieu. Clearly, an appreciation for alternative pedagogy was achieved through the practicum, because teachers, preservice teachers, and elementary students respectively singled out the value and power of drama as a way of learning and knowing. Research studies have already pointed to the positive effects on student learning when drama is used as a pedagogical approach or as an intervention strategy (Conrad, 1998; Gallagher, 2001; Rose, Parks, Androes, & McMahon, 2000; Wagner, 1998). As well, researchers have reported that drama initiatives more often than not encourage affective learning, creating opportunities for positive social development (Basourakos, 1998; Bouchard, 2002; Courtney, 1980; Gallagher, 2001; Winston, 1998). The findings in the three‐week drama practicum support current research, and more importantly, the results contribute new knowledge (or insights) by examining and illustrating how teachers and students gained from the alternative drama practicum. Participants clearly indicated that drama was recognized as a meaningful way of teaching and learning about social justice issues. A follow‐up survey with the 12 preservice teachers to see whether or not the drama practicum had long‐term effects on teaching practices would provide valuable information on the efficacy of this alternative practicum. In an ideal teaching environment, classrooms would have three or more enthusiastic and dynamic teachers, yet this is an unlikely scenario. Nonetheless, as part of teacher education, I think it is crucial for teacher educators to consider alternative practica opportunities where preservice teachers can explore and expand the possibilities of teaching and learning beyond a traditional classroom setting. The UPEI drama project provides a model where preservice teachers, in their final teaching placement, were given an opportunity to expand the boundaries of a practicum experience. The learning that emerged for the preservice teachers through team‐teaching, using drama as a pedagogical approach, and teaching for social justice, is something they will take with them for the rest of their careers. The confidence they gained in trying new approaches to teaching, and the learning they experienced with fellow teachers and grade‐6 students is seldom achieved in a traditional practicum experience. 64 GEORGE BELLIVEAU ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I acknowledge the three reviewers of this manuscript who offered specific, informed feedback that helped clarify and strengthen the article. Many thanks also go to the 12 preservice teachers, the four co‐operating teachers, and all the elementary students who embraced the drama and activities. Finally, I thank my research assistants Stacey Mossey, Sherri Matthews, Jennifer Stewart, and Kelly Roach, who helped with the project in various capacities, including the literature review, data collection, and preliminary analysis. NOTES See Belliveau (2004) “Pre‐service teachers engage in Collective Drama” for specific details about the process and learning that emerged in the first year of the alternative drama practicum. 1 Over 25 of the 60 eligible preservice teachers applied for the drama practicum in 2004. The selection of candidates was based on criteria such as prior success in teaching, willingness to work in a group, motivation to promote social justice, and willingness to take risks. 2 3 I had also received a SSHRC‐aid grant with a focus on drama and bullying in 2003, which influenced the direction and topic of the research orientation for the 2004 practicum. The play development process was part of their ED 498 practicum 4
course. 5 Specific drama activities during the play development phase included developing tableaux based on social justice issues in schools (witnessed by the preservice teachers, read about in the literature and/or media, or imagined); inserting multiple voices to a tableaux (tapping in); developing scenes from a tableaux; creating one‐liners; playing status games; engaging in forum theatre; extracting lyrics from contemporary music; among other group building activities. See Belliveau (2006) “Collective playbuilding: Using arts‐based research to understand a social justice drama process in teacher education” for further details on the play development process 6 A team‐teaching approach was used during this component of the practicum for practical and philosophical reasons. Practically, the preservice teachers had only three weeks to develop a play with elementary students; therefore, this became more possible with three adults leading whole and then small group work. Philosophically, the drama practicum centred on collaborative AN ALTERNATIVE PRACTICUM MODEL FOR TEACHING AND LEARNING 65 team work, thus the team‐teaching became an extension to this collective approach to learning. 7 The research assistants, acknowledged at the end of this article, read the comments independently to look for reoccurring themes. Then, common themes among the four researchers were used to make generalizations about the recorded data. All participants in the project signed a waiver allowing me to use the data (questionnaires, journals, focus groups) for research purposes. The research project was approved from University of Prince Edward Island’s Research Ethics Board. 8 Working through tensions among group members in a collective drama process is a central issue in a previous article (Belliveau, 2004). REFERENCES Basourakos, J. (1998). Exploring the moral sphere through dramatic art: The role of contemporary Canadian plays in moral pedagogy. Canadian Journal of Education, 23(3), 265‐280. Beale, A. (2001). ‘Bullybusters’: Using drama to empower students to take a stand against bullying behavior. Professional School Counseling, 4(4), 300‐306. Belliveau, G. (2004). Pre‐service teachers engage in collective drama. English Quarterly, 35(3), 1‐6. Belliveau. G. (2006) Collective playbuilding: Using arts‐based research to understand a social justice drama process in teacher education. International Journal of Education & the Arts, 7(5). (electronic copy). Retrieved January 15, 2007, from http://ijea.asu.edu/v7n5/ Boal, A. (1985). Theatre of the oppressed. New York: Theatre Communications Group. Boal, A. (1995). The rainbow of desire: The Boal method of theatre and therapy. London, UK: Routledge. Bouchard, N. (2002). A narrative approach to moral experience using dramatic play and writing. Journal of Moral Education, 31(4), 407‐422. Catterall, J. (1998). Does experience in the arts boost academic achievement? Art Education, 51(3), 6‐11. Conrad, F. (1998). Meta‐analysis of the effectiveness of creative drama. In B. J. Wagner (Ed.), Educational drama and language arts: What research shows (pp. 199‐211). Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. 66 GEORGE BELLIVEAU Courtney, R. (1980). The dramatic curriculum. London, ON: Althouse Press. Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1997). Assessing aesthetic education. Grantmakers in the Arts, 8(1), 22‐26. Deasy, R.J. (2002). Critical links: Learning in the arts and student academic and social development. Washington, DC: Arts Education Partnership. Retrieved January 15, 2007, from www.aep‐arts.org/publications/index.htm Edmiston, B. (2000). Drama as ethical education. Research in Drama Education 5(1), 22‐40. Eisner, E. W. (1998). Does experience in the arts boost academic achievement? Art Education 51(1), 7‐15. Gallagher, K. (2001). Drama education in the lives of girls: Imagining possibilities. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Goodlad, J. I. (1990). Studying the education of educators: From conception to findings. Phi Delta Kappan, 71, 698‐701. Greene, M. (1995). Releasing the imagination: Essays on education, the arts, and social change. San Francisco: Jossey‐Bass Publishers. Henry, M. (2000). Drama’s ways of learning. Research in Drama Education 5, 45‐63. Lang, L. (2002). Whose play is it anyway?: When drama teachers journey into collective creation. Youth Theatre Journal 16, 48‐62. MacLeod, J. (2002). The shape of a girl. Vancouver, BC: Talonbooks. Needlands, J. (1990). Structuring drama work: A handbook of available forms in theatre and dramas. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. O’Neill, C. (1995). Drama worlds: A framework for process drama. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Rohd, M. (1998). Theatre for community, conflict and dialogue: The hope is vital training manual. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Rose, D., Parks, M., Androes, K., & McMahon, S. (2000). Imagery based learning: Elementary students reading comprehension with drama techniques. Journal of Educational Research, 94, 55‐63. Seagall, A. (2002). Disturbing practice. Reading teacher education as text. New York: Peter Lang. AN ALTERNATIVE PRACTICUM MODEL FOR TEACHING AND LEARNING 67 Schulz, R. (2005). The practicum: More than practice. Canadian Journal of Education, 28 (1&2), 147‐167. Tarlington, C., & Michaels, W. (1995). Building plays: Simple playbuilding techniques at work. Toronto: Pembroke Press. Taylor, P. (2003). Applied theatre: Creating transformative encounters in the community. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Van Erven, E. (2001). Community theatre: Global perspectives. London, UK: Routledge. Wagner, B. J. (1998). Educational drama and language arts: What research shows. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Winston, J. (1998). Drama, narrative and moral education: Exploring traditional tales in primary years. London, UK: Falmer Press. Zeichner, K. (1996). Designing educative practicum experiences for prospective teachers. In K. Zeichner, S. Melnick, & M. Gomez (Eds.), Currents of reform in pre‐service teacher education (pp. 215‐234). New York: Teachers College Press. Zeichner, K. (1999). The new scholarship in teacher education. Educational Researcher, 28(9), 4‐15. George Belliveau is Assistant Professor in the Faculty of Education at the University of British Columbia where he teaches Drama Education. His research interests include drama/theatre education, drama and social justice, ethnodrama, Canadian theatre, and teacher education. His work has been published in journals such as International Journal of Education and the Arts, Theatre Research in Canada, Canadian Modern Language Review, Arts and Learning Research Journal, English Quarterly, among others. “A GREAT PROGRAM… FOR ME AS A GRAMMA”: CAREGIVERS EVALUATE A FAMILY LITERACY INITIATIVE Jim Anderson University of British Columbia Fiona Morrison Literacy Now In this article, we report a study in which we asked 137 parents and caregivers to evaluate a year‐long family literacy program in which they participated. Parents valued the insights they gained about children’s learning in general and literacy development in particular. They reported that they learned from each other as well as from the program facilitators; valued especially the structure of the program wherein they spent time working with children in classrooms; felt more included in the school community; and enhanced their self‐esteem and their ability to advocate for their families. Key words: families, literacy, school, family literacy, Parents As Literacy Supporters (PALS) Les auteurs présentent les résultats d’une recherche durant laquelle ils ont demandé à 137 parents et ou tuteurs d’évaluer un programme de littératie familiale auquel ils avaient participé durant un an. Les parents se sont dits heureux d’avoir pu ainsi mieux comprendre comment leurs enfants apprennent en général et en particulier comment leur littératie se développe. Ils ont signalé qu’ils ont appris de leur enfant et vice versa ainsi que des facilitateurs. Ils ont aimé la structure du programme qui leur a permis de travailler avec les enfants en classe. Ils se sentent ainsi davantage impliqués dans l’école et l’expérience leur a permis d’avoir plus confiance en eux‐
mêmes et en leur aptitude à se faire les avocats de leur famille. Mots clés : familles, littératie, école, littératie familiale, Parents As Literacy Supporters (PALS) _________________ CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 68‐89 “A GREAT PROGRAM… FOR ME AS A GRAMMA” 69 The publication of Denny Taylor’s (1983) classic Family Literacy precipitated an explosion of interest in the family as a site for young children’s literacy learning. Descriptive and ethnographic research (e.g., Delgado‐Gaitan, 1990; Taylor & Dorsey‐Gaines, 1988) demonstrated that across socio‐cultural groups, families can be rich contexts for children’s early literacy development. As a result of this research, family literacy programs designed to support children’s learning at home proliferated (Purcell‐Gates, 2000). In her review of the research in family literacy, Purcell‐Gates (2000) reported a dearth of empirical work in this area and called for continued research to document the different and complex ways in which literacy is learned, taught, and practised in families. Moreover, Edwards (2003) argued that this gap in the research exists because researchers have not asked participants whether or not family literacy programs benefit them. This study, in which we canvassed a group of parents with whom we worked in the Parents As Literacy Supporters (PALS) program (Anderson & Morrison, 2000), addresses the gap that Edwards and Purcell‐Gates have identified. THE CONTEXT PALS began when the mayor of a small city in British Columbia invited us to lead the development of a family literacy program in economically depressed, inner‐city areas as part of an inter‐agency, community development initiative. Parents, early childhood educators, and administrators were involved in the development of the program. Designed for three to five year olds and their parents and/or other caregivers, PALS1 consists of 10 to 15, two‐hour sessions usually held every two weeks, commencing in October and ending in May. In most schools that implement the program, the kindergarten teacher facilitates the program. We negotiate the particular time and day for the sessions with the participants; for example, in some communities, sessions occur in the evening to accommodate families where parents work outside the home. Session topics typically include learning the alphabet, early mathematics development, computers/technology and learning, learning to write, environmental print (e.g., product names and labels, traffic signs, etc.,), and reading with children. Each session begins with the families, facilitators, and teachers sharing a meal together. Then, the 70 JIM ANDERSON & FIONA MORRISON facilitator and the parents spend about one‐half hour discussing the topic (e.g., early writing) that is the focus of the session while the children go to their classroom(s). During this part of the session, parents are encouraged to share their own experiences with the topic at hand and their observations of their children’s engagement in that particular aspect of early literacy. Parents, children, and teachers (or facilitators) then spend an hour in the classroom(s) at a number of literacy and learning centres, each containing a different activity reflecting the topic of the day. Sessions conclude with the parents and facilitators discussing what they observed about the children’s learning and possibilities for continuing, expanding, and reinforcing that learning at home and in the community. Parents are then presented with a book or other materials and resources such as mathematics activities and games. About a third of the sessions are kept open so that topics and issues that parents identify can be addressed. For example, the parents in one school requested a second session on computer technology while in another school, parents wanted a session devoted to the impact of television on children. Books, art materials such as crayons, glue, scissors, and writing materials such as pencils, paper, and markers are provided to the families so that over the course of the program, they accumulate a set of resources. Different possibilities for using these materials are discussed; however, great care is also taken to honour and value what parents already did with their children, and for example, no effort is made to teach parents to read to their children in particular or prescribed ways. In addition, we attempt to highlight and draw from the funds of knowledge (Moll, Amanti, & Gonzalez, 1992) that families bring to the program. Parents discuss the literacy practices in their homes and communities and share their own literacy experiences in and out of school. We also take care to encourage, promote, and value the literacy activities and practices that families engage in at home and in the community. Several points need elaboration here. Although we use the term parents (which we will henceforth use in this article as a proxy for adult participants), grandparents, siblings, aunts and uncles, and other caregivers sometimes participated. Although we designed the program for four and five years old, some parents brought along infants; it was “A GREAT PROGRAM… FOR ME AS A GRAMMA” 71 not uncommon to have two and three year olds participating. Finally, participation was entirely voluntary and no coercion or pressure – subtle or otherwise – was used. When some parents were unable to attend sessions, we included their children in all of the activities by working alongside those parents who were present. THEORETICAL PERSPECTIVES Several theoretical perspectives inform the PALS program and this study. First, our work is informed by a literacy as social practices paradigm (e.g., Heath, 1983; Street, 1995). From this perspective, we viewed literacy not only as an amalgam of cognitive and linguistic skills transferable from one context to another, but also as complex social practices that vary contextually. A decade ago, Clay (1993), summaring this perspective, argued that the meanings ascribed to literacy, the value placed on it, and how it is acquired and mediated, vary from one context to another. This perspective manifested itself in several ways in the PALS program. For example, one teacher who was of indigenous ancestry and who worked with First Nations families incorporated a range of Aboriginal artwork that her brother, an artist, donated to the program. In another community, storytelling by First Nations elders was an integral part of the program. One school that had a very large Punjabi speaking population ran its sessions in the evening when most parents were able to attend; the sessions were conducted in Punjabi and the Punjabi‐speaking teachers modified the activities. Parents in some groups eschewed storybooks, preferring to share how‐to books and other informational texts with their children. We encourage and support these different literacy practices. Our work was also guided by research that suggests that children from non‐mainstream homes and communities tend not to do as well in literacy (and schooling in general) because of a lack of shared understanding between the home and school (Au & Kawakami, 1994). For example, in an earlier study, Anderson (1995) found that although the Euro‐Canadian families that he interviewed favoured the constructivist, play‐based perspective that informs curriculum and pedagogy in British Columbia, the newly immigrated, Chinese families that he interviewed favoured highly structured approaches with heavy 72 JIM ANDERSON & FIONA MORRISON reliance on rote memorization that they had experienced in their own learning. Fitzgerald, Spiegel, and Cunningham (1991) reported that the working class parents in their study favoured a skills orientation, whereas the middle class parents held perceptions consistent with an emergent literacy view. As we see it, then, there is often incommensurability (Inghilleri, 1999) or lack of shared understanding between how literacy is taught and promoted at school and how it is taught and promoted in children’s homes and communities; this lack of shared understanding can have a negative impact on children’s literacy learning and their educational opportunities. Cognizant of this important work, we aimed to create in PALS an inter‐subjective space where families and educators could learn from each other. According to Inghilleri (1999), “[t]he notion of incommensurability is often taken to establish both incompatibility and incomparability between different cultural groups” (p. 133). We acknowledge the phenomenological perspective that one’s lifeworld or one’s lived experiences shape the “cultural maps and assumptions in the substructure of our thought and action” (Crossley, 1996, p. 11). However, as we developed and implemented PALS, we were guided by the belief that parents and teachers would come to understand each other and develop mutual understanding of ways to support children’s early development if we created a safe space where they could work collaboratively. Emerging work in multiple literacies or multimodalities (Kress, 2001) also guided our work. That is, we acknowledge that literacy extends beyond encoding and decoding print to include various forms to represent meaning (e.g., Cope & Kalantzis, 2000). For example, when we met with parents in focus groups as we conceptualized the program, we were very pleased that parents indicated that they would like to learn more about technology, or as they put it, “computers.” Furthermore, parents requested, and we developed and included a session on children’s early mathematical learning, paying attention to Eisner’s (1991) notion that “literacy is broadly speaking the ability to encode and decode meaning in any of the forms used in culture to represent meaning” (p.14). “A GREAT PROGRAM… FOR ME AS A GRAMMA” 73 Also framing our work is the foundational work of Vygotsky (1987) and other socio‐cultural learning theorists (e.g., Wertsch, 1985). Each session began with parents and facilitators sharing what they already knew about, and their experience with, the topic at hand. For example, in the session on learning to read, participants recounted their own memories of basal readers, they described their young children’s pretend reading of favourite books, or they recalled the frustrations of a classmate or relative who struggled with learning to read. The in‐class portion of sessions when parents and other caregivers and children worked collaboratively through a series of literacy centres embodied an apprenticeship model (Rogoff, 1990). That is, the parents and caregivers provided the necessary support but “handed‐off” tasks to the children when they were capable of completing them independently. In the debriefing that culminated each session, the group reflected on what they observed and learned. The learning that consolidated here was highly social. And finally, we were mindful of important work in critical literacy (e.g., Baker & Luke, 1991). Although literacy can be transformative and liberating (Freire, 1997), it can also serve hegemonic roles in perpetuating inequity in terms of gender, social class, and so forth. We acknowledged the fact that literacy is often oversold and does not necessarily equate to well being – socially, personally or economically (Graff, 1995). METHOD We drew on the responses of 137 parents from five PALS sites in five inner city schools located in low‐SES areas; three of the five schools had free‐lunch programs. Most (about 90 %) of the parents were Caucasian and spoke English as their first language. The remainder were recently immigrated Chinese, El Salvadoran, Korean, Vietnamese, Iranian, or Romanian, and some First Nations parents. All members of the latter groups, however, were facile with English. Approximately 200 parents attended PALS sessions in the five schools; the attendance rate at each session averaged 90 per cent. On the days we collected our data, 137 of the 180 parents in attendance chose to respond, a participation rate of 76 per cent. Because the responses were completely voluntary and anonymous, we had no way of following up 74 JIM ANDERSON & FIONA MORRISON and ascertaining why some parents chose not to respond. Based on informal feedback throughout the year, we were quite confident that the responses we received were representative. In the penultimate or ninth session with each group of parents, we asked them to write to us anonymously to tell us about the program: its strengths and its limitations; what worked and what needed changing; what they had learned and what they would like to have learned, and so forth.2 We first discussed the purposes of the responses, and then provided the parents with one sheet of paper with the open‐ended prompt, “PALS was ….” There was no expectation that parents “had to” write to us: as explained previously, we did not account for who wrote and who did not and we assured the participants anonymity and confidentiality. We provided time (about ½ hour) for parents to write their responses. To ensure anonymity, we had the participants place the responses sheets, whether they were completed or not, in a box as they left the session. As might be expected, the amount that parents wrote varied considerably. Some parents wrote only a sentence or two, others wrote several pages. We read the data set in its entirety, identifying themes that emerged (Glaser, 1998). A Graduate Research Assistant trained in Early Childhood Education coded the data according to the themes that we had identified. Then we, as researchers, coded about 50 per cent of the data and compared our results with the research assistant’s coding. We had an inter‐rater agreement of 91 per cent and reconciled differences after discussion. RESULTS Several themes emerged from the data analysis. However, most of the responses fell into the following themes listed in order of frequency: a) structure of the program; b) supporting children’s learning; c) social relationships; d) capacity building; and e) one‐on‐one time. A number of concerns and issues also arose that we share. “A GREAT PROGRAM… FOR ME AS A GRAMMA” 75 Table 1: Frequency of Themes Theme Structure of program/Creating an Number of parents identifying theme 456 inter‐subjective space Supporting children’s learning 109 Capacity building 45 Social relationships 27 One‐to‐one time 16 Other 31 Structure of the Program: Creating an Inter‐subjective Space As noted in Table 1, the most frequent responses centred on the structure of the program, responses about creating an inter‐subjective space. For example, parents commented on the social dimension of the food sharing and the value of the debriefing that occurred after the in‐class portion of each session. However, most comments centred on the time caregivers spent in the classroom working with their children. As might be expected, some parents reported that their children looked forward to their bi‐weekly visits; for example, one parent remarked, “My son loved coming and having me being in a class with him.” The classroom visits also helped parents develop an understanding of current pedagogy and as one participant wrote, “A great program of information especially for me as a ‘Gramma’ seeing I’ve been out of the school system for quite a long time and there’s always a lot of changes made to methods of teaching.” Furthermore, the in‐class aspect of the program allowed parents to have a much better understanding of teachers’ work as the following quotation suggests: “First I would like to say this program 76 JIM ANDERSON & FIONA MORRISON opened my eyes wide to how important kindergarten teachers are and how hard it is.”3. Supporting Children’s Learning Obviously, given the focus on literacy in PALS, a second theme that emerged was the insights parents gained into children’s literacy learning. Curriculum and instruction in British Columbia where the study took place are informed by the guide, Primary Program: A Framework for Teaching (British Columbia Ministry of Education, 2000). This guide reflects a child‐centered orientation to teaching and learning and an emergent literacy perspective in terms of understanding and promoting children’s early literacy development. For example, children’s pretend reading and invented spelling were seen as important facets of children’s literacy learning, to be celebrated and encouraged. The teachers in this study were attempting to reflect these principles in their program sessions. Earlier research with working class parents (Fitzgerald, Spiegel, & Cunningham, 1991) and new immigrant parents (Anderson, 1995) has suggested that they tend to value and promote a traditional skills‐based approach to early reading and writing instruction and eschew an emergent literacy perspective. Here, in contrast, the parents reported on the insights they gained about the developmental nature of learning to read and write in English. “They loved trying to make letters and just be able to write whether it made sense or not.” “D [Child’s name] now tries to read with me, he asks me what words say. He never did that before.” “The information on working with your child at home …. encouragement and correcting them in an encouraging manner (or rather not correcting) was particularly helpful.” “All M ever wanted to do was play. Now I know that’s okay! That was a real eye opener for me.” Several points bear elaboration here. First, the parents developed an appreciation for the emergent nature of literacy learning. As well, parents came to value play in young children’s learning. It seems important that we helped parents who have had very different “A GREAT PROGRAM… FOR ME AS A GRAMMA” 77 experiences in school see the value of play, if pedagogy is going to reflect a play‐based orientation. The concrete manner in which that learning occurred in this study seems to be an avenue through which to support such understanding. Capacity Building An overarching goal of PALS was to ensure that capacity building was an inherent part of the program. We see capacity building being manifested in several ways in this study. First, parents reported that PALS helped them gain confidence in their own abilities. As one parent wrote, “This program not only made a difference with kids but I think it helped the parents by making a difference in self‐insecurities and being able to communicate with other adults and laughing and relating to the same everyday dilemmas in everyday situations.” Tett and Crowther (1998) have argued that because many participants in family literacy programs often come from marginalized groups and tend to lack self‐
esteem, family literacy providers need to address the issue of their insecurity. We achieved this understanding in PALS by creating a respectful and caring environment where parents’ and children’s literacy practices were affirmed and valued. Secondly, as parents became familiar with the methods of the schools, they gained confidence in their own abilities. One parent commented, “PALS has certainly encouraged me to stay very involved in my children and their schooling.”4. Furthermore, although family literacy programs are also critiqued because of the supposed one‐way transmission of school culture and practices to parents, such was not the case in our study. Indeed, parents saw their relationship with the schools as much more reciprocal as the following quotations demonstrate. “A great program…gave us a chance to be able to discuss your own views or input into your child’s education.” “PALS has certainly encouraged me to stay very involved in my children and their schooling.” 78 JIM ANDERSON & FIONA MORRISON Social Relationships As has been touched on and alluded to in the previous themes, parents also saw PALS as important in forming and maintaining social relationships. They shared the following perspectives. “Being in PALS made me feel like part of something.” “I believe the program has benefited both the school and community.” “PALS fosters communication between parents and school staff which will promote the children’s learning.” Parents in communities such as those in which we worked are often thought of as “hard to reach.” As we worked with families, we found that they were not hard to reach, an achievement of the PALS program. It was obvious to us that the safe environment that we had created where everyone’s contribution and participation were valued had done much to create social cohesion within the groups. Parents told us that through the relationships developed in PALS, they supported each other in childcare, in sharing resources, and in other challenges they faced. Furthermore, they indicated that they “learned from each other” as they shared their experiences while sharing food at the initial part of each session or over a tea or coffee in the debriefing session. Parents also began to see the school as part of the larger community and that communications between the community and the school need to be developed and enhanced5. Epstein (2002) and others have argued that communication between home and school is a crucial area that needs attention in most schools. From what the parents reported to us, PALS was an effective vehicle in promoting two‐way communication that we agree is essential in supplanting the tendency on the part of schools to be concerned only with disseminating information to families. One‐on‐one Time Another value that parents attributed to the program was that it afforded them the opportunity to work in a one‐to‐one context with their children. One parent explained, “It [each session] is also a nice one to one time with my daughter.” Another commented, “We did enjoy the time together and are thankful for the opportunity.” In our ongoing “A GREAT PROGRAM… FOR ME AS A GRAMMA” 79 discussions with parents, they indicated that they lived incredibly busy lives with many of the parents holding down multiple jobs out of economic necessity. Those who had more than one child also indicated that, although they valued the time in which they shared communally with their children, they also felt it important to attempt to find time to spend time individually with each child, especially as the child made the critical transition to kindergarten. Interestingly, some indicated that their participation not only afforded them the opportunity to work with their children who were in kindergarten but also reaffirmed their commitment to set aside time from their busy schedules to spend time individually with their other children. Indeed, one parent observed that working individually with her child had “Started a bond … working together which will help in early years of schooling.” Implicit in some of the literature (e.g., Tett & Crowther, 1998) is the notion that family literacy programs are imbued with middle class values and place a burden of guilt on busy families, who, for various reasons, do not set aside, one‐on‐
one “quality time,” an exalted tenet of parenting in post‐modernity. In our conversations with parents, however, we did not get a sense that they were feeling burdened with guilt. Indeed, many of the parents told us that given the competing demands of work, chores at home, and attending to the needs of two or more children, they knew one‐one‐one time would be available only at PALS sessions and they valued it. That is, they did not feel guilty because they were unable to provide one‐on‐
one time at home for various reasons. But they saw the value of working one on one with their children in the PALS sessions and were pleased that they could do so there. Concern and Issues Although parents were generally positive in their evaluation of the program, they raised concerns and issues. For example, one parent felt too much time was devoted to “socializing”; this parent felt that the time could have been spent more productively working with the children or learning from the facilitator. As was indicated earlier, we attempted to reflect a multi‐modal or multi‐literacies perspective in the program in a number of ways, including the provision of wordless picture books. We believed that such 80 JIM ANDERSON & FIONA MORRISON texts could serve as a stimulus for families more comfortable with story telling than book reading. Furthermore, we thought that these books might also be welcomed by any parents who might not read English but who wanted to share books with their children. We also took time to discuss possibilities for using wordless picture books, avoiding being prescriptive. Nevertheless, some parents complained that these books were not appropriate. They saw the lack of print as a problem and also thought the books were “too easy.” Interestingly, some parents did not see the relevance of the Environmental Print walk where we took the children and their parents around the neighbour identifying the ubiquitous signs, notices, labels, and logos. Previous research (e.g., Anderson, 1995) has also suggested that parents seem to equate literacy development with knowledge about print and much less on the “big picture” (Purcell‐Gates, 1996) of literacy development. For some parents at least, a more traditional focus on print in family literacy programs might be more meaningful for them than attempting to have them embrace a more expansive, multiple literacy perspective, at least initially. In a related vein, some parents felt that there should be more focus on “readiness” and on “reading skills.” When we initially met with parents in the focus group sessions as we began to conceptualise and develop PALS, they identified “learning the alphabet” and “learning about sounds” as areas they wanted to learn more about. Consequently, we developed sessions around the themes of “Learning the Alphabet,” “Learning to Read,” and “Riddle, Raps and Rhymes” (with a focus on activities that support the development of phonological awareness in developmentally sound ways). Some parents suggested that we provide follow‐up activities for them to work on with their children. When we had parents recall their own memories of learning to read in the initial part of our program, some of them recalled worksheets and basal readers. These memories influenced the desire of at least some to provide their children with similar activities that apparently worked for them. We tried to demonstrate that children learn in different ways and at different rates along a developmental continuum (e.g., Teale & Sulzby, 1986). Perhaps influenced by the trend toward using standardized assessment with young children, some parents had difficulty accepting this conception of early literacy learning, wanting clear demarcations of “A GREAT PROGRAM… FOR ME AS A GRAMMA” 81 where children “should be,” according to age or grade level. Typical of this perspective was the parent who wrote, “I would like to know more about what is required for a child to begin kindergarten and what should be learned by the end of the school [kindergarten] year.” Many participants commented on the respectful nature of the program and the care that we took to be inclusive. Despite our best efforts and the commitment to issues of social justice with which we attempted to imbue the program, issues of social class arose. As noted previously, three of the schools had a school lunch program indicating that a significant number of the families were low income. However, two of the schools also drew from middle‐class areas and issues of social class were raised at these sites, directly and sometimes more subtly. Two of the parents in one of the schools, indicated, “…good program. I think very beneficial for the original target group. At [Name of School] perhaps preaching to the converted [in this school]” and “a great idea for inner‐city schools but perhaps [Name of School] is not the most appropriate.” However, the majority of the parents in the same school wrote such comments as “Really, we need this kind of program” and “This program should be in every school.” We were quite open in sharing the development and evolution of PALS including the fact that the program started initially in two inner city schools. Furthermore, we discussed issues of race and social class and to reiterate, the program was founded on principles of respect and reciprocity. It appears, however, that even with our best efforts, we needed to do more in terms of issues of social justice. Some parents identified recruitment to the program as an issue needing attention. We recruited parents to PALS in the five sites in several ways including an information session held in the spring for parents of incoming kindergarten children; invitations in school newsletters; reminders in the local paper; and word of mouth of parents already in the program (which parents tell us is the most effective form of recruitment for a program such as this). We also tried to schedule sessions that best fitted the needs of the community. However, family participation is voluntary and despite our best attempts at flexibility and invitation and promotion, some families did not participate either by choice or because no adult was available to attend sessions because of 82 JIM ANDERSON & FIONA MORRISON work commitments and so forth. Because a small portion of the costs of PALS came from the schools’ budgets (a large part of the cost is covered through fund raising, small grants, or philanthropic organizations), some participants raised concerns that not all parents availed themselves of the opportunity to participate. This sentiment was captured by a parent who wrote, “[PALS was] really great BUT I’m wondering if it is the best use of school district funds?” DISCUSSION Those who have critiqued family literacy programs (e.g., Auerbach, 1995) gave us cause to be reflective as we conceptualised, developed, and implemented PALS. We believe our work reflects the importance of respecting the social‐cultural contexts where families live and work and play, of collaborating with families and communities in program design and implementation, and of the need for flexibility and reciprocity. Although we appreciate and are influenced by these critical perspectives, we agree with Edwards (2003) that it is also vital to listen to the perspectives and insights from the families themselves. The results of this study indicate that parents learned much about literacy and about children’s learning and they highlighted the social‐
contextual nature of that learning. Several points need to be emphasized here. First, working with the children in classrooms seemed especially valuable; this approach is in keeping with a constructivist view of learning. Second, although parents highly regarded the role of the program facilitator in helping to develop their understanding, they also indicated that they learned from each other. Based on her studies of how siblings support each other’s literacy learning, Gregory (2001) suggested that educators rethink the traditional notion that only adults support young children’s learning. She argued that young children play a similar supportive role in what she terms a “…synergy whereby siblings act as adjuvants, stimulating and fostering each others’ development” (p. 301). We saw a parallel here because parents learned informally from each other. Although some parents tended to have a traditional view of literacy as reading and writing as they remembered it in school, most parents became comfortable with a more expansive and contemporary view. For “A GREAT PROGRAM… FOR ME AS A GRAMMA” 83 example, after we had been on an environmental print walk in one of the communities, many parents commented on how unaware they had been of the ubiquitous print in their environment and how reading signs, logos, and so forth was so much a part of everyday experiences. Extending their experiences from the session on environmental print, some families went home and of their own volition created books out of labels. And in one school, families requested a second session on early mathematics learning while in another, they requested a second session on technology. It might be inferred from some of the literature that participants in family literacy programs are uncritical consumers of information provided by such programs, without any sense of agency (Segal, 1991). This was not the case with PALS. Some parents wanted more information about points made when discussing different aspects of children’s learning. For example, one parent requested that we share research on children’s literacy development. Others objected to some of the books we provided, requesting that they have input into book selection, an idea that we are pursuing. At other times, parents questioned some of the practices we were discussing. For example, in one session, we shared a videotape produced by a leading literacy organization that promoted the much ballyhooed “dialogic” reading style (Whitehurst, Arnold, Epstien, Angell, Smith, & Fischel,1994). Several of the parents complained that this form of reading would not work because their children preferred that the book be read in an uninterrupted manner. Another explained that as a working, single parent with four young children, reading a book each night was simply not an option in her family. Thus, perhaps because of the environment we had created, parents asked important questions and raised critical issues. Although PALS is informed by literacy as social practice (e.g., Barton et al., 2000) and socio‐cultural theory (e.g., Heath, 1983) in that we value, promote, and build on the literacy activities in which families already engage in at home, it clearly focuses on school literacy. One of the major criticisms of family literacy programs is that they privilege school literacy. Like Delpit (1995), we believe that many parents, and especially those on the margins of society, see school literacy as a way of 84 JIM ANDERSON & FIONA MORRISON empowering their children to participate more fully and equally in society. And like Edwards (2003), we believe it is important to ask parents and other caregivers in family literacy if the programs are meeting their needs. We found support from the parents with whom we worked for our focus on school literacy, questioning previous assertions in this area (e.g., Tett & Crowther, 1998) Finally, this study suggested that those of us who work in family literacy might assume a more nuanced stance when we consider family literacy programs and how they affect the lives of families and the well being of communities. Although issues and problems previously identified in the literature arose in our work, they were not of the magnitude that is sometimes inferred from that body of work. CONCLUSION The parents with whom we worked valued the learning that occurred in PALS. They saw it as a non‐threatening entry into the schools, especially because many of them had less than pleasant memories of their own schooling. They also believed that their understanding of their children’s learning and how to support it was greatly enhanced. Moreover, they saw the program as building relationships within the school and in the larger community. The evidence from this study suggested that through PALS, we created an intersubjective space where parents, teachers, and children learned from each other in respectful and supportive ways. Nevertheless, a number of issues arose that need continued attention. As we continue to work in new contexts, we assume other issues will arise but we take that to be a part of working with families and communities in diverse socio‐cultural contexts. NOTES PALS was piloted in four schools in two school districts in 1999‐2000. The program is operating in 15 school districts in British Columbia, in the North West Territories and in Ontario at the time of writing this article. An in‐depth description of PALS is available at http://www.lerc.educ.ubc.ca/fac/ anderson/pals/. 1
Some readers might question our decision to ask parents who were participating in a family literacy program to do a written evaluation of the program. However, as we worked with parents and listened to them, we were 2 “A GREAT PROGRAM… FOR ME AS A GRAMMA” 85 convinced that nearly all of them wrote fairly extensively on a regular basis. For example, when we did a session on technology and learning that one group requested, we discovered that many of the parents used e‐mail frequently. Others kept a diary or journal while still others wrote letters to the editor of the local newspaper or kept minutes for the school Parent Advisory Committee. As previous researchers (e.g., Barton, Hamilton & Ivanic, 2000; Bloome, 2005) have shown, contrary to what is often believed to be the case with low‐SES or working class communities, reading and writing are very much a part of the daily, lived experiences of many families. As Bloome (2005) pointed out, such writing is often rendered invisible by institutions of power (e.g., schools, government bureaucracies); in the case of the participants in PALS, they seemed unaware of how much reading and writing they engaged in daily until we encouraged them to reflect upon it. We acknowledge, of course, that the forms and functions of these literacy practices (e.g., reading supermarket flyers or the TV Guide, writing grocery lists, reading and writing emails to family and friends, reading the Koran) might often differ from the essayist forms of literacy (Olson, 1994) privileged in schools. The point is that most of these parents were very capable of writing and we did not see asking them to write as a limitation of the study. 3Although we did not interview the teachers in the schools for this study, we did so in an earlier study in a neighbouring school district where PALS was implemented (Anderson, Smythe, & Shapiro, 2005). Teachers reported that working closely with parents over an extended time period led to increased rapport with, respect for, and understanding of the families. That is, reciprocity in shared understanding occurred as these two groups worked collaboratively. If as Epstein (2002) has argued, children’s learning is enhanced when families are involved in schools, the synergistic understanding and relationships that appear to have developed were especially important. Many of the parents with whom we have worked assumed leadership roles both within the schools on Parent Advisory Committees and within the larger community by becoming members of literacy advocacy groups, running for elected office, and sharing their experiences at community, professional and educational conferences (e.g., Cody, 2005). Furthermore, some parents, having had a positive experience with PALS, began advocating for similar programs as their children progressed through the grades. Consequently, some schools in the district are offering programs modelled on PALS for parents of older primary and elementary students. Through their participation in PALS and the growing awareness of classroom needs, parents have also demonstrated a willingness to engage critically on their own behalf with policy makers. As we reported elsewhere (Anderson et al., 2005), parents collaboratively wrote and circulated a 4 86 JIM ANDERSON & FIONA MORRISON petition that they sent to the provincial government, calling for the reinstatement of classroom assistants who worked with special needs students and who had been laid off as a result of cutbacks in government funding to education. 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Collected works (Volume 1). New York: Plenum. Wertsch, J. (1985). Vygotsky and the social formation of mind. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. QUESTIONING MASCULINITIES: INTERROGATING BOYS’ CAPACITIES FOR SELF‐
PROBLEMATIZATION IN SCHOOLS Michael Kehler & Wayne Martino The University of Western Ontario In drawing on selected interviews with adolescent boys from both Australia and North America, we present an analysis of boys’ own capacities for interrogating gender normalisation in their school lives. We set this analysis against a critique of the public media debates about boys’ education, which continue to be fuelled by a moral panic about the status of boys as the new disadvantaged. Our aim is to raise questions about boys’ existing capacities for problematizing social relations of masculinity and how these might be mobilized in schools to support a counter‐
hegemonic practice committed to interrogating gender oppression. Key words: gender reform, boys’ education, masculinities, normalization À partir d’un choix d’entrevues effectuées auprès d’adolescents venant de l’Australie et de l’Amérique du Nord, les auteurs présentent une analyse des capacités de ces garçons de remettre en question la normalisation en fonction des sexes dans leur vie scolaire. Les auteurs opposent cette analyse à une critique des débats dans les médias sur l’éducation des garçons, lesquels continuent à être alimentés par une panique morale au sujet du statut des garçons considérés comme les nouveaux défavorisés. L’objectif visé est de soulever des questions sur les capacités des garçons de problématiser les relations sociales masculines et de voir comment ces aptitudes pourraient être mobilisées dans les écoles pour appuyer une démarche antihégémonique visant à remettre en question l’oppression basée sur le sexe. Mots clés : réforme et sexes, éducation des garçons, masculinités, normalisation _________________ CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 90‐112 QUESTIONING MASCULINITIES 91 Within the context of moral panic and feminist backlash about boys’ education, the dominant discourse has been one that relies on essentializing differences between boys and girls to instigating gender and pedagogical reform in schools1 (see Arnot & Miles, 2005; Foster, Kimmel, & Skelton, 2001; Froese‐Germaine, 2004; Martino, Mills, & Lingard, 2004; Titus, 2004; Weaver‐Hightower, 2003 for a critique of these debates). This context has involved resorting to calls for more male teachers, a boy friendly curriculum that caters more to boys’ learning styles, and single sex classes as reform initiatives designed to counteract the feminisation of schooling and its supposed detrimental impact on boys’ failing and flailing masculinities. For example, Hoff‐Sommers (2000) claims that much of the feminist inspired gender reform in schools is based on denying the nature of boys by inciting them to be more like girls which ultimately diminishes their masculinity. Glaringly absent from these debates, however, are the perspectives of boys themselves. In this article, therefore, our aim is to present a more nuanced analysis of masculinities and schooling than that offered within the context of these debates by including the voices of adolescent boys who raise questions about the constraints and limits of conventional masculinities (see also Burgess, Park, & Robinson, 2004; Kehler, 2004; Kehler, Davison, & Frank, 2005; Martino & Pallotta‐Chiarolli, 2003). In drawing on interviews with seven adolescent boys from Australia (n = 3) and the United States (n = 4), our aim is to complicate the powerful tendency to homogenize and essentialize masculinity within the context of these debates about the boys (see Gurian, 2001). We use their voices to raise questions about the possibility of engaging boys in a counter‐hegemonic practice that is committed to interrogating the limits of normalizing discourses through which they are constituted as gendered subjects. This discussion is set against the calls for gender reform within the context of debates about boys’ education, the popular media, and educational policy (see Lingard, 2003; Martino, Mills, & Lingard, 2004). In short, the basis for imagining other possibilities for a gender reform agenda in schools needs to be organized around alternative political norms for interrupting hegemonic social relations of masculinities that do not rely on essentializing gender difference (Harding, 1998). 92 MICHAEL KEHLER & WAYNE MARTINO Although considerable literature documents the dynamics of masculinities in schools (see Frank, Kehler, & Davison, 2003; Gilbert & Gilbert, 1998; Keddie, 2005; Mac an Ghaill, 1994; Renold, 2004), we offer a specific analysis of boys’ own understanding of the effects of the cultural norms governing the practices of hegemonic heterosexual masculinity. Our analysis serves as a basis for examining the implications for gender reform in schools as they relate specifically to boys’ education. This article, therefore, contributes to the field by providing an analytic perspective on gender reform in schools that foregrounds boysʹ already existing capacities for self‐problematization and/or for interrogating masculinities in their own lives (Keddie, 2005; Martino & Pallotta‐
Chiarolli, 2003, 2005). We found that the issue for these boys does not appear to be related to their lack of vocabulary to talk about gender socialization “outside of the machismo paradigm,” as suggested by Burgess et al. (2004, p. 24). Rather, the problem appears to relate to the institutionalization of hegemonic heterosexual masculinity in schools that denies and silences such critical discourses in the first place. In this article, therefore, we use the boys’ voices to examine their existing capacities for self‐problematization and suggest ways to deploy these voices to illustrate the possibilities for embracing a counter hegemonic practice in schools that is committed to working with boys to interrogate hierarchical heterosexual masculinities (Connell, 1995). This examination is important because the research literature has often been directed to documenting the interplay of ascendant and subordinated masculinities in boys’ lives at school or in particular schooling contexts and/or exposing the role that hegemonic boys play in perpetuating hierarchical power relations to illuminate the impact of such regimes on girls and/or marginalized boys in schools (Gilbert & Gilbert, 1998; Mac an Ghaill, 1994; Mills, 2000; Skelton, 2001; Walker, 1998). ABOUT THE RESEARCH In this article, we focus on seven boys attending two different schools: one in the mid‐west United States and the other in a major Australian city.2 The boys at both sites were interviewed and data were collected and recorded through shadowing, observation, and audio‐taped, semi‐
structured interviews.3 The data we present in this article is largely taken QUESTIONING MASCULINITIES 93 from the audio‐taped interviews conducted at each of the research sites. In addition, the first author (Kehler) also draws on interview data emerging from participant responses to vignettes captured from field observations. These vignettes provided a context for further probing the understandings routinely expressed by the four young men. Central High is a mid‐sized school, home to 1200 students in a largely middle class neighbourhood. Although the student population reflects considerable cultural diversity, over two thirds of the students are white Anglo American. The administration prides itself on being competitive both in athletics and academics and Central High is ranked above average in state test scores for reading and writing. For the purposes of this article, we focus on four senior‐high school young men who participated in a six‐month ethnographic research project during the final semester of their secondary school academic career. These young men had been identified by teachers at the school as publicly expressing behaviours and attitudes toward gender that were atypical of many of their male counterparts. At the time of the interviews, they were all aged 16‐17 years. Philip was a football player and had been actively involved in school theatre. Thurston’s interests in school revolved around music and poetry, while Hunter was the Student Council President. David was co‐captain of the school hockey team. Each was considered popular amongst his peers. Southern High is a large co‐educational, Catholic school in a middle‐
class neighbourhood of a major Australian city with a population of just over 1000 students. The school comprised predominantly a white population and had a football reputation in the community because of a three‐year consecutive record of state championships. Thirty boys, aged 15‐16, were well‐known to the researcher (Martino), who had been a teacher at the school for four years at the time the study was conducted. The research was conducted over two years. Those interviewed at the school talked at length about the influence of a group of boys who played football. This group, which comprised at least 30 boys, was referred to as the footballers. The friendship among this group becomes an important focus of analysis in this article. In revisiting the data, the researcher specifically chose three boys, Dave, Tom, and Shaun (all aged 16) because of their capacity to problematize the social relations of 94 MICHAEL KEHLER & WAYNE MARTINO masculinity embodied by the dominant group of footballers at Southern High. Dave was one of the state football players, but was not accepted as a member of the footballers’ friendship group for reasons that will be explicated later in the article. Tom also played football and related to the footballers on superficial terms, but was not a member of their friendship group and expressed strong criticism about their attitudes towards and treatment of other boys at school whom they considered to be inferior. Shaun was an esteemed member of the footballer friendship group but did not play football. CONCEPTUAL FRAMEWORK For this article, we adopt a critical sociological framework consistent with what Connell (1996) refers to as “the active politics of gender” (p. 210) and the public expression of these politics in the everyday lives of seven high‐school young men. Our analysis is informed by an understanding of masculinities as social practices or relations that are negotiated in fluid and complex ways in the daily lives of boys in a manner that defies the public media’s representation of the boy problem in schools (see Blair & Sanford, 2004: Froese‐Germaine, 2004; Lingard, 2003; Sanford, 2006; Titus, 2004 for a more detailed analysis of these debates). In this sense, we argue against essentialist thinking that has assumed masculinity is an unchanging, common experience or fixed essence for all boys and that has gained a particular currency in the field of boys’ educational policy and practice (see Biddulph, 1994; Gurian, 2001; Hoff‐Sommers, 2000; House of Representatives Standing Committee, 2002). Connell (1995) has argued for a more fluid and dynamic conceptualization of masculinity. “Gender is not fixed in advance of social interaction but is constructed in interaction” (p. 35). West and Zimmerman (1991) highlight the process of doing gender and, most importantly, the significance of maintaining and managing gender identities that are routinely scrutinized or policed under the surveillance of others (see also Butler, 1990). Although this position has already been documented in the literature, our focus in this article is on boys’ own self‐awareness of and capacity to problematize these social relations and what the significance of these insights might be for developing boys’ educational programs in schools. We in no way wish to imply that these QUESTIONING MASCULINITIES 95 boys can somehow stand outside the discourse of hegemonic masculinity. Rather, in drawing attention to their willingness to question specific gender norms, we argue that this response appears to be related to their experiences of feeling constrained and pressured to conduct themselves according to the limits of what is defined as acceptable masculinity. In this sense, our focus is on the negotiation of masculinities from the standpoint of the boys’ themselves within the context of drawing on a theoretical framework that attends to the fluidity of gender identity formation. THE BOYS FROM CENTRAL HIGH The “Typical Male” and Being “Normal” The four boys at Central High, in various ways, were conscious of how dominant constructions of masculinity impacted on their lives (see Dorais, 2004). On some level, this consciousness appeared to be related to experiences of difference in their lives: You can be who you are. You don’t have to portray this image in front of people. Like, sometimes when I played football I felt like I had to project this image of myself, at least while I was on the field. But in the arts I can be who I am, I can do what I want and not feel like I have to answer to anybody. I can just be me. (Philip) Philip articulated this sense of difference as a result of the freedom he experienced through participating in the Arts. He contrasts this experience with playing football where he felt a compulsion to project his masculinity. Different norms govern the performance of masculinities in each of these sites and he is attempting to articulate his understanding of this difference in terms of a sense of empowerment that is related to what he describes as a different experience of masculinity. Hunter also highlighted similar constraints related to the limits imposed by hegemonic masculinity. It’s like you have to come up and say the right things and do the right things in order to be cool. You can’t just be yourself and you can’t goof off in being cool. (Hunter) 96 MICHAEL KEHLER & WAYNE MARTINO Both boys foreground the extent to which the norms governing hegemonic masculinity impose constraints on “being yourself.” There is a sense that to be a man requires a powerful investment in a conscious self‐fashioning practice that is the public face of normative hegemonic heterosexual masculinity. Hunter identifies this practice in terms of “being cool” (Kehler, 2000). He demonstrates an awareness of the disconnection between the public and private faces of masculinity that is captured in his assertion that “you can’t just be yourself,” albeit an assumed essential self. Both boys, however, experience this expression of masculinity as an alienating experience and are conscious of the limits that are imposed on their sense of personhood. There is a strong sense that these boys’ resistance to or questioning of specific gender norms are related to their experiences of feeling constrained and pressured to conduct themselves according to the limits of what is defined as acceptable masculinity. It is possible to read Phillip and Hunter as negotiating the tensions between competing versions of masculinity that appear to emerge as potentially disruptive (see Connell, 1995). At this nexus, it becomes possible to identify the boys’ capacities for self‐problematization in relation to making sense of their own experiences of masculinity. For example, Thurston and Hunter foreground the extent to which discourses of masculinity extend beyond the school to exert a pervasive influence in enforcing a powerful regime of normalisation that both boys appear to be questioning. The typical male, like what they’ve seen since they’ve been growing up of what guys are supposed to be like. You see guys on T.V. who are afraid to express their feelings. So they sort of are afraid to break from that. Like they feel the need to be normal. And I think they are just afraid to because they might be ostracized from some sort of community of friends. (Thurston) [B]oys are afraid to express their feelings, that type of thing, because poetry is a very feelings sort of thing . . . . Less guys are willing to be in plays and sing unabashedly and write and express their feelings. (Thurston) QUESTIONING MASCULINITIES 97 Sometimes you are really happy, you want to give a good hug. I think some people can’t hug like Jason. He has to be big, rough, tough, like he’s a man…. (Hunter) Thurston talks specifically about “the need to be normal,” which leads to a policing and surveillance of masculinity that he finds questionable. He frames the basis of such questioning in terms of its inhibiting consequences with regard to expressing feelings. Thurston identifies a pervasive fear that is driven by what appears to be experienced, in his view, as enforced normalisation. This fear is supported, he believes, by the media along with more informal exchanges between men that provide potent messages of “what guys are supposed to be like” as well as their awareness of the gendered subject matter such as English. What both boys draw attention to is the powerful influence of their peers – other boys – in terms of policing acceptable masculinity. For instance, they highlight the difficulty some men have in expressing their feelings, which is underscored by a need to be normal and to be accepted by their friends. Each boy appears to be aware of particular norms that operated in their school to impact in very specific ways on their social relations of masculinity. In this sense, they had an implicit awareness of broader systemic relations of hegemonic masculinity that was institutionalized and legitimated within schools and in the broader society. For example, Philip’s earlier comment with regard to football reveals competing versions of masculinities on and off the field. In addition, Thurston notes the gendering of specific subject matter connected to poetry, plays, and singing. David similarly explained that one version of masculinity was preferred over others at Central High, and highlights the issue of body fashioning as being central to his understanding about hierarchical relations of masculinity. Not being huge but being bigger would be encouraged, just by what’s attractive. I think it’s just the way guys compare one another against each other. It’s like, how much they can bench press. It’s different ways of sizing people up. (David) David similarly highlights physical prowess as one attribute underscoring a prevailing image of hegemonic masculinity that is 98 MICHAEL KEHLER & WAYNE MARTINO captured in his use of language, “sizing people up,” to signify his understanding of a particular form of male power. This understanding was but one element of the physical body as a vehicle for defining masculinity at Central High. The four boys identified “toughness,” “fighting,” and “sexual talk” as central to defining dominant expressions of masculinity. High‐school masculinities thus emerged from discussions with the boys about their own understandings, definitions, and experiences of the rules of masculinity. In this sense, the four boys were literate about the social practices or rules of masculinity that impacted on their everyday lives at school (Kehler & Grieg, 2005). Their literacy was reflected in their capacity to identify and comment on particular “instances of masculinity” (Coleman, 1990) that entailed enforced normalisation organised around inciting men to compete with one another for more power and/or status. These boys were drawing on critical discourses about the social relations of masculinity despite the fact they claimed very little attempt in school had been made to raise important questions about masculinities. This admission raises important questions about the knowledge that students gain from engaging with the broader culture and which they bring with them to school.4 Intimacy Between Boys These boys also demonstrated a capacity to interrogate the limits imposed by hegemonic heterosexual masculinity with regards to prescribing acceptable modes of expressing intimacy with other male peers. As Hunter says, “Certain people you just don’t give hugs to unless it’s a total joke . . . and there are people that I can really give a hug to and like, mean it.” Here Hunter highlights that “giving hugs” is dependent on the sort of boy the recipient is, which determines a shared understanding of how to interpret the action. Much like public displays of affection among men, Hunter demonstrates an awareness of the social training that has taught him how to relate differentially to other boys on certain occasions. Conventional social practices of engagement between these young men typically involved high‐fives and aggressive body contact. At the same time, however, they indicated alternative social practices available to them which shed light on the tensions involved in QUESTIONING MASCULINITIES 99 negotiating alternative possibilities and expressions of masculinity, while still maintaining or keeping in tact their heterosexuality. In this sense, these particular boys show an awareness of different norms for governing and determining their behaviour. Tensions between competing versions of masculinities surface in situations that raise questions about gender appropriateness and normalization in relation to questioning one’s sexuality (see Davison, 2004; Kehler, Davison, & Frank, 2005; Martino, 2000; Nayak & Kehily, 1996). Thurston commented, “calling a guy a ‘fag’ is like an automatic button you can push” and demonstrates critical insight into how masculinity is guarded on several levels for these boys. As Kimmel (1994) argues, “[P]eers are a kind of gender police, constantly threatening to unmask us as feminine, as sissies” (p. 132) but the boys demonstrated a capacity to interrogate such practices of gender normalization and surveillance. However, although David, Philip, Thurston, and Hunter are critical of the limits of hegemonic heterosexual masculinity, some question remains about the social and cultural capital that these boys possess that enables them to critique the rules of hegemonic masculinity, while still keeping intact an acceptable public performance of masculinity in the eyes of their peers. In their analysis Kehler, Davison, and Frank (2005) identify similar tensions across studies in which they describe the participants as “actors with various degrees of gender movement” (p. 65) who nonetheless “cultivated an awareness of how particular discourses of masculinity are saturated with status and privilege” (p. 64). Thurston, for example, talked about his friendships with girls and how comfortable he felt in their company: “I can feel comfortable talking to them and I don’t necessarily feel as comfortable talking with a bunch of guys”. However, despite his friendships with girls, he did not display or embody a version of masculinity that led other boys to question his sexuality. In fact, each of these boys was respected and trusted by their peers. Hunter, for example, was seen as a confidant. He, along with the other young men, demonstrated an awareness but did not fear being unmasked as a “sissy.” 100 MICHAEL KEHLER & WAYNE MARTINO Hunter, for example, highlights that most of his peers go with the flow, accepting and subscribing to the norms governing the fashioning of acceptable masculinity because they are afraid. They are afraid from different angles. I think they’re afraid that they’ll get rejected or the girl[s] won’t think they’re a man…all the way to their friends making fun of them…[to being] afraid kind of whether he is saying the wrong things or just doesn’t know what to say….And if he keeps his distance then it doesn’t really matter because .. .he doesn’t have to expose himself so he doesn’t get hurt or lose anything. (Hunter) But subscribing to such norms also confers a collective sense of power while simultaneously denying a certain degree or expression of intimacy among young men. This observation is supported by Kaufman (1999) who points out that, although many men hold power and reap its benefits, there is a “strange combination of power and privilege, pain and powerlessness” (p. 75). This dichotomy raises some important questions about how to engage boys in re‐evaluating the effects of hegemonic masculinities as they experience it in their everyday lives. At this interface of experiencing a loss of power or a sense of constraint, possibilities exist for mobilising boys’ already existing capacities for self‐
problematization in schools (see Martino, 2001). These young men, for example, resisted dominant masculinizing practices and appear to be highlighting that the emotional and psychological costs of subscribing to such practices are greater than the risk of being ostracised by their male counterparts. On the other hand, the issue may possibly be one related to how these boys do their masculinity in culturally acceptable ways that enable them to embrace alternative norms of intimacy without the risk of being labelled gay or ostracised by their peers. Hunter suggests this possibility; he is strategic in directing expressions of affection or intimacy to his male peers, an act that appears to be based on his understanding about the sort of masculinity they display. This behaviour suggests that he possesses certain social skills or at least a capacity to relate to other boys on a differential basis that amounts to a particular currency or form of power that grants him the privilege of maintaining a socially acceptable masculinity in the eyes of his peers. QUESTIONING MASCULINITIES 101 THE BOYS FROM SOUTHERN HIGH The Power of the “Footballers” Many boys who attended Sothern High in Australia also spoke about the impact of a pecking order of masculinities at school which was reflected in the status attached to boys, depending on the sort of friendship group to which they belonged. The most popular boys who were considered to have the most power and status were referred to by all the interview subjects as the footballers. Those at the bottom of the hierarchy were the more quiet boys who associated with girls as friends and/or played handball, a gender inclusive game played with a tennis ball with four people during lunch break. Only certain boys participated in this largely non‐competitive game marked out on the concrete with a large square divided into four quadrants. The game involved using the palm of one’s hand to hit a tennis ball back and forth to participants while always ensuring that the ball bounced within the confines of one of the squares. It was an activity, however, that the footballers rejected or rather belittled as unmanly or simply a girl’s game. The footballers, a large group of about thirty boys, maintained a physical presence on the oval during lunch break and considered themselves heroes as a result of having won three state football competitions, which had led to public celebration and endorsement of their achievement at school assemblies. Once again what is highlighted is the validation of a culturally specific form of embodied hegemonic masculinity that is institutionalized and taken for granted at this particular school. Also absent in this school was any direct or explicit instruction related to working with students to interrogate the social expectations of masculinity, yet, as will be illustrated in this section, some of the boys had already acquired the capacity to interrogate such practices. In this section, we focus on three boys: Dave and Tom, who both played football but who were not members of this large group of footballers, and Shaun, a member of the footballer group who did not play football. These three boys highlight how group membership is based not so much on the ability to play football, but on how boys do their masculinity. In other words, the sort of cultural and social capital that boys possess, in terms of their capacity to relate to other boys and to 102 MICHAEL KEHLER & WAYNE MARTINO perform their masculinities in ways that do not result in rejection by their male peers, makes the difference rather than simply just playing football. For example, although Dave was acknowledged as being a skilful football player, he was also considered to be gay on the basis of how he acted, which signified effeminacy. In his interview, Dave talks at length about the homophobic harassment he received at both his previous and current schools at the hands of a particular group of boys. He identifies the footballers as targeting him when he first arrived at his current school the year before. He talks about how the footballers who knew some of the boys from his previous school continued the homophobic abuse that they directed towards him as a result of his involvement and interest in ballet. However, it was not solely Dave’s dancing that led other boys to question his masculinity and sexuality. In short, his questionable status as a proper male was related to the fact that other boys considered him to be effeminate and this appeared to override any other consideration of the potential status accrued on the basis of being a skilled football player. Moreover, the footballers related in ways to other boys and expressed certain attitudes that Dave did not embrace. They considered themselves the most popular ... socially acceptable I think, compared to the other groups whom they see as maybe inferior to them in their social acceptability …. [What makes them popular is] their masculinity. They had a lot of football players, fights, threats, male attitudes were very much bolstered by each other. They kept each other going. So you had practically everyone in that group doing football, drinking beer, smoking, anything rebellious .... They considered themselves good looking and had a lot of girlfriend/boyfriend relationships and having sex was big talk. The younger you were when you had it the first time the better. It seems pretty primitive, but that was very big for them. (Dave) Dave highlights that displaying masculinity for these boys is linked to asserting publicly their heterosexuality by boasting about their sexual exploits with girls (see Walker, 1988). He also demonstrates critical awareness of how these boys bolstered their heterosexual masculinity through social practices that involved playing football, smoking, and drinking and draws links between “having good looks” and acquiring a QUESTIONING MASCULINITIES 103 high‐status masculinity. On the basis of his marginalized position within the social hierarchy enforced by the footballers at this school, Dave appears to have developed some significant insights into power relations that reflect his capacity to interrogate hegemonic heterosexual masculinity. In this sense, experiences of marginalization have the capacity to contribute to cultivating a desire to seek out alternative social practices and relations as a coping mechanism or survival strategy. This sense of marginalization is further exemplified when Dave mentions a group of popular girls who always talked about the footballers in their group and discusses their role in enforcing this version of masculinity. The girls also had top ten lists for the boys. They judged the boys on good looks and their masculinity and how manly they were. It was sort of like you had the men as the roosters with them preening their feathers and going around the school kicking dirt into the face of other people and you had the girls watching to see who was the strongest, the most dominant. And the boys also would accept that male figure as the most manly of them all, the most socially acceptable, and they would look up to him. (Dave) This quotation highlights the extent to which hegemonic heterosexual masculinity is negotiated within a set of social relations in which certain girls are active corroborators in supporting a particular hierarchical gender system. Dave’s reference to the rooster‐like pecking order highlights the extent to which he experienced such a system of hierarchical gender relations as oppressively intransigent or solidified. It also reflects his capacity for interrogating hegemonic heterosexual masculinity. Through such imagery, he articulates his understanding of the dominant boys’ posturing of heterosexual masculinity which is on display, not only for the girls, but for other boys as well. This attribute of “being good looking” that Dave identifies relates once again to being a certain sort of boy, which carries a particular currency. However, being positioned at the bottom of the hierarchy or relegated to such a position by the dominant, cool boys and girls was clearly experienced by Dave in terms which capture both his sense of powerlessness and his feeling of entrapment. 104 MICHAEL KEHLER & WAYNE MARTINO This sense of powerlessness is evident when taking into consideration comments made by Tom, who was also very critical of the footballers and, more generally, of hegemonic practices of masculinity. However, he was afforded the privilege of not having his masculinity or heterosexual status readily being brought into question by his peers. Moreover, he was considered good looking and charming which made him very popular with girls and other boys in ways that Dave was not. In short, he had different social capital in terms of embodied masculinity, appearance, and social skills that was just not available to Dave, who was considered to be effeminate, self‐centred, and a little arrogant or rather “big‐headed.” For instance, Tom, like Dave, also played football and was adamant in his criticism of the footballers from whom he clearly differentiated himself. They put everything down, they attack things, they don’t talk about their emotions and how they feel. I’ve had conversations with a lot of them and it’s like talking to the same person because they all fit into this image of putting guys down who don’t fit the masculine image .... As soon as you start talking about a certain girl who may be targeted, they start going on about their experiences with her and what they’ve done. They start almost bragging to prove themselves as this masculine guy who’s done this and that. (Tom) Here, Tom comments on the public display of hegemonic heterosexual masculinities embraced by the footballers but which he clearly rejects. The point is that he is able to dissociate himself from these boys’ social practices without necessarily losing status. This status in part is related to the fact that he embodies a normative or straight masculinity that confers a particular legitimacy that is denied to Dave. Acting “Cool” Shaun, aged 16, a member of the footballer group who did not actually play football, was one of the highest achieving students in his year cohort. He speaks at length about the footballers and their practices. Despite the fact that he is a high achiever, he has the social and cultural capital in the form of embodying a normative straight masculinity and possesses a quick wit and sense of humour that is appreciated by his male peers. Moreover, his involvement as drummer in a heavy metal QUESTIONING MASCULINITIES 105 band also led him to be held in high esteem by other boys. Other boys who were interviewed actually referred to boys like Shaun as “socially bright” in terms of being able to get along with other boys. However, although Shaun tacitly chooses to be an active member of the footballer group, and thus remains complicit in maintaining such a hierarchical system of masculinity, he nevertheless is quite critical of the behaviour of his friends. This criticism is illustrated in his comments about “acting cool,” which is a distinguishing feature of the boys who gain membership to this group. Now thereʹs a lot of stuff that goes around like how much crap you can give to someone else and like kind of humiliate them, but itʹs like joking as well, and a lot of the ʹcoolʹ guys are good at it ...I suppose itʹs also like a test as well, like you sit there to see who can come up with the funniest and the quickest joke. (Shaun) Shaun identifies the pecking order of masculinities and emphasizes the necessity to be popular with girls as another a rule or norm governing what it means to be cool. I think it was because they were pretty popular with the girls, with the popular girls that stood out. And they were also like, you know, good at footy and stuff like that and that was why people would want to talk to them. (Shaun) He also comments on the compulsion to be a “bad ass” at school which involved “getting into trouble” and misbehaving in class “just to be cool.” However, Shaun appears to disapprove of such behaviours that involve acting cool. Moreover, he distances himself from such practices while still remaining a part of a group that collectively subscribes to such norms of hegemonic heterosexual masculinity. There was a sense that he enjoyed the power of being able to play along with the charade of such displays of cool masculinity, while recognising the behaviour of his friends as often governed by a tendency to follow blindly stupid rules in the name of “acting cool.” He rejected such unthinking behaviour and had a certain capital that enabled him to sit back and choose not to always participate directly in particular activities that he clearly rejected 106 MICHAEL KEHLER & WAYNE MARTINO as idiotic. There was a sense that he just sat back and engaged verbally using quick “come backs” and humour as a source of male power. Moreover, he also went to parties on the weekend and played music which also enabled him to accrue a certain amount of status in the eyes of his peers. In this sense, he straddles a number of social worlds or spaces because he is able to engage in critique of his peers’ behaviours and practices while still benefiting from maintaining his position within the hierarchy of social relations that afford him a particular status among the cool boys. Thus Shaun rejects certain behaviours and practices associated with “acting cool” because he can readily compensate for such deficits through accumulating other cultural capital (being a drummer in heavy metal band) and because he possessed certain social skills and capacities for relating to his peers in quite specific ways that conferred a degree of power. In this way, he was able and chose to remain an esteemed and likeable member of the group without apparently having his masculinity called into question. However, Shaun highlights that there are some rules that boys cannot afford to break. One of those rules is that “guys are meant to have guys as best friends.” I know that thereʹs this one guy, Dave, who hangs around with a bunch of girls and people call him a ʹfaggotʹ and thatʹs because he hangs around a bunch of girls and he hasnʹt got any guy friends really. (Shaun) He also mentions that there are certain requirements for boys to socialise with one another: “I know that there are rules like being best friends with other guys and going and doing stuff with friends and like with other guys.” Shaun demonstrates a capacity to problematize the norms governing hegemonic social practices of masculinity while still adhering to these norms to maintain status and privilege within his peer group. His observations about the imperatives for boys to behave in particular ways according to the norms of hegemonic heterosexual masculinity are further highlighted when he mentions that “guys donʹt really care about what girls think, they care more about what other guys think.” These comments highlight the need for further research into investigating the conditions under which such acts of self‐
QUESTIONING MASCULINITIES 107 problematization might be mobilized in schools as part of a critical literacy agenda for interrogating masculinities. CONCLUSION AND IMPLICATIONS The comments of the boys documented in this article suggest a willingness to raise questions about the limitations of hegemonic masculinity as it is experienced in their everyday lives at schools. In fact, many of the boys we interviewed were willing to engage in such a critical practice and, moreover, demonstrated highly developed capacities for self‐problematization (see also Martino & Pallotta‐
Chiarolli, 2003). However, they also claimed that their schools had provided few opportunities to engage with the sort of questions that we posed in our interviews. Hunter, for example, explained that these conversations rarely occurred in school. “At least not in the classroom. . . Actually, I would almost say not at all in school.” Shaun explicitly mentions this absence of discussion in schools claiming that the “stuff that is important” and relevant to them in their daily lives as young men is not being addressed: “There has been stuff about ‘don’t fall to peer pressure,’ but that’s nothing as deep as going into stuff about how you feel about being masculine or what masculinity is.” Although engaging in a critique of the contradictions inherent in hegemonic masculinity does not necessarily constitute a counter‐
hegemonic practice – for example, many of the boys in this study, although critical, maintain privileged positions at the top of the peer group hierarchy. The question remains whether these boys would be interested in change if it did not afford them some advantage. However, the boys’ questioning of masculinity in our research appears to grow out of their own commitment to building their self‐esteem and a positive identity as young men. Their willingness to critique the norms governing displays of hegemonic heterosexual masculinity needs to be understood as driven by a desire to search for better alternatives of self‐
expression which, they believed, would lead to enhancing their lives and relationships with other people. This conclusion raises issues around creating a threshold for interrogating the systematic ways in which hegemonic masculinities are experienced in boys’ lives at schools and how they come to negotiate their social practices of masculinity in this 108 MICHAEL KEHLER & WAYNE MARTINO context. In short, at this interface of experiencing a loss of power or a sense of constraint, as a consequence of subscribing to norms governing relations of hierarchical masculinities, possibilities exist for mobilising boys’ capacities for self‐problematization in schools. In taking such a focus on the limitations that hegemonic masculinity imposes, as a starting point in working with boys in schools, potential resistance to such a critical practice may well be minimised by those boys who might otherwise feel threatened. The significance of our research highlights that boys’ daily school experiences were far from what is captured by headline newspapers that repeatedly paint all boys as potentially emasculated victims of the feminisation of schooling. Thus concern about boys in school, we propose, might better be directed to taking a closer look at the social practices of masculinity among high‐school young men to offer a more nuanced account of the effect of masculinities from the standpoint of the boys themselves. In this sense, we argue, it is imperative to hear not so much about the boys but from the boys if educators want to gain deeper insights into the factors having an impact on their lives and experiences of masculinity in schools. In this respect, further research into evaluating boys’ education programs that are committed to engaging boys in such critical practices is needed. Such research carries the potential to move the gender reform debates beyond merely re‐inscribing binary classifications of gender difference to a consideration of the liberatory potential of encouraging broader definitions of masculinity in schools that do not rely on a denigration of the feminised other. NOTES 1 Moral panic refers to the intensified concern over boys’ failure in school. This term has been used to capture the neo‐conservative political agenda that continues to position boys as the new disadvantaged and, hence, as victims of feminist interventions in education that have ignored their particular needs as males. This article began as a dialogue between the two authors who had met at a conference in Montreal in 1999 to discover that they had conducted similar doctoral research projects but on different continents. Although both research projects documented the interplay of masculinities in the lives of a specific group of white middle class boys, we were struck by the capacity of specific boys to 2
QUESTIONING MASCULINITIES 109 interrogate hierarchical heterosexual masculinity and its manifestations in their lived experience of peer group relations in schools. 3 The names of schools and students used throughout the paper are fictional. 4 Although the boys, for the most part, claimed that they had not been exposed extensively to critical discourses about masculinity through their formal education, they did indicate that some English teachers had raised questions about gender stereotypes in class. It is also important not to underestimate the influence of the media and popular culture in these boys’ lives in terms of their developing understanding of masculinity. Several boys also mentioned the role of the researcher and the act of research itself in encouraging them to think critically about issues of masculinity and gender relations. REFERENCES Arnot, M., & Miles. P. (2005). A reconstruction of the gender agenda: The contradictory gender dimensions in New Labour’s educational and economic policy. Oxford Review of Education, 31(1), 173‐189. Biddulph, S. (1994). Manhood. Sydney, AU: Finch Publishing. Blair, H., & Sanford. K. (2004). Morphing literacy: Boys reshaping their school‐
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56. Mac an Ghaill, M. (1994). The making of men: Masculinities, sexualities and schooling. Buckingham; UK: Open University Press. Martino, W. (2000). Mucking around in class, giving crap, and acting cool: Adolescent boys enacting masculinities at school. Canadian Journal of Education, 25(2), 102‐112. Martino, W. (2001) ‘Powerful people aren’t usually real kind, friendly, open people!’ Boys interrogating masculinities in schools. In W. Martino & B. Meyenn (Eds.), What about the boys? Issues of masculinity and schooling (p. 82‐95). Birmingham, UK: Open University Press. Martino, W., Mills, M., & Lingard, B. (2004) Issues in boys’ education: A question of teacher threshold knowledge. Gender and Education, 16(4), 435‐454. Martino, W., & Pallotta‐Chiarolli, M. (2003) So whatʹs a boy?: Addressing issues of masculinity and schooling. Maidenhead, UK: Open University Press. Martino, W., & Pallotta‐Chiarolli, M. (2005) ʹBeing normal is the only way to beʹ: Adolescent perspectives on gender and school, Sydney, AU: University of New South Wales Press. Mills, M. (2000). Issues in implementing boys’ programmes in schools: Male teachers and empowerment. Gender and Education, 12(2), 221‐238. Nayak, A., & M. Kehily (1996). Playing it straight: Masculinities, homophobias and schooling. Journal of Gender Studies, 5(2), 211‐230. Renold, E. (2004). ‘Other boys’: Negotiating non‐hegemonic masculinities in the primary school. Gender and Education, 16(2), 247‐266. 112 MICHAEL KEHLER & WAYNE MARTINO Sanford, K. (2006). Gendered literacy experiences: The effects of expectation and opportunity for boys’ and girls’ learning. Journal of adolescent and adult literacy, 49(4), 302‐315. Skelton, C. (2001). Schooling the boys: Masculinities and primary education. Buckingham, UK: Open University Press. Titus, J. (2004). Boy trouble: Rhetorical framing of boys’ underachievement. Discourse, 25(2), 145‐169. Walker, J. C. (1988). Louts and legends. Sydney, Au: Allen & Unwin. Weaver‐Hightower, M. (2003). Crossing the divide: Bridging the disjunctures between theoretically oriented and practice‐oriented literature about masculinity and boys at school. Gender and Education, 15(4), 407‐23. West, C., & Zimmerman, D. (1991) Doing gender. In J. Lorber & S. Farrell (Eds), The Social Construction of Gender (pp. 13‐37). London, UK: Sage Publications. Michael Kehler is a professor who teaches in the preservice and graduate education program at the University of Western Ontario. His research interests include the counter‐hegemonic practices of high school young men, literacies, masculinities, and the ongoing negotiations involved for young men resisting heteronormativity. His research has been published in a range of journals including Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, Journal of Curriculum Theorizing, Educational Review, Taboo, Education and Society, and The International Journal of Inclusive Education. Wayne Martino is a professor in the Faculty of Education at The University of Western Ontario. His research interests are in the field of gender equity, masculinities, and anti‐oppressive education. His books include What about the Boys? (with Bob Meyenn, Open University Press), Boysʹ Stuff: Boys Talking about What Matters (with Pallotta‐Chiarolli, Allen & Unwin), So What’s a Boy? Addressing Issues of Masculinity and Schooling (with Maria Pallotta‐Chiarolli, Open University Press), ‘Being normal is the only way to be’: Boysʹ and Girls’ Perspectives on Gender and School (with Maria Pallotta‐Chiarolli, Sydney: University of New South Wales Press) and Gendered Outcasts and Sexual Outlaws: Sexual Oppression and Gender Hierarchies in Queer Menʹs Lives (with Christopher Kendall, Haworth Press). His latest books include Boys’ Education: Beyond the Backlash (with Michael Kehler and Marcus Weaver‐Hightower, Haworth Press) and Boys and Schooling: Contexts, Issues and Practices (with Martin Mills and Bob Lingard, Palgrave). FROM STORYBOOKS TO GAMES, COMICS, BANDS, AND CHAPTER BOOKS: A YOUNG BOY’S APPROPRIATION OF LITERACY PRACTICES Kimberly Lenters University of British Columbia This case study addresses a middle class familyʹs role in their sonʹs literacy development through an investigation of the socio‐cultural practices that support his literacy acquisition. Rogoffʹs socio‐cultural framework, which proposes three planes of analysis for observation of human development, is used for the analysis. The literacy practices of Max (age 8) are the central focus. The analysis explores how community, interpersonal, and personal literacy activities connect to form holistic literacy practices for him. Insights into the nature of peer interactions around literacy, gender considerations in family literacy, and boysʹ out‐of‐school literacy practices emerge from this analysis. Key words: socio‐cultural perspectives on literacy; multiliteracies; family literacy; gender and literacy L’étude de cas présentée ici porte sur le rôle de parents de classe moyenne dans le développement de la littératie de leur fils. Le cadre socioculturel de Rogoff, qui propose trois axes d’analyse pour l’observation du développement de l’être humain, est utilisé dans l’analyse des pratiques socioculturelles qui favorisent la littératie. L’article porte essentiellement sur les pratiques de littératie de Max (8 ans). L’auteur analyse le lien entre diverses activités communautaires, interpersonnelles et personnelles en matière de littératie et l’apparition subséquente de pratiques de littératie holistiques chez Max. L’analyse fournit des points de repère sur la littératie et les interactions entre des pairs, les différences entre les sexes et la littératie familiale ainsi que les pratiques de littératie chez les garçons en dehors du milieu scolaire. Mots clés : perspectives socioculturelles sur la littératie, multilittératies, littératie familiale, littératie et sexes _________________ CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 113‐136 114 KIMBERLY LENTERS The phrase lifelong reader has been ubiquitous in the literature on literacy instruction over the past three decades. Research demonstrates that the strongest readers, and the ones most likely to become lifelong readers, are those who engage deeply with reading (Guthrie, 2004) and read for pleasure outside of school (Anderson, Wilson, & Fielding, 1988; Applebee, Langer, & Mullis, 1988). Furthermore, some research suggests that when childrenʹs vernacular literacy practices are acknowledged and respected, these practices ʺprovide the foundation of prior knowledge and experience necessary for effective teaching and learning to take place in schoolʺ (Hall & Coles, 2001, p. 220). This acknowledgement of personal literacy practices is also important for fostering in children a conception of themselves as independent, successful readers and writers (Hall & Coles, 2001). An acknowledgement of the importance of out‐of‐
school reading for many children leads to one of the questions considered in this study: what role do families play in encouraging an enduring engagement with literacy in their younger members? Additionally, boysʹ literacy development has recently become an important topic in Western countries because of the apparent crisis in boys’ literacy learning. Whether one subscribes to the notion of crisis regarding boys and literacy or not (see Foster, Kimmel, & Skelton, 2001; Martino, 2003), it is, nonetheless, an area of concern for many families and teachers. Recognizing that any attempt to understand the subject of boysʹ literacy requires more than a broad brush analysis of all boys, the purpose of this case study is to investigate the particular kinds of socio‐
cultural practices occurring in the context of a family and its wider community that support a middle class boy in his literacy development. Investigating the socio‐cultural background of young readers is fundamental to an understanding of that which helps them succeed with the more formal aspects of schooling (e.g., Heath, 1994; Barton & Hamilton, 2000). Given Hall and Colesʹ (1999) findings that boys tend to read less than girls (a relatively stable trend over many decades, if not centuries, and a gap that increases as children grow up), developing an understanding of literacy practices in families whose boys do participate in a wide range of literacy activities may inform the current discussion of boysʹ literacy practices. This investigation thus aligns with the important FROM STORYBOOKS TO GAMES, COMICS, BANDS, AND CHAPTER BOOKS 115 injunction to ask, ʺWhich boys?ʺ (Millard, 1997) in any investigation involving boysʹ literacy. RESEARCH METHOD: CONTEXT AND DESIGN Participants I used an intensity case sampling strategy (Miles & Huberman, 1994) to select a case that was information‐rich to demonstrate the phenomenon of families whose boys are deeply engaged with literacy. The participants chosen for this study were a mother and father, Kay and Owen Holloway‐Richards, and their two sons, Max and Sam, aged 8 and 5 respectively at the time of the study (pseudonyms have been assigned). Both parents were educated at the post‐graduate level. Kay, a social worker, worked approximately half‐time outside of the home. Owen worked as a social worker and taught on a sessional basis at a local university. Max attended third grade at a local primary school, where Sam also attended senior kindergarten. (The province in which the family resided offers half‐day kindergarten for children aged 4 and 5, for a total of two years of publicly funded pre‐primary education.) Although I reference members of Holloway‐Richards family and their wider community such as extended family, peers, and teachers as a part of the socio‐cultural approach to the study, the literacy practices of Max are the focal point for this case study. Setting The Holloway‐Richards family resided in a resource‐rich, middle class neighbourhood of a large urban area in central Canada. Their home was situated directly across the street from the elementary school the boys attended. The family frequented a public library, located beside the school, about a half‐block from their home. A few doors away from the family’s home, a former police station served as a thriving community centre; both boys had attended after‐school and daycare care programs there. Inside the familyʹs home, texts of all types were found in every room. These ranged from a large collection of music on compact disk, several video cassettes and DVDs of childrenʹs movies, and home movies, to notes in the kitchen and study and signs on the childrenʹs 116 KIMBERLY LENTERS bedroom door; to newspapers, magazines, and collections of books belonging to all members of the family, located throughout the house. Design Theoretical Framework. Grounded in a socio‐cultural approach to understanding literacy, I have used Rogoffʹs (1995) socio‐cultural framework that proposes three planes of analysis for observation of human development. This framework builds on Vygotsky’s conception of apprenticeship (Vygotsky, 1978), the theoretical work of Boas in cultural anthropology (1920, cited in Wertsch, Rio, & Alvarez, 1995), and Bakhtin’s (1981) work in language and discourse. Rogoff (1995) describes three different planes of focus in socio‐cultural activity: apprenticeship, guided participation, and participatory appropriation. These planes correspond to the community or institutional, the interpersonal, and the personal respectively, which are inseparable and non‐hierarchical and involve different “grains of focus within the whole socio‐cultural activity” (p. 141). A detailed and rich understanding of literacy practices is made possible by employing the fine‐grained analysis that this framework offers. A strength of Rogoff’s work is its widened focus related to children’s cognitive development. Although adult activity in apprenticing children in cognitive activities remains an important focal point, Rogoff moves beyond Vygotsky with the notion that attention must also focus on the “the active nature of children’s own efforts to participate [in] and observe the skilled activities of their community” (p.149). In this manner, both children and adults are viewed as agentful participants in a child’s cognitive development, which is seen as participatory appropriation through guided participation in a system of apprenticeship. Within Rogoff’s framework, activities or events are used as the unit of analysis, enabling the investigation of the inseparable relationship between the individual and the social and cultural environments: in this study the unit of analysis is the literacy event. Barton and Hamilton (2000) define literacy events as activities where literacy has a role. Literacy is defined in this study as ʺone of a range of communicative resources available to members of a communityʺ (Barton & Hamilton, 2000, p. 10) and therefore conceives the texts utilized in literate practice FROM STORYBOOKS TO GAMES, COMICS, BANDS, AND CHAPTER BOOKS 117 as emanating from a range of verbal, visual, and written forms of communication. I have also used Barton and Hamiltonʹs (2000) conception of literacy practices as referring to what people do with literacy, or more specifically, ʺsituated literaciesʺ related to “cultural ways of utilising literacy” (p. 8). This conception includes the values, attitudes, and social relationships that shape peopleʹs understanding of literacy. Data Sources. Data sources include my observations of the familyʹs home and community within a four‐block radius; video footage of Max reading with his parents, and a skit written and performed by Max and his peers; transcribed interviews with Max and his parents; and artefacts representative of his writing and drawing from the two‐month period of the study. I conducted the semi‐structured interviews with Max in two sessions; the semi‐structured interviews with the parents were conducted separately and continued via e‐mail through a series of back and forth conversations. Data Analysis. I analyzed the data by first locating the literacy events and activities that connected to form holistic literacy practices, practices that frequently extend across time and location and involve a host of participants. These practices were analyzed using a matrix that coded the events and activities within each practice as demonstrations of apprenticeship, guided participation, and participatory appropriation, noting where each event took place and who the participants were (see Appendix A). The final product was a set of seven different literacy practices (Barton & Hamilton, 2000) taking place within two constellations: Max’s family and the wider social constellation in which his family is embedded. I triangulated the thick descriptions of Maxʹs literacy practices with recent research on boysʹ literacy practices to provide results that may be translatable (Goetz & LeCompte, 1984) in understanding the literacy practices of other middle‐class boys. I employed peer debriefing and member checking to establish the credibility of the study. LITERACY PRACTICES IN THE FAMILY CONSTELLATION Literacy events within his family constellation provide an excellent starting place to understand Max’s literacy development. I have grouped 118 KIMBERLY LENTERS these events into larger units, conceptualized as literacy practices, in recognition of the understanding that they represent cultural ways of utilizing literacy (Barton & Hamilton, 2000). Literacy practices observed include enhancing the bedtime story and incorporating electronic literacy tools. Enhancing the Bedtime Story: The Element of Choice Related to Max’s apprenticeship into the bedtime‐story literacy practice is Owen’s interest in introducing his sons to favourite novels from his own childhood and the family’s interest in reading together popular favourites such as the Harry Potter series (e.g., Rowling, 1999). Owen stated, “I try to share my passion with the boys in the hope that it is contagious.” Kay summed up her approach to genre selection: We try very hard to meet our children where they are at, even if it means Captain Underpants [(Pilkey, 1997)], and The Day My Butt Exploded [sic][(Griffiths, 2001)]. However, we get all the joys of The Hobbit [(Tolkien, 1937/1996)], which I had never read, and Harry Potter [(e.g., Rowling, 1999)], which we are ALL huge fans of. (Kay) By engaging Max in this literature through their own passion for reading novels and time spent interacting with them (guided participation) during the bedtime story practice, Owen and Kay led Max to the place of participatory appropriation. As a result of this appropriation, Max took the novels he read at home (with Owen and Kay and on his own) to school to replace the levelled readers most of his third‐grade peers were required to read in their literacy program. Max explained: We have book bags and it’s like levelled books: so you have the book at your certain level. But I’m at the highest level there is and I’m allowed to bring in my own books, any kind of book, just not if it’s like Webster’s College Dictionary! Anything I like. (Max) Max elaborated that he often shared the content of what he was reading with his classmates during class reading time, evidence of his taking on an apprenticing role with his peers. FROM STORYBOOKS TO GAMES, COMICS, BANDS, AND CHAPTER BOOKS 119 At the time of this study, Max cited The Hobbit (Tolkien, 1937/1996) and Sinbad (Fremont, 2003) as novels he read at home and took to school. Sinbad is one of his father’s childhood favourites, and, as noted earlier, The Hobbit is a novel his mother cites as one that she missed in her growing up years. Through these practices, I note how the three planes of cultural activity, apprenticeship, guided participation, and participatory appropriation, work holistically and in a recursive manner, within the family and extend outward to Maxʹs peers. Incorporating Electronic Literacy Tools The Holloway‐Richards family, as is true of many families, provided their children with an array of literacy tools beyond books. Paper, pens, markers, art supplies, and their own desks were all well‐utilized by Max and his brother. The use of the computer as a literacy tool will be the focus of this section. From his earliest days, Max’s parents used a home computer for work and pleasure. Apprenticed into the use of the computer for these purposes through observing his parents, Max was also guided in his use of this literacy tool through being shown how to find the letters on the keyboard, playing games on educational websites, and navigating the internet to find information for personal interest or school research. As an eight‐year‐old, Max used the computer to write plays and stories of his own and to visit websites related to his Warhammer (Games Workshop, n.d.) gaming interest. His use of the computer as a literacy tool is an area where Max has moved from peripheral participation to taking on greater responsibility for managing the activity (Rogoff, 1995, p. 157) because it was mediated by his own expressed interests. For example, when asked if he enjoyed using the computer, he replied, “Well, it’s kind of boring, unless I’m looking up information or on the Games Workshop website. That’s the stuff I like to look at: the rest is really boring.” After making the statement, “Typing’s okay, depending on what I’m typing,” Max launched into an enthusiastic explanation of a story he was writing on the home computer for several weeks. In describing the Three Pigs’ Adventure, which he independently chose to write, Max said he planned to turn it into “a children’s book like Captain Underpants (e.g., Pilkey, 1997), but more like the Day My Butt Went Psycho (Griffiths, 2001) 120 KIMBERLY LENTERS because it is going to be a longer chapter book.” An excerpt (unedited) from the Three Pigs’ Adventure demonstrates how Max has actively incorporated terminology and themes, such as battling giant toilets from the Captain Underpants series into his writing. Chapter 1 Adventure Once upon a time there were three little pigs. 2 were smart and 1 plain stupid. ALL wanted to take an adventure. So, they went into the woods of darkness and then got to the first gate. There was a man, whose name was John, at the gate. He told them they had to enter a code to get in. It was very easy. They left the woods and saw…a toilet. It was huge and scary. They ran back home for the night. Chapter 2 But when they went back, they found out they were in pee world then the stupid pig said I forget the point of coming here. “Well “said the smart pig, “let’s look around.” “Okay,” they said, “let’s go.” they said but they didn’t know there was lots of danger ahead of themselves. Well it’s a long story that happened a long time ago. one day…. (Max’s story) The story goes on to describe the pigs’ adventure in a manner reminiscent of Tolkien’s storytelling voice in The Hobbit. It then moves into a third chapter, which introduces characters from The Hobbit, reflecting another intertextual link in Max’s writing. This example indicates Max independently appropriated the use of the computer as a literacy tool to suit his own personal needs and interests, while simultaneously incorporating his genre interests. These two examples demonstrate some of the holistic literacy practices in Max’s literate life as a member of his family. Simultaneously, they illustrate aspects of the socio‐cultural foundation of Max’s literacy practices both in the past and at the time of this study, while setting the FROM STORYBOOKS TO GAMES, COMICS, BANDS, AND CHAPTER BOOKS 121 stage for understanding his enthusiasm for a wide range of literacy activity outside of the family constellation. LITERACY PRACTICES CONSTELLATION IN THE WIDER COMMUNITY This section provides examples of Max’s participatory appropriation of literate practice beyond his immediate family. Interconnected literacy events are grouped into the following literacy practices: extending genres of choice into personal writing, turning play into bookmaking, writing play scripts, developing cartooning skills, and song writing. Extending Genres of Choice into Personal Writing Max’s parents’ philosophy regarding what constitutes good reading material which translated into their willingness to read books such as Adventures of Captain Underpants (Pilkey, 1997) with their sons was shared by some of the families of Max’s friends. This phenomenon within the family’s wider socio‐cultural constellation led to this series becoming a popular topic of discussion between Max and his friends, subsequently leading to their participatory appropriation of the reading activity through the co‐construction of their own series of stories entitled, Tushyman. Max elaborated: “We made, me and some of my friends, we made up this superhero called Tushyman. He’s related to Captain Underpants basically. And we write and draw comics for it. Stuff like that.” Active participation, at the heart of participatory appropriation, is seen in the writing of these stories taking place at his own home and the homes of his peers, as well as during indoor recess at school (on days when inclement weather kept students indoors). This extended writing activity was a source of great fun and tremendous pride for Max and his friends over the period of about a year and a half, while they were in the second grade and the early part of the third grade. Turning Play into Bookmaking When Max was in the second grade, he and Owen read through A Series of Unfortunate Events (e.g., Snicket, 1999). The shared reading of this series followed the same pattern as the other novels introduced to Max by his parents: they started reading the novels together, and Max soon 122 KIMBERLY LENTERS took over, reading on his own. In this practice, Max likely became well‐
acquainted with the language and tone utilized in the series. The “unfortunate events” also became an activity around which Max and his friends organized their play. For example, a role‐playing game, which took place on the school playground at recess, was deemed “so cool that we wanted to turn it into a book.” After talking about it for some time with one friend, Bradley, but not actually getting around to writing it, Max “just decided to start writing it” one day at home when he “was just wanting to write something.” The resultant piece, Souls of Swords, demonstrates Max’s participatory appropriation of the literate practice of transforming play into text, the appropriation of the words and tone of the Series of Unfortunate Events (e.g., Snicket, 1999), and incorporation of characters from The Lord of the Rings, along with the action of the playground game (see Figure 1). Similarly, Max and his friend Mike began a new story entitled Super Snowman. Max elaborated: “He’s like a snowman that fights crime and stuff. Something like crime. Like what we play and stuff.” In both of these written products, Max worked interdependently with his peers, taking on active and dynamically changing roles as he and his friends used writing to capture the fun they experienced in their play. These stories provide another strong example of peer apprenticing; an illustration of Rogoffʹs contention that the apprenticeship model does not solely comprise an adult to child transmission mode. Writing Play Scripts While still in the second grade, Max and his friends attended Cub Scout camp. Several months after the camp, Max’s school held a talent show where students auditioned for a part in a show to be presented to the whole school and their families. Max and three of the friends who attended the Cub Scout camp used their memory of a skit that they had seen to write a play script for the talent show. Their version of the skit, entitled Big Red Lollipop, was scribed in skit format by the mother of one of the boys. In this manner, the skit they had viewed at Cub Scout camp apprenticed them into the performance genre. Then through the motherʹs help with the script‐making, they took part in the guided participation needed to define their roles and practice the skit. This FROM STORYBOOKS TO GAMES, COMICS, BANDS, AND CHAPTER BOOKS 123 guidance enabled them to confidently present their own skit for the talent show (participatory appropriation). In this example, cultural practices in the wider community guided and influenced the boys’ literacy practice. Figure 1: Souls of Swords 124 KIMBERLY LENTERS Developing Cartooning Skills Owen and Kay had both grown up reading comic books, comic anthologies, and comic strips in the newspaper, in addition to other print forms of literature. In Kayʹs household, comics were not classified as ʺgood literatureʺ but were tolerated. Owen had among his possessions a collection of Calvin and Hobbes anthologies (e.g., Watterson, 1992) when he and Kay met; Max expressed interest in this collection at an early age. Comic strips in magazines were among his favourite texts to read when he was in kindergarten and grade one. In particular he enjoyed the Bionicle comic strips in Lego magazines, the comic strips found in Chickadee magazines, and the Captain Underpants series (Pilkey, 1997), which is written in a graphic novel format. The librarian at Max’s school had recently become concerned with finding alternative ways to engage boys in literacy. About two months before this study began, along with a father from the school community, she initiated a “boys only reading club.” Comic books were used in the club as high interest reading material. Although Max had read comics and used cartooning in his bookmaking, as evidenced in the Tushyman series for example, he began experimenting, along with a friend, with more formal cartooning techniques outside the reading club, using a how‐to‐cartoon book (Hart, 1994). This cartooning book and the guided participation afforded by the study of comics as a genre in the boys’ reading club launched Max into the pursuit of practising and perfecting his cartooning skills. As a result, his cartooning took on a more polished quality of which he was very proud. This activity sparked an interest in his younger brother Sam who proudly told me that his brother draws cartoons and that he himself had just “coloured a cartoon that was a small body and a big head duck that says ‘Quack!’” Through his participatory appropriation of the cartoon genre, Max apprenticed his younger brother. Additionally, Kay reported that Max would take a cartooning course through a local community program, thereby taking part in another set of socio‐cultural literacy activities that would lead him through apprenticeship, guided participation, and participatory appropriation of the practice of cartooning at a higher level. FROM STORYBOOKS TO GAMES, COMICS, BANDS, AND CHAPTER BOOKS 125 Song Writing Owen has an electric guitar and amplifier with which he has experimented for many years. As a preschooler, Max became interested in playing with this guitar; at the age of seven he received his own electric guitar. Guided participation ensued as Max began to take guitar lessons and play band with his friends. Max also became very interested in rock star Bruce Springsteen, after Owen and Kay introduced him to his albums. Kay described this sharing as their endeavour to “feed [our sons’] interests whenever possible with written material. For example – Owen gave Max a magazine featuring Bruce Springsteen for his birthday [this year] as Max is a huge fan.” This phenomenon is also an example of what Owen described as an important part of their parental role in their children’s literacy development: “discussing what they are reading and what they are interested in to link interests to written materials.” These forms of apprenticeship and guided participation led Max to take his interest in Springsteen as a song‐writer and his interest in making music to the level of participatory appropriation as he engaged in the personal literacy activity of writing a song. once I left my house say‐in I’m goin away everybody cried so I said I’m goin away but I don’t care you ar Chorus you are my old town I am your up town but I’m go‐in away go‐in away. So tried I did again that’s why I’m goin away goin away so once I was around The block and you came up to me and I said Chorus (Max) This unedited draft of an untitled song written by Max demonstrates his participatory appropriation of song writing. Its lyrics, reminiscent of 126 KIMBERLY LENTERS Springsteenʹs style in Lucky Town (Springsteen, 1992), again provide a glimpse into the intertextual links Max utilizes in his writing. Together, these examples of Max’s literacy practices clearly support one of the premises of Rogoff’s Planes of Socio‐cultural Activity: the contention that it is not just adults who exercise agency in the child’s cognitive development. Max’s literacy development, as he interacts and engages with the wider community, very clearly demonstrates his own ʺactive efforts to participate [in] and observe the skilled activities” (Rogoff, 1995, p. 149) of his community. DISCUSSION This case study demonstrates how one boy’s literate practices move between being developed within his family constellation and within the context of his wider community. Comparing these practices with the extant literature on boys and literacy may help inform scholars’ understanding of the kinds of socio‐cultural practices in the home and community that support primary school‐aged boys in their literacy development. Beyond the Bedtime Story The bedtime story, often viewed as a middle‐class construction that prepares young children for classroom discourse (Gee, 1990; Heath, 1994), has been seen as important in family literate practice (Heath, 1983; Sulzby & Teale, 1991). This understanding, which has led to the privileging of the bedtime story as the primary literacy practice in which families should engage their preschool children, draws criticism in that its perceived pre‐eminence has the tendency to deny the significance of other valuable literate practices in which many families engage, such as the oral tradition (Auerbach, 1997; Taylor & Dorsey‐Gaines, 1988). In this case study, the practice of storybook reading undoubtedly has provided a means for younger family members to expand family literate practice into wider community literate practices with peers, in a variety of locations, reaching beyond classroom hours. But there may be more at work here: as Rogoff states, such ʺarrangements and engagements subsequently construct and transform cultural practices with each successive generation” (Rogoff, 1995, p. 148). The dialogic nature FROM STORYBOOKS TO GAMES, COMICS, BANDS, AND CHAPTER BOOKS 127 (Bahktin, 1981) of storybook reading in the Holloway‐Richards family is noteworthy in this regard. As Kay and Owenʹs own childhood favourite texts inform their use of the storybook ritual, the passing on of favourite stories is blended with new family favourites informed by their sonʹs interests. This inter‐generational dialogue from the parents’ generation to Max’s generation is reminiscent of the oral tradition. The dialogic nature of these stories in Maxʹs life is evident, not only in his enjoyment of these family texts, but also in the way he incorporates elements of his parentsʹ favourite texts into the stories and song lyrics he writes. ʺGoodʺ Literature The enduring discussion of what constitutes acceptable literature for children is familiar to most educators. Furthermore, comic books themselves have been the subject of heated debate for decades (see Norton, 2003). The novel series, Adventures of Captain Underpants, from which Max and his friends made many intertextual links, has been challenged for its attention to bodily functions, and purported lack of respect for authority figures. Some titles in the series have been removed from the shelves of school libraries in some American school districts (e.g., American Library Association, 2002), though it has survived challenges elsewhere in the United States (e.g., American Library Association, 1999). Maxʹs parents take the position that supporting his interest in such texts is one important component in engaging him with literacy. Indeed, this series played an important role in sparking interest in reading and writing for Max and his friends in his early school years, and was one catalyst for the cartoon writing/drawing Max continues to refine as a third‐grade student. Maxʹs parents correlate their conscious choices around the kinds of texts they encourage Max to read with his success with in‐school literacy. Could it be that a form of scaffolding may be helpful for Max in this regard? In addition to the positive associations Max is forming with literature considered acceptable within the literary canon, such as The Hobbit (Tolkien 1937/1996), Maxʹs parents also encouraged him to engage with reading and writing texts that appealed to his sense of humour and personal interest, through a variety of literate practices, such as reading Adventures of Captain Underpants (e.g., Pilkey, 1997) and writing his own 128 KIMBERLY LENTERS version, Tushyman. Here again, Max’s parents’ conception of what counts as literature enabled Max to connect personal interest with a variety of types of narrative text. Canadian researchers have noted that this harnessing of personal interest is highly important for engaging boys with literacy (Blair & Sanford, 2004; Sokal, Katz, Adkins, Gladu, Jackson‐Davis, & Kussin, 2005), and lends credence to Blair and Sandfordʹs (2004) suggestion that finding ways to bring the out‐of‐school literacy practices of boys into the school curriculum, or “morphing literacy” (p.452) through the tapping of personal interest, incorporation of action, insurance of success, and being mindful of fun and purpose may go a long way toward keeping boys reading for a variety of purposes. Reading with Peers On the cusp of his intermediate school years, the importance of peers in Maxʹs literate practices is evident. Max reported that he did not actually read with his friends, in school or out of school. However, there is ample evidence of Max’s frequent participation in literacy events with his peers: a peer‐to‐peer system of apprenticeship. Not only is this practice frequent, it was a source of great pride and enjoyment for Max. All the examples of co‐constructed texts discussed by Max were, to varying degrees, undertaken with peers. The fact that Max spent time engaged in literate activity with his peers, outside of school hours, lends support to the contention that peers play an ʺintegral role … in young childrenʹs literacy learning at homeʺ (Kendrick, Anderson, Smythe, & MacKay, 2003, p. 252), a conclusion drawn from a study of first‐ and second‐grade children, but nonetheless applicable to Max and his friends in the third grade as they continued to take an active role in each otherʹs literate practice. The way in which Max and one friend planned to turn the action of play into a co‐constructed text is one such example. Though Max did, in the end, write Souls of Swords by himself, the discussion around turning the game into a written story is a powerful example of peer‐to‐peer apprenticeship. The cartoon writing, which began with their Tushyman series in grade one and carried on into the third grade with the refining of their cartooning skills, is another example of peer apprenticeship. Although participants shifted in this peer‐
FROM STORYBOOKS TO GAMES, COMICS, BANDS, AND CHAPTER BOOKS 129 apprenticeship system, there is nonetheless strong evidence of its existence. Gender and Family Literacy The findings in this study concur with Nutbrown and Hannon’s (2003) family literacy study, which found that fathers play an important role in the literacy development of the children. Owenʹs prominent role in the system of apprenticeship to literate practice experienced by Max may lend support to a particular explanatory theory regarding the gender gap in literacy achievement reported by many Western nations (see Gambell & Hunter, 2000). The Division of Family Labor theory (Solsken, 1993) suggests that children reproduce their home experiences in their school literacy learning. Some studies are beginning to show the impact of the attitude of significant male role models toward reading as one of the most decisive factors in determining the attitudes of male children toward reading (Cartwright & Marshall, 2001, cited in Sokal, 2002). This certainly appears to be the case with this family; however, Max’s mother’s role in his literacy development is by no means negligible. As demonstrated in the data, Max’s literate practice, while undoubtedly robustly shaped by his father’s participation in the apprenticeship process, may be more accurately characterized as apprenticeship through guided participation into participatory appropriation through a range of cultural influences, those of his mother and father, as well as his peers, his extended family, and institutions such as preschool, school, daycare, and Cub Scouts: influences that encompass both male and female role models. Issues of gender emerge when looking at the “boys only” book club Max participates in one lunch hour per week. Such groups are often premised on the line of thinking, present in some educational circles, that boys learn differently from girls and therefore their development is best facilitated in gender segregated situations (Sax, 2005). Reasoning such as this may have formed part of the rationale for the librarian’s offering of the segregated club, although Kay observes that it was concern over boysʹ reading skills lagging behind girlsʹ in Max’s school that gave impetus to starting the club. It may be that such a club made participating in literate practice an acceptable or or possibly a high‐status 130 KIMBERLY LENTERS activity for the boys who took part in it. However, the gendered nature of the club, which was concerning to Max’s father, is also problematized by others in the literacy research community (Foster, et al., 2001; Martino, 2003). It remains to be seen whether conducting boysʹ literacy clubs is helpful to their literacy development as a collective or whether it is a practice that merely fuels the gender regulatory functions in educational practice that progressive education seeks to eradicate (Young & Brozo, 2001). Out‐of‐School Literacy Time spent engaged with reading outside school hours is a characteristic of most good readers (Anderson, et al., 1988). Max’s engagement with texts outside school and his above‐average reading ability certainly seem to support this research. However, much of the literate practice in which Max so enthusiastically engaged did not revolve around literacy as it was typically practised in his classroom. This discrepancy may be a function of the questions asked in the interviews with Max, because his mother reported that the literacy instruction practised by his teachers has always encompassed a wide range of literate activity. Because Max made negligible reference to classroom literacy activities in our discussions, it may be important to ask whether this phenomenon signals the genesis of the kind of disjuncture often seen between out‐of‐
school reading interests and the types of in‐school reading adolescents are expected to participate in. Might the disjuncture begin much earlier than the adolescent years when, as appears to be the case with Max, as early as the third grade, out‐of‐school literate activity had greater power to captivate, motivate, and function as the medium for active participation in literate practice? CONCLUSION This case study has demonstrated some of the ways one childʹs literacy development is apprenticed through a range of community members, whose roles must be celebrated and supported. It adds to an understanding of the role of storybook reading in one middle‐class familyʹs literate practice by noting intertextual or dialogic links that appear to emanate from the practice of engaging in the bedtime story FROM STORYBOOKS TO GAMES, COMICS, BANDS, AND CHAPTER BOOKS 131 ritual. This study suggests that the way his family views literature and what they did with these texts played an important role in Maxʹs literacy development: his parentsʹ stance provided a springboard for their son to expand his literate practice into wider community constellations. The kinds of literate activities that served to engage Max with literacy are shown here to be those that spring from personal interest and that incorporate the active play in which he and his peers engaged. This study of the particular literacy practices of one family, focusing on the eldest son, is situated in nature and not generalizable to all populations. Nonetheless, the study highlights the possibilities of considering the strong positive role played by peers and the wider community beyond the family and school in the literacy development of young boys. It also encourages literacy scholars to think broadly in terms of the types of text they consider helpful for boysʹ literacy development. Finally, it raises questions about the genesis of the adolescent disjuncture between in‐school and out‐of‐school literacy. As researchers concentrate on the active nature of their participation in literacy practices, which often stand outside of mainstream classroom literacy practices, they may find that other boys and their families are similarly engaged in rich and meaningful literacy practices. Further Research The role of peers in the development of boysʹ literate practice requires further investigation. Although Gregory (2001) documents the synergy between siblings acting as literacy teachers for each other and advocates that family literacy initiatives tap this rich resource, the numerous ways that Max and his peers mediated each othersʹ literate practice suggests that family literacy research may find peer apprenticeship to be an important arrangement to investigate. Teachers will also want to capitalize upon these literate relationships. Additionally, on a methodological note: when investigating children’s literate activity with peers, literacy scholars need to be careful with their questioning. If they employ narrow conceptions of literacy, e.g., framing literacy as reading, as I did when first asking Max about reading with friends, they may receive answers that belie the reality of what is taking place in childrenʹs literate practice. This observation may 132 KIMBERLY LENTERS be particularly important for boys whose literate practices may not align themselves with mainstream classroom practices. Researchers must frame their research and their questioning of children so that at minimum, writing and drawing are seen as literate practices. Only through broadening their conception of literacy will literacy scholars begin to generate strong conclusions in the study of boysʹ literacy. REFERENCES American Library Association (1999). Captain Underpants stays up on Orfordville school library shelves. Retrieved March 12, 2007, from http://www.ala.org/al_onlineTemplate.cfm?Section=november1999&Te
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2.
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Guided Participation 1.
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Participatory Appropriation 1.
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Parents personal philosophy regarding “good literature” Read Captain Underpants series (2‐3 years earlier) with parents Many of Max’s friends have read Captain Underpants series with their parents Read Captain Underpants series independently Discuss Captain Underpants with friends Design and write Tushyman series of stories Incorporate some of the language of Captain Underpants in Three Pigs Adventures Location Participant(s) 1.
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Home 2.
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Home 1.
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Friends homes Home, friends’ homes, school School (in‐door recess) Home Mum, Dad, their own parents, societal expectations, guidelines regarding children’s reading materials Max, Mum, Dad Max’s friends, their parents 1.
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Max 1.
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Max, friends Max, friends Max THE IMPORTANCE OF HOME ENVIRONMENT AND PARENTAL ENCOURAGEMENT IN THE ACADEMIC ACHIEVEMENT OF AFRICAN‐
CANADIAN YOUTH Henry M. Codjoe Dalton State College This article focuses on the educational experiences of African‐Canadian youth. Traditionally, researchers have tended to emphasize the poor academic performance of Black students, or issues and problems related to their academic failure, or to stereotype them as loud, lazy, criminal, athletic, deprived, dangerous, and deviant. In contrast, this article looks at Black students in Alberta who have achieved academic success in spite of considerable adversity. The data presented here show that factors such as the home environment and parental encouragement contribute to academic success. Key words: Black students, school success, family status, Alberta education Cet article porte sur les expériences scolaires de jeunes Africano‐Canadiens. D’habitude, les chercheurs ont tendance à souligner le piètre rendement scolaire des élèves noirs ou les problèmes reliés à leur échec scolaire ou encore à les présenter de façon stéréotypée comme des personnes bruyantes, paresseuses, portées à commettre des crimes, athlétiques, démunies, dangereuses ou ayant un comportement déviant. Cet article décrit plutôt des élèves noirs albertains qui réussissent bien leurs études en dépit de conditions très difficiles. Les données présentées indiquent que les facteurs comme le milieu familial et les encouragements des parents contribuent au succès scolaire. Mots clés : élèves noirs, succès scolaire, milieu familial, éducation en Alberta _________________ CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 137‐156 138 HENRY M. CODJOE Research on factors affecting school success for Black students is scant. Researchers have tended to emphasize the poor academic performance of Black students or issues and problems related to their academic failure (Irvine, 1990; Lomotey, 1990; Ogbu, 1992), or to stereotype them as “loud, lazy, muscular criminal, athletic, dumb, deprived, dangerous, deviant, and disturbed” (Niemann, O’Connor, & McClorie, 1998, p. 104). Researchers have also observed that “the disproportionate school failure of [Black students] has become one of the most active research issues in education as researchers attempt to understand the underlying causes and to provide policymakers and educators with reliable and useful information” (Ogbu, in Foreword to Solomon, 1992, p. vii). In fact, Belluck (1999) describes the debate and controversy about the academic achievement of Black and White students which continues unabated as “one of the most troublesome and contentious issues in education” (p. A1). No wonder that there are growing efforts in some quarters to look for “some clues to the problem from [Black] students who have achieved in spite of considerable adversity” (p. A1). With the research reported in this article, I advance this goal. I have based this article upon my research with Black youth in Alberta that highlights certain aspects of the Black educational experience not commonly known to the general public (Codjoe, 1997, 1999). Concerning the lack of Black academic achievement, I share Orange’s (1995) point that concerned educators and administrators must first believe that they can win against the enemies of Black achievement, then be willing to keep trying until they do win. The educational imperative is that paying attention to Black students may garner the attention of significant others who can be helpful but who may not otherwise pay attention. We must know that Black children – all children are more than worthy of our efforts (p. 4). I am often troubled by the essentialistic thinking that Blacks are incapable of learning because of natural differences in inherited intelligence (Herrnstein & Murray, 1994). Indeed, one of the greatest myths promoted about people of African origin is that they lack “the values of scholarship and study” and that they see “academic achievement as forms of ‘acting White’” (D’Souza, 1995, p. 499). This perception of Blacks as academically genetically inferior is reinforced in THE IMPORTANCE OF HOME ENVIRONMENT AND PARENTAL ENCOURAGEMENT 139 the minds of some educators and the public at large because of the achievement levels of Blacks in the school systems and the overemphasis in the literature of school failure and underachievement. As Perry (2003) notes, “the idea of [Black] intellectual inferiority is still taken for granted by many people, despite the illusion of openness toward and acceptance of all races in our society. For no group has there been such a pervasive, persistent, well‐articulated, and unabated assumption of mental incompetence” (p. B10). But as Macias (1993) notes, Black academic underachievement is a “complex social phenomena [that] must be explained within a historical, socio‐structural view” (p. 411). Consequently, focusing on the theme of Black academic achievement, I have posed this research question: What can educators learn from the narratives of Black students’ academic and personal successes that contribute their educational achievement? I have used the term Black to mean “all Black peoples of African descent – continental Africans and those of the African Diaspora” (Dei, 1994, p. 4). I also used Black interchangeably to mean African‐Canadian and African. I realize some Canadian scholars have challenged the term Black and may find my meaning problematic, an issue discussed elsewhere (Walcott, 2003; Yon, 2000). METHODOLOGY To seek answers to the questions posed by my research question, I recorded the experiences of academically successful Black students in Alberta’s educational system. I deliberately did not include the perspectives of parents in this study because I believe that minority students’ voices have been least highlighted in the discourse on public schooling in Canada. I drew the sample for my study from a population of Black students in Edmonton. It was not a random sample because, unlike Toronto, Halifax, or Montreal, no concentration of Black students in one area occurs. I chose the students from an extensive list of individuals that a Black student group supplied to me. Through pre‐
screening that involved pre‐interviews with students to ask questions about their academic pursuits and interests, I discerned and chose students who showed awareness of the issues concerning Black education and articulated their feelings, experiences, and thoughts about 140 HENRY M. CODJOE the Canadian education system. My participants included four students born in Continental Africa, four born in the Caribbean region, and four born in Canada. The one‐shared common characteristic among my student sample was their academic success: a characteristic not true of many of their peers. As Nieto (2004) points out, although there may be disagreements about what it means to be successful, the students in my sample had developed both academic skills and positive attitudes about themselves and about the value of education. They had excellent grades, graduated from high school, and enrolled in Alberta’s post‐secondary institutions; all but two were enrolled in the University of Alberta. In retrospect, I agree with Nieto’s (2004) observation that ʺit seemed logical that students who are successful in school are more likely to want to talk about their experiences than those who are notʺ (p. 16). The students’ perspectives provide an opportunity to explore what it was about these specific students’ experiences that helped them learn…., concentrating on issues such as home; school; and community resources, attitudes, and activities…. You will see that most of the successful students report similar conditions, albeit within a broad range of environments, that have helped them learn (Nieto, 2004, p. 16). Using an interview protocol, I conducted both individual and focus group interviews. In the former, each student participated in about an hour‐long, semi‐structured interview. In the focus groups, I used the interview data to encourage students to build on and react to comments of their peers, creating a dialogue around each question. I used open‐ended questions in both the individual and focus group interviews because they are “important when you want to determine the salience or importance of opinions to people, since people tend to mention those matters that are important to them” (Spencer, 1995, p. 17). THE EDUCATION OF BLACK STUDENTS IN CANADA My research builds on works of such Black educational theorists as Brathwaite (1989), Calliste (1996), James (1990, 1994), Henry (1993), Solomon (1992), and Dei (1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2005) – highlighting issues that have not been a priority in mainstream Canadian education. THE IMPORTANCE OF HOME ENVIRONMENT AND PARENTAL ENCOURAGEMENT 141 However, most of the research on Black students in Canada is Ontario‐
based. Little research has been done on Black students elsewhere, except perhaps in Nova Scotia (Black Learners Advisory Committee [BLAC], 1994). There have been only a few studies from Alberta. For example, Thakur (1988) produced a research monograph about sports and academic performance of Black students: The Impact of Schooling on Visible Minorities: A Case Study of Black Students in Alberta Secondary Schools. Additionally, a needs assessment study of immigrant youth, age 14 to 19, by the Mennonite Centre for Newcomers included Black youth in Alberta’s schools (Seifeddine, 1994). Spencer (1995) completed a thesis titled Under the Gaze: The Experiences of African Canadian Students in Two Edmonton High Schools, “research … [that] examines the experiences of African Canadian school students [and] discusses how these students gain knowledge about themselves, form their identities, and interact with dominant White society’s view of African Canadians” (p. ii). Within the context of contemporary Canadian education, James and Brathwaite (1996) have observed that Black students occupy an unequal position and that their interest is not served to any significant degree by the schools and institutions that regulate their lives and their future in this country. The school is one institution in which Blacks as a group lag. Today, the educational issues and social problems facing the Black community are broad and far‐reaching. Canadian Black parents and educators have begun to raise serious concerns about the plight of Black students in Canadian schools. There have been complaints about racism faced by Black students, the low level of teacher expectations of Black students, the high drop‐out rate among Black students, and the over‐
representation of Black students in non‐academic programs (e.g., Dei, 2005; Raby, 2004). Unfortunately, these issues and others such as differential treatment of Black students by school authorities, lack of teacher support, a hostile school environment, alienation, curriculum bias, and lack of role models are evident in the Canadian educational system (Codjoe, 2005; James & Brathwaite, 1996). Studies of minority youth, other than Black students, have shown similar trends (e.g. Artiles, Harry, Reschly & Chinn, 2002; Gillborn, 1997). Dissatisfaction with mainstream educational practices has led Black parents to mobilize and define their own educational agenda, and 142 HENRY M. CODJOE to seek alternative models and approaches for educating their children. Consequently, a number of approaches to reverse the pattern of school failure among Black students have been suggested, developed, and implemented. One example has been the renewed calls for experimental Black‐focused schools (Brennan & Brown, 2005; see also Calliste, 1996; Dei, 1995). FINDINGS My study adds a missing perspective to the general literature on the experiences of Black students in Canada’s school systems and moves beyond the study of Black underachievement that is pervasive in the literature to incorporate the study of Black school achievers themselves and their lived experiences. The students identified several factors 1 that contributed to their success in school. In this article, I address one of the factors identified by the students as contributing to their educational success: parental encouragement and a supportive home environment. All the students stated that they persevered because of their parents’ involvement, encouragement, and home support2. ‘You Can Make It’ – Placing a High Value on Education From day one in the lives of the students in my study, their parents have been very supportive, helping them to develop their self‐confidence and self‐esteem. Because the parents’ knew from their own experiences in Canadian society what was waiting their Black children in the “real world,” they stressed early in their children’s lives the importance of education. Ama, 3 one of the students, said, they “always made sure we were doing what we had to do in school.” Kwadjo recalled that, as a motivating factor, his parents kept telling him to “remember [that] Paul Robeson and W.E.B. Du Bois and Sojourner Truth had to go through far worse than this.” Thanks to his parents, this student was aware of the histories of Robeson, DuBois, and Truth. This quotation shows the importance some Black parents place on Black history in the academic achievement of their children (Codjoe, 2006). Abena recalls the atmosphere in her house: I think my experience is a little bit different being that I was the youngest of six kids…. All I’ve ever known is that you were going to go to university because THE IMPORTANCE OF HOME ENVIRONMENT AND PARENTAL ENCOURAGEMENT 143 when I was going into grade one, my oldest sister was going into first year of university, so I’ve always seen that pattern in front of me. As well, all of my aunts and uncles went to university. My whole family environment has been that of education and I’ve just always seen it. Ama also remembers her dad as “very pro‐education when we were young.” She recalls that her dad would let her play, … but usually he would have a rule that every week [I’d] have to summarize a little story [I] read for [him]. I hated it then, ‘cause I couldn’t go outside and play. At least that instilled that love for reading, for education. Going to school was a good thing, it was a fun thing. I hated being sick, every time I was sick, I would pretend I wasn’t sick so that I would go [to school], just so I wouldn’t miss anything. Looking back, Kofi did not like what he had to put up from his parents, but now appreciates it. He recalls: When we were younger our mother did sit us down a lot of times and taught us simple math, how to write. We all knew how to write before we were able to formally enter school. Our mother took the time to teach us. It came to a time when we were sort of fooling around in school, and I recall an incident where my father took away our TV privileges and he would lock us in our room every night to study. We got the understanding that we had to take certain things very seriously. For Kwabena, too, his parents, right from the start, always said, “Education first, everything else can wait.” They’ve always told me to set my priorities straight. I remember even as a kid my parents used to tutor me in the areas where I had problems. They always encouraged me to do well in school and all else will follow. Once you get your education, nothing else can stop you from attaining what you want to get. I think that played a big role [in my being successful at school]. And with Kwaku, he was “motivated from back home [the Caribbean] to go to university ever since I was young”: My family [was] middle class. My father wanted me to be a doctor. At nine I was giving insulin injections to my grandmother every morning. He was trying to 144 HENRY M. CODJOE break me in already. That environment sort of prepped me and when he died, I thought to carry it through.… That kind of motivated me to want to achieve something because the cushion of having my father there was no longer. I knew I had to have an education here to survive. If you got a good solid foundation at home, then you’re going to do well in [school]. The student narratives present clear evidence that parental encouragement and support affected their children’s achievements, attitudes, and aspirations. Contrary to perceptions, Black parents can indeed support and encourage their children to succeed in school. As Henry (1994) has shown with respect to West Indian immigrants, education may be the most important, if not the only mobility channel for success in Canadian society. But as pointed out by James and Brathwaite (1996), “the social construction of Black students as academically incompetent operated as a barrier to the realization of their educational goals” (p. 16). For Black students in a racialized society like Canada, parental encouragement, support, and expectations are particularly critical because, as Reynolds (1993) points out, in the absence of a supporting school climate, “[Black] parents must fill the void and counteract the schools’ potentially negative influence” (p. 15). Research by Taylor (1991) has also shown that, for Black students, despite highly unfavourable life circumstances, “parental expectations … are found to be positively related to … children’s self‐expectations and school achievement” and “parental involvement was found to have consistent and directive positive effects on the children’s reading and mathematics achievement and social maturity” (p. 20). Imparting Knowledge and Valuing One’s Own Culture In my study, I found that, in addition to the high value placed on education, imparting and valuing one’s own culture was also instrumental and played a significant role in parents’ fostering the love for learning in their children, as this account by Kwadjo indicates: My parents were born in the Caribbean. My mother…is a teacher. She would educate us on various Black figures. From the time I was five we’d know about people like Paul Robeson, W. E. B. Dubois. She knew that since we were living in this country we may as well know something about the Black people who THE IMPORTANCE OF HOME ENVIRONMENT AND PARENTAL ENCOURAGEMENT 145 pioneered something here. Like Mary Ann Shadd, who had the first Black newspaper here, the first Black editor, and others like John Ware .… My mother and father would sort of cultivate my mind with all this information from the time I was really small. This aspect of parental influence suggests that many of the parents saw education, especially for Black children, as more than acquiring the basics. This is best illustrated by this narrative from Kwame: Both my parents are parents to the nth degree. Playing with you or teaching you things while they were playing with you and you didn’t even realize it. We’d go and see important Black artistic figures; I saw Dizzy Gillespie when I was 10 and I saw Miles Davis when I was 7. That’s an aspect of education too, so that when you go out into the world you say, “Well, my culture has meaning, too.” My mother would tell me stories about when she was growing up and about my grandmother; that too teaches you about respect for the elder generation which a lot of Black kids I see, don’t have. Kwame said when he decided to go to university, his mother told him to remember that “university is not [for] job [seeking], not for money [but] for learning.” It is important to mention here that the parents’ educational and professional backgrounds helped the students in many ways toward imparting knowledge, such as assisting with homework. For example, Ekua recalls that: whenever we had any school problems, we’d take it to her [mother] and she’d help us because she worked with kids, she knows what to do. My dad too, when I was taking calculus, a very hard topic, he helped, tried to explain what it was all about. They’re helping, they’re trying, just pushing us basically. This is where you should go, this is where it’s at, you hate it but once you look back and you realize, okay, that was good. Adwoa also recalls this about her father: When I was young, we’d come home from school with schoolwork and he’d always come and start tutoring us, helping us with what we needed to do and it helped. I actually skipped a grade. I went from 6 straight to 8 and I think [it was] the fact that I got my parents’ help. 146 HENRY M. CODJOE As these narratives suggest, the importance of values, culture, knowledge acquisition, and the expectations parents have for their children is important in fostering academic achievement. It became obvious from knowing the background of some of these students that social class was an important factor. Most of the students came from homes where their parents were well educated and were successfully employed in professional, managerial, or technical occupations. Consequently, these parents held higher educational and occupational expectations for their children. Afua, whose father is a dentist, said: people would say, “Oh, you’re Dr. [name deleted]’s daughter,” and they already had set expectations that I was going to be an overachiever. So because they expected it of me, I wasn’t going to let them down. I wasn’t going to let myself down. The parents of these students have invested enough financial resources in their children’s schooling and their socio‐economic status permitted their children to spend a lot of time engaged in their school work rather than employment as would be the case for students with parents who have limited financial resources. Educational Resources and Materials The students’ families’ social class backgrounds showed up again in the study concerning access to resources and opportunities in the home – another important factor in what Akosua described as “the presence of materials that shows a love of learning and of knowledge.” Adequate financial resources meant that for a significant number of the students, their parents were able to buy large amounts of educational materials and resources for their homes. As she related: [Our] house was always filled with books and magazines and, for instance, developing auxiliary academic things such as drawing. At the house we always had lots of blank paper and pencils. So if those things are around, it’s natural because we’re born curious, curiosity has to be destroyed in us, it has to be beaten out of us .… If there are books around, kids will want to read. If parents model reading … and read to their kids, kids will want to read. THE IMPORTANCE OF HOME ENVIRONMENT AND PARENTAL ENCOURAGEMENT 147 Abena also remembers her home to be always filled with lots of educational things. My parents have lots of books. Whenever we would play games, they’d always tend to [choose] kind of mind‐
stimulating things. It’s just a family thing we do, we play Trivial Pursuit. My mother started all of us reading very early. For Ama, too, there were tons of books at our house, and I was always reading, I loved stories so I loved to read. I was reading Animal Farm at grade 4 and I didn’t have any clue what it actually meant, it was just a story to me. I was reading it ‘cause it was there and I wanted to read. These students were “always encouraged to go to the library and just read even if it was just for fun.” But for some like Akosua, the home atmosphere was more than just the love of books; it was also a home where “we ate dinner together at the table, we didn’t sit in front of TV to eat .… I remembered that we talked a lot, we got along and the kids did things together.” In thinking of the factors at home that contributed to his school success, Kwesi also recalls the role his mother played in making him learn to speak up, something he finds many Black children not able to do: Many parents live by the rule [that] children should be seen and not heard and yet then they expect their kids to be successful and to be proud and to speak up. If they’ve never had any practice at home then how are they going to apply those skills .… I think that relates to the household because if your parents are discussing the news with you or politics or culture or religion or art, even if it’s just a matter of talking about school work, [you’ll] learn how to talk like adults, and they’re going to learn that hopefully, not just by seeing it from afar, but by talking with [parents at home]. I think this is crucial. A critical aspect for these students that influenced their school success was their acquired love for reading early in their lives. They all said books and other reading materials in their homes were what made it for them. Throughout their public school years, “reading gave [them] 148 HENRY M. CODJOE the desire for knowledge and made school very easy.” Kwaku recalls that: My mother forced me into reading when I was young. When I say forced, I mean forced to the point where if I watched an hour of TV, I had to read two hours. I didn’t get cable until I was 15, so I spent a lot of time reading books. Then even for awhile she cut the cord of the TV and I didn’t have any TV because I wasn’t doing my reading. Kwesi added: I was an avid reader. I read a lot. I was reading novels from the time I was in grade 2, not only juvenile novels, but I was reading adult novels by about grade 3 or 4. Then I got into reading comic books and that was very helpful even though people say someone that reads comic books isn’t literate. They forget that the work is reading and the Super Hero comic books involve a lot of dialogue. Comic book readers ironically tend to develop larger vocabularies than their peers because all these arcane words are coming in. Plus comic books say a lot about literature and science. They’re always taking major ideas, so I learned all kinds of stuff about science from reading comic books that my peers didn’t know. So all that stuff helped me, which gave me an edge. These student narratives again confirm that access to educational resources is a critical factor in determining higher educational achievement and expectations. A family’s educational resources, particularly those related to items like magazines, newspapers, and books are significant in student achievement. Standing Up and Responding to Negative Influences Because Black parents must fight a second battle in the educational arena to “overcome the influence of general patterns of societal discrimination” (Dornbusch, Ritter, & Steinberg, 1991, p. 565), the parents of the students in my study equipped their children with coping strategies as they relate to standing up and reacting to negative influences or comments. For example, Kwadjo particularly remembers her mother helping her when she was in elementary school to cope and deal with a lot of name‐calling: “nigger,” “Blacks are coming,” “what did your mom do? – did she stick you in an oven, cooked you too long” and all that kind of stuff. I’d come home crying THE IMPORTANCE OF HOME ENVIRONMENT AND PARENTAL ENCOURAGEMENT 149 and she’d be the one to say, “Oh don’t listen to them. You’re way better than any of them could possibly be. Just keep your head up.” This account is noteworthy and goes to show that, for Black parents, seeing their children through the education system is more than helping them to learn to read, write, and compute. It means countering negative influences and derogatory comments their children suffer because of their race, and being vigilant and assertive to make sure their children are treated properly and respectively and not become a victim of stereotypical perceptions about African Canadian students. This last point brings to mind this account by Ekua whose parent stood up and fought for her daughter’s rights: When my parents first moved to [Alberta], they moved with another family and my oldest sister and the other family’s oldest son were both going into grade 1 and they were automatically put into the slower class. My mother was not going to stand for this. She said, “Why is my child in this class?” They said, “She’s not performing, this is where she should be.” So my mother got my sister tested and it showed she was above average intelligence and she caused a stink. She said I want my daughter in the appropriate class, so they did that. So from the word go, my parents weren’t going to give in either, even if the school system was against them; it didn’t matter because they knew what they had. Kwadjo related how his mother had sent an “extremely polite” but “really nice” letter to his teacher cautioning the teacher not to cast her son as the slave in the school’s “slavery days” ceremonies which, according to the student, “actually did exist at my school.” It was “complete with an auction and everything .… My mother’s letter sort of made them think that maybe we should find something else to do.” In any event, she requested that, should the school’s “slavery days” ceremonies take place, they better find someone else other than her son to be the slave to be auctioned. SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION The findings of the study show that contrary to popular opinion and research, not all Black students make poor choices about education. Black students also develop successful academic skills. Although the 150 HENRY M. CODJOE students talked about other factors that contributed to their academic success, this article has focused on parental support and encouragement in the home environment and uncovered some factors that contribute to Black students’ academic success. Research confirms that students have an advantage in school when their parents encourage and support their school activities, and they lay the groundwork for their students’ success in school by building their children’s self‐confidence, self‐concept, and self‐reliance (Cummins, 1986; Epstein, 1987; Levin, 1995; Mah, 1995; Perry, 1993; Slaughter & Epps, 1987). This research suggests, in my opinion, that schools must give more emphasis to finding transformative ways to increase the involvement of Black parents in the education of their children and of developing closer ties between schools and the communities they serve. Instead of falling back on deficit theories and continuing the practice of blaming Black students, their families, and their communities for educational failure, schools must develop a model of parent and community education and advocacy that works with parents, communities, and students to advance the education of students. Furthermore, schools need to focus on areas where they can make a difference through fundamental changes in their policies and programs. For example, schools should be restructured to become open places where parents and others can feel that they are welcomed and valued. Black parents, like White parents, have a right to be treated with respect by school staff. To address this, I believe ethnic/racial sensitivity must be incorporated into school policies, programs, and practices because some teachers’ expectations of poor academic work from Black students stem from how these teachers view their relationships with Black parents. It is therefore reasonable to conclude that if so many teachers are inadequately prepared to interact with a culturally diverse student body, they would be less prepared to negotiate with students’ parents. As Boateng (n.d.) points out, there are many teachers who are hesitant about communicating students’ progress to parents for fear that parents would turn a deaf ear to the reports. This expectation is contrary to all reports which suggest that the Black family is the motivating force that inspires children to value education, even in the face of all the negative stereotypes perpetuated by White teachers. It is critical that teachers understand and capitalize on the significance of the Black family and THE IMPORTANCE OF HOME ENVIRONMENT AND PARENTAL ENCOURAGEMENT 151 eliminate the myth that this powerful unit is capable only of transmitting a ‘culture of poverty.’ It is the Black parent who helps the child to understand that excellence in education is the foundation for success in society. (p. 6) In closing, I believe my Alberta research makes an important contribution in several respects: first, it contributes to the literature on Black education in less concentrated urban areas of Canada other than Ontario. Second, it adds to the growing literature on the academic achievement/underachievement of Black students in multicultural societies like the United Kingdom where a substantial number of first, second, and third generation Blacks reside and share similar backgrounds with Black students in Canada (Majors, 2001; Rhamie & Hallam, 2002). And, its focus on academic achievement complements the educational research on “the new and more hopeful perspectives, on the success stories [of minority youth] and the learned lessons that can help us face the educational challenge of the 21st century” (Trueba, 1994, p. 376). In this manner, educators are able to identify promising intervention strategies for enhancing Black and minority children’s school success. NOTES 1 The main factors identified were strong home support and encouragement by parents; positive role modeling; pride and affirmation in Black cultural/racial identity; personal initiative and responsibility; extracurricular and community activities; ‘sympathetic’ and ‘culturally relevant’ teachers; positive peer relationships. 2 Space does not permit me to discuss other issues here, for example, generation, parent/family composition, or gender and other mediating factors that operated for each respondent in the study. 3 Names are pseudonyms to ensure anonymity. 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Edmonton, AB: The Mennonite Centre for Newcomers. Slaughter, D. T., & Epps, E. G. (1987). The home environment and academic achievement of Black American children and youth: An overview. Journal of Negro Education, 56(1), 3‐20. Solomon, P. (1992). Black resistance in high school: Forging a separatist culture. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Spencer, J. R. (1995). Under the gaze: The experiences of African‐Canadian students in two Edmonton high schools. Unpublished M.A. Thesis, Department of Educational Policy Studies, University of Alberta, Edmonton, Alberta. Taylor, A. R. (1991). Social competence and the early school transition: Risk and protective factors for African‐American children. Education and Urban Society, 24(1), 15‐26. Thakur, A. (1988). The impact of schooling on visible minorities: A case study of black students in Alberta secondary schools. Nanaimo, BC: Malaspina College. Trueba, H. T. (1994). Reflections on alternative visions of schooling. Anthropology & Education Quarterly, 25(3), 376‐393. Walcott, R. (2003). Black like who?: Writing black Canada (2nd revised edition). Toronto: Insomniac Press. Yon, D. A. (2000). Elusive culture: Schooling, race, and identity in global times. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Henry M. Codjoe, Ph.D. is Director of Institutional Research & Planning and teaches sociology at Dalton State College, Dalton, Georgia, USA. He was formerly with the Department of Education, Government of Alberta, Edmonton. He obtained his Ph.D. in International and Intercultural Education from the University of Alberta. His areas of research include race and ethnic relations; multicultural/intercultural education; race, ethnicity and education; and Africana studies (especially the education of Africans in the Diaspora). He has published 156 HENRY M. CODJOE in several academic journals including Race Ethnicity & Education, International Journal of Curriculum and Instruction, Intercultural Education, Review of Human Factor Studies, The International Journal of Educational Management, Planning for Higher Education. He has also contributed chapter essays on race relations and Black education in various edited books – including The African Diaspora in Canada; Inequality in Canada: A Reader on the Intersections of Gender, Race, and Class; Pens of Many Colours: A Canadian Reader; and Talking About Identity: Encounters in Race, Ethnicity, and Language.and education Dalton State College, 650 College Drive, Dalton, GA 30720‐3797, USA (e‐mail: [email protected]) LEARNER CHARACTERISTICS AS PREDICTORS OF ONLINE SOCIAL PRESENCE David Mykota & Randy Duncan University of Saskatchewan In this study, the authors’ determined the individual learner characteristics of educators enrolled in online courses that influenced social presence (affective social communication). Findings reveal that the number of online courses taken, followed by computer‐mediated communication proficiency, are significant predictors of social presence. Recommendations for the effective use of online learning recognize that instructors must deliberately structure interaction patterns to overcome the potential lack of social presence of the medium. Similarly, quality instructional design and course development strategies need be incorporated with supportive pre‐course instructional activities provided to acquaint novice learners with online learning expectations. Key words: online learning, social presence, learner characteristics, computer‐
mediated communication Cet article porte sur les expériences scolaires de jeunes africano‐canadiens. D’habitude, les chercheurs ont tendance à souligner le piètre rendement scolaire des élèves noirs ou les problèmes reliés à leur échec scolaire ou encore à les présenter de façon stéréotypée comme des personnes bruyantes, paresseuses, portées à commettre des crimes, athlétiques, démunies, dangereuses ou ayant un comportement déviant. Cet article décrit plutôt des élèves noirs albertains qui réussissent bien leurs études en dépit de conditions très difficiles. Les données présentées indiquent que les facteurs comme le milieu familial et les encouragements des parents contribuent au succès scolaire. Mots clés : élèves noirs, succès scolaire, milieu familial, éducation en Alberta _________________ CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 157‐170 158 DAVID MYKOTA & RANDY DUNCAN Johnson, Aragon, Shaik, and Palma‐Rivas (2000) have criticized online learning because it does not enhance learning outcomes as measured by student satisfaction in comparison with traditional face‐to‐face instruction. Other researchers continue to raise questions about the quality of access, the ability of students to use and embrace new technology, the need for technical support, and the way to provide asynchronous communication (Packham, Jones, Miller, & Thomas, 2004; Phipps & Merisotis, 1999; Smith, Murphy, & Mahoney, 2003). Although increasing rates of student satisfaction for online learning are being reported (Allan & Seaman, 2004), Moody (2004) notes that higher enrollment attrition rates still exist, when evaluators compare online learning to traditional face‐to‐face learning environments. To reverse these negative trends, a primary objective for online learning has become the creation of an environment where learners are at ease and experience comfort in their communications with others (i.e., social presence). This objective is desirable because evidence suggests that when learners experience a high degree of social presence they are more likely to engage in higher order critical thinking (Garrison, Anderson, & Archer, 2000); actively participate in computer‐mediated communications (Danchak, Walther, & Swan, 2001); are less likely to drop out of their classes (Visser, Plomp, & Kuiper, 1999); and are more satisfied with their learning experience (Gunawardena & Zittle, 1997). The persistence and motivation of students taking online courses can also be influenced by learner characteristics that include age and sex (Packham et al., 2004); one’s readiness for online learning (Smith et al., 2003); computer self‐efficacy (Compeau & Higgins, 1995; Hayashi, Chen, Ryan, & Wu, 2004); the learner’s cognitive characteristics (i.e., learning style and metacognitive skills); and preference or need for social interaction within the learning environment (i.e., group work and class discussion) (Miller & Miller, 2000). The purpose of this study was to determine what, if any, individual learner characteristics predict the degree of social presence experienced for those enrolled in online, post graduate, special education courses. We administered a valid and reliable measure of social presence and determined learner demographic variables including age, sex, number of years teaching, number of online classes taken, and readiness for online LEARNER CHARACTERISTICS AS PREDICTORS OF ONLINE SOCIAL PRESENCE 159 learning (as measured by computer‐mediated communication proficiency). This research provides the opportunity to better assess what individual learner characteristics affect the degree of social presence experienced within an online learning environment and to determine the ensuing learner and instructional support necessary to optimize the online experience. PEDAGOGY, ONLINE LEARNING, AND SOCIAL PRESENCE Replicating online the sense of community experienced in a face‐to‐face environment by establishing social relations in a computer‐mediated medium is a daunting task. In text‐based systems, tools such as email, threaded discussion, and chat rooms are used to facilitate and support learner dialogue. The interactions in these systems (email, discussion, and chat) are a form of computer‐mediated communication (CMC), which is not a neutral event because the way people communicate with one another affects social interaction patterns (Fulk & Collin‐Jarvis, 2001) through the formats used (instructor‐student, student‐student, one to many). To help define these interactions in an online environment, scholars have advanced the concept of social presence. The genesis of social presence lies in the conceptualization from social psychology of immediacy (Weiner & Mehrabian, 1968) and intimacy (Argyle & Dean, 1965) surrounding face‐to‐face communication. In face‐to‐face communication, immediacy refers to the psychological distance between two speakers, whereas intimacy is the closeness obtained, verbally and non‐verbally, among individuals and maintained by immediacy behaviours (Rettie, 2003). When applied to CMC, Short, Williams, and Christie (1976) report that the social effects experienced are caused by the degree of social presence afforded users and Gunawardena (1995) noted that immediacy behaviours enhance and maintain social presence. To frame good pedagogical practices for online learning, Garrison et al. (2000) developed the community of inquiry model to recognize the transactional relationship between instructors and learners through the interaction of cognitive presence (of the learner), teaching presence (i.e. the structure and process), and social presence (i.e. affective interpersonal communication). According to Garrison et al., these 160 DAVID MYKOTA & RANDY DUNCAN elements, which define the community of inquiry model, are fundamental to a successful higher education learning experience. A key component in the model is the concept of social presence which refers to the affective domain as it relates to interpersonal communications. If social presence is absent, learner frustration develops because of the poor quality of interpersonal interactions (Rifkind, 1992). Conversely, a high degree of social presence in online learning is viewed as synonymous with an interactive environment (Lobry de Bruyn, 2004; McIssac & Gunawardena, 1996). Within Garrison et al’s. (2000) community of inquiry model, social presence is viewed as an integral component that acts as a causal variable on the cognitive presence of the learner. As stated by Garrison et al.: The primary importance of this element [social presence] is its function as a support for cognitive presence, indirectly facilitating the process of critical thinking carried on by the community of learners. However, when there are affective goals for the educational process, as well as purely cognitive ones, (i.e., where it is important that participants find the interaction in the group enjoyable and personally fulfilling so they will remain in the cohort of learners for the duration of the program), then social presence is a direct contributor to the educational experience. (p. 89) In assessing social presence within a text‐based, asynchronous environment, Rourke, Anderson, Garrison, and Archer (2001) have identified three categories of communicative responses: affective indicators (i.e., values, beliefs, feelings, and emotions); cohesive indicators (i.e. group presence and commitment); and interactive indicators (i.e., attending in a socially meaningful way). Although Rourke et al. recognize that the coding and analyzing of CMC text‐based transcripts using the aforementioned indicators provides a measure of the density of social presence, they also contend future exploratory studies including factor analysis would aid in further defining the construct. The construct of social presence is the critical affective ingredient for online learning. Although earlier research on social presence has found it to be related to learner satisfaction (Gunawardena & Zittle, 1997) others such as Wise, Chang, Duffy and del Valle (2004) argue that it is more of a LEARNER CHARACTERISTICS AS PREDICTORS OF ONLINE SOCIAL PRESENCE 161 correlational than causal variable. Nevertheless, several researchers have demonstrated that social presence is one of the more important constructs to determine the level of interaction and effectiveness of learning in an online environment (Garrison et al., 2000; Gunawardena & Zittle, 1997; McIssac & Gunawardena, 1996; Lobry de Bruyn, 2004; Rourke et al., 2001; Tu & McIssac, 2002). Part of the difficulty then in aggregating findings is the varying way that researchers have measured and reported social presence. Although several instruments exist, not all have been created for the CMC medium. To address this shortcoming, Yen and Tu (2004) recently validated and revised the Computer Mediated Communication Questionnaire (CMCQ) (Tu 2005) to measure the construct, social presence, in a computer‐mediated, communication environ. METHOD In our study, we drew the participant sample from students enrolled in special education, online learning courses offered at the University of Saskatchewan. All those enrolled in an online certificate program in special education have a Bachelor of Education and at least one year of teaching experience. The content in the certificate courses has been based on the international standards for the preparation of special education teachers, standards established by the Council for Exceptional Children (CEC), the largest international professional organization dedicated to improving educational outcomes for individuals with exceptionalities. The first four courses, from which we drew our sample, comprise the knowledge base with the following content: the history and philosophy of special education, and the high incidence exceptionalities relating to speech and language, learning disabilities, and behaviour. The courses are text‐based, employing both asynchronous (i.e., email and discussion) and synchronous tools (i.e., chat rooms). All courses are similar at the knowledge level in look and feel, are highly collaborative, and provide an opportunity for the development of complex thinking skills. This interaction occurs through use of immediacy and intimacy behaviours such as daily, weekly, and monthly postings by the instructors, the use of introductory biographical sketches from students, and collaborative course assignments that require discussion and chat tools for completion 162 DAVID MYKOTA & RANDY DUNCAN of group‐based projects. Media richness of the courses is enhanced through graphics, flash macromedia, and both video and audio streaming. The courses have parallel forms of instructional design with content specific to their particular knowledge base (Mykota & Bonneycastle, 2006). Those enrolled in the program were varied demographically in age, proficiencies with computer‐mediated technologies, years of teaching experience, and experience with online learning. Participants in the study voluntarily completed the computer‐mediated communication questionnaire (CMCQ) (Tu, 2005). We used the sentence stems on the CMCQ to identify social presence in a text‐based system with the CMC tools (email, discussion, and chat). The participants were asked to complete each of the instrument’s 24 items on the basis of a five‐point Likert scale converted to a numerical weighting ranging in options from 0 (uncertain); 1 (strongly disagree); 2 (disagree); 3 (agree); and 4 (strongly agree). A raw score was then calculated for each participant with high total scores indicating a strong degree of online social presence and low scores indicative of a lack of social presence. We also determined participants’ demographic variables including age, sex, number of years teaching, number of online classes taken, and readiness for online learning as determined by self‐rated CMC proficiency. We obtained the self‐rated CMC proficiency variable by aggregating three other five‐point Likert scale variables, exclusive of the CMCQ, that pertained to the forms of computer‐mediated communication specific to each of email, discussion, and chat. A reliability analysis for the new variable was conducted with a Cronbach alpha reliability coefficient value equal to or above .70 considered to reflect a high internal consistency. A visual inspection of the corrected item total correlations for the three variables was then conducted with items below .10 deemed as outlier test items. The Cronbach alpha reliability coefficient for the CMC proficiency scale was calculated at .89, indicative of a high internal consistency, with no items deemed as outliers. The mean values for the three five‐point Likert scale variables pertaining to CMC forms of communication (email, discussion, and chat) were then combined and calculated to provide a new mean value LEARNER CHARACTERISTICS AS PREDICTORS OF ONLINE SOCIAL PRESENCE 163 representative of a CMC proficiency scale. All data in the present study were analyzed using the SPSS 13.0 suite of programs (Norusis, 2004). We used correlation coefficients to determine the relationship between social presence, as measured by the total score on the CMCQ, and individual teacher demographic and online learning readiness (i.e., CMC proficiency) variables. To determine which combination would be a better predictor of social presence scores, we entered the variables into a multiple linear regression analysis (enter method) to obtain a regression equation. All non‐manipulated categorical variables were dummy coded for inclusion in the multiple regression analysis (Pedhazur, 1997). We used analysis of variance to determine if any significant differences in social presence scores occurred as a function of individual demographic and readiness variables. RESULTS Frequency counts for the demographic variables age, sex, number of years teaching, and number of online classes taken are displayed in Table 1. When examining the frequency counts, we found that although sex was an initial variable having a potential impact on social presence, we excluded it from further analysis because of the low number of males in the sample. Table 1. Sample by Sex, Age, Teaching Experience, and Number of Online Courses Sex Male Female Total Freq. 3 70 73 %Total 4.1 95.9 100 Age Years 18‐25 26‐33 34+ Total Freq. 41 19 13 73 %Total 56.2 26 17.8 100 Teaching Experience Years Freq. %Total 0‐3 25 34.2 4‐10 30 41.1 >10 18 24.7 Total 73 100 Number of Online Courses Courses Freq. %Total 1 35 48.0 2‐3 23 31.5 4+ 15 20.5 Total 73 100 164 DAVID MYKOTA & RANDY DUNCAN Correlations for the dependent variable (i.e., total score on the CMCQ) and the independent variables (i.e., age, number of years teaching, number of online classes taken, and CMC proficiency) are displayed in Table 2. Inspection of Table 2 reveals significant correlations between the CMCQ, the number of online classes taken, and CMC proficiency. The multiple regression data for the variables include age, number of years teaching, number of online classes taken, and CMC proficiency when used together to predict social presence (as measured by the CMCQ). We used the enter selection method for the independent variables in the linear regression analysis. Examination of the strength of the equation reveals that the predictive power of the equation is moderate at 20.7 per cent where the proportion of variation in predicting online social presence is accounted for by number of online courses taken and CMC proficiency (Y=58.22 + 7.56[courses online] + [‐
3.26][CMC proficiency]). The multiple R is .46 and the proportion of variance accounted for is .21 (F [7, 65]=2.42, p<.03). The moderate predictive power of the equation is likely due to restricted variability in the sample. When this situation occurs, “the reduced variability will cause the value of r to be less than its value in the unrestricted sample” (Glass & Hopkins, 1996, p. 123). For the present study, because we sampled only learners in their first year of online courses, the distribution for the social presence total score has a negative kurtosis which is evidence of restricted variability in the sample. To answer the research question postulated, we used one way ANOVA’s to determine whether a significant difference occurred among students in online social presence based on age, teaching experience, number of online learning courses taken, and readiness for online learning (i.e., CMC proficiency). The analysis of variance results indicate that a significant main effect for number of online learning courses F (2, 72) = 5.238, p<.01 exists with Levene’s test of homogeneity of variances insignificant. In conducting the post hoc analysis, we decided to use the Scheffé statistic because we compared pairs of means with dissimilar group sizes. The mean difference for online social presence, as measured by the total score of the CMCQ, was significantly lower for learners in LEARNER CHARACTERISTICS AS PREDICTORS OF ONLINE SOCIAL PRESENCE 165 their first online course as compared to those who had taken four or more online courses. Table 2. Correlations by Variable for Total Sample CMCQ Social Presence CMC Proficiency Teaching Experience Age Number of Online Courses *p<.05; **p<.01 CMCQ Social Presence CMC Teaching Age Proficiency Experience 1.00 ‐2.82* 1.00 .124 .154 .029 .178 .315** ‐.160 Number of Online Courses .398 ** 1.00 .180 .029 1.00 1.00 DISCUSSION Our study explored what if any individual learner characteristics of those enrolled in online special education courses predicted the degree of social presence experienced. Findings reveal that the number of online courses taken followed by self‐rated, computer‐mediated proficiency are significantly correlated and are the salient predictors of the social presence total score. We found significant main effects to exist for the number of online courses taken with the mean total score for social presence. Interestingly though, the age of the learner did not impact on one’s CMC skills or affective communication, which would seem to indicate that online learning is accessible to learners of all ages. Therefore, readiness for online learning, as determined by proficiency with computer‐mediated communication tools and the number of online 166 DAVID MYKOTA & RANDY DUNCAN courses taken, are related to the affective domain of immediacy and intimacy behaviours in the social presence construct. The functionality of computer‐mediated communication technology incorporated into text‐
based online learning environments and the use of such tools among students can effect communication among users with CMC proficiency integral to a successful learning experience. If educators desire learners to be highly collaborative in their professional practice, it is important that they are provided pre‐course instructional activities necessary to embrace computer‐mediated communication so as to ensure best practices in their course work. Furthermore, instructors need to construct interaction patterns to overcome the inherent challenges of the medium. Informality and friendliness modeled by the instructor coupled with frequent interaction can sustain this process (Tu, 2002). For example, contributing to discussions, replying promptly to email, addressing students by their first names, and becoming familiar with the posted biographies are all activities that instructors can undertake to facilitate social presence in an online learning environment (Aragon, 2003). What this implies is that development and support for faculty in delivery of online courses is needed. Similarly, novice online students with limited computer‐
mediated communication proficiency skills need to be made aware of how interaction is structured for online learning. For example, participating in chats, posting discussion messages, providing a personal biography, and sharing experiences are ways in which learners can create social presence in an online environment (Aragon, 2003). But social presence can also be developed through instructional design strategies which include limiting enrollment (i.e. to a 30:1 ratio; Rovai, 2001) and development of collaborative course assignments (Aragon, 2003; Jonassen, 1999; Mykota & Bonneycastle, 2006). By undertaking the aforementioned recommendations, instructors, students, and course designers can overcome some of the inherent barriers to the creation of social presence. CONCLUSION Affective communication for online learning needs to recognize that instructors and course designers must facilitate and deliberately LEARNER CHARACTERISTICS AS PREDICTORS OF ONLINE SOCIAL PRESENCE 167 structure interaction patterns to overcome potential barriers to establish social presence. Moreover, we argue that supportive pre‐course instructional activities be provided for learners to acquaint them with the tools and their usage so they understand their role and responsibilities in online learning environments. This is necessary because as Tu (2002) has pointed out, “many online users apply face‐to‐face communication skills to an online environment” (pg. 21). Moreover, these strategies will promote retention of students in an online learning environment because they have learned the necessary readiness skills required for online learning (Packham et al., 2004). If online learning is an accessible and flexible learning environment and if educators desire their learners to be highly collaborative in their professional practice then it is important that they are provided the requisite training necessary to embrace computer‐mediated communication so as to emulate these practices in their course work. This study contributes to knowledge and research on social presence through the applied measurement of the construct with a recently developed survey instrument. However, this study does have limitations in terms of the initial sample size. It is envisaged that future research will continue to explore the construct, social presence, as measured by the CMCQ with a larger sample size so as to replicate previous research on the validity and reliability of the instrument. Additionally, qualitative phenomenological or grounded theory studies could be conducted to delve in‐depth into the meaning of affective communication in a text‐
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David Mykota is a professor and co‐chair in the Department of Educational Psychology and Special Education, College of Education, University of Saskatchewan, with research interests in technology and education, elearning, psychosocial characteristics of exceptional children, and resilient children and youth. C. Randy Duncan is a doctoral candidate in the Department of Educational Psychology and Special Education, College of Education, University of Saskatchewan, with research interests in cognitive development, instrument construction, program evaluation, and classroom assessment. A COMMUNITY JUST FOR PRACTICE: A CASE OF AN INCLUSIVE/SPECIAL EDUCATION COURSE S. Anthony Thompson University of Regina Using a reflective case‐study methodology, I conducted an innovative method in my inclusive/special education course, informed by the Communities of Practice literature and interprofessional collaboration. The student participants, in groups, accomplished an assignment designed to support a learner with a disability/exceptionality by including in their plans relevant professionals and community stakeholders. Data consisted of tape‐recorded focus group interviews and group planning meetings, as well as two researcher journals. Two themes emerged: the status of members of a community of practice affected group leadership, and to work effectively, promoting interprofessional collaboration within a university course should account for communities of practice already established in the field. Key words: community of practice; inclusive/special teacher education Dans le cadre d’une étude de cas réflexive, l’auteur a introduit dans un cours de formation à l’enseignement inclusif et d’orthopédagogie une méthode novatrice intégrant la littérature des communautés de praticiens et la collaboration interprofessionnelle. En petits groupes, les étudiants avaient un devoir dont le but était d’établir un plan qui incluait des professionnels et des parties prenantes dans la communauté pour aider un apprenant ayant une déficience. Des enregistrements réalisés lors de groupes de discussion, des réunions de planification en groupe et les journaux de bord de deux chercheurs ont permis de réunir les données nécessaires à cette étude. Deux thèmes ont émergé : le statut des membres d’une communauté de praticiens a affecté le leadership dans le groupe et, pour assurer un travail efficace, la promotion de la collaboration interprofessionnelle à l’intérieur d’un cours universitaire devrait tenir compte des communautés de praticiens déjà établies dans le domaine. Mots clés : communauté de praticiens, formation à l’enseignement inclusive, orthopédagogie _________________ CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 171‐192 172 S. ANTHONY THOMPSON Collaboration remains a substantive best practice component of inclusive/special education (Buysse, Sparkman, & Wesley, 2003; Lang & Fox, 2003; Little & Houston 2003; Scheuermann, Webber, Boutot & Goodwin, 2003; Wesley & Buysse 2001; Zorfass & Rivero, 2005). Wesley and Buysse (2001) note that collaborative practices have ʺincreasingly involved relationships across disciplines and fields and has included a focus on planning and problem solvingʺ (p. 114, italics added). Indeed, more and more collaboration is recognized as an essential component of teaching practice more generally; it is not merely an artifact of inclusive/special education (Brabech, Walsh, & Latta. 2003). Indeed, Lawson (2003) argues that collaboration may be the only way to effect positive outcomes for at risk students within schools. Similarly, Wesley and Buysse (2001) note that collaboration is often invoked in conversations around community: ʺprofessionals have begun to view the child and family in the context of the communityʺ (p. 114, italics added). Lawson (2003) goes further – accounting for community within professional collaborative practice is not enough. Rather, building community is necessary for effective collaboration between schools and their constituent contexts. Such building involves ʺconsensus building, developing awareness of reciprocity and mutual need, and developing the capacity for collective actionʺ (Lawson, 2003, p. 47). Admittedly, collaboration and community are complex, multi‐layered notions, and although they significantly inform the theoretical understandings of this article, my purpose is not simply phenomenological. Rather, my aim is more particular – to investigate how collaborative practices may emerge (if at all) within practice communities with novice inclusive/special teachers.1 Researchers in inclusive/special education have investigated and promoted the practices of collaboration and community in several important ways. In practice‐oriented research journals, such as Intervention in School and Clinic and Teaching Exceptional Children, numerous action research, classroom‐based studies look at partnerships to effect particular changes for learners with special needs in localized settings. For example, Agosta, Graetz, Mastropieri and Scruggs (2004) composed a team of university professors and classroom teachers who formed a partnership, a community, to improve social skills for students A COMMUNITY JUST FOR PRACTICE 173 within a classroom with Autism Spectrum Disorders (ASD). Similarly, Langerock (2000), a mainstream teacher with four students with disabilities in her classroom, examined collaborative and co‐planning processes between herself and the special education teacher. She credits improved student achievement and improved social skills for all her students as a result of collaborative work. Other researchers in inclusive/special education have examined training around collaborative strategies and community‐oriented practices under the rubric of professional development and teacher in‐
service (Buysse, Sparkman, & Wesley, 2003; Lang & Fox, 2003; Little & Houston 2003; Pugach, 1999). Usually these studies consider larger contexts than a single classroom, such as collaboration within an entire school district, and/or between many professionals and paraprofessionals. Despite these efforts both local and broad within the literature, ʺmany recently prepared special education teachers said their pre‐service programs did not address specific knowledge and skills important to teaching, such as supervising paraprofessionals [operating in a professional community] ...and collaboration with general education teachers” (Scheurmann, Webber, Boutout & Goodwin 2003, p. 199, italics added). Teacher educators need to do more to advocate, encourage, and provide real school opportunities for the development and reflection upon collaborative and community‐oriented practices for preservice teachers, novice inclusive/special education teachers, and even for in‐
service teachers. THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK Within inclusive/special education, the theoretical underpinnings of Lave and Wengerʹs (1991) communities of practice (CoP) have informed much of the professional development practice around collaboration (Buysse et al., 2003; Palincsar, Magnusson, Marano, Ford, & Brown, 1998; Perry, Walkton, & Calder 1999; Pugach, 1999; Wesley & Buysse 2001; Zorfass & Rivero, 2005; see the special issue of Teacher Education and Special Education, 22[4]). From a CoP perspective, knowledge is situated and contextualized within community; member participation is understood to be cyclical and constituent of identity. Learning is an evolving form of membership in community, not incremental mastery 174 S. ANTHONY THOMPSON over specific content knowledge. Best practice within inclusive/special education, the content of the discipline, is not separated from its members – inclusive/special education practice is the embodied everyday performance of enacted (best practice) identities. Collaboration, then, is not considered to be an individualistic endeavour, as merely a set of skills educators acquire. Rather, collaboration is seen more holistically, as tied to participation within a community of practice. Also, Buysse et al. (2003) argue that CoP research approaches ideally facilitate a broad involvement of participants, (including student‐teachers, novice inclusive/special education teachers, and researchers, for example) because such communities may be seen at the potentially bridged essence of the classic practitioner/researcher divide. Local Context: SchoolPLUS Bridging differences, working together, and supporting community are provincial mandates in Saskatchewan, under the SchoolPLUS initiative (SaskLearning, 2002; Tymchak, 2001a, 2001b). Professionals, paraprofessionals, community advocates, and stakeholders from education, academia, and various community organizations developed a meta‐curricula document, namely SchoolPLUS – the thrust of which is to produce schools as community hubs. SchoolPLUS [is] a completely new organizational environment for meeting the needs of children and youth, not just school, as we know it with more added on. It [is] a matrix organization that draws all of its resources from existing governmental and non‐governmental agencies and co‐ordinates and integrates those resources in relation to the needs of children and youth. (Tymchak, 2001b, p. 13) Ideally, social workers, community health nurses, police officers, and so forth will work alongside teachers. So, the interdisciplinary implications of SchoolPLUS are integral to meeting the needs of diverse youth. The new role of the teacher is illuminated .... In a SchoolPLUS environment, teachers must be able to adapt to diversified programs, meet a wide range of student needs, work with a range of human service providers, and yet continue to be student advocates. (Salm, 2004, p. 16) A COMMUNITY JUST FOR PRACTICE 175 And, of course, collaboration is prominent in the SchoolPLUS environment; in fact, ʺcollaboration is the cornerstone of the SchoolPLUS movement ... [and as] a genuine collaborative process ensues, there will be new meanings to the present systems and challenges to conventional power and authority relationsʺ (Salm 2004, p. 18, italics in original). SchoolPLUS , then, embraces and promotes collaboration and community, concepts that can be traced within the community school movement within Saskatchewan (Saskatchewan Education, 1980), as well as similar movements nationally and internationally, such as full‐service community schools (see Kronick, 2002). Purpose As Scheurmann et al. (2003) have noted, inclusive/special education teachers report that their teacher training did not effectively prepare them to collaborate with diverse stakeholders. Of course, a more solid focus on community and collaboration will certainly impact teacher preparation and professional development, because the role of the teacher and the administrator will change. It can be assumed that the institutions that prepare pre‐service teachers (e.g., faculties of education) will also need to change their approach to pre‐service programming. Training for interprofessional collaboration is typically aimed at social and health service providers ... not principals and teachers. To prepare new teachers for the SchoolPLUS environment, it is important that education faculties dismantle conventional views of the roles and responsibilities for teachers. (Salm, 2004, pp. 16‐17, italics added) This case study research was conducted to explore the possibilities and problems with interprofessional collaboration within a course designed to prepare students to support learners with special needs – mainly Autism Spectrum Disorders (ASD). The specific research questions
were: •
•
Given opportunities to involve various stakeholders through students’ assignments, will collaborative partnerships emerge? If collaborative partnerships do emerge, what might they look like? 176 S. ANTHONY THOMPSON METHOD Case Study Methodology To answer the above questions, I designed a qualitative case study. Merriam (1998) defines a case study as “a unit around which there are boundaries … the case then could be a person such as a student, a teacher, a principal; a program; a group such as a class, a school, a community” (p. 27). Similarly, Stake (1995) describes a case study as a bounded system, ʺa specific, complex functioning thingʺ (p. 2). Yin (1994) stresses the contextual nature of the case study within which investigators must clearly articulate the unit of analysis as determined by the initial research question(s). An instrumental case study facilitates ʺinsight into the [research] question by studying a particular case ... [aiming] to understand something elseʺ (Stake, 1995, p. 3). According to Yin (1994) ʺunderstanding something elseʺ is a matter of analytic generalization that is ʺstriving to generalize a set of particular results to some broader theoryʺ (p. 36). Merriamʹs (1998) interpretive case studies are ʺused to develop conceptual categories or to illustrate, support, or challenge theoretical assumptions prior to the data gatheringʺ (p. 39). Similarly, Ghesquière, Maes, and Vandenberghe (2004) argue that a case study is used to ʺidentify and describe phenomena and, on the other hand contribute to the development of theoryʺ (p. 172); McCormick (2000) asserts, ʺa single case can be used to generate and/or apply theory” (p. 247). To reiterate, then, the conceptual structures and premises that undergird this case study investigation are an amalgam of the literature and research from communities of practice, collaboration, and SchoolPLUS, within the broader context of teacher education and inclusive/special education. Case Study Context. I am especially interested in teacher education and inclusive/special education because the Faculty of Education, University of Regina, has recently enacted a post‐baccalaureate Certificate of Extended Studies in Inclusive Education. Within this 10‐course Certificate, we have targeted five courses, namely, Education of Students with Reading Disabilities and Difficulties, Enhancing Classroom Management, Designing Learning Environments for Students with A COMMUNITY JUST FOR PRACTICE 177 Special Needs, Functional Assessment and Positive Behaviour Support, and Autism Spectrum Disorders and Pervasive Developmental Disorders. Each course incorporates a mini‐practicum. Quite purposefully, we constructed these mini‐practica assignments as small research projects. Instructors position students as co‐researchers and co‐
collaborators so that they may thoughtfully effect best‐practice, inclusive/special education strategies within real‐life, real‐school contexts. In a recent iteration of a special education course, for example, students implemented a variety of strategies, such as comic strip conversations, social stories, and visual schedules to ameliorate a variety of challenging behaviours of learners with disabilities or exceptionalities. All students took baseline data, implemented strategies, and subsequently collected intervention data to ameliorate a variety of behaviour challenges in accordance with evidence‐based practices for students with disabilities or exceptionalities (Simpson, 2005). Ghesquière, Maes, and Vandenberghe (2004) argue that the case study is particularly useful in practice‐oriented projects frequently found in the field of inclusive/special education. This case study is delimited by the Winter 2004 offering of Educational Psychology (EPSY) 330: Teaching Students with Autism and Pervasive Developmental Disorders course, which includes myself (as professor), my students, various school/community personnel, as well as learners with special needs/exceptionalities located in local elementary schools. (For clarity, I reserve the term students to refer to the university student participants and the term learners to refer to the children with disabilities/ exceptionalities). I label this a reflective case study because I conceived, shaped, and actively participated in the project within my own university classroom as well as in various local schools. Students were organized into five groups. I attempted to facilitate real school and community collaboration between students and a variety of professionals via a major assignment in EPSY 330, called the SchoolPLUS Project (SPP); the student groups were called SchoolPLUS groups. For the SPP, students designed and implemented visual support material for learners with disabilities and exceptionalities (an in‐depth analysis of which is beyond the present paper, see Thompson & Kesten, 2005). Because monitoring the SPPs was time‐intensive, I hired a research 178 S. ANTHONY THOMPSON assistant, who had experience at the local Autism Resource Centre and was adept at implementing visual strategies. I supervised SPPs 1, 2, and 3; the research assistant, Jan, 4 and 5. Additionally, research assistant participated in the weekly university EPSY 330 classes. Procedure Participants. Twenty‐six students enrolled in the course with an approximate 60/40 ratio of in‐service/preservice teachers; 21 students consented to be research participants (see Table 1). Most of the in‐service teachers were novices to the field of inclusive/special education. A member from each SPP volunteered to be the leader. Significantly, (as I shall note later), leaders of SPPs 1, 2 and 3 were in‐service teachers; the remaining group leaders, preservice students. Each SPP group was assigned a local mentor, a developmental therapist from the Regina Autism Resource Centre (ARC), as well as an online mentor, former colleagues of mine in the field of autism from another province. Each online mentor had at least 10 years experience in the field of autism, and all had worked in direct service capacities as well as consultative ones. (An extended analysis of the technological dimensions of this project is the subject of a separate article, Thompson & Kesten, 2005). Connecting with these local and online professionals was presented as opportunities; students were not required to involve them in their CoP in the sense that contact with mentors was not accounted for in course marks. Of course, learnersʹ parents were encouraged to be involved, and in three cases that occurred. Project Settings. Many in‐service teachers were involved in the case study. Rather than directing which learners with special needs to support and where to conduct SPPs, we decided to allow students, many of whom had several options of different learners that they could have supported, to choose these themselves. Most groups chose to support learners for which one or more of the in‐service teachers were already responsible for educational programming. As a result, variability occurred among the chosen settings. Three SPPs were conducted in schools within Regina (groups 2, 3, and 4), another in an adjacent A COMMUNITY JUST FOR PRACTICE 179 Table 1. A Description of the SPP Groups No Learner with a Disability (with chronological age) Learnerʹs Official Diagnoses Project Leader Project Setting No. of Students Inter‐
viewed vs. in SPP* 1 Lupe; 7 In‐service Teacher Main‐stream Classroom 2 Clarissa; 6 In‐service Teacher Specialized Develop‐
mental Classroom 5/5 6/6 3 Mark; 9 Nonverbal Learning Disability Pervasive Develop‐
mental Disorder‐Not Otherwise Specified Autism Spectrum Disorder In‐service Teacher 4/4 4 Stephen; 7 Pre‐service Teacher 5 Clayton; 4 Autism Spectrum Disorder Aspergerʹs Syndrome (tentative diagnosis) Specialized Develop‐
mental Classroom Mainstream Classroom Home Setting 4/6 Pre‐service Teacher 2/5 *Not all university students participated in the focus group interviews. In the first SPP, for example, all five students participated in the interview, but in SPP 4, only 2 of a possible of the 5 students in that group agreed to be interviewed. community (group 1), and the final one, exclusively in a home setting, again in Regina (group 5). Learners with disabilities/exceptionalities were in mainstreamed classrooms in SPPs 1 and 4; specialized self‐
contained developmental classrooms in groups 2 and 3, and in the child’s home in SPP 5. Some Ethical Considerations. Of course, researching within oneʹs own classroom brings in salient ethical dimensions – not the least of which is studentsʹ informed consent within an absence of coercion. To deal with this, I implemented the following safeguards. First, I constructed the SPP 180 S. ANTHONY THOMPSON assignment such that every student participated, whether they chose to partake in the case study research or not. Second, I did not know which students were participating in the case study research. At the beginning of the course, the Associate Dean of Education came into my classroom and passed out the Informed Consent forms in my absence. At that time, some students signed the forms; others did not. The forms were placed in a sealed envelope, which I did not see until I had submitted, with approval, all final student marks. One student chose not to sign the form at the beginning of the course, but did so upon completion. I scheduled the final group interviews after course completion; as a result some students who initially consented to be interviewed did not attend the scheduled interview time. Additionally all key school district personnel and learnersʹ parents completed the informed consent forms. Data Collection To find out about group membership, how collaborative practices emerged (if indeed at all), and participantsʹ general sense of community and SchoolPLUS, the research assistant and I interviewed them in their respective SPP groups. We wanted to get their point of view with respect to their sense of a CoP (again, if at all) including membership, roles, and general activities. Together, we collected the following data: •
•
At the conclusion of the course, we conducted and tape‐recorded focus group interviews with the student groups. Each interview lasted approximately 90 minutes; I conducted three; the research assistant, one. Due to a timing conflict, I hired a graduate student researcher who interviewed the remaining group. Each of us followed prepared focus group questions (see Appendix A). Unfortunately, due to time and financial constraints, parents and other community/school personnel were not involved in the final focus group interviews. The research assistant tape‐recorded two planning sessions (with groups 4 and 5), meetings where the participants drafted their visual strategy assignment. I maintained field notes from planning meetings with SPP Groups 2 and 3, although ideally these meetings should have also been tape‐recorded. The learnersʹ parents from SPP A COMMUNITY JUST FOR PRACTICE •
181 Groups 2, 3, 4, and 5 as well as various other teachers and paraprofessionals attended the planning meetings. At the end of each class, the research assistant and I held reflective review meetings. We flagged salient issues concerning the SPPs, and engaged in our preliminary and ongoing analysis through our conversations. I typed our reflections into the computer; these notes constituted our co‐constructed research journal. In addition, the research assistant maintained a separate journal. Data Analysis Data analysis was conducted at several stages. First, all tapes of recorded interviews were professionally transcribed. The research assistant and I then read through every transcript. At this time, we reviewed the students’ projects, visual supports for learners with disabilities/ exceptionalities. Next, we examined the research assistant’s Research Journal and our Co‐constructed Research Journal. Reading through the sum of the transcripts, the student projects, and the two research journals was very useful to get a sense of the whole case study. Although we both actively participated throughout the research, there was so much to do in a relatively short time (a 13‐week semester) that from my perspective the experience felt like a whirlwind, and afforded precious little time for preliminary in vivo data analysis as Merriam (1998) advocates. Next, separately, the research assistant and I coded all focus group interview data, while I alone coded the planning meeting data and our co‐constructed researcher journal. We assigned codes, ʺshort‐hand designation[s] so that [we could] retrieve specific pieces of dataʺ (Merriam 1998, p. 164) that highlighted specific and relevant parts of the transcripts that related to our research questions. Through constant comparison, we each took ʺa particular incident [which was coded] from an interview, field notes or document and compare[d] it with another incident in the same set of data or in another data set. These comparisons [led] to tentative categoriesʺ (Merriam, 1998, p.159). Still independently, the research assistant and I collapsed our codes into categories. Our analyses were somewhat different. The research assistant developed the following categories: communication, relationships, mentors, technology, collaborative roles, group size, parents, time, expertise, 182 S. ANTHONY THOMPSON professional development, and SchoolPLUS. I fashioned the following categories: collaboration and resistance with other professionals, roles of paraprofessionals, parent roles, school climate, mentors at a distance, issues around the visual support projects, understandings of SchoolPLUS, language and tools of special education, technology and research. Using our two sets of categories, I performed categorical aggregation, that is I ʺattempted to reach new meanings about [this] case through ... aggregation of instances (or categories) until something [could] be said about them as a class [or theme]ʺ (Stake 1995, p. 74). So what was the result of our categorical aggregation? RESULTS Although many interesting issues emerged from these data sources, we confined results to the research questions: will student groups involve stakeholders and, if so, will collaborative partnerships emerge and what might be their constitution and operation? Students’ Involvement of Stakeholders The ʺpracticeʺ CoP constituents, like any team endeavor in real school/community contexts, varied from group to group. For example, the parents of learners with special needs within groups 2, 3, and 5 were significantly involved in the CoPs; in fact, Clarissaʹs mother (see Table 1) attended our final university class. I think it was effective with the school and the home, having [Clarissaʹs mother] come to the meeting and actually having [Clarissaʹs mother] come to the presentation .... I really wanted to surprise her about the results [of the visual strategy project, which were very positive] and stuff; the communication with that was very good. (Leader, Group 2) 2 Within group 1, one student, Lupe (see Table 1), played a more prominent role in the actual construction of his project than did other students. Not only did Lupe help create materials for his visual strategy, he participated in making the concluding slide presentation shown in the university class because ʺit was something that Lupe liked to do, because he liked being on the computer. He found it exciting to build that piece of the PowerPoint. So there was like some new learning and some new technology pieces there for himʺ (Leader, Group 1). A COMMUNITY JUST FOR PRACTICE 183 All teams included their ARC mentor to greater or lesser extents, which they most often did through phone consultations. Three of the five groups used their online mentor, perhaps because there were no course marks allocated to use these at‐a‐distance professionals. Consequently, even when these mentors were used within the groups, their participation appeared to be less than meaningful. We probably would have used them [online mentors] more if we would have had a little more time, but it was all crunching in and it was a big project for the group to do. So I think it [including the online mentors] was done official, but I don’t think they really played a role in ours as much as we would have hoped. (Member, Group 2, emphasis added) When asked, ʺhow would you describe the participation of at‐a‐distance professionals that we have had involved with this class?ʺ members from group 4, replied, ʺI never used [them] ...; No, I didn’t either ... I didn’t even think about it.ʺ Issues with the Communities of Practice To begin, almost all students remarked that collaboration among themselves was easily facilitated and generally agreeable. As a [student] group, I think we collaborated very well together. We were always throwing out ideas. And it was nice, because at breaks and stuff we could sit there and talk about it and weed some of the stuff out that we didn’t – so it was really nice to be able – because it was almost like we were a team working just for Stephen. And so that collaboration was really nice. (Member, Group 4) Similarly, a Group 5 member stated, ʺI think you work as a team. You might not be able to give all the answers and know about [everything], but you work with someone and they just catch on right away.ʺ Although nearly all group members agreed that they worked well with each other, notably, groups 1, 2, and 3 appeared to work more collaboratively or smoothly with outside persons than groups 4 and 5. Certainly, the leader from group 1 spoke directly to the benefits of interprofessional collaboration to complete their assignment. So many numerous agencies are involved in intervention, and unless we correlate and share our data and the information that we have discovered and have techniques, suggestions, strategies, and use those together, we are only seeing 184 S. ANTHONY THOMPSON part of what is going on in a child’s world [pause]. So an occupational therapist has an idea, a speech pathologist has an idea, a psychologist has an idea .... When we had an ed [educational] psychologist take a look at the performance and the verbal with the WISC [Weschler Intelligence Scale for Children]. And that kinda helped and aided in [creating the visual strategy project]. If all those people had not shared their information with the school … I think the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. (Leader, Group 1, emphasis added) Likewise, members of group 3 spoke to the benefits of collaboration and, again, specifically to interprofessional collaboration. Member 1: Samantha, the teacher, was, you know, more than willing to help and the IAs [Instructional Assistants or Teacherʹs Aides] in that room and then especially Markʹs mom, you know, more than willing to give us suggestions or to help out .... I thought that Scott [the Edpsy instructor] setting up the mentors was useful too. Because, you know, we would just ask them a question and they would have answers for us, you know? Member 2: It was awesome. And it just goes to show that everybody in these kinds of professions generally wants to help, you know. (Members, Groups 1 and 2) In contrast, consider this comment from a member in group 4, where the teacher was less than cooperative: With the teacher I think – I felt, when I was in the classroom, that there was a little bit of a resistance, that she kind of – it was almost like we’re stepping in little bit and she just didn’t [pause] she didn’t like that very much. (Member, Group 4) The classroom teacher for Group 4 was not part of the university course, and seemed not to see herself, or the university students, as having a legitimate role within the CoP. It is plausible to suggest that this teacher tolerated the university students more than supported their participation. The research assistant supervised this group and recorded the following observation in her notes. How can one honestly communicate how [this] project went when there was difficulty or tension in working with the classroom teacher? Considering this, this group did a remarkable job. The fact that the boy in this SPP has no functional means to communicate indicates to me that there are problems in the classroom. (Research Assistant’s Notes, April 7, 2004) A COMMUNITY JUST FOR PRACTICE 185 The challenges of working with outside personnel were different for group 5 than group 4, collaboration with outside agencies for group 5 was also ultimately unsuccessful. Although all three local school districts completed the requisite consent forms, group 5 chose to do their project in an independent pre‐school that was not part of any school district. The leader of group 5 speaks: I actually did go to the school to get their consent and the teachers and the TAs [Teaching Assistants] all agreed that it wasn’t [a problem], it was that we weren’t getting higher up approval, is why we didn’t do it [conduct the project at school]. So the teachers were very willing to participate. And I think they have a very good relationship with the parents, but I don’t think they are very open to outside help, like from other organizations like, say, ARC [Autism Resource Centre] or even speech pathologists. They don’t have speech pathologists coming into the class or OTs [Occupational Therapists] and – so I thought that they [the pre‐school staff] were great with the families, but not with other professionals. (Leader, Group 5) As a consequence, group 5 conducted Claytonʹs (the learner with special needs) visual strategy project exclusively in the home setting. Although resistance was pointed in SPPs 4 and 5, within our university classroom, many students expressed some angst around these collaborative issues as well as role definition within the CoPʹs. The research assistant and I documented student anguish in our researchersʹ journal. [Students are concerned with] roles of the staff within the classroom, what are the roles of the different professionals? At the level of the classroom, one teacher is defining roles and she is the leader, to reinforce the roles. (Research Assistant & Scott’s Research Notes, February 14, 2004) Also, students wondered who should participate in the CoP. ʺJan [research assistant] noticed students talking about setting and arranging meetings in terms of their SPP. Does the principal attend?ʺ (Research Assistant and Scott’s research journal, February 14, 2004). CONCLUSION AND DISCUSSION Practising (Inclusive/Special Education) Teacher, Practising Collaboration What accounts for the reported efficacies of groups 1, 2, and 3 and, by contrast, the relatively ineffectual efforts of groups 4 and 5? Certainly, within group 4 the classroom teacher was not receptive to the university students. As pointed out by the research assistant, there were serious 186 S. ANTHONY THOMPSON gaps in educational programming for Stephen, the learner with autism in SPP 4; no functional means of communication were observed. Perhaps a lack of content knowledge in inclusive/special education practices to facilitate communication programming and/or a lack of supportive resources within her classroom contributed to this teacherʹs apparent unease and resistance. Within SPP 5, the group leader suggested that there was energetic collaboration between families and pre‐school staff, despite a decided lack of collaborative history among professionals that support learners with disabilities – an unusual situation in my opinion because pre‐schools are usually noted for inter‐professional collaborative practices in my own experience. An agencyʹs or schoolʹs history of inter‐
professional collaboration seems definitely to impact any apprenticing university students in terms of creating or legitimately participating in an (interprofessional) CoP. Although the inclusion/exclusion debate of where and how to educate learners with disabilities was not part of the purpose of this research, relatively speaking, successful CoPs occurred in both specialized developmental (segregated) classrooms and inclusive/mainstream environments. Perhaps part of what is at stake when creating and sustaining successful CoPs is a generally agreed upon, common agenda among members, be it explicitly articulated or not. 3 Teacher Status. An obvious conclusion from examining the data is that the project groups headed by in‐service teachers tended to function smoother than those headed by preservice teachers, even when there were in‐service teachers serving as members in the latter groups. Perhaps a key factor in contributing to the success of a CoP is the status of the group leader, and generally speaking, in‐service teachers carry more status than preservice teachers do. Preservice teachers are not yet insiders within real school/community contexts, although not quite outsiders either. They may experience a kind of illegitimate participation – accommodating community inclusive/special education practices while simultaneously being excluded in ways – while being denied legitimacy (Hodges, 1998). Hence, group 4 participants attempted to effect visual strategies for Stephen, while feeling as though they had ʺinvadedʺ the (real) teacherʹs territory. Additionally, what may also hinder A COMMUNITY JUST FOR PRACTICE 187 collaboration are the often shifting roles in any CoP. The preservice teacher and group leader in SPP 4 found herself caught between the roles of student researcher, leader, and advocate for the learner and family. [We] sort of allowed them [the family] to know what they can advocate for. Because until now they didn’t even really realize what’s different about him [their son] as opposed to the other children in the classroom. Because no one had ever explained to them why the teacher and the special ed[ucation] consultant had wanted him to [access other support services]. (Leader, Group 4) Practised or Real: Will the Real CoP Please Stand Up? I began this research wondering about the kinds of collaborative partnerships that might emerge through these practice CoPs. This question proved to be somewhat of an oversight because students who were in‐service teachers participated within professional CoPʹs already. So, sometimes CoPs were not so much created as enlarged to include newer members, other students in class as in SPPs 1, 2, and 3. The leader of group 1 speaks directly to the benefits of including an occupational therapist in their CoP: ʺIn our project, I think that the big picture became more apparent when we had an OT [occupational therapist] address the fine motor skills.ʺ This leader is an in‐service teacher, and obviously well connected to local personnel to enlist an OT. In the following quotation, a group 3 member speaks to the benefits of working in a CoP where positive relationships were already in place. ʺIt was wonderful to have Cindy, [the leader of group 3] as the resource [teacher], because the bond and the rapport [with the student and family] was already established.ʺ Note again that the leader of group 3 is an in‐service teacher. It seems that even if a preservice teacher has significant, sustained, and meaningful relationships with a student and/or their parents, or even other professionals/paraprofessionals within schools, she or he does not often have the status to effect a positive CoP. To say it another way, it is only those CoP members with status who may confer it upon others, and thus legitimize new members. In sum, practising community and collaboration among students in the university course and other school professionals appeared to be constrained by the larger practices of collaboration and community, the privileging of in‐service teacher status. One future consideration for 188 S. ANTHONY THOMPSON similar assignments may be to limit the leadership position to in‐service teachers; however, there may be other alternatives. For example, I recently shared some of this work at a luncheon of educational psychologists from the three local school districts; not only were they impressed with the outcomes, they asked how they could support other such assignments in the future. Maybe a requirement for future SPPs would be the active participation by an educational psychologist. The CoPs would then already have an insider with status partaking in the project, which might alleviate fears or concerns of some practising teachers. One psychologist remarked how helpful it would be for other teachers to view best practice “in action” for learners with disabilities in their schools. Indeed, I think that what is called for is the development of university and school district(s) partnership(s) around supporting students with disabilities/exceptionalities much like the project completed by Dyson (1999). These partnerships would include specific guidelines around collaboration, or as Dyson more precisely indicates in her study, the development of collaborative structures. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Preparation of this article was supported by a grant from the Saskatchewan Instructional Research and Development Unit, to which I express my thanks. I extend my gratitude to the Regina Public, Regina Catholic, and QuʹAppelle Valley School Divisions. I thank, too, the students at the University of Regina who elected to participate in this research. I am also indebted to Jan Seitz, my research assistant, for her in‐class support, detailed data collection, and cogent analysis. Lisa Comeau conducted a focus group interview, and I thank her. Finally, I appreciate and acknowledge members of my Writers’ Circle at the University of Regina for their feedback, advice, and support. NOTES 1 I presented versions of this article at the International Conference on Special Education (July 2005), Halifax, NS, and Checkmark 2005: An International Conference on Information Communication and Technology and Students ʹAt Risk,ʹ April 2005, North Bay, Ontario 2 For simplicity and reader clarity, unless otherwise noted, all quotes were taken from the group interviews conducted after the assignments were completed. I identify the leaders and members of these groups as such, (e.g.: A COMMUNITY JUST FOR PRACTICE 189 Leader, Group 2 or Member, Group 4) as opposed to creating a pseudonym for each one of the student participants. 3 Parenthetically, there is much more segregation of students with disabilities in the local context than I experienced while working in the Lower Mainland of British Columbia. REFERENCES Agosta, E., Graetz, J., Mastropieri, M., & Scruggs, T. ( 2004). Teacher‐researcher partnerships to improve social behaviours through social stories. Intervention in School and Clinic, 39(5), 276‐287. Brabeck, M., Walsh, M, & Latta, R. (Eds.) (2003). Meeting at the hyphen: Schools‐
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district administrator collaboration for a special education initiative. Canadian Journal of Education, 24(4), 411‐425. Ghesquière, P., Maes, B., & Vandenberghe, R. (2004). The usefulness of qualitative case studies on special needs education. International Journal of Disability, Development and Education, 51(2), 171‐184. Hodges, D. (1998). Participation as dis‐identification with/in a community of practice. Mind, Culture and Activity, 5(4), 272‐290. Kronick, R. (2002). Full service schools: A place for our children and families to learn and be healthy. Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas. Lang, M., & Fox, L. (2003). Breaking with tradition: Providing effective professional development for instruction personnel supporting students with severe disabilities. Teacher Education and Special Education, 26(1) 17‐
26. Langerock, N. L. (2000). A passion for action research: Collaboration in an inclusive classroom. Teaching Exceptional Children, 33(2), 26‐ 34. Lawson, H. A. (2003). Pursuing and securing collaboration to improve results. In M.. Brabeck, M. Walsh, & R. Latta. (Eds.), Meeting at the hyphen, 102nd 190 S. ANTHONY THOMPSON Yearbook of the National Society for the Study of Education, Part II (pp 45 – 71). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lave, J., & Wenger, E. (1991). Situated learning: Legitimate peripheral participation. New York: Cambridge University Press. Little, M. E., & Houston, D. (2003). Research into practice through professional development. Remedial and Special Education, 24(2), 75‐87. McCormick, B. (2000). Case study research in therapeutic recreation. Therapeutic Recreation Journal, 34(3), 245‐252. Merriam, S. (1998). Qualitative research and case study applications in education. San Francisco: Jossey‐Bass Publishers. Palincsar, A. S., Magnusson, S. J., Marano, N., Ford, D., & Brown, N. (1998). Designing a community of practice: Principles and practices of the GisML [Guided Inquiry supporting Multiple Literacies] community. Teaching and Teacher Education, 14, 5‐19. Perry, N., Walkton, C., & Calder, K. (1999). Teachers developing assessments of early literacy: A community of practice project. Teacher Education and Special Education, 22, 218‐233. Pugach, M. C. (1999). Success, access, and the promise of communities of practice. Teacher Education and Special Education, 22, 269‐271. Salm, T. (2004). The story of SchoolPLUS. Regina, SK: Saskatchewan Instructional Development & Research Unit (SIDRU). Saskatchewan Education. (1980, March). Community schools program: Discussion paper. Regina, SK: Author. SaskLearning (2002). Working together toward SchoolPLUS: Parent and community partnership in education. Regina, SK: Saskatchewan Learning, Policy and Planning Unit. Retrieved February 9, 2005, from http://www.sasked.gov.sk.ca/branches/partner_aboriginal/policy/docs/r
oleofsch/may2002prnthndbook.pdf Scheuermann, B., Webber, J., Boutot, E. A., & Goodwin, M. (2003). Problems with personnel preparation in Autism Spectrum Disorders. Focus on Autism and Other Developmental Disabilities, 18(3), 197‐206. Simpson, R. (2005). Evidence‐based practices and students with Autism Spectrum Disorders. Focus on Autism and Other Developmental Disabilities, 20(3), 140‐149. A COMMUNITY JUST FOR PRACTICE 191 Stake, R. (1995). The art of case study research. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Thompson, S. A., & Kesten, C. (2005, April) Extending inclusive/special teacher education communities of practice through technology to support students with autism. Paper presented at the Checkmark 2005: An International Conference on Information Communication and Technology and Students ʹAt Risk,ʹ Nipissing University, North Bay, Ontario. Tymchak, M. (2001a). Task force and public dialogue on the role of the school: SchoolPLUS – A vision for children and youth. Regina, SK: Saskatchewan Instructional Development & Research Unit (SIDRU). Tymchak, M. (2001b). SchoolPLUS – A vision for children and youth: Summary of the final report. Regina, SK: Saskatchewan Instructional Development & Research Unit (SIDRU). Wesley, P., & Buysse, V. (2001). Communities of practice: Expanding professional roles to promote reflection and shared inquiry. Topics in Early Childhood Education, 21(2), 114‐ 123. Yin, R. (1994). Case study research: Design and methods (2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Zorfass, J., & Rivero, H.K. (2005). Collaboration is key: How a community of practice promotes technology integration. Journal of Special Education Technology, 20(3), 51‐60. Scott Thompson is an associate professor in the Faculty of Education, University of Regina, who teaches and researches broadly in the area of inclusive education. 192 S. ANTHONY THOMPSON Appendix A Focus Group Questions for the SchoolPLUS Project Teams 1. What role did you play in the Teaching to SchoolPLUS Project? (Please state your name and role clearly for the purposes of transcription.) 2. SchoolPLUS (2002) talks about ʺdeveloping openness and communicationʺ (p. II‐4) between school, students family and community. a). How would you describe the communication patterns that you experienced with persons involved in this project? b). How would you describe the nature of the collaboration among team members? (see p. I‐5 of Working Together Toward SchoolPLUS) 3. Within Working Together Toward SchoolPLUS (2002), parents and community partners are encouraged to assume Advisory Roles (II –
14). What advice would you give to the school in working with other students with Autism Spectrum Disorders? 4. Within Working Together Toward SchoolPLUS (2002), the benefits of parent and community involvement to students, parents, teachers, schools and community are listed (p. IV‐13). How would you characterize the benefits that you personally experienced (if any) during this process? 5. How would you describe the participation of the At‐a‐Distance Professionals? 6. How useful do you think this project Teaching to SchoolPLUS was to helping student teachers learn to collaborate? a). What are some examples throughout this project that you thought worked particularly well? b). What are some examples throughout this project that you thought did not work particularly well? 7. If you were the instructor for this course (Students with Autism and Pervasive Developmental Disorders) what would you change to better realize the goal of Teaching to SchoolPLUS? 8. On a scale of 1‐10, how do you rate the overall success of this project? CRITICAL LITERACY FOR DEMOCRATIC LEARNING IN CAREER EDUCATION Emery J. Hyslop‐Margison Concordia University Laura Pinto University of Toronto In this article, we explore the models of literacy conveyed by contemporary secondary career education policies, programs, and imperatives in the province of Ontario. The Ontario career education policies we reviewed uniformly advance a functional and socially reproductive model of literacy that undermines the democratic agency of learners. In response to these concerns, we propose that critical literacy should be introduced into Ontario secondary career education initiatives to encourage the democratic participation of students in shaping their vocational experience. Key words: false generosity, critical literacy, democratic learning Dans cet article, les auteurs analysent les modèles de littératie qui ressortent des politiques, programmes et impératifs actuels en matière de formation au choix d’une carrière au secondaire en Ontario. Les politiques ontariennes que les auteurs ont étudiées prônent toutes un modèle de littératie fonctionnel qui privilégie la reproduction sociale, modèle qui entrave l’action démocratique des apprenants. Tenant compte de cette préoccupation, les auteurs proposent l’introduction de la littératie critique dans les initiatives en matière de formation au choix de carrière en vue d’encourager les élèves à participer démocratiquement à leur orientation professionnelle. Mots clés : fausse générosité, littératie critique, apprentissage démocratique _________________ CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 193‐210 194 EMERY J. HYSLOP‐MARGISON & LAURA PINTO Different assumptions support the conceptions of literacy found in a range of contemporary education policy initiatives. These assumptions, and the models of literacy they support, emerge from distinct political perspectives on the role of students within society and on the general purpose of public schooling. On one hand, literacy provides students with functional skills to apply in a predetermined social context, while, on the other, literacy strengthens the critical understanding necessary for participatory democratic citizenship. These contrasting models of literacy reflect different ways of viewing education, and disparate ideas about the role of students, workers, and citizens in shaping their social and vocational experience. Conceptual disputes over literacy are surface manifestations of underlying political differences that strike to the core of debates about appropriate educational aims and the democratic construction of society. In this article, we explore the models of literacy reflected in contemporary Ontario secondary career education policies, programs, and imperatives. These policies and programs are by no means unique in current Canadian curriculum development, but they afford one example of a socially reproductive model of learning that potentially undermines the democratic agency of learners. We also argue that the current emphasis on enhancing literacy skills in Ontario’s career education initiatives contradicts current labour market trends indicating job growth is centered in occupations requiring minimal levels of literacy. Nevertheless, the focus on literacy skills serves an ideological purpose by distracting educators and other stakeholders from addressing the labour market injustices caused by neo‐liberal capitalism. In response to these concerns, we conclude that critical literacy should be introduced into career education initiatives to encourage the democratic participation of students in shaping their vocational experiences. We pose these questions: How is literacy portrayed within the career education components of Ontario secondary curricula? How might an understanding of these components be used to strengthen and respect the principles of democratic learning? Recent empirical research indicates that curriculum design significantly influences the future political participation of students (Torney‐Purta, Schwille and Amadeo, 1999). Formal policy design, then, CRITICAL LITERACY FOR DEMOCRATIC LEARNING IN CAREER EDUCATION 195 will to some extent determine whether career education is democratic or indoctrinatory in format and correspondingly influence the civic preparation of students. As a research method, policy analysis typically evaluates the merits, values, or worth of educational programs based on a set of stated assumptions and supplies important data about the benefits and problems of the programs under investigation. Gall, Borg, and Gall (1996) point out that policy analysts often use their findings to prepare position papers or reports for dissemination among those with decision‐making authority. Policy analysis evaluates policies and programs to provide policy‐makers and stakeholders with recommendations aimed at subsequent educational reform. The importance of policy analysis as a form of educational research is demonstrated in part “by the fact that in 1979 the American Education Research Association initiated a journal called Educational Evaluation and Policy Analysis” (Gall, Borg & Gall, 1996, p. 681). One central identifying feature of policy analysis as a research method is the explicit incorporation of values or normative assumptions – in this case democratic learning principles – into its analytical framework. Policy analyses generally include four stages of research: a) determining the conceptual lens used to evaluate the policies and programs under review (in this case the principles of democratic learning); b) identifying the policies and programs to include in the analysis; c) analyzing the policies and programs through the conceptual lens; and d) recommending policy and program reforms to various stakeholders, especially those decisionmakers who have a direct impact on policy formation (Gall, Borg & Gall, 1996). Although in this article we focus on Ontario secondary career education initiatives related to literacy, the concerns we raise are applicable to other jurisdictions. The documents selected for analysis are either Ontario secondary career education programs or provincial curricula that contain various career preparatory imperatives. Our conceptual framework, or analytical lens, adopts the principles for democratic learning (PDL) established by Hyslop‐Margison and Graham (2001): a) Career education [literacy] instruction based on PDL respects student rationality, that is, the capacity of students to critique curriculum content. 196 EMERY J. HYSLOP‐MARGISON & LAURA PINTO When students are deprived the opportunity to question what they are learning, they become the passive objects of education rather than participatory subjects in learning. b) Career education [literacy] programs based on PDL provide students with alternative viewpoints and perspectives on issues relevant to vocational experience. If students are expected to make informed, critical, democratic choices, they require some exposure to different perspectives on occupationally related matters. c) Career education [literacy] instruction based on PDL does not depict social reality as fixed or predetermined, but explicitly recognizes the legitimate right of students to transform economic, labour market and working conditions through informed political participation. (Hyslop‐Margison & Graham, 2001, p. 342) The PDL described above are designed to promote student understanding that society is a dynamic and transformable construct rather than a static and inexorable one. THE CONTEXT OF CONTEMPORARY CAREER EDUCATION: LITERACY AS A NECESSARY GOOD Large‐scale education reforms over the past decade in Canada, the United States, and the United Kingdom are characterized by a “back to basics” philosophy that emphasizes the need to improve the literacy skills of students (Levin, 1998). The education programs connected to these reforms overwhelmingly advance a functional conception of literacy designed to prepare students for the labour market challenges consistent with neo‐liberal economics. Clearly, the ability to read, write, and comprehend text is, at least on one level, practically beneficial to students. With enhanced levels of literacy, individuals are better able to satisfy their basic daily needs such as earning an income, reading newspapers or magazines, purchasing goods and services, or commuting on public transportation. Functionally literate individuals are able to complete employment and loan applications, read schedules, and follow the directives of employers. On the face of it, then, functional literacy appears a practically beneficial capacity that inevitably enhances the quality of life for learners. Functional literacy instruction assumes that an effective education CRITICAL LITERACY FOR DEMOCRATIC LEARNING IN CAREER EDUCATION 197 prepares students to satisfy the economic, social, and vocational requirements of some preordained context. In the Ontario secondary English Curriculum, for example, literacy is primarily defined as acquiring the reading, writing, and communication skills necessary for employment in the contemporary labour market: To participate fully in the society and workplace of the twenty‐first century, today’s students will need to be able to use language skillfully, confidently, and flexibly. Students need literacy skills to enable them to receive and comprehend ideas and information, to inquire further into areas of interest and study, to express themselves clearly, and to demonstrate their learning. (Ministry of Education, 2005a, n.p.) Rather than critiquing the textual information they encounter as required by PDL, learners within this context are expected to adopt a more passive role by simply “receiving and comprehending ideas and information.” Hence, the role of learners becomes a politically compliant or passive one where they assimilate the textual messages provided by some external source or authority. The broad appeal of functional literacy is its ability to promote higher levels of student participation within the parameters of an existing social framework. Knoblauch and Brannon (1993) explain the seemingly innocuous rationale supporting the functional literacy approach: “The possession of skills perceived as necessary by particular persons and groups to fulfill their own self‐determined objectives as family and community members, citizens, consumers, job‐holders, and members of social, religious, or other associations of their choosing” (p. 77). However, from an ideological perspective functional literacy also insulates the social structure from critique by naturalizing the established social, economic, and political context. For example, there is no suggestion in the Ontario English curriculum that students challenge the assumptions supporting the ideas they “receive and comprehend” or any recognition that learners possess the agency and democratic capacity to transform those assumptions. When text is presented to students in this fashion it implies that the world is inevitably shaped by the ideas and actions of others. The ideological implications of functional literacy, then, convey a socially reproductive political perspective to students about the relationship between citizens and the construction of social 198 EMERY J. HYSLOP‐MARGISON & LAURA PINTO reality, and between workers, employers, and potential labour market change. CRITICAL LITERACY AS DEMOCRATIC LEARNING Rather than viewing text simply as a means to enhance participation within the pre‐existing social and economic order, critical literacy provides students with a vehicle for existential and social transformation. Proponents of critical literacy reject functional conceptions of literacy that promote the idea of student adaptation to prevailing economic and labour market conditions because such practices objectify students as compliant followers of global capitalism. As Lankshear (1993) observes, functional literacy portrays students as human capital being prepared for resource exploitation in the contemporary global marketplace. Functional literacy reduces persons to the status of mere objects and means, rather than confirming and exalting them as ends in themselves. It aims to equip illiterate [learners] with just those skills and knowledge – no more – which ensure competence to function at the lowest levels of mechanical performance, as workers and citizens in a print dominated society. (p. 91) The failure to recognize literacy as a potentially indoctrinatory and politically disempowering force in education neglects the growing understanding that literacy is a principal tool of ideological manipulation. McLaren and Lankshear (1993) point out, for example, that Educators have become increasingly aware that, far from being a sure means to attain an accurate and deep understanding of the world and one’s place within it, the ability to read and write may expose individuals and entire social groups to forms of domination and control by which their interests are subverted. (p. 386) Although Luce‐Kapler (2004) avoids the term critical literacy because it “has several meanings and each of those meanings carries a certain weight of history” (p. 159), she supports efforts to denaturalize text by making manifest the underlying assumptions it entails. She employs the term “critical awareness” to describe the analysis of text where narratives are “opened up, questioned, read closely, or even dismantled into lists of words” (p. 159). Another exercise Luce‐Kapler proposes to CRITICAL LITERACY FOR DEMOCRATIC LEARNING IN CAREER EDUCATION 199 reveal underlying textual assumptions is encouraging students to re‐
write fairy tales from a feminist perspective to deconstruct the fallacious but socially instantiated idea of males as the protectors and saviours of women. These types of strategies foster what Shor (1992) describes as “critical consciousness,” a critical literacy objective that allows students to debunk the functionalist assumption that “rejects human agency, denying that people can transform their conditions” (p. 126). In his seminal work, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Freire (1970) condemns functional literacy instruction as false generosity because it fails to alleviate the actual structural causes of illiteracy, and the economic and social suffering disadvantaged workers experience. He argues that functional literacy actually harmonizes the interests of the ruling elites and further undermines the disadvantaged by driving them into deeper cycles of economic dependency. False generosity occurs in functional literacy education when paternalistic forms of learning are bestowed on students to ameliorate slightly the effects of systemic social and economic hardship. A model case of false generosity is where well‐to‐do people make their services available to unemployed or poorly paid workers to teach the latter how to budget their inadequate finances. The presumption is that the problem of poverty lies within the individual – in the low or underpaid worker – and not in the economic structure. (Freire, 1970, p. 58) The contemporary career education emphasis on functional literacy is an example of false generosity because it conveys to students that their vocational experience is entirely a product of individual competencies or skills, rather than the result of neo‐liberal policies, labour market conditions, and the social structure of opportunity. As we illustrate in the ensuing section, Ontario’s literacy policy in career education violates PDL and qualifies as false generosity because it implicitly advocates unquestioned student adaptation to existing structural conditions instead of encouraging their democratic participation in reshaping the economic and labour market milieu. LITERACY CONSTRUCTS IN ONTARIO CAREER EDUCATION: ANALYSIS RESULTS The 1998 Ontario Secondary Schools Detailed Discussion Document 200 EMERY J. HYSLOP‐MARGISON & LAURA PINTO issued by the Ministry of Education explored several possible purposes for education that eventually precipitated large‐scale curricular reform in the province. These purposes range from preparing students for the workforce to preparing students as reflective individuals and engaged democratic citizens. The Ontario Ministry of Education concluded that meeting both of these objectives required enhancing the literacy skills of students. In a ministry brochure titled Literacy in Ontario: The Rewards are for Life (Ministry of Education, n.d.), and in contradiction to the democratic literacy goals identified above, the functionalist assumptions supporting the ministry’s vision of literacy are revealed: “Literacy skills are needed every day – at work, at home, at school, in the community. These skills help people to take part in further education and training, as well as to find and keep jobs” (n.d., p. 2). The emphasis on simply encoding textual messages for instrumental workplace application without considering the broader social context from which that information emerges undermines the democratic participation of learners and PDL by ignoring their role as rational agents in social construction. When learners are denied the opportunity to question the assumptions and implications of text, they are domesticated into the worldview of those providing the information. As a result, career education students exposed to this form of literacy are indoctrinated into accepting economic, labour market, and workplace conditions that may actually undermine their future vocational interests and opportunities. Rather than encouraging students to dialectically engage and transform the world of work, functional literacy imperatives simply expect them to satisfy externally generated directives and expectations deemed necessary for employment In functional literacy instruction, “There is no suggestion of leading, mastering or controlling” (Lanshear, 1993, p. 103). Students subjected to this approach are potentially estranged from the social policy decisions and political participation that might actually enrich their future vocational experiences by improving the difficult labour market conditions they currently confront. Ontario’s secondary school curriculum policy places a significant emphasis on career education throughout many different subject areas. A policy document titled Choices into Action: Guidance and Career CRITICAL LITERACY FOR DEMOCRATIC LEARNING IN CAREER EDUCATION 201 Education Program Policy for Ontario Elementary and Secondary Schools (Ministry of Education, 1999) was introduced by the Ministry of Education in 1998. This policy document describes “the purpose and importance of Ontario’s guidance and career education program, its content, and its unique approach to teaching and learning” (p. 3) for students in grades one through twelve. No similar document existed in the previous curriculum policy, providing further evidence of increased emphasis on career education across all subject areas. Career education exists as a discreet (and compulsory) course, but more importantly is prominently woven into the curricula for other subject areas. In addition, each student must successfully complete a compulsory course, Career Studies, Grade 10, Open (GLC2O), to graduate. Although the subheadings vary slightly from subject to subject, each discipline’s curriculum policy (e.g., math, English, humanities) contains a subsection titled “Career Education” that describes how that subject should be linked to occupational preparation. For example, The Ontario Curriculum for social sciences and humanities (Ministry of Education, 2000) states that: “The courses in the social sciences and humanities program help prepare students for the world of work, in that they include expectations related to career exploration and employability skills” (p. 141). The majority of the career‐focused objectives require students to identify specific skills gained from the course that prepare them for particular occupations. In some cases, students are expected to investigate employment trends, create portfolios, write resumes or letters of application, or prepare for job interviews. Such functional literacy practices may prepare students to meet the expectations of private industry, but they do not prepare them to become political agents of democratic change. For example, The Ontario Curriculum, English, Grades 9 and 10 (Ministry of Education, 2005a) suggests, “Regardless of their postsecondary destination, all students need to realize that literacy skills are employability skills. Powerful literacy skills will equip students to manage information technologies, communicate effectively and correctly in a variety of situations, and perform a variety of tasks” (n.p.). Once again, students learn through implication that the important social decisions are made by others, and their role is following prescribed 202 EMERY J. HYSLOP‐MARGISON & LAURA PINTO instructions or meeting contemporary employment demands. In a context that describes “literacy skills as employability skills,” communicating effectively and correctly means performing uncritical speech acts that promote the economic objectives of others. Another problem with the constant connection drawn between curricula and workforce preparation in the Ontario curriculum documents we explored is the tacit suggestion that literacy is most valuable when related directly to employment. Even in Art Education, a subject where a reasonable effort ought to be made to promote the aesthetic sense of students as an end in itself, and an essential element in intellectual and emotional development, the primary focus is placed instead on practical job applications of learning outcomes: “Students can be encouraged to explore careers as artists, technicians, or arts administrators” (Ministry of Education, 2005c, n.p.). Although a limited number of art students may eventually find employment in one or more of these areas, linking disciplines such as the arts to career learning devalues the non‐vocational aspects of a balanced and democratic learning experience. The constant linkages throughout the secondary Ontario curriculum between language and work undermine the importance of other literacy related aims such as fostering democratic political participation, promoting self‐actualization, and strengthening social understanding. Instead, the Ontario documents offer narrow conceptions of literacy that are framed by the labour market expectations and employability skill requirements of neo‐liberal ideology. To support the literacy emphasis, Think Literacy: Cross Curricular Approaches Grades 7‐12 (TLCCA) (Ministry of Education, 2003) was introduced into all Ontario secondary schools in 2003. An aggressive dissemination strategy ensured that the document reached teachers who were strongly encouraged to utilize its proposed learning strategies. TLCCA defines literacy as “reading, writing and oral communication skills in all subject areas for the purpose of developing and applying critical thinking skills” (p. 1). Although the promotion of critical thinking appears inconsistent with functional literacy practices, an analysis of the document in its entirety reveals otherwise. According to its authors, TLCCA provides “practical, hands‐on, classroom ready strategies” (p. 1) in the form of lesson plans and blackline masters organized into reading, CRITICAL LITERACY FOR DEMOCRATIC LEARNING IN CAREER EDUCATION 203 writing, and oral communication sections. Specific lessons and resources contain various education gimmicks found in numerous textbooks and teachers’ guides including word wall, place mat, four corners, and jigsaw. The intent is that all teachers from all subject areas will use these strategies so that through repeated exposure students achieve what the document refers to as “payoffs” for each suggested strategy. Most of the activities prescribed in TLCCA focus on narrow comprehension skills that ask readers to determine the meaning of particular narratives. There is a complete absence of deeper critical thinking strategies such as those described in our previous discussion of critical literacy practices. These strategies might include incorporating oppositional readings into career preparatory courses, engaging in social criticism, or considering the moral acceptability of present global economic and labour market practices. Instead, the document restricts literacy learning to rigid templates that curtail critique and promote conformity by asking students to complete tasks such as organizing ideas, revising and editing, and proofreading their work. Although these exercises are certainly important, when they are employed to the exclusion of other more critical imperatives, they promote a functional, “lingering basics” approach to literacy that fails to foster critical awareness, political voice, or expose the gender, class, and ethnic bias often present in text. Similarly, although TLCCA encourages group communication etiquette and collaboration, it fails to mention the merits of constructive disagreement, reasoned debate, or how alternative forms of dialogue and entertaining various perspectives promotes democratic learning. Instead, the functional literacy practices contained within the policies and documents we reviewed convey a range of messages to students that protect the existing social and economic structures from meaningful critique or transformation. The widespread employment of these documents, combined with recent accountability measures, ensure that many of these anti‐democratic messages will be communicated to students through formal classroom instruction. In the secondary Business Education curriculum (Ministry of Education, 2005b), the relationship between literacy and career preparation is entirely instrumental. According to the business studies 204 EMERY J. HYSLOP‐MARGISON & LAURA PINTO curriculum policy document, “Many students will learn how their backgrounds and language skills can contribute to business success” (n.p.). This type of socialized thinking, what Marcuse (1964) describes as one‐dimensional thought, precludes the development of a critical consciousness based on, “Knowing that society and history are made by contending forces and interests, that human action makes society, and society is unfinished and can be transformed” (Shor, 1992, p. 129). The functional model of literacy advanced by Business Education provides industry with trained human capital and, by undermining critical and democratic awareness, serves the ideological purpose of preventing future workers from considering social alternatives to neo‐liberal capitalism. LITERACY SKILLS AND LABOUR MARKET DEMAND In spite of the widespread assumption that enhanced literacy is the key determinant in predicting a nation’s economic success, the relationship between the two variables is poorly understood. For example, there is no evidence of a direct causal relationship between enhancing a nation’s literacy skills and measurably increasing economic and job growth (Crouch, Finegold & Sako, 1999). In spite of rhetoric to the contrary, neither is there available evidence indicating that labour market literacy requirements are generally increasing within industrialized countries (Hyslop‐Margison & Welsh, 2003). For example, Khran and Lowe (1998) explored how literacy is utilized in the Canadian workplace and concluded the most common literacy requirement was simply reading daily letters and memos. The researchers found that between 20 and 60 per cent of workers rarely or never use their higher‐level literacy skills. Although we cannot directly compare costs to individuals, firms and the national economy of the two opposite forms of literacy mismatch, it is clear that the literacy surplus (or “under‐employment”) problem is more widespread, as indicated by the proportion of workers in this category. Evidence of significant numbers of Canadian workers who are seldom required to use their literacy skills in their jobs is evidence of under use of Canada’s human resources. (p. 61) Other comprehensive labour market analyses indicate that many occupations in the growing service‐based economy require relatively low levels of knowledge and skill (Hyslop‐Margison & Welsh, 2003). CRITICAL LITERACY FOR DEMOCRATIC LEARNING IN CAREER EDUCATION 205 Csikszentmihalyi (1991) describes the situation this way: Despite the endless rhetoric about how the jobs of the year 2000 will need employees with much higher levels of literacy, the greatest future demand in the labour market appears to be for armed guards, fast food preparation personnel, truck drivers, sanitation workers, nurses aides, and other relatively unspecialized tasks. (p. 122) Given the low demand for enhanced literacy levels in the contemporary labour market, the increased emphasis on literacy in Ontario career education policies and programs is decidedly ideological because it deflects attention from the deep‐rooted structural crises confronting industrialized nations. The outsourcing of quality manufacturing and industrial positions to developing countries has created enduring domestic social and economic problems such as unemployment, underemployment, low wages, and even homelessness for many Canadian workers. The functional literacy practices pursued in current Ontario education policies and practices may produce a compliant and adaptable workforce that acquiesces to these conditions, but they will not empower learners as democratic agents who transform the vocational milieu they confront. The literacy initiatives in Ontario career education support what Freire (2001) disparagingly describes as “the scourge of neoliberalism, with its fatalism and its inflexible negation of the right to dream differently” (p. 22). DEMOCRATIC LITERACY IN CAREER EDUCATION: SUGGESTIONS FOR REFORM Juxtaposed to functional literacy practices that prepare students to accept a preordained social order, critical literacy instruction emphasizes the democratic importance of progressive social change, and exposes students to alternative ways of thinking beyond the strictures of the neo‐
liberal global market. Consistent with the previously identified PDL, critical literacy encourages students to challenge prevailing perspectives in ways that create new possibilities, including transforming labour market conditions and improving occupational circumstances for contemporary workers. The political perspective represented in many of the current literacy practices in the province of Ontario reveals a monolithic neo‐liberal 206 EMERY J. HYSLOP‐MARGISON & LAURA PINTO agenda that denies students access to alternative worldviews. This agenda interferes with the fundamental democratic right of students to act as political agents of social reconstruction by transforming the economic and labour market circumstances they confront. Students are depicted by literacy imperatives as objects of, rather than subjects in, the construction of social reality. Freire (1970) explains how critical forms of literacy learning counteract this type of politically paralyzing education: “In problem‐posing education, [students] develop their power to perceive critically the way they exist in the world with which and in which they find themselves; they come to see the world not as static reality, but as a reality in process, in transformation” (p. 70). In critical literacy, students learn to give democratic voice to the vocational challenges they presently confront and develop a deep understanding that social change is a real possibility. This understanding is central to the democratic learning advocated by Freire who, according to Darder (2002) “taught us that, for social transformation to take place, it is important for students to understand and give voice to their personal struggles” (p. 155). Throughout Ontario career education imperatives, students presently learn to view and name the world through a corporate dominated discourse that conveys particular values, assumptions, and expectations. Alternatively, the primary objective of critical literacy in career education is heightening student awareness on how discourse influences our view of social reality. Apple (2000) describes this alternate conception as “critical literacy, powerful literacy, political literacy which enables the growth of genuine understandings and control of all the spheres of social life in which we participate” (p. 42). To counter the indoctrinatory effects of neo‐liberal discourse, critical literacy instruction would encourage students to read conflicting and multiple sources of information to help them evaluate, both morally and epistemologically, the claims and directives they encounter. While examining various perspectives within these narratives, students might ask how the included information was selected, whose interests it serves, and consider alternative explanations that contradict the advocated position. When students understand the particular context of the vocational problems they confront and possess the conceptual capacity to describe CRITICAL LITERACY FOR DEMOCRATIC LEARNING IN CAREER EDUCATION 207 and challenge that context, they become political agents of social change working democratically to improve their own lives and the lives of others. Critical literacy views debate, disagreement, and dialogue as healthy educational activities and necessary components of a fully functioning democratic society. Darder (2002) describes the dialogical learning experience this way: By fostering an open dialogue with my students, I can assist them in the formation of greater critical understanding and help them overcome debilitating forms of resistance. Creating a critical space in which students feel safe to express themselves provides us the opportunity to both support and challenge our students to transcend reductionist conclusions which distort their reading of the world and can interfere with their process of empowerment. (p. 167) Through critical literacy instruction, students understand that many of their supposed skill deficits are actually ideological fictions engineered to distract attention from deep‐rooted, structural, socio‐economic problems. Rather than learning how to complete employment and loan applications or follow employer directives, students might explore the level of corporate profits and the exorbitant salaries paid to high‐ranking corporate executives. These salaries could then be compared with the average incomes of Canadian retail or service industry workers to provoke further discussion about the moral and democratic acceptability of the disparity. Rather than participating in mock job interviews, students could also explore how and why the traditional interview process marginalizes disadvantaged groups, and consider alternative hiring processes that are more fair and inclusive such as affirmative action policies. Through textual analysis and critique, critical literacy in career education elucidates the connection between personal circumstances and social organization, and promotes student understanding of how the latter influences vocational experience. A literacy lesson in democratic career education might focus on the unequal power relations between workers and corporations, discuss the substance of various collective agreements, or explore the current treatment of part‐time and low wage workers in the neo‐liberal economy. Rather than blindly extolling the virtues of technology, a critical literacy lesson in career education could 208 EMERY J. HYSLOP‐MARGISON & LAURA PINTO investigate its general impact on employment opportunities and workers, and question who profits or gets hurt by its development and implementation. CONCLUSION An examination of secondary level career education in Ontario illustrates that functional literacy practices impact deleteriously on principles for democratic learning. Functional conceptions of literacy advance a socially reproductive model of learning that serves to undermine the democratic agency of learners, while perpetuating a cycle of marginalization through “false generosity” (Freire, 1970, p. 58). Ontario career education literacy policy also conveys the implicit message to students that literacy learning is only valuable when linked to occupational or labour market preparation. Further, we have suggested that the current emphasis on literacy skills as a means to promote economic prosperity is inconsistent with actual labour market conditions. Hence, the current focus on functional literacy as a component of career preparation simply distracts educators and others from the structural shortcomings of neo‐liberal capitalism. In response to the concerns identified in this article, we propose including an alternate conception of literacy in all Canadian career education programs. By considering both text and context, critical literacy instruction effectively counteracts passive social reproduction, addresses the systemic shortcomings of neo‐liberalism, and exposes the ideological fictions regarding current labour market conditions. Critical literacy cultivates historical awareness and democratic agency through active inquiry, questioning, and dialogue to improve the individual and collective working lives of students. Given current education policy formation processes, and the increasing links between government and corporations committed to both neo‐liberalism and functional conceptions of literacy, generating such change presents considerable challenges. The charge before educators is a somewhat daunting one, then, but one well worth pursuing if they truly believe in an education that prepares students to meet the demands of participatory citizenship in a meaningful democratic society. CRITICAL LITERACY FOR DEMOCRATIC LEARNING IN CAREER EDUCATION 209 REFERENCES Apple, M. (2000). Official knowledge: Democratic education in a conservative age (2nd ed.). New York: Routledge. Crouch, C., Finegold, D., & Sako, M. (1999). Are skills the answer? The political economy of skill creation in advanced industrialized countries. London, UK: Oxford University Press. Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1991). The psychology of optimal experience. New York: Harpercollins. Darder, A. (2002). Reinventing Paulo Freire: A pedagogy of love. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Freire, P. (1970). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York: Herder and Herder. Freire, P. (2001). Pedagogy of freedom: Ethics, democracy, and civic courage. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Gall, M. D., Borg, W. R., & Gall, J. (1996). Educational research: An introduction. New York: Longman. Hyslop‐Margison, E. J., & Graham, B. (2001). Democratic learning in career education. Canadian Journal of Education, 26(3), 79‐100. Hyslop‐Margison, E. J., & Welsh, B. (2003). Career education and labour market conditions: The skills gap myth. Journal of Educational Thought, 37,(1), 5‐
21. Knoblauch, C.H., & Brannon, L. (1993). Critical literacy: Language and the ideal of literacy. Portsmouth, NH: Reed Publishing. Krahn, H., & Lowe, G. S. (1998). Literacy utilization in Canadian workplaces. Ottawa: Statistics Canada and Human Resources Development. Lankshear, C. (1993). Functional literacy from a Freirean point of view. In P. McLaren & P. Leonard (Eds.), Paulo Freire: A critical encounter. London, UK: Routledge. Levin, B. (1998). An epidemic of education policy: (What) can we learn from each other? Comparative Education, 34(2), 131‐141. Luce‐Kapler, R. (2004). Writing with, through, and beyond the text: An ecology of language. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Marcuse, H. (1964). One dimensional man. Boston: Beacon. McLaren, P., & Lankshear, C. (1993). Critical literacy and the postmodern turn. In C. Lankshear & P. McLaren (Eds.), Critical literacy, politics, praxis and the postmodern. Albany: State University of New York Press. 210 EMERY J. HYSLOP‐MARGISON & LAURA PINTO Ministry of Education. (n.d.). Literacy in Ontario: The rewards are for life. Toronto: The Queen’s Printer. Ministry of Education. (1998). Ontario secondary schools detailed discussion document. Toronto: The Queen’s Printer. Ministry of Education. (1999). Choices into action: Guidance and career education program policy for Ontario elementary and secondary schools. Toronto: The Queen’s Printer. Ministry of Education. (2000). The Ontario curriculum: Grades 11 and 12, social sciences and the humanities. Toronto: The Queen’s Printer. Ministry of Education. (2003). Think literacy: Cross curricular approaches grades 7‐12 Toronto: The Queen’s Printer. Ministry of Education. (2005a). The Ontario curriculum: Grades 11 and 12, English. Retrieved April 14, 2007, from http://www.edu.gov.on.ca/eng/ curriculum/secondary/english1112curr.pdf Ministry of Education. (2005b). The Ontario curriculum: Grades 11 and 12, business education. Retrieved November 22, 2005, from http://www.edu.gov.on.ca/eng/curriculum/secondary/business1112curr.
txt Ministry of Education. (2005c). The arts: Ontario curriculum grades 9 and 10. Retrieved April 14, 2007 from http://orion.math.uwaterloo.ca/ ~hwolkowi/stjude.d/Grade10Curriculum/arts910curr.pdf Shor, I. (1992). Empowering education: Critical teaching for social change. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Torney‐Purta, J., Schwille, J., & Amadeo, J. A. (1999). Civic education across countries: Twenty‐four case studies from the IEA Civic Education Project. Amsterdam: International Association for the Evaluation of Educational Achievement. Emery J. Hyslop‐Margison is a Tier II Canada Research Chair, Associate Professor and Director of the Institute for Democratic Learning in Career Education in the Department of Education at Concordia University. Laura Pinto is a PhD candidate in the Department of Theory and Policy Studies at the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education at the University of Toronto. INNOVATIVE MODELS OF WEB‐SUPPORTED UNIVERSITY‐SCHOOL PARTNERSHIPS Thérèse Laferrière Université Laval Gaalen Erickson University of British Columbia Alain Breuleux McGill University This study explored how the Internet bridges theory and practice. Teacher educators, teachers, and prospective teachers used collaborative technologies to design networked communities embedded in three distinct perspectives: the networked learning community, the networked community of practice, and the knowledge building community. Networked communities prompted the development of solutions for integration of information and communication technologies (ICTs) at the elementary, secondary, and post‐secondary levels. These communities provide opportunities for sustained theory‐practice dialogue between teachers at different stages of their professional development and opportunities for ‘boundary spanning’ between courses, practica, pre‐ and in‐service education, graduate seminars, and collaborative research activities. Key words: teacher education, professional development, collaborative reflective practice, networked communities CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 211‐238 212 T. LAFERRIERE, G. ERICKSON, & A. BREULEUX Cette étude explore les possibilités d’Internet, entre autres, le Web et certains de ses outils pour soutenir des échanges propices à l’établissement de liens théorie‐pratique au sein de communautés en réseau. Trois modèles sont présentés, chacun ayant conduit à la mise à l’avant de solutions novatrices pour l’intégration réussie des technologies de l’information et de la communication (TIC) aux niveaux primaire, secondaire et postsecondaire. Les communautés en réseau ont fourni des occasions de réflexion et de mise en relation d’activités de cours et de stages, de formation initiale et continue ainsi que de recherches réalisées en collaboration. Mots clés: formation des enseignants, développement professionnel, pratique réflexive, communautés en réseau _________________ University‐school partnerships devoted to the renewal of learning environments have been promoted for almost twenty years (Cole, 2000; Goodlad, 1990; Hawley & Valli (1999); National Council for Accreditation of Teacher Education [NCATE], 2001; Resnick, 1995; Russell, McPherson, & Martin, 2001). In the United States, The Holmes Partnership, following the footsteps of The Holmes Group (1990), has created the professional development school (PDS) strategy, which aims to renew the learning environment, whether in a public school or a higher education setting, by reducing the distance between theory and practice combining pre‐service education (field experiences and student teaching), teacher professional development, and collaborative research. The PDS strategy has been facing issues of feasibility, sustainability, and scalability (Bullough et al., 1999; Clark, 1999; Levine & Tratchman, 1997; McBee & Moss, 2002; Sykes, 1997; Teitel, 1997). According to Bereiter (2002), there is a divide between the research and the practice cultures. Could new socio‐technical designs make a difference in teacher education and professional development, by combining teacher groups, places, activities, and Internet‐based technologies? The idea that the Internet could help renew learning environments by helping bridge the distance between theory and practice was explored within the TeleLearning Network of Centres of Excellence (TL‐NCE) (Canada, 1995‐2002) 1. The emphasis was not to design online courses or communities. Instead, as teacher educators and researchers, our design efforts were applied to the creation of hybrid learning environments for INNOVATIVE METHODS OF WEB‐SUPPORTED UNIVERSITY‐SCHOOL PARTNERSHIPS 213 pre‐ and in‐service teachers to acquaint them with Internet‐based tools and their effective use in learning environments. As far as school learning environments were concerned, the teachers we worked with were interested in fostering school learners’ acquisition of twenty‐first century skills such as computer literacy, higher order thinking, collaboration, and lifelong learning. Electronic connectivity was developing in all educational institutions. Our research and development team used information and communication technologies (ICTs) to connect teachers at different points in their professional development, and design networked communities using collaborative technologies. Most of the team effort went to make sense of, and support, online social interaction for learning and/or knowledge building purposes within networked communities. Participants met onsite and online (hybrid formal learning environments) within the context of university‐school partnerships developed by three universities and their local school districts. Participants explored how the Internet, and especially the Web, could help develop and sustain communication and collaboration among teachers (prospective teachers, in‐service teachers, and teacher educators). In more recent years, this activity engendered other projects such as the Remote Networked School Initiative (2002‐
2008). The purpose of this paper is to report on the circumstances and outcomes of three inter‐connected initiatives in teacher education with collaborative technologies within the general frame of university‐school partnerships. First, we discuss the relevant theoretical foundations informing our work: socio‐cultural models of learning that include the role of collaborative processes, social context, the negotiation and mediation of thinking and learning, reflective practice. Second, we present the methodology, including the design experiment approach used to explore possibilities for new socio‐technical designs to take place (networked communities). Third, the results are presented at three distinct levels of analysis: macro analysis (the sites’ basic constituents and combinations), meso analysis (networked communities’ activity, viable models of networked communities), and micro analysis (collaborative online discourse). Fourth, the results are discussed, and key benefits identified. 214 T. LAFERRIERE, G. ERICKSON, & A. BREULEUX THEORETICAL FOUNDATIONS Socio‐cognitive and cultural perspectives on learning (Vygotsky, 1978; Wenger, 1998) informed our socio‐technical designs aimed at the renewal of learning environments. The design of a learning community, whether its members make use or not of Internet‐based tools, is typically informed by socio‐cognitive and cultural perspectives on learning (Brown, 1997; Cole & Bruner, 1971; Engeström, 1987; Resnick, 1989). Important elements of these socio‐cultural models of learning include the role of collaborative processes, social context, and the negotiation and mediation of thinking and learning between the pupils and the teachers (Rice, 2002). Brown and Campione (1994) put forward the community of learners model, and Scardamalia, Bereiter and Lamon (1994), the knowledge‐building community model. Brown and Campione made little use of ICTs in the classroom, whereas Scardamalia, Bereiter and Lamon’s collaborative research relied on a specially designed electronic forum (Computer‐supported Intentional Learning Environments, CSILE). According to Bielaczyc & Collins (1999), computer‐supported learning communities are ones in which all members become involved in a collective effort of comprehension. With regards to informal learning environments, Lave and Wenger (1991), who highlighted learning occurring in a community of practice through participation, developed a language and framework outlining a social perspective on learning. Online learning communities (Palloff & Pratt, 1999), online communities of practice (Barab, Kling & Gray, 2004; Johnson, 2001), and knowledge building communities are examples of socio‐technical designs resulting from new combinations of social groups, places, activities, and Internet‐based technologies. Their purpose may be learning or knowledge building. Except for knowledge building communities (Scardamalia & Bereiter, 2003), research on socio‐technical designs using collaborative technologies is just now emerging (Heo & Breuleux, 2005; Lamon, Laferriere & Breuleux, in press). A key assumption in our own study was that the Internet, and especially the Web, can support social interaction in a classroom‐based, a school‐based, or a PDS‐based community. Another key assumption was that collaborative‐emancipative practices seldom found in site‐based teacher education could also be found in online settings. Schön’s (1983) INNOVATIVE METHODS OF WEB‐SUPPORTED UNIVERSITY‐SCHOOL PARTNERSHIPS 215 notion of reflective practice and Van Manen’s (1977) levels of the practical were the conceptual frameworks with which we approached electronic discussion forums in a number of contexts and situations. The former perspective informed the process of taking participants beyond technical rationality (Grimmett & Erickson, 1988), engaging them in collaborative reflective practice onsite as well as online. The latter perspective was used to analyze the content structure of the forum discussions: the technical (techne), practical judgment (phronesis), and emancipating/critical reflection (Allaire, 2006). Computer‐mediated communication research (Harasim, Hiltz, Teles & Turoff, 1995) and computer‐supported collaborative learning research (Koschmann, 1993) provided us with early evidence on the potential and the limits of electronic networks for collaborative learning and knowledge building. Informed by what this literature was saying, and also not saying, participant engagement and progressive discourse were identified as critical indicators of success in the design of networked communities. A number of ICT‐related innovations in the field of teacher education and professional development (Bull, Harris, Lloyd, & Short, 1989; Merseth, 1988; Riel & Levin, 1992; Schauble & Glaser, 1996) were reviewed for a more complete understanding of the research that could inform the design of networked communities. One very visible and highly researched model in the United States is that of “Professional Development Schools” (PDS) which have been described as “a learning‐
centered community that supports the integrated learning and development of P–12 students, candidates, and PDS partners through inquiry‐based practice” (National Council for Accreditation of Teacher Education [NCATE], 2001, p. 9). However, this model and accompanying literature does not emphasize collaborative technologies. Our own research and development team focussed on creating innovative models of networked communities working within a general frame of university‐school partnerships for teacher education and professional development. METHODOLOGY Design Experiments We adopted a design experiment (DE) methodological framework to 216 T. LAFERRIERE, G. ERICKSON, & A. BREULEUX undertake our project. In this section we briefly define DE with reference to current literature, and identify the main reasons justifying our choice to adopt a DE approach. Design experiments have developed as a research strategy to handle situations with many important characteristics (see Bell, 2004; Brown, 1992; Collins, 1992) including the following specifically relevant to our case: a) the phenomenon under investigation is emergent, partially developed, or immature, b) it is a “complexly constructed social system in which it is simply not possible to be sure at all times what combination of factors is at work” (Cole, 2001), c) theoretical tools are available to guide further principled development of the phenomenon, d) controlling variables is undesirable or nearly impossible because it would interfere massively with the emerging phenomenon, and e) design studies are “highly interventionist” (Cobb, Confrey, diSessa, Lehrer & Schauble, 2003). Our project falls mostly in the category of “cultural psychology design‐based research” (Bell, 2004) because we were particularly concerned with the diverse cultural–historical foundations of development in our different local contexts, and attentive to the local customization and sustainability of “patterned interactions between individuals and artifacts”. In relation to the range of contexts illustrated by Cobb et al. (2003), ours was a pre‐service and in‐service development experiment. In the work reported here we are particularly interested in what Wenger (1998) terms the regime of competence of a community of practice, that is, not only the ability of individuals to perform certain actions but also the ability to engage with other members, to understand the overall enterprise of the group, and to contribute to the shared repertoire and influence the historical development of the community, sometimes with innovative work. In our design work, we consider the regimes of competence of both teachers and students in the class. Moreover, certain design results may be considered at a very local level (e.g., prospective teachers’ reflective analysis on their teaching of arithmetic in a classroom‐based learning community) or at a more macro level (e.g., the classroom organization practices of teachers from different schools adopting the same pedagogical approach). A distinct characteristic of teachers forming a professional community is that they INNOVATIVE METHODS OF WEB‐SUPPORTED UNIVERSITY‐SCHOOL PARTNERSHIPS 217 engage in reflecting on their own practice. Our design work took these types of contextual factors into consideration. Furthermore, in a design experiment, an important part of the inquiry is to build on or establish appropriate contexts (in our case, university‐school partnerships) that have practical value, and that delve directly into the participants’ knowledge to ensure that the objectives are met at the end of a certain number of iterations. As Tabak (2004) has underlined, this problematizes context. It is important, consequently, to adapt the usual scheme of the research report to allow for the combination of results and context. Thus, in other words, the dynamic description of locations and participants (communities) is already part of the results (Breuleux, Erickson, Laferrière & Lamon, 2002). In this study, however, we present the participants in the methodology section. The reader should keep in mind that participants are part of the designs developed and tested through iterative cycles and they are, therefore, also part of the results (innovative models of viable networked communities). Participants Each of the three primary local sites (University of British Columbia’s Community of Inquiry in Teacher Education (CITE) in Vancouver (Erickson, Farr Darling & Clarke, 2005; Farr Darling, Clarke, & Erickson, 2007); McGill’s TeleLearning Network of Professional Development Schools in Montreal (Breuleux, Laferrière, & Bracewell, 1998), and Laval University’s TACT Community in Quebec City (Laferrière, 2006)) developed and co‐designed networked learning environments. Prospective teachers, in‐service teachers, and teacher educators contributed to the creation of online resources and tools to support the integration of digital technologies to learning and teaching. These communities focused on learning‐to‐teach in network‐enabled classrooms through collaborative inquiry. Participants engaged in site‐
based inquiries that focused on learning to teach with digital technologies through collaborative inquiry. Furthermore, all three sites were committed to pedagogical innovation in teacher education and of having partnerships with primary or secondary schools: at one setting, a community of inquiry for teacher education was just beginning; at another setting, a network of partner schools was being implemented; at 218 T. LAFERRIERE, G. ERICKSON, & A. BREULEUX a third setting, a summer institute was already in existence and particular attention was paid to the Internet connectivity of the schools. All of them were in different ways exploring how to connect research and practice for the purpose of designing better teacher education and professional development programs. The three groups, each with their lead researcher/teacher educator, came together as part of the TeleLearning Professional Development Schools (TL‐PDS) Network, and developed a number of innovative models as a result of a set of design experiments on several levels and at all three different locations. Each site offered a diversity of opportunities and challenges, including those related to program features, and had in place its own distinct character of cultures, partnerships, and professional relationships. Site participants varied according to time and location. On the whole the membership of each networked community reflected the annual intake of prospective teachers, after graduation circumstances, teacher professional development offerings, and teacher educators’ research interests. Iterative Design Process At each site the lead teacher educator initiated a process of participatory design with university‐ and school‐based teacher educators, in‐
service/prospective teachers, and, in some cases, university administrators. At first, the focus was on technology integration. Web‐
based tools such as Knowledge Forum, Virtual‐U, WebCT, and First Class discussion forums were selected and used 2 for support and communication, for collaborative inquiry and for other delocalized activities. Each site explored different types of design experiments by combining social relations within and between groups, activities, and technology‐in‐use (see Barab et al., 2004). We examined the nature of these collaborative relationships at three distinct levels: the university‐
school partnership (macro level), the networked community (meso level), and the online discourse (micro level). As a result of observations made and lessons learned during the first iteration (1995‐1998) of studies (Breuleux, Laferrière, & Bracewell, 1998; Legault, 2000; Minnes Brandes & Erickson, 1998), the second iteration (1999‐2002) introduced new design features and interaction opportunities, and new research questions (e.g., generic design INNOVATIVE METHODS OF WEB‐SUPPORTED UNIVERSITY‐SCHOOL PARTNERSHIPS 219 principles, Breuleux et al., 2002). During the third iteration (2003‐2006) the university‐based teacher educators continued to play a key role as they reflected on and provided feedback to the practitioners on effective ways of using ICTs in networked learning environments. The enactment of collaborative inquiry in the context of Web‐supported university‐
school partnerships was one of the research foci for all three phases. The three following questions are addressed in this study: What are the commonalities among the socio‐technical designs (networked communities) over the three sites? What is our understanding of the activity of networked communities? Are networked communities viable models for enhancing professional development? Data Gathering and Analysis Field notes (macro and meso level analysis), face‐to‐face interviews and questionnaires (meso level analysis), and online interaction analysis (micro level) were used. The networked communities became a source of data in themselves: underlying design principles, socio‐technical affordances, participants’ online activity objective(s) and patterns of interaction, and online artifacts (websites and related productions such as texts, digital videos, databases). At the macro level of analysis, the basic constituents of each site (university‐school partnerships) and their resulting combinations (networked communities) were observed: groups of teachers and prospective teachers, places, activities, and Internet‐based tools. Commonalities were identified. At the meso level of analysis, Engeström’s (1987) Activity Theory framework was applied to compare the activity of a networked community at different points of its development and to identify change. Two analyses were conducted. First, the key challenges faced by each of the emerging networked communities over the three distinct phases of the research program were identified. Phase I (1995‐1998) and Phase II (1999‐2002) received TL‐NCE funding, while Phase III (2003‐2006) was after the completion of the TL‐
NCE project. Although each networked community faced its own unique challenges, the over‐riding concern was to try to develop localized, context‐sensitive, viable models for Web‐supported university‐
school partnerships. For the second analysis, we looked at both the 220 T. LAFERRIERE, G. ERICKSON, & A. BREULEUX rationale and the methods that the participants offered for the use of Internet‐based tools for communication and collaboration within a university‐school partnership. For example, classroom teachers had the explicit intent of creating learning environments that would enable their students to develop contemporary media and technology skills. We also looked for emerging roles, rules and routines, as well as artifacts within the networked communities. We complemented the presentation of viable models with illustrations of instances of collaborative online discourse drawn from previous analyses. RESULTS Networked Communities’ Basic Constituents (macro level results) Within the context of university‐school partnerships, the constituents that combined to create networked communities were as follows: groups of teachers and prospective teachers, places, activities, and Internet‐
based tools. In spite of the differences among each university‐school partnership, some commonalities were found. First, all the socio‐
technical designs made use of Internet‐based tools to support their communication and collaboration activities. For instance, the CITE community wanted more integration between their campus‐based courses and had a strong focus in their whole program on inquiry on the part of the instructors as well as the prospective teachers. The TACT community wanted to add coherence to the discourse of university‐ and school‐based teacher educators working with prospective teachers doing field experiences and student teaching, and more substantive reflective discourse on the part of the latter. At the McGill TLPDS community, the classroom teachers wanted to encourage innovative student work in the classroom in concert with the teachers’ own developing capacities in the new learning technologies. Second, each networked community was renewed and sustained through a regular input of new prospective teachers, teachers, and graduate students. Each new cohort was a small community within the larger one. Third, at all sites, the design experiments included groups of teacher educators, pre‐ and in‐service teachers, and graduate students who explored the possibilities of Internet‐based tools from constructivist and socio‐constructivist perspectives. INNOVATIVE METHODS OF WEB‐SUPPORTED UNIVERSITY‐SCHOOL PARTNERSHIPS 221 The features related to the basic constituents of these socio‐technical designs (CITE, TACT, and McGill TLPDS) are presented in Table 1 with an emphasis on their commonalities. Differences are disclosed when the reader clicks on the networked communities’ hyperlinks and reads descriptions of the three networked communities. Although face‐to‐face interaction was predominant at all sites, each design experiment had at least one online forum or discussion space for discussing the activities, issues, and problems emergent at that site. In two of the three designs school pupils were an integral part of the experiments. Table 1 Basic constituents of socio‐technical designs for teacher education and professional development NET WORKED COMMUNITIES CITE Groups of teachers (or partners) Teacher educators Places
University cohort‐based teacher ed program Prospective teachers Field placements (schools) In‐service teachers Graduate students TACT Field site A school‐
within‐a‐
school program Teacher educators Prospective teachers PDS Laval Network In‐service teachers Graduate students Peer tutors Field site Activities Courses, practica, seminars Early field experiences and student teaching Reflective practice and inquiry in the use of ICTs Graduate work Practica and seminars Early field experiences and student teaching Reflective practice and inquiry (focused on Internet‐
based technologies WebCT Internet browser & server, HTML editor HTML editor iMovie HyperStudio Knowledge Forum Internet browser & server, HTML editor iMovie 222 T. LAFERRIERE, G. ERICKSON, & A. BREULEUX high access to networked computers) McGill TLPDS Teacher educators Prospective teachers In‐service teachers Graduate students Summer Institute (University) Field placements (schools) Field site Peer tutors Graduate work Practica and seminars Early field experiences and student teaching Teacher ethnographic research with iMovie Knowledge Forum WebCT Internet browser & server, HTML editor iMovie Graduate work Networked Communities’ Activity: Discontinuities (meso level results) Challenges, Contradictions, and The use of Web‐based tools to mediate the interaction (communication, collaboration) between participants raised challenges related to technology, pedagogy and governance. Networked communities evolved as contradictions experienced by participants pondering the use of new tools led to observable discontinuities with prior activity (Engeström, 1987). Table 2 summarizes the key challenges faced at each of the three phases in the life of the networked communities, and identified contradictions and discontinuities. In the first phase of the research program (1995‐1998), it seemed to be contradictory to have pedagogy in mind and to have to spend much time on learning about and teaching how to use Internet‐based tools. Over the years, this contradiction lessened: an increasing number of participants had basic knowledge in the use of such tools and attention centered on pedagogy supported by Web‐based tools. This discontinuity did not lessen another contradiction between the technological approach to teaching (technical rationality) and the reflective practitioner approach (Schön, 1983). However, we endeavoured to introduce Web‐based tools as a support for constructivist pedagogies. As regards to the choice of INNOVATIVE METHODS OF WEB‐SUPPORTED UNIVERSITY‐SCHOOL PARTNERSHIPS 223 collaborative technologies, local consensus on the choice of tools had to be achieved. Their use was to complement instead of replace face‐to‐face communication and collaboration. In the middle years (1999‐2002), the main technology challenge was partner institutions’ software choices for scalability purposes. We favored ones offering more support for social interaction because we wanted to add to rather than reduce social affordances with the use of Web‐based tools. Although we had access to advanced collaborative technologies through TL‐NCE (e.g., Virtual‐U, Knowledge Forum), we could not disregard the convenience of using institution‐wide tools (e.g., WebCT). This was a challenge in the face of wanting to offer participants tools that provided best support for collaborative reflective practice or community inquiry. Participants were teacher leaders, including prospective teachers, who had their own preferences regarding the use of the Internet in a classroom‐based learning environment and computer tools to use to support constructivist pedagogies (e.g., Internet browser, html editor, iMovie). In the maturing years (2003‐2006), technology and pedagogy issues and challenges lessened considerably as the networked communities had found ways to create hybrid learning environments for prospective and in‐service teachers as well as school students. Sustainability‐related challenges arose as TL‐NCE funding ended. The CITE community of inquiry, which was well established within University of British Columbia Faculty of Education, continues to explore and experiment (Farr Darling et al., 2007) and admits 36 post‐graduate students per year. The TACT community, which continues to receive extensive financial external support, keeps on supervising the field experiences and student teaching of about 30 students per year within the PROTIC school‐within‐
a‐school student‐owned laptop program. The McGill TLPDS networked community has engaged in a joint initiative with the TACT community (École éloignée en réseau/Remote Networked Schools Initiative, 23 school districts), and took the leading role in a similar undertaking with Anglophone school districts. 224 T. LAFERRIERE, G. ERICKSON, & A. BREULEUX Table 2 Networked Communities’ Activity Phases Phase I (1995‐
1998) Phase II (1999‐
2002) Issues/ Challenges Technology challenge: Learning about Web‐based tools Pedagogy challenge: Teacher educators’ use of new tools to enhance constructivist pedagogies Governance challenge: Early adopters’ consensus on using collaborative technologies to complement onsite meetings Technology challenge: To match technology use with institutional technology Pedagogy challenge: Prospective and in‐
service teachers use of Web‐based tools to support constructivist pedagogies Governance challenges: Teachers’ convergence of interests in pedagogy and Contradictions Discontinuities with prior activity Technology use as time consuming or time saving: a hurdle or a tool The use of new technologies as a step forward (reflective practice) or backwards (technical rationality) Face‐to‐face or online interaction Recentering on pedagogy instead of technology Teacher educators’ reflective practice: Identification of design principles for networked communities Combination of onsite and online interaction Learning environments with technology or social affordances The use of technology for individual/ collective learning or knowledge building Internet as a door to anywhere or as a place to meet for learning/knowledge building purposes Convenience of place‐
based practicum assignment versus opportunities for Use of technology in (socially) interactive learning environments Collaborative reflective practice/inquiry using collaborative technologies (electronic forums, video capture, and the like) Students’ use of the Internet and especially the Web as an educational resource Resistance on the part of student placement office continued at one site. At another site it INNOVATIVE METHODS OF WEB‐SUPPORTED UNIVERSITY‐SCHOOL PARTNERSHIPS Phase III (2003‐
2006) richer connections technology between prospective Expansion of criteria teachers and veteran teachers for field placement assignment by student placement office and student teachers themselves Technology challenge: Students’ use of Some campus and technology can be school‐based threatening to or not educators continue supported by their less to struggle to learn knowledgeable the new campus instructors technologies and practicum Pedagogy challenge: teachers in the schools To connect participants for better linkages To deepen or diversify between theory and participation in Web‐
practice supported university‐
Governance school partnerships challenges: Post‐TLNCE Narrow local base of funding for teacher educators in networked two networked communities communities (TACT, McGill TLPDS) Sustainability (except for CITE that had a wider base of teacher educators) 225 was not an issue and at the third site innovation was “tolerated” by student placement office Incoming students require less time to be spent on learning technology basics Incoming students’ or teachers’ use of networked communities’ tools and artefacts TACT & McGill TLPDS: University partnership with government, school districts and a knowledge transfer organization TACT: School leadership change (PROTIC program); McGill TLPDS: Leadership change Viable Models of Networked Communities (meso and micro level results) The models that follow (Table 3) arose from the activity (theory/practice) of the networked communities and their respective regimes of competence. Three innovative models of Web‐supported university‐
school partnerships are distinguished. Engeström’s parameters are on the left, and provide the structure for describing and comparing each model. 226 T. LAFERRIERE, G. ERICKSON, & A. BREULEUX Table 3 Innovative Models of Web‐supported University‐school Partnership Models Parameters The networked learning community (LC) model Community Prospective teacher Context learning environment The networked community of practice (CoP) model Teacher working environment 1 A practitioner (teacher, One or more teacher Subjects educator(s) initiates a LC teacher educator) initiates Lead teacher in relation to a course or a CoP in relation to a practicum offered on a challenging new content educator regular basis. The or context. Special funding participation of teacher to the lead teacher educator(s) is visible educator provides input online through the and assures necessary posting of learning technical support for materials and notes in leading participants to electronic forums. demonstrate the idea they have in mind through visible online contributions. The networked knowledge building community (KBC) model Learning and working environments A researcher, a teacher educator or a teacher initiates a KBC. Participants are introduced to the knowledge building conceptual framework and related online tools (principles, database, scaffolds, analytic toolkit, virtual tours). Dedicated funding provides necessary support. INNOVATIVE METHODS OF WEB‐SUPPORTED UNIVERSITY‐SCHOOL PARTNERSHIPS Tools Theoretical perspective Web‐based tools currently available at the university or in the school Subjects Members 227 Constructivist perspectives applied in the context of formal education Lave and Wenger (1991) and Wenger (1998): Learning as participation Scardamalia and Bereiter’s idea improvement notion (1994, 2003) Web‐based tools or specific client‐server applications that can be downloaded from the Resources section of the LC’s website. Minimally, the LC needs a website on which participants can easily add pages using a password, and an asynchronous communication tool that is also password‐
protected. New tools may be added over time.
Web‐based tools or client‐
server applications can be downloaded from the Resources section of the CoP’s website. Minimally, the CoP needs a website on which participants can easily add pages using a password, and an asynchronous communication tool (chat, voice over IP, desktop videoconference) that is also password‐protected. Many in‐service teachers prefer online synchronous tools. Most members are prospective teachers registered in a course or a practicum. They meet on site and online. New members arrive every semester or year. Most graduating teachers leave the LC after completing assigned work but they keep their access to the interactive website. A few members may have two, three, four or more years of active membership. A few teachers participate through online postings related to their own Most of the members are in‐service teachers or school principals. An on‐
site meeting is scheduled to launch the CoP. Other members join in later. Other on‐site meetings are helpful, and conference calls. All keep their access to the website and electronic forums even when not active contributors. Administrative support is most important: It provides encouragement to participants and recognition of the value of their doing. A few The Knowledge Forum suite of tools usually supports the KBC. Most KBCs are classroom‐based. Participants may be school learners, prospectivee‐service teachers, in‐service teachers or graduate students. New members (individual expert or members of another KBC) are invited in the password protected collaborative online space to make relevant contributions. 228 T. LAFERRIERE, G. ERICKSON, & A. BREULEUX Object‐
outcome(s) Roles Norms or rules attempts to improve student learning. prospective teachers participate. A sense of purpose drives participation, one that, for instance, relates to the improvement of school learning through the improvement of learning environments (e.g., effective use of ICTs in teaching and learning, application of new learning theories, curricular approaches, etc.). Specific collaborative inquiries are conducted. Participation in the CoP brings benefits, ones that, for instance, relate to the improvement of one’s work, social influence or time management. The collective practice also advances ‐‐ through better management of explicit knowledge, solicitation of implicit knowledge, and innovation. Authentic and real problems that participants want to help solving by working online in a collaborative way drive the KBC. Knowledge advancement is the goal. All participants have the potential to move from a leadership role to a membership role and vice versa when needed.
The facilitator encourages and model participation, and knows when to step aside when participants take a more active role. The teacher is also a member of the KBC, making online contributions at the content and process levels. Participants are expected to read assigned materials and self‐
selected learning artifacts left by previous participants. They are to be visible online, that is, to make contributions, and to behave in a professional manner as regards their own postings and other members’ postings. They are to create some learning artifact(s) of their own, ones that will be of benefit to current or upcoming members Participation can hardly be contrived. The reading of materials is up to the participant, and so is making contributions (a reference, a written comment, a picture, a video). Norm building is regulated by what makes or keeps participants going online. Participants are expected to consider their ideas as improvable. They are to make them explicit online, and revise them as other contributions are made. Progressive discourse occurs as participants add contributions of value to others. INNOVATIVE METHODS OF WEB‐SUPPORTED UNIVERSITY‐SCHOOL PARTNERSHIPS 229 of the LC. And they do. Routines Artifacts A few participants access the website daily. Most prospectivere‐
service teachers access the website of the LC on a regular basis, ranging from three or more times a week to once a week when registered to a particular course or practicum. Postings follow some rhythm depending on the circumstances of use as regards management of time, content, and behavior. One member in a facilitative role accesses the website daily. From analyzing a number of online forums a pattern emerged: When 25% or so of the members access the website of the CoP in a visible manner (a posting) and on a regular basis, the community is well established and growing. The posted content of the LC is of an evolving nature. Archives of the first collaborative inquiries as well as recent ones are available. They translate into new resources for the community or publications on the Web or on paper. Access to the content of an electronic forum may be limited to participating members, with or without posting of the results to the whole community. The online content of the CoP reflects participants’ practical questions or problems. What works translate into new resources for the community (e.g., a policy), besides already existing resources such as official documentation or participants’ sharing of teaching materials. Access to the content of an electronic forum may be limited to participating members as confidentiality may be at issue. During class time, rotations to access the communal database are preferred to all participants (school learners, prospective students or graduate students) accessing it at once. Another routine is that of the instructor discussing the content of some contributions in the database with the whole class or a small group or exploring some new ways for participants to contribute. Outside the classroom participants access the database. The database, which participants can improve by revising, referencing, synthesizing or eliminating notes, is an evolving repository in itself. Participants create virtual tours for guiding incoming participants or visitors into collective knowledge advances. 230 T. LAFERRIERE, G. ERICKSON, & A. BREULEUX Onsite and online connections that actually took place among participants were manifestations of the potential of networked communities for better integration of theory and practice. Here are some illustrations. Moreover, results at the micro level were understood to be also reflective of what can be done and achieved in university‐school partnerships that create networked communities. Two main processes emerged from previous online discourse analysis (e.g., Allaire, 2006; Campos, Laferrière, & Lapointe, 2005): Collaborative reflective teaching and Collaborative knowledge building. Collaborative reflective teaching occurred at the three sites and involved student teachers joint reflective online journaling, and collaborative interpretation of artefacts from practice. Collaborative knowledge building was observed through knowledge building exemplary practice accessible through the Web (virtual tours, Laferrière, Lamon, & Allaire, 2005), in‐class ethnographic video‐recording by teachers, prospective teachers writing reports and case studies. More details on these observations are available. DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSION This article has described three networked communities that were designed to take advantage of the Web and other digital learning technologies to support university‐school partnerships with an overall aim of better integrating theory and practice. Three key benefits stand out. First, all networked communities extended educators’ capacities in using ICTs to enhance learning environments. Reflective of constructivist and socio‐constructivist perspectives on teacher learning, the networked communities were hubs of innovation for authentic and real problems, use of digital tools, and peer learning. They worked as a system both locally and across sites, and achieved a variety of solutions to the problems of integrating information and communication technologies (ICTs) into elementary, secondary, and post‐secondary schools/institutions and classrooms: use of laptop computers, electronic forums, digital videos, electronic portfolios, and others. Second, networked communities offered a better range of opportunities for sustained theory‐practice dialogue between teachers at different stages of their professional development. Teacher educators encouraged active INNOVATIVE METHODS OF WEB‐SUPPORTED UNIVERSITY‐SCHOOL PARTNERSHIPS 231 engagement on site and online. The transformation of learning environments into hybrid learning environments was achieved at each site through the use of ICT tools, the creation of digital artefacts, collaborative vs individual reflective teaching, and knowledge‐building activities. Third, networked communities provided opportunities for “boundary spanning” (Engeström, 1987) between courses, practica, pre‐ and in‐service education, graduate seminars, and other collaborative research activities within and between institutions. There were instances of such sharing among participants (teacher educators, prospective and in‐service teachers, graduate students) of different courses, practica or seminars, or from different cohorts or sites. These benefits were found substantial enough to suggest extending the meaning of the NCATE PDS standards 3, 4 and 5 (collaboration; diversity and equity; structures, resources, and roles), which currently do not address boundary spanning. Three viable models of networked communities were identified: the learning community model (LC), the community of practice model (CoP), and the knowledge building community model (KBC). Although one model was more present at one site than at others (CITE: LC; TACT: KBC; McGill TLPDS (CoP), networked communities interconnected. Both TACT and TLPDS also had LCs, and TACT and CITE had CoPs. We suggest that networked communities grounded in university‐school partnerships are socio‐technical designs of high pedagogical relevance. They are a new format for teacher education and professional development that not only combine onsite and online activities but theoretical and practical elements as well. They are promising ways of using ICT as technology support for collaborative learning and knowledge building within and beyond the classroom. However, there are technology, pedagogy and governance issues and challenges. Over the years, access to collaborative technology became less of an issue but collaborative learning and knowledge building presented challenges of their own at the pedagogical level. Moreover, with regard to governance, two (of three) networked communities faced sustainability issues. Three sets of issues appeared as critical for sustaining networked communities: participation (membership/leadership), the activities conducted using Internet‐based tools, and the inquiry focus. Classroom‐
232 T. LAFERRIERE, G. ERICKSON, & A. BREULEUX based networked communities got a regular intake (cohorts) of new participants (pre‐ and in‐service teachers, graduate students). The McGill TLPDS was the most vulnerable of the three with regard to its membership intake because it was not directly connected to a pre‐service teacher education program. There was also vulnerability when, as in TACT, only one teacher educator supervised student teachers. A strong element of stability was the PROTIC program, one that endured in spite of school leadership change. However, would the networked community be sustained if, on the university side, the lead teacher educator had suddenly left? As far as participation was concerned and its impact on sustainability, the CITE networked community presented the best circumstances: it involved a number of teacher educators working year after year with a student cohort in an integrated manner. The challenge with the second issue of using Internet‐based tools was to put the emphasis on what could not be accomplished without collaborative technology: collaborative reflective practice and knowledge building. The inquiry focus was a third set of issues addressed in different ways by each of the sites. CITE was designed from the outset to be a community of inquiry (Erickson, Darling, Clarke & Mitchell, 2004). TACT engaged student teachers into knowledge building. The Remote Networked School Initiative was a joint collaborative inquiry venture involving both TACT and TLPDS (Laferrière, Breuleux, & Inchauspé, 2004). All networked communities produced artefacts of value to others. We suggest that networked communities are viable but challenging innovations for teacher education and professional development. Electronic networks have particular strengths and weaknesses in comparison to face‐to‐face networks. The former bring flexibility to, and can extend collaborative activities over time and over large geographical distances whereas face‐to‐face networks bring stability and a degree of authenticity and familiarity to teacher education and professional development activities. We anticipate that the Web will increasingly bring support to university‐school partnerships, as new applications are designed and pedagogical possibilities uncovered. Within the networked community frameworks that we presented here, there is a need for further inquiry into the circumstances (e.g., social, cognitive, technological) that lead to successful Web‐supported university‐school INNOVATIVE METHODS OF WEB‐SUPPORTED UNIVERSITY‐SCHOOL PARTNERSHIPS 233 partnerships. Will electronic networks support teaching and learning to teach in a similar manner and extent that they now support research? Could they add to and scale up efforts relative to theory and practice integration? 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Sustaining model systems of educational activity: Designing for the long haul, Paper presented at the symposium honoring the work of Ann Brown, Berkeley, CA. Cole, M., & Bruner, J. S. (1971). Cultural differences and inferences about psychological processes. American Psychologist, 26(10), 867‐76. Collins, A. (1992). Toward a design science of education. In E. Scanlon and T. O’Shea (Eds.), New directions in educational technology (pp.15‐22). New York: Springler‐Verlag. Engeström, Y. (1987). Learning by expanding: An activity‐theoretical approach to developmental research. Helsinki, Finland: Orienta‐Konsultit. Erickson, G., Darling, L., Clarke, A., & Mitchell J. (2004). Création d’une communauté réflexive dans un programme de formation à l’enseignement / Creating a community of inquiry in a teacher education programme. In P. Jonnaert & D. Masciotra (Eds), Constructivisme Choix contemporains Hommage à Ernst von Glasersfeld (pp. 95‐118). Montreal: Presses de lʹUniversité du Québec. 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Revue des sciences de l’éducation, 25(3), 593‐618. Levine, M., & Trachtman, R. (Eds.) (1997). Making professional development schools work: Politics, practice, and policy. New York: Teachers College Press. McBee, R. H., & Moss, J. (2002). PDS partnerships come of age. Educational Leadership, 59(6), 61‐64. Merseth, K. (1988). Project at Harvard Graduate School of Education. Education Week, 7, 1. INNOVATIVE METHODS OF WEB‐SUPPORTED UNIVERSITY‐SCHOOL PARTNERSHIPS 237 Minnes Brandes, G., & Erickson, G. (1998). Developing and sustaining a community of inquiry among teachers and teacher educators. Alberta Journal of Educational Research, XLIV(1), 38‐52. National Council for Accreditation of Teacher Education (NCATE). (2001). Standards for Professional Development Schools. Retrieved January 2007, from http://www.ncate.org/public/pdsWelcome.asp Palloff, R. M., & Pratt, K. (1999). Building learning communities in cyberspace. San Francisco: Jossey‐Bass. Resnick, L. B. (1989). (Ed.), Knowing, learning, and instruction: Essays in honor of Robert Glaser. Hillsdale, NJ: Earlbaum. Resnick, L. (1995). From aptitude to effort: A new foundation for our schools. Daedalus, 124(4), 55–62. Rice, E. H. (2002). The collaboration process in professional development schools: Results of a meta‐ethnography, 1990‐1998. Journal of Teacher Education, 53(1), 55‐67. Riel, M. M., & Levin, J. A. (1992). Building electronic communities: Success and failure in computer networking. In R. F. Tinker & P. M. Kapisovsky (Eds.), Prospects for educational telecomputing: Selected Readings (pp. 61‐85). Cambridge, MA: Technical Education Research Center. Russell, T., McPherson, S., & Martin, A. K. (2001). Coherence and collaboration in teacher education reform. Canadian Journal of Education, 26(1), 37–55. Scardamalia, M., & Bereiter, C. (1994). Computer support for knowledge‐
building communities. The Journal of the Learning Sciences, 3(3), 265‐283. Scardamalia, M., & Bereiter, C. (2003). Knowledge building. Encyclopedia of Education, Second Edition, (pp. 1370‐1373). New York: Macmillan Reference. Scardamalia, M., Bereiter, C., & Lamon, M. (1994). Bringing the classroom into World III. In K. McGilly (Ed.), Classroom lessons: Integrating cognitive theory and classroom practice (pp. 201‐228). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Schauble, L., & Glaser, R. (Eds.) (1996). Innovations in learning: New environments for education. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers. Schön, E. (1983). The reflective practitioner. New York: Basic Books. Sykes, G. (1997). Worthy of the name: Standards for professional development schools. In M. Levine & R. Trachtman (Eds.), Making professional 238 T. LAFERRIERE, G. ERICKSON, & A. BREULEUX development schools work: Politics, practice, and policy (pp. 159‐181). New York: Teachers College Press. Tabak, I. (2004). Reconstructing context: Negotiating the tension between exogenous and endogenous educational design. Educational Psychologist, 39(4), 225‐233. Teitel, L. (1997). Changing teacher education through professional development school partnerships: A five‐year follow‐up study. Teachers College Record, 99(2), 311‐334. Van Manen, M. (1977). Linking ways of thinking with ways of being practical. Curriculum Inquiry, 6(3), 205‐228. Vygotsky, L. S. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher psychological processes. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Wenger, E. (1998). Communities of practice: Learning, meaning, and identity. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Thérèse Laferrière is professor of pedagogy at Laval University. Her research interests focus on networked learning environments and especially teacher‐
student(s) interactions and peer interactions as networked classrooms become reality in elementary and secondary schools as well as in faculties of education and post‐secondary education in general. Email: [email protected] Gaalen Erickson is professor and in the Department of Curriculum Studies and Research Associate of the Centre for the Study of Teacher Education at the University of British Columbia. His interests embrace the areas of student and teacher learning specifically in the fields of science education and more generally in teacher education. He has developed and studied different models of professional development with a particular focus on collaborative inquiry between university and school‐based educators. Email: [email protected] Alain Breuleux is a cognitive psychologist collaborating with school teachers and administrators to design and investigate sustainable technology‐enabled networks for learning, advanced pedagogical practices, and knowledge management in education. He is Associate Professor, Department of Educational and Counselling Psychology, Faculty of Education, McGill University. Email: [email protected] SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE: A NEWFOUNDLAND CASE STUDY Ken Fowler Memorial University of Newfoundland This study explored changes in student attitudes toward school life following the 1992 Newfoundland groundfishery closure. Using data extracted from a provincial quality of school life (QSL) survey, means associated with students from a sample of fishing communities were compared with provincial means. Although community students had poorer perceptions of school life both before and during the fishery closure, more positive attitudes were evident after the closure, suggesting that parental job loss may have motivated children to aspire beyond their parents’ vocational achievements. However, not all communities demonstrated such a positive change. Plausible explanations for the community variability are discussed. Key words: economic crisis, quality of school life, student attitudes, fishing communities Cette étude porte sur les attitudes des élèves à l’endroit de la vie à l’école après la fermeture de la pêche de fond à Terre‐Neuve en 1992. À l’aide de données tirées d’un sondage provincial sur la qualité de la vie à l’école, des moyennes associées à des élèves provenant d’un échantillon de villages de pêcheurs ont été comparées à des moyennes provinciales. Malgré le fait que les élèves de ces villages avaient de moins bonnes perceptions de la vie à l’école avant et pendant la fermeture de la pêche de fond, des attitudes plus positives étaient manifestes après la fermeture, ce qui donne à penser que la perte d’emploi de leurs parents peut avoir inciter les enfants à vouloir faire autre chose dans la vie que leurs parents. Le changement n’a pas été vécu d’une manière aussi positive par toutes les collectivités. L’auteur fournit des explications plausibles à ces variations. Mots clés : crise économique, qualité de la vie à l’école, attitudes des élèves, villages de pêcheurs _________________ CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 239‐268 240 KEN FOWLER Mounting evidence suggests that when families encounter financial strain, the impact may extend throughout the entire family unit (e.g., Bryant, Zvonkovic & Renolds, 2006; Liem & Liem, 1988; Simons, Lorenz, Conger & Wu, 1992). According to the family mediation perspective, children may be particularly adversely affected through significant alterations in parenting practices as parents attempt to cope with new financial challenges (Elder, Van Nguyen, & Caspi, 1985). Several studies suggest that parents may become less nurturing, responsive, or consistent with discipline when preoccupied by the stress of job insecurity or income loss (Conger, Ge, Elder, Lorenz, & Simons, 1994; Flanagan, 1990; Lempers, Clark‐Lempers, & Simons, 1989; McLoyd, 1990,1998). Accordingly, such changes may lead to increases in children’s emotional distress, feelings of loneliness, depression, delinquency, or drug use (Conger et al., 1994; Lempers et al., 1989; McLoyd, 1990). In terms of prolonged changes in the dynamics of family relationships, economic distress may also result in decreased respect for parents, increased dependence on peer groups (Elder et al., 1985), constrained parent‐adolescent authority relations, or negative effects on adolescent satisfaction with family decisionmaking (Flanagan, 1989). Given the important role parents play in the academic achievement of their children (e.g., Bryant et al., 2006; Hill et al., 2004; Steinberg, Elmen, & Mounts, 1989; Steinberg, Lamborn, Dornbusch, & Darling, 1992), financial hardship may also translate into poorer school performance. Studies generally indicate that family hardship tends to be associated with negative parental‐adolescent relations and decreases in parental school involvement, which in turn negatively influences adolescent’s academic achievement (Conger et al., 1992; Felner, Brand, DuBois, Adan, Mulhall, & Evans, 1995; Morrison‐Gutman & Eccles, 1999). Coupled with poorer school performance, research also demonstrates that family economic strain may impact the future aspirations of young people (e.g., Elder et al., 1985). According to Flanagan (1989), youth goals may be compromised by parental demotion or job loss through changes in the roles parents portray as achievement models. Further, the restrictions caused by parental financial hardship SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE 241 may also lead to reductions in spending on developmental opportunities, an act that may further condition child aspirations. To investigate junior‐high student aspirations and those of their parents (who had recently been promoted, demoted, or laid‐off), Flanagan (1990) observed that parents who had experienced a demotion or job loss were more likely to report that they encouraged their children to surpass their own life achievements. However, among groups of unemployed parents, those temporarily laid off reported that, although they wanted their children to achieve more in their futures, they did not know how to prepare them, and did not consider college as a future goal. In terms of adolescent responses, aspirations generally reflected those reported by their parents. In particular, for the children of the demoted or unemployed parents, all aspired to succeed beyond their parents’ achievement. However, the children of the temporarily laid‐off parent group had more limited perceptions of their future options and lower academic aspirations. In addition, although adolescents of permanently laid‐off parents had ambitious aspirations for the future, they demonstrated relatively low achievement behaviours, according to their teachers, Some studies suggest that economic challenges at the community level may also influence young people. Research suggests, for example, that when major employers downsize or remove operations in highly dependent areas, decreases in school services funding may result in general reductions in educational quality. For instance, Flanagan (1990) found that unlike school professionals from districts with low unemployment rates, principals and teachers in economically depressed areas tended to report that educational services were suffering due to reductions in resources, with increases in levels of stress in their schools. In particular, principals typically reported that funds were rarely available for building repair or textbook and equipment purchasing; teachers reported increases in their workloads because courses such as physical education and music had been cut. On a community level, youth perceptions of the viability of traditional industries within their communities also appear to impact future career ambitions. For example, Van Hook’s (1990) investigation of rural adolescent responses to the Iowa farm crisis suggested that the 242 KEN FOWLER waning perception of farming as a secure career path often led to education as the recognised means of establishing a sounder future. Further, those intending to pursue careers in the agricultural industry planned to prepare themselves with an education beyond high school. Further, despite close community attachment, many acknowledged that their quest for a stable career would most likely take them away from their town. Overall, Van Hook’s study found that the low early school leaving rate and high parental support for academic endeavours generally characterised “…a context of community support for education” (p. 81). A logical explanation for a significant, positive shift toward educational aspirations and attainment during community economic crisis may reflect greater credence placed on its role as an opportunity provider. Indeed, educational advancement may hold the only key for many young people when their communities become economically depressed. Others have also endorsed the notion that stressful structural and economic changes in communities tend to give rise to increased value placed on education. For instance, Crysdale (1991), who discussed a common perception of education as social leveller, suggests that education exists as the primary means of advancing up the social ranks to higher earning potential, better careers, and more opportune futures. Along a similar line of thinking, Jahoda (1982) speculates that the negative effects of unemployment may be moderated by educational attainment, stating that “…the better educated may have developed…wider horizons that may help them to mitigate some of its psychological consequences” (p. 35). Although positive changes in perceptions of school may be an indication of higher aspirations for more lucrative and opportunistic futures during times of economic uncertainty, part of the reason for the change may also reflect its value as a source of social support. Apart from the supportive attributes of family and community networks such as friends or churches, schools may assume an important role as a supportive environment (Crysdale, 1991). Indeed, such could account for changes in the perceived desirability of the school environment. SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE 243 THE PRESENT STUDY The present investigation was designed to explore responses to the Newfoundland fishery closure among youth residing in highly affected rural communities in terms of their perceptions of school life. Based on a variety of potential outcomes documented in previous research, a number of consequences are plausible. On the one hand, as proposed by the family mediation perspective, negative changes in perceptions of school life may have occurred as families respond to severe economic strain. However, as observed in studies assessing the quality and importance of academic involvement when entire communities experience industry crises, more favourable perceptions of school life may have resulted as academic achievement becomes an important opportunity provider, and as the school environment itself serves an important role as support resource during times of crisis. However, given that several rural communities experienced the same economic predicament, an important query of this study concerns whether all communities demonstrate the same trend in perceptions of school life. Indeed, such would offer important insight into whether and when particular outcomes might be expected when communities experience industry crises. The Newfoundland Fishery Closure and Documented Outcomes In 1992, the Canadian Government announced a two‐year moratorium on the northern cod fishery, resulting in the termination of all harvesting activity along Newfoundland’s East Coast. When subsequent evidence suggested that the fish stocks were not recovering, an indefinite moratorium was declared in 1994 for groundfisheries in the Atlantic and Quebec regions affecting approximately 40,000 workers (Economics and Statistics Branch, 1997). To compensate individuals for lost income, the Northern Cod Adjustment and Recovery Program (NCARP) was initially established providing approximately 28,000 plant workers and fishers with economic relief. When it became evident that the closure would be a long‐term prospect, however, Human Resources Development Canada (HRDC) and the Department of Fisheries and Oceans (DFO) established The Atlantic Groundfish Strategy (TAGS) income support program, a $1.9 billion initiative which ended May 1999. It is estimated that $1.2 244 KEN FOWLER billion was specifically allocated to Newfoundland and Labrador with 87 per cent accounting for income support, 11 per cent for Active Programming (e.g., skills development and Adult Basic Education), and 2 per cent for administrative costs (Economic and Statistics Branch, 1997). Although income support and opportunities for education and skills development were offered following the closure, policy makers and industry representatives could not account for the significant historical and cultural importance of the Newfoundland fishery. It is therefore not surprising that investigations into the fishery moratorium have observed increased resident stress (Atlantic Health Promotion Research Centre [AHPRC], 1999; Canadian Mental Health Association [CHHA], 1993; Fowler, 2001; Gien, 2000), tobacco and alcohol use, weight gain, and sleep disturbances (CMHA, 1993). Fowler (2001) found significant increases in mortality rates of a sample of communities most dependent upon the fishery (Fowler, 2001). Evidence from qualitative research also suggests that there has been elevated family tension and heightened friction among community residents (AHPRC, 1999; CMHA, 1993; Fowler, 2001). In a previous qualitative study, CMHA (1998) found that young people from fishing families reported increased pressure to succeed academically to gain a competitive edge in the career market because the fishery was no longer a vocational choice. However, that study was limited in terms of its sample size and methodology. This article reports findings from a large‐scale survey of student attitudes and experiences. More specifically, the present study explores student perceptions of the quality of school life before, during, and after the fishery closure announcement (i.e., 1989, 1992, and 1995) by comparing aggregate community statistics with Newfoundland and Labrador, changes in aggregate community statistics over time, and trends among individual rural communities. METHOD The Communities The primary criterion for community selection was degree of dependency on income support offered through the TAGS program, SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE 245 which was indexed through the proportion of community residents who received program funding. Accordingly, it was reasoned that the economic effects experienced among the communities would be similar if their dependency on TAGS support were comparable. Indeed, despite the moratorium, many individuals displaced from the groundfishery were able to find work in their immediate areas in other fishery sectors such as the crab or shrimp industries, or with other sectors outside the fishery. Fundamentally, the towns included in the analyses represented areas with very little in the way of economic diversity. Based on statistics published by the Economic and Statistics Branch (1997), the communities of Bridge Harbour, White’s Cove, North Point, Trap Town, Great Hill and Southern Island1 were identified (and selected) as being among those with the highest ratio of recipients where the proportions ranged between 22 and 30 per cent. Defining the Communities: Population and Economic Indicators Population trends. For well over a decade, Newfoundland and Labrador has experienced a general reduction in population size. As Table 1 shows, there was a 2.9 per cent decrease in population between 1991 and 1996. The table also shows that community population reductions are quite variable, and in some cases much more pronounced in comparison to the province. More specifically, although the combined community population reduction between 1991 and 1996 was 6.4 per cent, resident declines ranged notably from 4.1 per cent for White’s Cove to 11.8 per cent for Southern Island. Table 2 shows that the 1996 proportion of community residents between the ages of 0 and 24 years of age was actually comparable to the 1996 provincial population (i.e., 36 per cent). Despite the fact that the communities lost a greater percentage of younger residents between 1991 and 1996, they initially had a slightly higher proportion during 1991 (41.5 per cent compared to 40.4 per cent). 246 KEN FOWLER Table 1 Population change between 1991 and 1996, Trap Town, Great Hill, Bridge Harbour, Southern Island, White’s Cove, North Point, communities combined, and Newfoundland & Labrador 1991 1996 Trap Town Great Hill Bridge Harbour Southern Island White’s Cove North Point All Communities Combined 1,195 3,528 2,418 1,224 1,205 1,030 10,780 1,084 3,328 2,290 1,080 1,155 982 9,919 ‐9.2 ‐5.7 ‐5.3 ‐11.8 ‐4.1 ‐4.7 ‐6.4 Newfoundland & Labrador 568,474 551,792 ‐2.9 Community Name % Change Source: Census 1991 and Census 1996 Statistics Canada
Similarly, the proportions of community residents in the 25 to 64 and the 65+ age groups were very comparable to the provincial proportions during 1996. In particular, for the 25 to 64 age group, the communities stood at 52.0 per cent while the provincial proportion stood at 53.3 per cent. Similarly, the 65+ age group accounted for 11.8 per cent of the communities’ population while the provincial population of 65 + residents accounted for 10.8 per cent. Hence, although the community per cent changes were greater between 1991 and 1996, especially for the younger cohorts (i.e., –18.5 per cent compared to –13.7 per cent), the resulting age distributions for 1996 were not notably different from the provincial population. Unemployment rate, 1991 and 1996. The communities selected for this investigation represent areas of greatest dependency on the groundfish moratorium’s TAGS income support program. Apart from income support for displaced fishery workers, however, unemployment rates provided by the Government of Newfoundland and Labrador’s Economic and Statistics Branch offer a more global measure of SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE 247 community economic status beyond strict involvement with the groundfishery. Table 2 Percent population change between 1991 and 1996 for 0 ‐ 24 years, 25 ‐ 64 years, and 65+ years, communities combined and Newfoundland & Labrador 1991
NF & Lab
1996
Communities
NF & Lab
Communities
No.
%
No.
%
No.
%
0 - 24 years
229,665
40.4
4,400
41.5
198,165
35.9
3,585
36.2
25 - 64 years
283,650
49.9
5,105
48.1
294,160
53.3
5,145
52.0
65 + years
55,160
9.7
1,110
10.5
59,475
10.8
1,170
11.8
568,475
100
10,615
100
551,790
100
9,900
100
Total
% Change
between 1991 & 1996
NF & Lab
Communities
%
%
-13.7
-18.5
3.7
0.8
7.8
5.4
-2.9
-6.7
Source: Census 1991 and Census 1996, Statistics Canada
No.
%
248 KEN FOWLER Figure 1 presents unemployment rates for Newfoundland and Labrador, the communities combined and individual communities, for 1991 and 1996. 17.6%
25.8%
24.0%
Great Hill
45.0%
Bridge Harbour
20.8%
42.7%
Southern Island
55.8%
45.5%
White's Cove
49.2%
28.6%
33.3%
North Point
35.6%
Communities combined
30.1%
25.1%
22.8%
Newfoundland &
Labrador
0.0%
1996
1991
42.9%
Trap Town
10.0%
20.0%
30.0%
40.0%
50.0%
60.0%
Figure 1 Unemployment rate*, Newfoundland & Labrador, communities combined, North Point, White’s Cove, Southern Island, Bridge Harbour, Great Hill and Trap Town, 1991 and 1996 Source: Census 1991 and Census 1996, Statistics Canada
*Per cent unemployed of those in labour force
Although provincial and combined community unemployment rates were lower during 1991 compared to 1996, the community rates were nonetheless higher than provincial rates for both census years. For instance, during 1996, there was a 10 per cent difference between provincial and community unemployment rates (i.e., 25.1 and 35.6 per cent respectively). What is especially evident in the figure is the fact that unemployment rates for individual communities were quite variable during 1991 and 1996. In some cases, the unemployment rates were higher during 1996 (i.e., Bridge Harbour, Great Hill, and Trap Town), SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE 249 while in others (i.e., North Point, White’s Cove, and Southern Island), the rate was higher during 1991. In 1991, rates ranged between 17.6 per cent (Trap Town) and 55.8 per cent (Southern Island). However, during 1996, unemployment rates among the communities ranged between 25.8 per cent (Great Hill) and 45.5 per cent (White’s Cove). Communities with high unemployment rates prior to the fishery closure in 1992 might have benefited most from the income support programs offered to displaced fisheries workers by the Canadian government. Because recipients of moratorium income support were not categorised as “unemployed,” they were not counted in the 1996 Census in the establishment of community unemployment rates. In general, fisheries workers who were unemployed prior to the moratorium lost their status as “unemployed” when they began to receive moratorium benefits. Average income level, 1991 and 1996. In terms of average income level, Figure 2 displays provincial and community mean annual earnings for individuals during 1991 and 1996 (note: the community figures could not be combined for this particular statistic due to the way the census information was arranged). A number of notable trends are evident in the figure. Although the Newfoundland and Labrador average income level increased between 1991 and 1996 (i.e., from $20,282 to $23,346), the average income level for each community decreased. In the case of White’s Cove, the 1991 average income level was substantially higher than the provincial income level (i.e., $29,757 compared to $20,282). However, during 1996, its income level fell by almost 50 per cent to an average of $15,314. During 1996, average income levels for the communities ranged from $13,122.00 in Southern Island to $17,562.00 in Trap Town. 250 KEN FOWLER $25,892
$16,667
Great Hill
$20,020
$13,529
Bridge Harbour
$20,175
$13,122
Southern Island
$17,937
$15,314
White's Cove
$29,757
$15,460
North Point
$19,984
$23,346
Newfoundland &
Labrador
$-
1996
1991
$17,562
Trap Town
$20,282
$5,000
$10,000
$15,000
$20,000
$25,000
$30,000
$35,000
Figure 2 – Average income level*, Newfoundland & Labrador, North Point, White’s Cove, Southern Island, Bridge Harbour, Great Hill and Trap Town, 1991 and 1996 Source: Census 1991 and Census 1996, Statistics Canada
*All persons with employment Income by work activity (Based on 20% sample)
Summary of Community Population and Economic Indicators. Based on comparisons between community and provincial population and economic statistics, general differences were observed. Between 1991 and 1996, the communities experienced greater overall population reductions, and greater reductions with respect to individuals less than 40 years of age. In addition, the communities experienced more pronounced population increases for individuals 45 to 54 years of age. For the 60 to 64 age group, a decrease occurred for the communities despite the fact that the province experienced a slight increase. Further, although increases occurred in the number of individuals 75 years and older for the communities and province, less of an increase was experienced by the communities. For the province and communities (combined), unemployment rates were generally lower during 1991 compared to 1996. In addition, combined community rates were higher than provincial rates for both census years. SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE 251 Aside from such differences between aggregate community statistics and the province, there were substantial variations among the individual communities with respect to population and economic variables. In terms of population reductions, for instance, White’s Cove experienced the lowest decline while Southern Island experienced the highest (a relative difference of approximately 8 per cent). Unemployment rates were also quite variable among the communities. In particular, the difference between the lowest (i.e., Trap Town) and highest rate (i.e., Southern Island) during 1991 was approximately 35 per cent. Average income levels also differed notably during 1996 whereby the difference between the lowest average annual income (i.e., Southern Island) and the highest (i.e., Trap Town) was more than $4,000.00. In general, although the communities (as a group) were shown to differ notably from the province with respect to demographic and economic indicators, community‐level observations suggest that they are fairly diverse among themselves. Accordingly, (and as discussed below) it appears feasible that variations in population loss, unemployment rate, and income levels may implicate potential differences in youth responses to the fishery closure in terms of quality of school life. The Quality of School Life Survey In 1989, the Newfoundland and Labrador Department of Education began the process of conducting annual fall surveys of selected grade levels to understand prevailing attitudes of, and experiences with aspects of the school environment. Termed the “Quality of School Life” survey (QSL), this assessment utilises a standardised questionnaire containing more than forty items. Although some items have been omitted and new ones added over the course of its use, forty‐one core items are common to all years. QSL Survey Respondents. Throughout the course of QSL survey administrations, provincial eighth‐grade students represent a group that has participated on three separate occasions, i.e., fall 1989, 1992 and 1995. For the present research, this scenario was very advantageous given the ability to extract community‐level responses to a standard instrument from the same grade level before, during, and after the groundfish moratorium introduction. 252 KEN FOWLER Table 3 shows the number of QSL survey respondents by community, province, and year. Based on the community level population reductions between 1991 and 1996, general decreases in the number of eighth graders completing the survey among the three years were expected. Although reductions occurred for White’s Cove and Southern Island between 1989 and 1995, the remaining communities did not demonstrate this trend. In fact, in the cases of Great Hill and North Point, there were actually increases in the number completing the survey between 1989 and 1995. Of course, because the survey is typically administered during one particular time period, student absenteeism could also have influenced N values. Table 3 Number of QSL survey respondents by year and community Year Total 1989 1992 1995 White’s Cove Bridge Harbour 39 47 25 42 26 46 90 135 Southern Island 33 19 21 73 Trap Town 38 47 35 120 North Point 68 57 72 197 Great Hill 65 76 102 243 290 266 302 858 10,146 9,055 8,153 Community Total Provincial Total 27,354 The QSL Questionnaire Items. The basic structure of the questionnaire includes the general statement “School is a place…” followed by a variety of standard responses. Students are asked to provide their degree of agreement or disagreement with the items on a four‐point scale; i.e., 1 ‐ definitely agree, 2 ‐ agree, 3 ‐ disagree, and 4 ‐ definitely SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE 253 disagree. Because of the nature of the agreement/disagreement scale of the QSL survey whereby scores of 1 and 2 represent agreement while scores of 3 and 4 represent disagreement, factor scores were reversed for the analyses so that values were easier to interpret and communicate. By reversing factor values, significantly increasing factor‐means represent increases in agreement with factor themes while significant decreases represent decreases in agreement. The QSL questionnaire was designed to capture subjective perceptions of school life such as feelings about attending school, coping with the workload, attitudes towards teachers, as well as student perceptions of their own scholastic ability. Personal feelings of sadness, restlessness, and loneliness, as well as the degree to which they felt they are able to get along with others in the school environment are also included. RESULTS Factor Analysis To reduce the number of items into general themes, a Principal Components Analysis (PCA) was performed yielding six factors accounting for 55 per cent of the variance. The factor analysis was performed using the responses of students representing the entire province (i.e., 27,354 respondents over a three‐year period – 1989, 1992 and 1995). The results of the analysis were subsequently applied to the community scores (i.e., community QSL items associated with each factor were combined to generate factor scores). The results of the Scree test (Cattell, 1978) confirmed that the six factors be retained. For the present analysis, oblique (Oblimin) and orthogonal (Varimax) rotation procedures were explored. In both cases, similar themes and item‐patterns emerged. Table 4 presents the results of the orthogonal (Varimax) rotation along with factor means and standard deviations. Of the forty‐one items included in the analysis, thirty‐three emerged with factor loadings greater than 0.50. 254 KEN FOWLER Table 4 Rotated factor loadings for Quality of School Life Items Factors
QSL Items – School is a place…
1
2
3
4
5
Factor 1 – Positive attitude toward
attending school
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
I really like to go
I feel great
I like to be
Learning is a lot of fun
I get enjoyment
I feel happy
I find my work interesting
I like all my subjects
I feel bored
I am genuinely interested in my work
I feel proud to be a student
0.78
0.73
0.73
0.70
0.67
0.63
0.63
0.61
-0.61
0.59
0.59
Factor 2 – Positive attitude toward
teachers
1
2
3
4
5
Teachers treat me fair in class
Teachers listen to what I have to say
Teachers are usually fair
Teachers help me to do my best
Teachers give me the marks I deserve
0.71
0.70
0.69
0.66
0.60
Factor 3 – Positive attitude toward
school work
1
2
3
4
5
I can handle my school work
I know how to cope with the work
I am happy with how well I do
I feel good about my work
I get satisfaction from the work I do
0.68
0.67
0.64
0.62
0.60
Factor 4 – Belief that others perceive them
positively
1
2
3
4
People think I can do a lot of things
I know that people think a lot of me
I feel important
People credit me for what I can do
0.69
0.68
0.65
0.55
Factor 5 – Perceptions of getting along
with others
1 I can get along with most of the students even though they may
0.72
6
SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE not be my friends
Having different kinds of students in my class helps me get along
with everyone
3 I learn to get along with other people
2
255 0.67
0.66
Factor 6 – Feelings of loneliness &
sadness
1 I feel lonely
2 I feel sad
3 I get upset
Mean Score
Standard Deviation
-0.73
-0.69
-0.68
2.56
3.18
3.05
2.72
3.22
1.76
0.64
0.64
0.56
0.61
0.58
0.63
Note: All factor loadings with a value less than 0.50 are omitted
As can be seen from Table 4, clear factor themes resulted. Factor 1 captured positive attitudes about attending school such as “I really like to go to school” and “I really like to be at school.” Factor 2 comprised items associated with favourable attitudes towards teachers, e.g., “Teachers treat me fair in class” and “Teachers are usually fair.” Positive perceptions about schoolwork and workload emerged in Factor 3 with items such as “I can handle my school work” and “I know how to cope with the work.” Factor 4 captured student beliefs that others perceive them favourably in the school environment with statements like “People think I can do a lot of things” and “I feel important.” The theme of getting along with others emerged in Factor 5 (e.g., “I learn to get along with other people”) while personal feelings of loneliness and distress with school life resulted in Factor 6 (e.g., “I feel lonely”). Three Analytic Stages Three analytic stages were developed to explore student QSL responses. For stages one and two, community QSL factor scores were combined to examine how community eighth graders compared with Newfoundland and Labrador eighth graders over the three‐year time period. More specifically, the first stage focused on a comparison between aggregated community and provincial QSL means for each of the three test years, while the second centred on an examination of whether changes 256 KEN FOWLER occurred over time for both the province and communities. For the third analysis, variations in QSL responses for individual communities were assessed over the three time periods. FACTOR TRENDS FOR AGGREGATED COMMUNITY AND PROVINCIAL STATISTICS Comparison of QSL factors between Newfoundland and Labrador and the communities, 1989, 1992 and 1995. Because provincial means represent the population of Newfoundland and Labrador eighth graders, community factor means were compared to the provincial means via one‐sample t‐tests (two‐tailed) for each year. Table 5 presents the means and t values by year for the communities and province. For 1989, no significant differences were found between the communities and province for five of the six factors. However, community respondents demonstrated less agreement with factor 4 (Belief that others perceive them positively); the community mean was significantly lower than the provincial mean. In 1992, two community factor‐means were found to be significantly lower than the provincial means: i.e., Factor 1 (Positive attitude toward attending school) and Factor 4 (Belief that others perceive them positively). These findings indicate that community students had less positive perceptions of attending school and a lower tendency to feel positively perceived by others in the school environment in comparison to the province. However, during 1995, four significant factor‐differences were found between the communities and the province because community QSL means were significantly higher in all cases, indicating significantly greater agreement. The differences occurred for Factor 1 (Positive attitude towards attending school), Factor 2 (Positive attitude toward teachers), Factor 3 (Positive attitude toward school work), and Factor 5 (Perceptions of getting along with others). Comparison of QSL Factors Among 1989, 1992 and 1995 – Newfoundland and Labrador and Communities. To assess QSL factors trends over the three‐year period for the province and the communities separately, single‐factor ANOVAs were performed with year as the independent SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE 257 Table 5 Factor means and t values for communities and NF & Labrador, 1989, 1992 and 1995 NF & Lab
Communities
t
df
p
Factor 1 Positive attitude toward attending school
1989
2.59
2.60
0.35
241
0.73
1992
2.58
2.50*
-2.40
254
0.02
1995
2.49
2.70**
6.81
275
0.00
Factor 2 Positive attitude toward teachers
1989
3.21
3.17
-1.09
241
0.28
1992
3.22
3.19
-0.86
256
0.39
1995
3.09
3.18*
2.68
291
0.01
Factor 3 Positive attitude toward school work
1989
3.06
3.04
-0.48
243
0.63
1992
3.09
3.03
-1.51
254
0.13
1995
3.00
3.11**
3.68
279
0.00
235
0.00
Factor 4 Belief that others perceive them positively
1989
2.73
2.61**
-3.02
1992
2.74
2.62**
-3.32
254
0.00
1995
2.69
2.71
0.68
292
0.50
Factor 5 Perceptions of getting along with others
1989
3.29
3.32
0.98
245
0.33
1992
3.21
3.20
-0.37
257
0.71
1995
3.15
3.30**
4.59
296
0.00
0.55
Factor 6 Feelings of loneliness & sadness
1989
1.79
1.77
-0.59
245
1992
1.72
1.78
1.61
255
0.11
1995
1.77
1.76
-0.26
286
0.79
*p<.05
**p<.01
variable. In terms of provincial factor‐means by year, Table 6 shows that single factor ANOVAs yielded significant differences for all six factors. 258 KEN FOWLER However, comparisons of factor‐means for the communities yielded significant difference for factors 1 and 5 only. To establish where significant differences lay among 1989, 1992 and 1995 for the province and communities, pair‐wise, post hoc comparisons (i.e., Tukey HSD tests) were conducted. Table 6 Factor means for communities (combined) and Newfoundland & Labrador, 1989, 1992 and 1995 1989 Positive attitude toward attending school NF & Lab 2.59 Communities (combined) 2.60 Factor 2 Positive attitude toward teachers Factor 3 Factor 4 NF & Lab 3.21 3.22 Communities (combined) 3.17 3.19 Positive attitude toward school work NF & Lab 3.06** 3.09** Communities (combined) 3.04 3.03 Belief that others perceive them positively NF & Lab 2.73 2.74 Communities (combined) 2.61 2.62 Perceptions of getting along with others NF & Lab 3.29** 3.21** Communities (combined) 3.32* 3.20* Feelings of loneliness & sadness NF & Lab 1.79 1.72** Communities (combined) 1.77 1.78 Factor 1 Factor 5 Factor 6 *p<.05 **p<.01 1992 1995 2.58 2.50 2.49** 2.70** 3.09** 3.19 3.00** 3.11 2.69** 2.71 3.15** 3.30* 1.77 1.76 SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE 259 For Factor 1 (i.e., Positive attitude toward attending school), a significant change occurred for both the province and communities during 1995. However, although the provincial students decreased in agreement with the factor, the communities’ students increased in agreement. In addition (as presented above), the 1995 difference between the province and communities was significant. Although the provincial mean decreased significantly during 1995 for Factor 2 (Positive attitude toward teachers), which indicated a reduction in agreement, the community mean remained unchanged for all three years. Again, the 1995 difference between the province and communities was significant. For Factor 3 (Positive attitude toward schoolwork), although all three provincial means were found to be significantly different from one another (i.e., a significant increase in agreement between 1989 and 1992, and a significant decrease in agreement between 1992 and 1995), no significant change was found among the community means over the three‐year period. There was, however, a significant difference between the province and communities during 1995. For Factor 4 (Belief that others perceive them positively), a significant change was found only among the provincial means (i.e., a significant decrease in the mean, and hence a decrease in agreement during 1995). In addition, as shown in the section above, community means were found to be significantly lower (indicating less agreement) than the provincial means for 1989 and 1992. For provincial and community means for Factor 5 (Perceptions of getting along with others), the community mean decreased significantly during 1992 (indicating less agreement with this factor) and then increased during 1995. The provincial mean, on the other hand, decreased significantly during 1992 and 1995, indicating progressive disagreement with this factor. The 1995 difference between the province and communities was also significant. For the provincial and community means associated with Factor 6 (Feelings of loneliness and sadness), the community mean increased while the provincial mean decreased during 1992. However, only the province’s 1992 decrease was found to be statistically significant (indicating less agreement). 260 KEN FOWLER FACTOR TRENDS AMONG THE COMMUNITIES For the analyses above, an assessment of how aggregate community QSL means varied over the three‐year time period in relation with the provincial QSL means was conducted. The following analyses, however, explore the variability of QSL means among the individual communities over the three test years. To investigate community variability, the main effects of year and community as well as the interaction of these two factors were tested. The analysis of each QSL factor comprised a 3 X 6 factorial design; i.e., three years by six communities. Community Trends for Factor 1 – Positive Attitude Toward Attending School. The results of the two‐way ANOVA for Factor 1 (Positive attitude toward attending school) yielded a significant main effect for community (F(5,773) = 4.35, p < .01) as well as a significant community X year interaction (F(10,773) = 2.74, p < .01). An analysis of the simple main effects for community showed that no significant difference occurred during 1989. However, significant differences were found among the communities during 1992 (F(5,249) = 4.39, p < .01). Post hoc tests revealed that significant differences occurred among Southern Island and White’s Cove (the highest mean values indicating comparatively more agreement with factor) and Trap Town and Great Hill (the lowest mean values indicating comparatively less agreement with Factor 1). A comparison among the communities for 1995 also yielded significant differences among the communities (F(5,270) = 3.70, p < .01). Post hoc tests revealed that the Southern Island’s mean was significantly lower than White’s Cove’s and North Point’s (indicating less positive attitudes towards attending school). Community Trends for Factor 2 – Positive Attitude Toward Teachers. In terms of Factor 2 (Positive attitude toward teachers), the 3 X 6 ANOVA resulted in a significant main effect for community (F(5,773) = 6.47, p < .01) as well as a significant community X year interaction (F(10,773) = 3.61, p < .01). Analysis of the simple main effect for community yielded a significant result for 1989 (F(5,236) = 6.97, p < .01). Post hoc tests revealed a significantly lower mean for Southern Island as compared to White’s Cove, Trap Town, and North Point (indicating significantly less agreement with this factor). Further, North Point’s mean was found to SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE 261 be significantly greater than Bridge Harbour, Southern Island, and Great Hill (signifying significantly more agreement). An assessment of the simple main effect for community for 1992 produced no significant differences (F(5,256) = 2.14, P > .05). However, the comparison of communities for 1995 yielded significant differences (F(5,291) = 5.46, p < .01). Post hoc tests showed that Southern Island’s factor mean was significantly lower than all other communities (indicating more negative attitudes towards teachers). Community Trends for Factor 3 – Positive Attitude Toward School Work. The analysis of Factor 3 (Positive attitude towards school work) yielded a significant main effect for community (F(5,779) = 2.90, p < .05) as well as a significant year X community interaction (F(10,779) = 2.35, p < .05). Although there was no significant simple main effect among the communities for 1989 or 1992 (F(5,243) = 1.69, p > .05 and F(5,254) = 1.42, p > .05, respectively), there was a significant simple main effect among the communities for 1995 (F(5,279) = 5.00, p < .01). Based on post hoc comparisons, Southern Island’s 1995 mean was significantly lower than all other communities with the exception of Trap Town (indicating a less positive attitude toward schoolwork). Community Trends for Factor 4 – Belief That Others Perceive Them Positively. In terms of Factor 4 (Belief that others perceive them positively), the 3 X 6 ANOVA resulted in a significant community main effect (F(5,784) = 4.37, p < .01) as well as a significant community X year interaction (F(10,784) = 3.98, p < .01). An analysis of the simple main effect for community did not reveal any significant differences for 1989 (F(5,235) = 1.14, p > .05). However, significant differences occurred among the communities during 1992 and 1995 (F(5,254) = 4.94, p < .01 and F(5,292) = 6.08, p < .01, respectively). The results of post hoc comparisons showed that Bridge Harbour’s factor mean was significantly higher than that of North Point and Great Hill during 1992 (indicating more agreement with this factor), while Southern Island’s mean was significantly lower than all communities during 1995 (indicating less agreement with this factor). Community Trends for Factor 5 – Perceptions of Getting Along with Others. For Factor 5 (Perceptions of getting along with others), the results of the two‐way ANOVA showed a significant community main 262 KEN FOWLER effect (F(5,801) = 3.57, p < .01) as well as a significant community X year interaction (F(10,801) = 2.06, p < .05). The analysis of simple main effects for community for 1989 and 1992 yielded no significant differences for the factor means (F(5,245) = 1.06, p > .05 and F(5,257) = 1.98, p>.05). However, there was a significant difference among the communities during 1995 (F(5,296) = 4.17, p < .01) where post hoc test revealed that Southern Island’s factor mean was significantly lower than all other communities (indicating more negative perceptions of getting along with others). Community Trends for Factor 6 – Feelings of Loneliness and Sadness. With respect to Factor 6 (Feelings of loneliness and sadness), the community and year main effects as well as the community X year interaction found not to be significant (i.e., (F(5, 798) = 1.99, p > .05) and (F(10, 798) = 0.79, p > .05) respectively). DISCUSSION Before and during the moratorium introduction, it was observed in the present study that community students were less inclined to believe that that others perceived them positively in the school environment (during 1989 and 1992), and demonstrated significantly less positive attitudes toward attending school (during 1992). However, the 1995 survey showed that the community students demonstrated significantly more positive attitudes toward attending school, teachers, schoolwork, and reported greater perceptions of getting along with others in the school environment. When community and provincial quality of school life indicators were compared among 1989, 1992 and 1995, it was observed in the present study that during 1995, provincial eighth graders demonstrated significant decreases in agreement with respect to positive attitudes toward school attendance, teachers, and schoolwork, as well as decreases in agreement in terms of being positively perceived by, and getting along with others in the school environment compared to 1989 and 1992. On the contrary, community students demonstrated during 1995 significantly more agreement in terms of positive feelings toward attending school. Although the significant differences between the communities and province during 1995 may be attributed to general SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE 263 reductions in the perceived quality of school life for provincial students, the increased positive attitude toward school attendance for community students during 1995 suggests that indeed positive changes occurred in perceptions of the academic environment among community youth. The general shift toward more favourable perceptions of school life during times of economic hardship is consistent with a variety of other studies, especially those investigating industry failures in highly dependent rural areas. In his an assessment of an American farming community affected by the 1980 agriculture crisis, Van Hook (1990) observed that limited career options for adolescents in terms of the farming industry gave rise to more positive and ambitious tendencies toward educational attainment for both the youth and community in general. Flanagan (1989) reports that when parents experience demotions or job loss, they tend to motivate their children to aspire beyond their own achievement levels, especially with respect to academic attainment. In addition, by observing their parents experience negative occupational circumstances such as job loss, the children themselves become personally motivated to aspire beyond their parents’ achievements (Flanagan, 1989). In terms of the school environment itself, researchers (e.g., Crysdale, 1991) have proposed that, in addition to families and other community organisations, the school environment may become a more desirable place as a vital supportive resource for community youth during times of economic and social change. Although one could speculate that positive changes in perceptions of school life represent either (or a combination of) such intrinsic, parental, or community‐level influences, based on the findings of the present research, school life appears to have increased in perceived importance for the youth whose communities experienced the fishery crisis. However, the most interesting finding of the present study concerns comparisons among individual communities where results revealed that not all experienced the same general trend toward more favourable perceptions of school life during 1995. Southern Island students in particular tended to exhibit negative changes in terms of attitudes toward attending school and schoolwork, the belief that others perceive them positively, and perceptions of getting along with others. Some 264 KEN FOWLER plausible explanations explicate why negative perceptions of school life occurred among Southern Island’s youth. Based on Southern Island’s relatively low average individual income and high level of unemployment, greater economic challenges seem to have existed within the community. Perhaps during such extreme times of financial/occupational stress, some propositions of the family mediation model may apply. That is, perhaps there is a point where parents, left to negotiate severe and prolonged economic strain, do demonstrate negative changes in parenting in terms of nurturing and discipline consistency, which may indeed translate into child issues such as emotional distress, feelings of loneliness, depression, and delinquency (Lempers et al., 1989; Conger et al., 1994), thus leading to more negative perceptions of the school experience (Conger et al, 1992; Felner et al., 1995; Morrison‐Gutman & Eccles, 1999). In addition, significant financial strain may have compromised the ability for parents to fund developmental opportunities for their children which may have also influenced perceptions of school life (Flanagan, 1989). So, perhaps degree and duration of family economic hardship may be prime mediators of youth responses as observed in attitudes toward school life. In a previous qualitative study exploring the health and social effects of the fishery closure in Southern Island, Fowler (2001) noted evidence that the unique challenges associated with extreme economic conditions faced by residents of Southern Island residents wherein respondents tended to overemphasise how families continue to experience significant economic strain and uncertainty, especially since the TAGS income support program ended. Further, salient variations occurred among the communities in terms of population statistics which allow speculation as to why Southern Island’s youth might have experienced some difficulty with school life relative to the other communities. Southern Island had the largest population decline between 1991 and 1996, thus implicating significant out migration from the town. Again, as reported in Fowler’s (2001) study, residents did propose that the periodic and prolonged migration of parents from the community for educational or occupational purposes had a detrimental effect on the general mental and emotional well being of children who were typically left behind with relatives or neighbours SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE 265 in the community. So, in addition to family strain due to financial preoccupation, families may have experienced a physical disintegration largely as a function of out migration. In addition to the forced mobility of family members, high out migration may have another indirect effect on the school experience among community youth. In particular, there are studies suggesting that decreases in the availability of municipal tax bases, and the potential for financial donations through voluntary means, may have an impact on the ability for schools to sponsor extra‐curricular opportunities for the children (e.g., sports, drama, music), as well as general school maintenance and curriculum diversity (e.g., Flanagan, 1989). Indeed, evidence from the Southern Island interviews (Fowler, 2001) suggests that the ability for residents to donate funds for particular community causes declined notably since the fishery closed, and that resources for the local school (in terms of professional resources and educational supplies) were accordingly compromised. Hence, the negative perceptions of school life on the part of Southern Island students may reflect a variety of influences: a) the disruption of the family dynamic as parents attempt to negotiate their extreme financial challenges, b) the inability of parents to fund developmental opportunities of a scholastic nature, c) the loss of parents/guardians from the town as residents pursue employment/educational opportunities elsewhere, or d) decreases in curriculum diversity or limited extra‐
circular activities due to decreases in school‐system funding and volunteerism. Because individual communities were found to vary in terms of student QSL responses, findings of the present study allow for speculation, to some extent, on the conditions (i.e., economic/demographic) necessary for particular student perceptions of school life. Unfortunately, QSL data requested from Newfoundland and Labrador’s Department of Education were unavailable by student gender. It may be that gender variability might have offered significantly more insight into why school life perceptions altered following the fishery closure. 266 KEN FOWLER ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I thank the Department of Education, Government of Newfoundland and Labrador, for providing access to the Quality of Student Life survey. The analysis, interpretation, and conclusions are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of the government nor of any of its departments. NOTES 1 All communities have been given fictitious names to preserve anonymity. REFERENCES Atlantic Health Promotion Research Centre (1999). A study of resilience in communities. Health Canada, Ottawa, ON. Bryant, B. K., Zvonkovic, A. M., & Renolds (2006). Parenting in relation to child and adolescent vocational development. Journal of Vocational Behavior, 69, 149‐175. Canadian Mental Health Association, Newfoundland and Labrador Division. (1993). Working it out: The challenge of change from within. St. John’s, NL: Extension Community Development Co‐operative. Canadian Mental Health Association, Newfoundland and Labrador Division. (1998). What’s happening with youth: The impact of economic change on young people in Newfoundland and Labrador. Halifax, NS: Health Canada, Health Promotion and Programs Branch, Atlantic Region. Cattell, R. B. (1978). The scientific use of factor analysis in the behavioral and life sciences. New York: Plenum Press. Conger, R. D., Conger, K. J., Elder, G. H., Lorenz, F. O., Simons, R. L. & Whitbeck, L. B. (1992). A family process model of economic hardship and adjustment in early adolescent boys. Child Development, 63, 526‐541. Conger, R. D., Ge, X., Elder, G. H., Lorenz, F. O., & Simons, R. L. (1994). Economic stress, coersive family processes, and developmental problems of adolescents. Child Development, 65, 541‐561. Crysdale, S. (1991). Families under stress: Community, work and economic change. Toronto: Thompson Educational Publishing. Economic and Statistics Branch. (1999). The Economy. St. John’s, NL: Department of Finance, Government of Newfoundland and Labrador. SCHOOL LIFE AND COMMUNITY ECONOMIC CHALLENGE 267 Elder, G. H., Van Nguyen, T., & Caspi, A. (1985). Linking family hardship to children’s lives. Child Development, 56, 361‐375. Felner, D. R., Brand, S., DuBois, D. L., Adan, A. M., Mulhall, P. F. & Evans, E. G. (1995). Socioeconomic disadvantage, proximal environment experiences, and socioemotional and academic adjustment in early adolescence: Investigation of a mediated effects model. Child Development, 66, 774‐792. Flanagan, C. A. (1990). Families and schools in hard times. New Directions for Child Development, 46, 7‐26. Fowler, K. (2001). Community reaction to a social disaster: A Newfoundland case study. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Memorial University of Newfoundland, St. John’s. Gien, L. T. (2000). Land and sea connection: The East Coast fishery closure, unemployment and health. Canadian Journal of Public Health, 91(2), 121‐
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parent families. Child Development, 70(6), 1464‐1476. 268 KEN FOWLER Simons, R. L., Lorenz, F. O., Conger, R. D. and Wu, C. I. (1992). Support from spouse as mediator and moderator of the disruption influence of economic strain on parenting. Child Development, 63, 1282‐1301. Steinberg, L., Elmen, J. D., & Mounts, N. S. (1989). Authoritative parenting, psychosocial maturity, and academic success among adolescents. Child Development, 60, 1424‐1436. Steinberg, L., Lamborn, S. D., Dornbusch, S. M., & Darling, N. (1992). Impact of parenting practices on adolescent achievement: Authoritative parenting, school involvement, and encouragement to succeed. Child Development, 63, 1266‐1281. Van Hook, M. P. (1990). The Iowa farm crisis: Perceptions, interpretations, and family patterns. New Directions for Child Development, 46, 71‐86. Ken Fowler is a professor in the Department of Psychology, Memorial University of Newfoundland. Dr. Fowlerʹs interests may be described as applied health research with a social focus. Some of his work to date includes unemployment and health, HIV/AIDS and stereotypes, and social determinants/consequences of problem gambling and depression, and consequences of health system restructuring. AN UNWARRANTED FEAR OF RELIGIOUS SCHOOLING Frances M. Kroeker Edmonton Public School Board Stephen P. Norris University of Alberta In this article, we challenge the common liberal assumption that religious schooling undermines the goals of liberal civic education, making it impossible for children to acquire tolerance, critical reasoning skills, or personal autonomy. As a framework for this argument, we respond to some of the claims made by Harry Brighouse in his recent book, School Choice and Social Justice, arguing that the liberal fear of religious schooling, as reiterated by Brighouse, is largely unwarranted. Rather, religious parents and religious schooling can offer children an education that promotes tolerance and critical reflection and that encourages and supports their future autonomy. Key words: school choice, civic education, social justice, liberalism Dans cet article, les auteurs contestent l’hypothèse libérale courante voulant que les écoles confessionnelles nuisent aux buts de l’éducation civique libérale en empêchant les enfants de devenir tolérants, capables de raisonnement critique ou d’autonomie. Dans le cadre de leur argumentation, les auteurs répondent à certaines des affirmations de Harry Brighouse qui, dans un récent ouvrage intitulé School Choice and Social Justice, avance que la peur libérale de l’enseignement religieux est largement injustifiée. Au contraire, les parents qui ont des convictions religieuses et les écoles confessionnelles offrent aux enfants une éducation qui prône la tolérance et la réflexion critique et qui encourage et favorise leur autonomie future. Mots clés : choix d’école, éducation civique, justice sociale, libéralisme _________________ CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 269‐290 270 FRANCES M. KROEKER & STEPHEN P. NORRIS A primary goal of public education is the preparation of citizens who support and sustain liberal democracy. To meet this goal, it is necessary to create a sense of identification with the state, prepare citizens to participate in the democratic process, and communicate shared liberal values. Although varying models of democratic civic education have been proposed, most liberal philosophers of education identify the key characteristics of liberal education as the development of tolerance for diversity, a focus on the capacity for critical reasoning and democratic deliberation, and a commitment to the development of autonomous citizens (Callan, 1997; Gutmann, 1999; Macedo, 2000). Liberals who argue for tolerance, critical reflection, and the development of autonomy as the goals of civic education tend also to assume that religious schooling that attempts to teach civic education from a religious perspective will thwart this aim. This position has determined public policy in at least some parts of Canada and in other Western societies. The province of Ontario, for example, has resisted appeals for funding of religious schools (with the exception of Roman Catholic schools whose funding is guaranteed by Section 93 of the Constitution Act) on the grounds that religious schooling would hinder efforts to “promote the values of a pluralist, democratic society” (International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, Sixty Seventh Session, 1999, 3.1). Religious schools, according to the government, would undermine Ontario’s “very ability to create and promote a tolerant society that protects all religious freedom” (ICCPR 1999, 4.3.4). In the words of one of Canada’s chief justices, “The denial of funding to separate schools is rationally connected to the goal of a more tolerant society” (Chief Justice McLachlin in Adler v. Ontario, 1996, 219). Nor is tolerance the only liberal virtue considered to be at risk. Liberal educators and philosophers commonly assume that religious schooling also will hinder the development of critical reasoning skills and thus the future autonomy of children (Callan, 1997; Dwyer, 1998; Macedo, 2000). One liberal scholar who takes this position is Harry Brighouse (2000). His particular statement of liberal concerns serves as a useful focus for making some general arguments against this widespread liberal assumption. Brighouse situates his examples within the context of religious schooling in the United Kingdom and the United States, and, AN UNWARRANTED FEAR OF RELIGIOUS SCHOOLING 271 although the educational contexts of both these countries differ from Canada’s, the philosophical issues are identical. Indeed, we locate this article within a debate about religious schooling that transcends national and jurisdictional boundaries. The issues are about religious schooling in general, and about the possibilities that it opens and forecloses no matter what the particulars of school organization and governance. Brighouse argues that religious schooling will unlikely provide children with the education for autonomy to which they are entitled and which justice demands they receive. Religious parents and schools in his view are likely to protect children from outside influences and limit the development of rationality, failing to provide either the conditions or the skills necessary to support autonomy. Brighouse maintains that religious schooling will cause children to be culturally marginalized, unprepared for the “social milieu they will have to negotiate as adults” (p. 74) or for the “complex demands of modern economies” (p. 110). He makes it clear that he regards religious schooling as inferior and “repressive” (p. 71), and suggests that one of the roles of public education is to act as a defence against efforts of religious parents to control their children. Brighouse does appear sometimes to distinguish some religious schools or parents from others, but does not do so consistently. He leaves the impression that he judges all religiously based schooling and all religious parents with suspicion as threats to the future autonomy of children. It is our contention, however, that Brighouse and other liberal scholars err in making this generalization, and that many and perhaps even most religious parents and religious schools provide an education that encourages autonomous choice. In general, Brighouse’s claims regarding the importance of education for autonomy are not unlike those held by many other liberal scholars. Unlike some liberals, however, Brighouse suggests a somewhat cautious approach to education for autonomy, claiming that the liberal state has a responsibility to provide an education that facilitates autonomy, but must stop short of promoting autonomy. Brighouse’s understanding of the requirements of an education for autonomy rest on this distinction between facilitation and promotion, and from one point of view, autonomy facilitation would seem to provide religious schooling a better chance of passing his test of liberal acceptability, although Brighouse 272 FRANCES M. KROEKER & STEPHEN P. NORRIS uses it to try to undermine certain arguments in favour of religious schooling. In the first section, we provide a brief discussion of autonomy facilitation and promotion and the essential skills Brighouse believes children must develop. Throughout, Brighouse exhibits a fear of religion in defending three main claims with regard to religious upbringing: that religious schooling will shield children from an awareness of other ways of life, that religious parents and educators do not want children to think for themselves, and that religious parents and communities cannot claim a right to raise their children in a particular culture. None of these assertions can be adequately defended. In the second section, we challenge Brighouse’s assumptions with regard to the inadequacy of religious schooling by addressing each of these three claims in turn. We argue, first, that religious families and schools are unlikely to be as isolated from society as Brighouse suggests, or their children as unprepared for modern life as he purports. We go on to demonstrate that religious ways of thinking need not preclude rational thought or critical reflection, and argue that most religious parents and schools want children to learn these skills. Finally, we show that to be raised in a particular culture, religious or otherwise, provides children with a necessary sense of identity and a stable moral environment from which to explore the world, something all parents and schools have an obligation to provide. In the concluding section, we claim that religious schooling is much more compatible with an education for autonomy than Brighouse presumes. Consequently, although there are religious groups who rear their children in objectional ways, liberals need not fear that religious schooling as a general rule will undermine the goals of democratic education. AUTONOMY FACILITATION Brighouse holds that education for autonomy is the “fundamental value that should guide the design of educational policy” (p. 65) and that all children, including those from religious families, must have the opportunity to become autonomous adults. Justice, he claims, requires that all children have the opportunity rationally to compare different ways of life and choose for themselves from a range of options a life that AN UNWARRANTED FEAR OF RELIGIOUS SCHOOLING 273 they can “endorse from the inside” (p. 69). To deny children an education for autonomy is to deprive them of “skills that are of great value in working out how to live well” (p. 70). Brighouse makes it clear from the outset that he considers the rights of parents to control their children’s education to be circumscribed narrowly, justifiable only on the basis of the interests of the children themselves. He holds that giving parents choice in education must not be allowed to prevent children from receiving the autonomy facilitating education they deserve. Although he views education for autonomy as a matter of justice, Brighouse makes a distinction between autonomy promotion and facilitation, claiming that the goals of liberal civic education must be to facilitate but not actually to promote autonomy. Brighouse differs from many liberal theorists in his stance on this issue. However, the majority of liberals would support his more general claim regarding the desirability of education for autonomy (Callan, 1997; Gutmann, 1999; Macedo, 2000; Taylor, 1994). Those who do offer objections to education for autonomy tend to claim that promoting autonomy in children can discourage them from choosing to live in certain cultural communities (Galston, 1989, 1995; Lomasky, 1987). Thus, an education for autonomy can lead to an erosion of diversity by undermining ways of life that do not value autonomy as a primary good. As a consequence, it may be claimed that, in giving children an education for autonomy, the state is throwing its weight behind a particular way of life, something that is contrary to liberalism’s commitment to free choice. Although Brighouse does not frame his position around the protection of diversity, he uses a similar argument in rejecting autonomy promoting education. He writes: “If the state helps form the political loyalties of future citizens by inculcating belief in its own legitimacy, it will be unsurprising when citizens consent to social institutions they inhabit, but it will be difficult to be confident that their consent is freely given, or would have been freely given” (Brighouse, 1998, p. 719). An autonomous life can be considered truly autonomous only if it is chosen without coercion. Thus education must “not try to ensure that students employ autonomy in their lives … autonomy must be facilitated, not necessarily promoted” (1998, p. 734, emphasis in original). The liberal state, he says, must not promote autonomy because civic education that 274 FRANCES M. KROEKER & STEPHEN P. NORRIS deliberately inculcates certain values undermines autonomous choice and, consequently, liberal legitimacy. For Brighouse, autonomy facilitation has an additional, pragmatic benefit. He suggests that autonomy facilitation will overcome the difficulties created by religious objections to education for autonomy. He reasons that, although it is possible to argue against education for autonomy on the basis that such an education predisposes children to think in certain ways or that it may cause them to reject parental ways of life, such arguments cannot succeed against autonomy facilitation. An autonomy facilitating school program would continue to present traditional, content‐based academic curricula, but in addition would teach children how to identify fallacious arguments and present students with a range of religious, non‐religious, and anti‐religious ethical views, thus providing the skills and conditions necessary for autonomy. According to Brighouse, autonomy facilitation does not require that children be encouraged to consider pursuing a life different from that of their parents, but “merely aims to enable children to take different ways of life seriously if they wish” (p. 108). Brighouse claims that autonomy facilitation will not threaten religious ways of life in the same way that autonomy promotion presumably does, and that for this reason, religious parents may be persuaded to accept autonomy facilitating education. Is it possible, however, for any parent to differentiate between autonomy facilitation and autonomy promotion? Brighouse himself concedes this difficulty: “It is hard to see how a teacher could impart the skills associated with autonomy without simultaneously communicating some norms concerning the virtue of autonomy … in practice the policies will be difficult to distinguish” (pp. 197‐198). This difficulty is not enough, however, to convince Brighouse to abandon the distinction. He insists that “although the skills associated with autonomy are taught, children are not encouraged by the state to live autonomous lives any more than children who are taught how to speak French are encouraged to live French‐speaking lives” (pp. 94‐95). Why are children taught to speak French if it is not for the purpose of speaking the language or, in other words, to live French speaking lives at least some of the time? Certainly in the process of teaching a skill one seems necessarily to be AN UNWARRANTED FEAR OF RELIGIOUS SCHOOLING 275 promoting its practice. We choose to teach children to read or write or to speak French because we believe it is important for them to learn to do so. In the process of teaching them, we encourage them to use the skills they are learning. Indeed, we do more. It is difficult to imagine, for instance, how to teach students particular forms of critical thought without at the same time saying to them, explicitly or implicitly, that this is good thinking. It is even more difficult to imagine broadcasting this message without also sending the message that this is a form of thought that it is good to employ. Why else, the students reasonably would ask, is it a part of educational goals, part of instruction, and part of what is assessed? Children who learn the skills necessary for autonomy, who have been exposed to diversity, and who have learned to reflect critically on the choices presented to them can still choose to live their parents’ way of life. However, because of the autonomy facilitating skills they have learned, they cannot fail to be aware that this choice is not the only way of life available to them. Children who consciously choose to live a particular way of life are autonomous, whether or not the education they received was intended to promote, or merely facilitate, autonomy. In effect, there can be no difference between autonomy promotion and facilitation. In spite of a lack of clarity regarding the distinction between autonomy promotion and facilitation, Brighouse continues to view autonomy facilitation as a useful means of ensuring that children of religious parents are given the opportunity for future autonomy. On these grounds, however, Brighouse’s distinction is largely unnecessary, because religious parents are much less likely to object to education for autonomy than Brighouse fears, a point we explore in the following section. Religious parents’ educational choices are likely to have more to do with providing a spiritual dimension to their children’s education than with a desire to prevent their future autonomy. MEASURING UP TO BRIGHOUSE’S STANDARDS Exposure to diversity Brighouse holds that “autonomy with respect to one’s religious and moral commitments requires exposure to alternate views” (p. 75). Given 276 FRANCES M. KROEKER & STEPHEN P. NORRIS religious parents’ presumed refusal to engage in deliberation with rival views, Brighouse is sceptical that they will be able to provide the necessary education for autonomy. If we allow religious parents to exempt their children from autonomy facilitating education, the children will not be prepared for a life outside the community in which they are raised, leaving only those children who happen to be suited for their parents’ way of life any opportunity of living well. This, says Brighouse, constitutes a “strong prima facie injustice” (p. 73). Brighouse argues that a right to exit does not by itself mitigate this injustice. Children who do exit will be even worse off than those who stay because they will not have been prepared for the social milieu of modern society. Brighouse refers to religious parents variously as deeply religious, fundamentalist, or sectarian. As noted earlier, it is not entirely clear whether he is concerned with a particular segment of the religious population to whom these terms might apply, or whether he believes any schooling of a religious nature poses a difficulty with regard to autonomy. Certainly, it is hard to conceive of any community, except perhaps the Amish, to be as isolated from society as Brighouse imagines religious families to be. Parents who waive autonomy facilitating education, he says, “typically live in tight‐knit communities which limit the opportunities for exposure to other ways of life and for the development of critical faculties” (pp. 70‐71), leaving children unprepared to engage in the economic and social organization of mainstream society. Except perhaps for a tiny minority, this fear, however, is scarcely reasonable. Modern culture is, as one writer describes it, “dominant, pervasive, and unavoidable,” (Salomone, 2000, p. 212) and few families would be truly able to isolate themselves from it even if that were their aim. The majority of deeply religious parents live, not in separate communities like the Amish, but in neighbourhoods that are not segregated by religion. Most religious families engage in the activities of the larger community and many initially send their children to local public schools, only later seeking accommodations or withdrawing to religious schools. Many are active in politics, perhaps to the chagrin of those who, like Brighouse, lament the fact that “in the US, fundamentalist Christianity remains a strong cultural force, and even a remarkably strong political force” (p. 207). Nor is religion or religious AN UNWARRANTED FEAR OF RELIGIOUS SCHOOLING 277 schooling an impediment to preparation for a mainstream career or a hindrance to engaging in the complex economic activities of modern society. Brighouse must realize that religious parents are themselves engaged in a range of economic activities and would want their children to be prepared for a successful future as well. As Raz (1994) notes, members of all communities inhabit the same economy and must possess “the same mathematical, literary, and other skills required for effective participation” (p. 173). Given the number of scientists, entrepreneurs, educators, and other professionals who were raised in religious homes and schools, and who are nevertheless highly successful in their chosen fields, a religious schooling does not seem to be a barrier to acquiring and using those skills. Brighouse highly exaggerates the isolation experienced by children from religious families, and children in religious schools are no doubt better prepared for modern society than he acknowledges. What of the curricular objectives Brighouse argues must be met to ensure the exposure to diversity that is required for autonomy with respect to one’s religious and moral commitments? Brighouse suggests children must be taught about a range of religious, non‐religious, and anti‐religious views and the ways in which secular and religious thinkers have dealt with moral conflict. However, there are serious limitations in Brighouse’s educational model. Regardless of how serious any advocate may be, to be addressed by the proponent of a particular view in the “controlled environment of the classroom” (p. 75) is not the same as seeing a way of life lived out. It is very unlikely that a series of classroom presentations would have any significant role in children making a meaningful choice with regard to religion. Because of its limitations, a classroom presentation is an unlikely means of conveying the mystical or spiritual nature of religion or the full implications of committing oneself to a ‘road less travelled.’ As a means of exposing children to diversity, this approach is necessarily limited because few schools would have the resources to present any more than a small selection of views in any comprehensive way. In anything but urban schools, this limitation would be even more acute. Neither would this proposal satisfy religious parents because it fails to present children with a deep understanding of any one religious choice and may in fact omit the parents’ particular 278 FRANCES M. KROEKER & STEPHEN P. NORRIS perspectives entirely. Thus, even in a common school that attempted to include some religious views, the choices made available to children would be limited substantially. Any upbringing and any education, religious or secular, will predispose children to select some options and reject others, while remaining ignorant of yet other possibilities. Brighouse’s proposal is no exception to this rule, and suffers in addition from other shortcomings. Religious schooling, then, may not limit a child’s choices with regard to religion any more than any schooling does. Although religious schooling is likely to familiarize a child deeply with only one religion, it is improbable that a secular education will give a child a deep understanding of any religion. Yet, a deep understanding of one religious way of life may help the child to understand more fully the implications of choosing any religious way of life because most religions challenge many of the practices of a predominant consumer society and adopt a spiritual perspective on life in the world. At the same time, although most religious schools focus on a single religious perspective, they need not limit children’s choices in other respects. If religious schools have the necessary resources, they can as readily as common schools present a broad range of courses for students, presenting everything from arts to sciences as fascinating areas of study, and can as well as other schools prepare students for careers in a wide variety of fields, from business to politics. In a liberal society that respects religious freedom, deeply religious persons, to use Brighouse’s term, are free to engage fully in the social, political, and economic worlds that surround them, and a religious schooling need not in any way restrict their freedom to do so. Religious families are unlikely to be as isolated as Brighouse imagines, and religious schooling need not restrict children’s awareness of the world around them. Critical reflection Brighouse holds the view that religious parents want to control their children’s thinking and that religious education would prevent the development of critical reasoning capacities, a view that is not uncommon among liberal education theorists (Curren, 2000; Dwyer, 1998; Macedo, 2000). No doubt, there are religious parents who, like AN UNWARRANTED FEAR OF RELIGIOUS SCHOOLING 279 many non‐religious parents, desire to control what their children think and believe. However, Brighouse is making an unfair assessment of religious parents and religious schooling in general. Although most religious parents would want their children to accept their particular way of life and to embrace it as their own, few would want them do so unthinkingly. It is not a desire to prevent critical reflection that leads parents to choose religious schooling. Rather, religious schools are chosen by parents who want their children to learn the skills of discernment and reasoning from within the traditions of their particular religion and not from a secular perspective. Parents who want their children to think in religious ways would no doubt be sceptical that this goal could be achieved in common schools. Historically, public schools in North America have included some recognition of religion, even if it was only in the opening of the school day in prayer. Today, prayer and other religious observances no longer form part of the common school practice in North America. Although there is good reason to remove sectarian religious exercises from public schools in a religiously pluralistic society, the absence of religion in schools can be interpreted as a message about the insignificance of religion for daily life. Religious parents who do not fear critical reflection itself may nonetheless be concerned that the deliberation encouraged in common schools will undermine their belief system because religious ways of thinking are given no consideration. We accept that in religious schooling it is likely that certain beliefs will not be subjected to trenchant critical scrutiny: for instance, the belief in God as Creator and the belief that the demand for respect for others is grounded in the equality of all people in the eyes of God. Such practice might be seen as indoctrinative. By way of contrast, some liberal theorists, such as Macedo, argue that schools must leave all religious questions aside and teach children that important public issues can be deliberated without considering the religious question (Macedo, 2000, p. 122). Is this practice also inherently indoctrinative? “Whatever is done or said in the classroom conveys an inescapable and powerful non‐neutral message to children that convention and authority are behind a specific practice” (Salomone, 2000, p. 204). The message the school communicates by leaving the religious question aside is that secular views have more 280 FRANCES M. KROEKER & STEPHEN P. NORRIS validity than religious perspectives and that religion has no bearing on one’s public life. Yet parents whose religion is deeply meaningful to them would want to see their religion’s views inform the education their children are receiving in order that their children may also understand the vitality and applicability of those views. The obvious worry for religious parents may be, as Callan (2000) points out, that religious identity will be lost before it is even found, “because without yet understanding the life of faith, children come to feel it is something that is odd or shameful in a world whose predominant values declare it to be so” (p. 62). In the end, neutrality is an improper standard for judging whether any school is indoctrinative. Education cannot take place in a context where no stance is taken on anything. The question, as always, comes down to which stances are reasonable within a liberal democratic society. Religious schooling need not prevent the development of critical thinking skills. Shelley Burtt (1994, 1996) contends that religious parents are not opposed to critical thinking in general, but simply to the nature of the critical thinking prescribed in secular schools. Burtt claims that fears that religious education will impair a child’s ability to reason are unfounded and consequently supports parental authority over a child’s education. She argues that the state must take into consideration “religiously grounded ways in which children might learn to choose well in civic and moral matters” (Burtt, 1996, p. 413). According to Burtt, conflicts that arise between religious parents and public schools are often framed as debates over whether children will receive an education that encourages critical reflection and civic competency or one that will not, when in fact the question is whether the children will receive an education for personal reflection and civic responsibility grounded in religious faith or based on secular reasoning. She challenges the assumption that is embedded “in most recent philosophical considerations of critical rationality that to reason from the basis of God’s word as reflected in Scripture is somehow to abandon the exercise of critical rationality,” noting the “long and distinguished traditions of religious scholarship which reflect critically on the requirements of one’s own (perhaps unquestioned) fundamental commitments” (Burtt, 1996, p. 416). By way of example, Burtt cites Arneson and Shapiro, who assume AN UNWARRANTED FEAR OF RELIGIOUS SCHOOLING 281 that Amish parents deliberately limit critical thinking so that their children will accept things on faith rather than through reflection (Arneson & Shapiro, 1996). Burtt argues that the Amish may not be opposed to the development of critical thinking skills, but rather to the materials used by secular schools to teach those skills (p. 416). Burtt’s defense of religious scholarship may bring to mind names such as Augustine or Aquinas, but no doubt most of us could name at least one contemporary scholar who is able to conduct rational inquiry with his or her faith intact, effectively confirming that religion and critical reflection are not necessarily inimical. Religious parents, then, are likely to choose religious schooling not because of an aversion to instruction in critical thinking skills, but rather because they want to teach these skills in an environment that is respectful of and informed by their particular religious perspectives. As McLaughlin (1992) points out, “It is clear that every cultural group and tradition will value and embody certain forms of reason and individual thought” (p. 127). The secular version of critical reflection adopted by common schools is not necessarily the only approach to rationality. Jane Roland Martin (1992) describes very different approaches to critical thinking from masculine and feminine perspectives and participatory and distant thinkers. Martin could well have added two more distinct categories of thinkers, the secular and the religious, showing how they differ in their approach to problems that require reflection and thought. Menachem Loberbaum (1995), writing from the perspective of the Jewish faith, says that “traditions provide a range of acceptable and authoritative argumentation and discourse, but also ‘traditions when vital, embody continuities of conflict.’ Within the Jewish tradition, the Talmud supplies both. It is a wide‐ranging source of argumentation; indeed it is a rhetoric that celebrates argumentation” (p. 116). Loberbaum demonstrates that an education that teaches critical reflection need not disassociate the individuals from their religious beliefs, but that skills of reasoning and reflection can be developed from within religious traditions. Liberal educators fear that children raised in such religious traditions will be so indoctrinated that they are unable critically to evaluate other choices. Most children will no doubt view the religion in 282 FRANCES M. KROEKER & STEPHEN P. NORRIS which they were raised as a more credible option than other choices they may encounter, and even the capacity for rational deliberation is not likely entirely to overcome this bias. However, it is impossible not to create a bias of some sort, regardless of the tradition in which a child is raised, and a religious upbringing is unlikely to lead to a greater or more limiting bias than a non‐religious upbringing. A child raised by parents who practise no religion at all and educated in a secular common school, for example, is unlikely to view a religious way of life as a serious option, although, of course, the possibility is not entirely closed off. It would be nearly impossible for any parents to raise their children from a morally neutral perspective and it is not advisable to attempt to do so. Children are not, after all, born with the capacity for critical reflection and must for a time be given guidance with respect to what is demanded of virtuous and moral persons. The fact that the children are taught from a particular perspective does not preclude rational evaluation of this way of life at a later time. Critical reflection on a particular way of life may in fact be more meaningful if a child has first gained a deep understanding of that way of life and what is at stake in rejecting or accepting it as one’s own. An understanding of a particular way of life is also likely to give one a starting point for reflection and comparison that is unattainable when all options are regarded from the beginning as neutral and equal, a condition that is, as we have already noted, not realistically attainable or educationally desirable. Consider an argument made by Randall Curren (1998, 2000). Curren, who views religious schooling as highly indoctrinative, denies similar charges against his own recommendations that children receive a moral education in particular virtues. Curren (1998) claims that children who learn to think about moral virtues “will become morally serious and committed critical thinkers, motivated by conceptions of themselves as both moral and devoted to truth” (p. 6). Curren argues that although children necessarily will form certain perceptions and sentiments as a result of such an education, this does not preclude future examination of those beliefs. A similar argument could be made with regard to religious education. Certainly, religion stimulates consideration of some very significant aspects of human existence and encourages children to think more deeply about their own lives than they may otherwise have done. AN UNWARRANTED FEAR OF RELIGIOUS SCHOOLING 283 Learning to think about important and serious matters is likely to develop, not impair, one’s capacity for critical reflection. If this is the case, then religious education is much more compatible with the development of critical thinking skills than Brighouse and many other liberal theorists assume it to be, and should not be so quickly dismissed as a barrier to children’s future autonomy. Cultural Identity School choice is sometimes defended on the basis of parent rights to protect their particular ethnic or religious culture from erosion and to enable them to pass their way of life on to their children. However, inasmuch as he considers an upbringing in such particular ways of life harmful to the development of autonomy, Brighouse argues that parents have no right to raise their children from within their particular culture or religion or to send them to religious schools. Unlike Taylor (1994), who argues that governments can both be liberal and also “weigh the importance of uniform treatment against the importance of cultural survival and opt sometimes in favour of the latter” (p. 61), Brighouse doubts that liberal governments should take measures to ensure the survival of threatened cultures. According to Brighouse, parents cannot claim the right to their culture as a basis for controlling their children’s education or denying them an education for autonomy. Brighouse claims that, even if children are raised exclusively in their parents’ culture, “there is no guarantee that that will be their culture in adulthood” (p. 101). Brighouse (2000) says, Fundamentally children do not have a culture. Ensuring that children are being raised exclusively in the culture of their parents is not granting them their right to culture because they do not have their own culture. To suggest that they do is to suggest that they are the kinds of beings that can evaluate and assess options available to them, which they are not. (p. 101) Brighouse’s claim here is most curious. In this passage, he seems to suggest that culture is something that one does not have until one chooses it after critical reflection on the available options. However, this seems scarcely credible. Is Brighouse suggesting that, upon maturity, one chooses one’s ethnicity or religion, having until that point lived without 284 FRANCES M. KROEKER & STEPHEN P. NORRIS any cultural affiliation? Certainly adults can, after reflection, choose to abandon cultural customs and traditions and to reject certain moral virtues held in their childhood. Conversely, they may choose to adopt the traditions or the language of a new culture. Such choices seem to require the adaptation or rejection of cultures of which they are already members. How did they attain that original membership? Did it become theirs only on achieving adulthood, or could they claim it as their own from childhood? Brighouse would agree for the most part, we believe, that individuals are born into particular cultures. Cultural communities, says Van Dyke (1995), are “groups of persons, predominately of common descent, who think of themselves as collectively possessing a separate identity based on race or on shared cultural characteristics, usually language or religion” (p. 32). Membership in these cultural communities is seldom chosen, but rather it is assumed because of the circumstances of one’s birth and the acculturation experienced as one grows up within the group into which one is born. Margalit and Raz (1995), in considering group rights and group membership, argue that cultural membership is largely involuntary: To be a good Irishman, it is true, is an achievement. But to be an Irishman is not. Qualification for membership is usually determined by nonvoluntary criteria. One cannot choose to belong. One belongs because of who one is. One can come to belong to such groups, but only by changing, e.g., by adopting their culture, changing one’s tastes and habits accordingly – a very slow process indeed. (pp. 85‐86) We are Irish or French, Catholic or Jewish, because of the circumstances of our birth. Whether we would have chosen that culture given the chance to do so, we would be very surprised during our growing up years to find it was not our culture, just as we would be surprised to find out the family we were born into and grew up in was not our family. Children develop an identity in a dialogical relationship with the family and the particular group surrounding the family. They participate from early childhood in family activities, including religious observances, and find stability and comfort in the traditions the family maintains. It is only natural that as children share in the cultural, perhaps religious, life of AN UNWARRANTED FEAR OF RELIGIOUS SCHOOLING 285 their parents that they will come to identify with that culture as their own. This point is reiterated by Colin Macleod (2002), who points out that “children come to have a sense of self partly by locating themselves in a distinct family history and ongoing participation in the practices identified as valuable by the family” (p. 215). When parents share with children the history, beliefs, and traditions of their culture, they provide them with a sense of identity and security in a place that is uniquely theirs. If, for the most part, individuals belong to a cultural group because they have been born and raised in that culture, then it is reasonable to assume that the culture of the group is theirs from the time they first become, even if not by choice, a member of that group. It is rather pointless and wrongheaded to claim that children do not have culture of their own simply because they have not autonomously chosen membership in a particular group, when for the most part cultural membership is involuntary. Likewise, it is pointless to distinguish between being a part of, or member of, a cultural group, which is an undeniable social fact for most children, and having one’s own culture, which is what Brighouse denies to children. We cannot discern the difference. If children do have their own culture, as we believe they do, then, contrary to what Brighouse claims, cultural claims can be made on behalf of the children who are members of those groups. Any argument in defence of group protection is as much for the benefit of the children as for the adult members of the group. Even if Brighouse were to concede this point, it may not affect his claim that parents must prepare their children to live in cultures other than the one in which they are raised. Because children may quit their parents’ culture, Brighouse argues that we must prepare them to live well in whatever culture eventually will be theirs. Whereas elsewhere he expresses regrets about the isolation experienced by religious families, Brighouse, in making this argument, suggests that all children are to some degree exposed to mainstream culture, and that it is therefore essential that they be equipped to scrutinize both their own way of life and others they encounter. Although they may seldom entirely abandon the culture of their birth, it is true that as children reach maturity and gain life experience, they tend to reject at least some aspects of their 286 FRANCES M. KROEKER & STEPHEN P. NORRIS ancestral culture and adopt patterns of behaviour from new cultures they encounter. This is an inevitable result of the multicultural nature of much of the Western world. Until children reach some degree of maturity, however, we would be wise to encourage parents in their efforts to raise their children in a stable moral environment. This encouragement may include support for school choice and religious schooling because without such support some cultural and religious communities may be unable to protect their communities from erosion by pervasive secular and consumer societies. Brighouse of course claims that there is no reason to take measures to ensure that cultures continue to exist, in part because evidence shows that people can adapt easily to changing cultures. This may be true. However, it is not an argument against supporting communities in their attempts to preserve some aspects of their particular cultures. People are able to adapt to all manner of situations, some of them tragically unfortunate. That we are adaptable does not suggest that we should allow cultures to disappear, if options exist to preserve ways of life that are meaningful to families and their children. If reasonable options such as school choice allow the preservation of particular religious or other communities, such choice should be a legitimate possibility for these communities. Far from being harmful, growing up in a distinctive community can provide children with the sense of identity crucial to engaging in a self‐fulfilling, autonomous future, including the self‐assured adoption of another community later in life if that is their choice. CONCLUSION We do not doubt that Brighouse and others who are so quick to label religious schooling as harmful have at least some basis for their conclusions. Most of us are aware of religious groups that bring up children in ways that we abhor, and to whose educational efforts we would not lend support. Knowledge of the objectionable practices of some religious groups sometimes makes it difficult to defend support for any religious schooling. Concerns about some religious practices have led to a rather unreasonable fear of religious schooling in general. It is much too hasty, however, to assume that all or even most religious communities raise their children in ways that would impair their future AN UNWARRANTED FEAR OF RELIGIOUS SCHOOLING 287 autonomy or harm them in any way. We would not presume to make broad judgements about particular religious groups based solely on their identity as fundamentalist, orthodox, or even liberal religious organizations. Within any of these groups, one may find educational practices that do not in any way undermine democracy. For the most part, the theorists and citizens who built our liberal society had religious roots and upbringings, and most of schooling was at one time sectarian in nature. This did not impede the development of autonomous individuals or societies devoted to justice. Religious families care deeply about their children and generally raise them in caring and responsible ways. Many, perhaps most, religious groups are concerned about individual rights and freedoms, including the rights and interests of their own children and the children of those whose parents think differently from them. Brighouse and other liberal educators cannot make any general and conclusive claims about the harm religious education imposes on children. Many religious parents and religious schools offer children an education that encourages and supports their future autonomy and does not in any way undermine the goals or aims of civic education in liberal democracies. Such a conclusion has important implications for public policy. We have already referred to arguments made by the government of Ontario in resisting appeals for the funding of religious schools. That province, in more than one case, has claimed that religious schools would undermine the goals of liberal democracies (Adler v. Ontario, 1996; ICCPR 1999), fears very similar to those expressed by Brighouse. In its response to religious claimants in Adler v. Ontario, for example, the province argued that funding religious schools would stand in the way of the goal to build a more tolerant society, a claim that at least one justice upheld. Chief Justice McLachlin argued, in this case, that “the encouragement of a more tolerant harmonious multicultural society” (p. 10) was reason enough to deny funding to religious schools. Like Brighouse, McLachlin claims that religious schooling diminishes the multicultural exposure of children and that this “lack of exposure, in turn, would diminish the mutual tolerance and understanding of Ontarians of diverse cultures and religions for one another”(Adler v. Ontario, 1996, 215, 217). However, we have shown that these fears are unwarranted and that religious 288 FRANCES M. KROEKER & STEPHEN P. NORRIS schooling need not result in isolation or intolerance or undermine children’s future autonomy. If, as we have suggested, religious schooling is not necessarily or even in most instances a barrier to a satisfactory civic education, the fears expressed by Brighouse and other liberals are largely unwarranted. It would be reasonable, then, to consider the possibility that religious schools have a legitimate place in the liberal democratic state. REFERENCES Adler, V. Ontario. (1996). 3 S.C.R. 609. Arneson, R. J., & Shapiro, I. (1996). Democratic autonomy and religious freedom : A critique of Wisconsin v. Yoder. In R. J. Arneson & I. Shapiro (Eds.), Nomos 38: Political order (pp. 365‐411). New York: New York University Press. Brighouse, H. (1998). Civic education and liberal legitimacy. Ethics, 108, 719‐745. Brighouse, H. (2000). School choice and social justice. New York: Oxford University Press. Burtt, S. (1994). Religious parents, secular schools: A liberal defense of an illiberal education. Review of Politics, 56, 51‐70. Burtt, S. (1996). In defense of Yoder: Parental authority and the public schools. In I. Shapiro & R. Hardin (Eds.), Nomos 38: Political order (pp. 412‐437). New York: New York University Press. Callan, E. (1997). Creating citizens. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Callan, E. (2000). Discrimination and religious schooling. In W. Kymlicka & W. Norman (Eds.), Citizenship in diverse societies (pp. 45‐67). New York: Oxford University Press. Curren, R. (1998). Critical thinking and the unity of virtue. In S. Tozer (Ed.), Philosophy of education 1998 (pp. 158‐165). Urbana, IL: Philosophy of Education Society. Curren, R. (2000). Aristotle on the necessity of public education. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Dwyer, J. G. (1998). Religious schools v. children’s rights. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. AN UNWARRANTED FEAR OF RELIGIOUS SCHOOLING 289 Galston, W. (1989). Civic education in the liberal state. In N. Rosenblum (Ed.), Liberalism and the moral life (pp. 89‐102). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Galston, W. (1995). Two concepts of liberalism. Ethics, 105, 516‐534. Gutmann, A. (1999). Democratic education. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (1966). Adopted and opened for signature, ratification and accession by General Assembly resolution 2200A (XXI) of 16 December 1966. Entry into force 23 March 1976, in accordance with Article 49. Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights. Loberbaum, M. (1995). Learning from mistakes: Resources of tolerance in Jewish tradition. In Y. Tamir (Ed.), Democratic education in a multicultural state (pp. 115‐126). Oxford: Blackwell. Lomasky, L. (1987). Persons, rights and the moral community. New York: Oxford University Press. Macedo, S. (2000). Diversity and distrust: Civic education in a multicultural democracy. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Macleod, C. M. (2002). Liberal equality and the affective family. In D. Archard & C. M. MacLeod (Eds.), The moral and political status of children (pp. 212‐
230). New York: Oxford University Press. Margalit, A., & Raz, J. (1995). National self‐determination. In W. Kymlicka (Ed.), The rights of minority cultures (pp. 79‐92). New York: Oxford University Press. Martin, J. R. (1992). Critical thinking for a humane world. In S. P. Norris (Ed.), The generalizability of critical thinking (pp. 163‐180). New York: Teachers College Press. McLaughlin, T. H. (1992). The ethics of separate schools. In M. Leicester & M. Taylor (Eds.), Ethics, ethnicity, and education (pp. 114‐136). London, UK: Kogan Page. Salomone, R. (2000). Visions of schooling: Conscience, community, and common education. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Raz, J. (1994). Ethics in the public domain. New York: Oxford University Press. 290 FRANCES M. KROEKER & STEPHEN P. NORRIS Taylor, C. (1994). The politics of recognition. In A. Gutmann (Ed.), Multiculturalism (pp. 25‐74). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Van Dyke, V. (1995). The individual, the state, and ethnic communities in political theory. In W. Kymlicka (Ed.), The rights of minority cultures (pp. 31‐56). New York: Oxford University Press. Frances M. Kroeker is the principal of an alternative Christian school in the Edmonton Public School Board. She has a doctorate in Philosophy of Education from the Faculty of Education, University of Alberta. Stephen P. Norris is Canada Research Chair and Director of the Centre for Research in Youth, Science Teaching and Learning, University of Alberta. His research interests include the Philosophy of Educational Research and Science Education Policy. RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY: TRANSFORMATION AMONG SCHOOL‐BASED MENTAL HEALTH PROFESSIONALS WORKING IN NUNAVUT Christine Wihak University of Calgary & Noorfarah Merali University of Alberta Eight non‐Aboriginal school counselors, who temporarily lived in Nunavut to provide services to Inuit clients, were interviewed regarding changes in their sense of self and their racial/cultural identity as a result of cross‐cultural immersion. They were also engaged in an arts‐based exercise where they pictorially represented perceived self‐changes. Analysis of counsellors’ narratives of their experiences in Nunavut and their art work revealed an increasing awareness of their “Whiteness” and their participation in the colonizing culture. The counsellors also displayed changes in cultural worldview that directly paralleled the socio‐centric and eco‐
centric nature of the Inuit culture, precipitating culturally sensitive counselling practice. Key words: racial/cultural identity; whiteness; Aboriginal; school counselling; multicultural competence CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 291‐322 292 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI Huit conseillers pédagogiques non autochtones temporairement en poste au Nunavut pour fournir des services à une clientèle inuite ont été interviewés au sujet de l’évolution de leur perception de leur identité personnelle et raciale/culturelle à la suite de leur immersion dans une autre culture. Ces conseillers ont également participé à un exercice créatif dans le cadre duquel ils devaient représenter en images les changements qu’ils avaient perçus chez eux. L’analyse des propos de ces conseillers au sujet de leurs expériences au Nunavut et de leurs créations ont révélé une conscientisation accrue de leur appartenance à la race blanche et de leur participation à une culture colonisatrice. Les auteurs notent également que la vision du monde de ces conseillers pédagogiques a changé et ce, en lien direct avec la nature sociocentrique et écocentrique de la culture inuite, ce qui a favorisé une prestation de services tenant compte des différences culturelles. Mots clés : identité raciale/culturelle, race blanche, autochtones, conseiller pédagogique, compétence multiculturelle _________________ Aboriginal people represent one of Canada’s fastest growing cultural communities (Statistics Canada, 2003, 2004). This group consists of the Inuit people of Nunavut, First Nations communities, and the Metis (Assembly of First Nations, 1994). As the original inhabitants of Canada who were subject to colonization and decades of government policies aimed at forced assimilation, Aboriginal people continue to experience widespread racism and discrimination and are recognized as the country’s most disadvantaged group (Waldram, 1997). In the history of Canadian society, residential schools served as one of the vehicles for assimilation of Aboriginal people into Canadian culture by forcibly separating children from their parents and Elders (Assembly of First Nations). According to Indian Residential Schools Resolution Canada, (IRSRC, 2006), a federal government agency handling residential school abuse claims from Inuit and First Nations people, children who attended these schools were punished for speaking their own language and for practising their culture or spirituality. Many children were also verbally, physically, and sexually abused. Today, many Aboriginal people and communities experience a multitude of problems associated with the intergenerational trauma of residential schools. These include chronic poverty, family breakdown, low academic achievement, depression, RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY 293 anxiety, and high suicide rates (Anawak, 2000; Korhonen, 2002; Waldram, 1997). In recent years, increasing numbers of Aboriginal people have relocated to urban environments where they have the opportunity to economically, socially, and culturally integrate (Statistics Canada, 2004). As a result, Aboriginal students have a significant presence in contemporary Canadian schools and are integrating in post‐secondary institutions (Ghosh & Abdi, 2004). The influx of Aboriginal students into urban Canadian school environments recreates the historic situation where they are in an educational system led by members of the dominant group in society. To correct the injustices of the past and respect the culture and history of Aboriginal youth enrolled in mainstream schools, educational professionals need to develop competence in working cross‐culturally (Gopaul‐McNicol, 1997; Gosine, 2002). Holcomb‐McCoy (2004, 2005) postulates that multicultural competence involves three components: (a) an awareness of one’s own racial and cultural heritage and how it has impacted one’s personal experiences, (b) knowledge of the history, culture, and norms of diverse student groups, and (c) the ability to deliver educational and mental health related interventions that are congruent with the cultures and worldviews of diverse students. The need for teachers to be sensitive to racial/cultural issues is well recognized (Gosine, 2002; Kelly & Brandes, 2001; Solomon & Levine‐Rasky, 2003), limited attention has been paid to the need for school and university‐based counsellors and psychologists to develop multicultural competence (Wallace, 2000). School counsellors and school psychologists play a central role in conducting intellectual assessments that may affect educational placement decisions, as well as in responding to students’ academic problems, interpersonal problems, or mental health needs (Holcomb‐McCoy). When school/university mental health professionals lack competence in working cross‐culturally, culturally diverse children and families may receive inadequate services (Constantine, 2001; Rogers et al., 1999; Schwallie‐Giddis, Anstrom, Sanchez, Sardi & Granato, 2004). Existing research suggests that misunderstandings of Aboriginal ways of thinking and communicating may play a role in the overrepresentation 294 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI of Aboriginal children in special education classes (Myles & Harold, 1988). Also, it is possible that Aboriginal students’ experiences of racism and discrimination could be trivialized if counsellors from the dominant group do not become cognizant of their privileged racial status. In light of the prevalence of mental health concerns emerging from intergenerational trauma within the Aboriginal community (Assembly of First Nations, 1994; Waldram, 1997), it is imperative that school‐based mental health professionals develop the self‐awareness, culture‐specific knowledge, and culturally sensitive intervention skills to effectively meet the unique needs of Aboriginal students. Despite the acknowledged importance of multicultural competence, Canadian educational professionals appear to be lacking expertise in this area. Arthur and Januszkowski (2001) conducted a large–scale study of the multicultural training experiences and competencies of counsellors affiliated with the Canadian Counselling Association (CCA), is the main national professional association to which school counsellors belong. The majority of the respondents (approximately 79 per cent) identified themselves as members of the dominant group (White or European Canadians). The results suggested that only one‐third of counsellors who had been practising for ten years or more had taken at least one course or supervised practicum in multicultural counselling. The counsellors’ responses to a self‐report instrument assessing their racial/cultural awareness, knowledge of diverse groups, and culturally‐sensitive intervention strategies suggested low levels of multicultural competence (Arthur & Januszkowski, 2001). Brooks, Mintz, and Dobson (2004) obtained similar results in a study of diversity education in Canadian training programs for school and community psychologists. A very interesting emerging finding in the Arthur and Januszkowski (2001) research was that greater levels of multicultural competence were related to higher levels of exposure to cultural diversity in the counsellors’ student caseloads. Consistent with this finding, Helms (1990, 1995) identified cross‐cultural contact as a key factor in precipitating White Racial Identity Development. Helms’ model of White Racial Identity Development (WRID) is widely cited in the educational literature (McAllister & Irvine, 2000). For example, Solomon and Levine‐
Rasky (2003) used this model to explore WRID in pre‐service teachers RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY 295 during placements in multicultural/multiracial classrooms. According to the model, WRID progresses through a sequence of identity statuses. In the initial Contact status, people are exposed to cultural and racial differences. The cross‐cultural contact leads into the Disintegration status, when this exposure prompts confusion and anxiety about the meaning or implications of one’s racial and cultural heritage. This status may then be followed by Reintegration, characterized by feelings of superiority of one’s own racial group or Pseudo‐independence, characterized by superficial tolerance of other groups. A period of search to recognize White privilege and to redefine a White identity is characteristic of the Immersion/Emersion status. The Autonomy status involves the White person moving beyond racial self‐knowledge and knowledge of other groups to make a conscious commitment to anti‐
racist behaviour and practice (Helms, 1990, 1995). Helms’ model suggests that similar to teachers working in multilingual and multicultural classrooms, school‐based mental health professionals may experience racial identity transformations based on the nature of their interactions with the diverse students they serve. McAllister and Irvine (2000) reviewed a variety of research studies exploring the relationship between racial/cultural identity development and cross‐cultural competence in educational professionals (teachers and mental health professionals). Their review showed that higher levels of cultural/racial identity development are consistently associated with higher levels of multicultural competence, non‐racist behaviour, and knowledge about other cultures and races. Although several authors make note of the importance of cross‐cultural contact for identity development and multicultural competence (Gopaul‐McNicol, 1997; Neville, Heppner, Louie, Thompson, Brooks, & Baker, 1996; Ottavi, Pope‐Davis & Dings, 1994; Ponterotto, Alexander, & Grieger, 1995; Sue & Sue, 2003), no study has ascertained how such contact advances the racial/cultural identity status and competence of counsellors working in Canadian schools. Although the concepts of White Identity and White privilege have been discussed extensively in the United States (McIntosh, 1990), Canada’s focus on multiculturalism has tended to create a colour‐
blind approach to issues of race (Dupre, 2006; Lindo, 2006). This is despite the significance of racial and cultural identity in both teacher‐
296 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI student and counsellor‐student interactions in the Canadian educational system (Shick, 2000; Solomon, Potelli, Daniel & Campbell, 2005). The purpose of the present study was to investigate the experiences of school/university counsellors of Western European or Canadian heritage who temporarily relocated to Nunavut to work with Inuit students. The research had two primary objectives: (a) to examine perceived changes in counsellors’ sense of self or racial/cultural identity as a result of cross‐cultural immersion, and (b) to uncover specific experiences or critical incidents that prompted these changes. Counsellors’ relocation to Canada’s far north would change their status from dominant group members in southern Canada to racial/cultural minorities in Nunavut, an experience which could lead to increased awareness of Whiteness (Harper, 2002; Wihak, 2004). Furthermore, as members of the colonizing culture, the counsellors would be placed in a situation where their racial/cultural identity would have historical significance for the Inuit students they work with, increasing its salience and relevance to their practice. Nunavut consists of small, close‐knit communities, ranging in size approximnately 25 to 6500 people. The population of Nunavut is 85 per cent Inuit, with Inuktitut as their first language (Government of Nunavut, 2004). Colonization in the Arctic region created a plethora of social problems in Inuit communities (e.g. family violence, poor academic achievement, mental health concerns), similar to those of other Canadian Aboriginal groups (Korhonen, 2002). Mental health professionals working in educational settings in Nunavut address these issues in the lives of children, parents, and communities. In their work, they are challenged by the unique cultural worldview of the Inuit. Wenzel (1991) describes the cultural identity and worldview of the Inuit as both socio‐centric or community centered, and eco‐centric, where human beings, animals, and the natural environment (land) form “a single cognitive community” (p.140). Counsellors’ experiences working with Inuit clients would inform the process of training school‐based mental health professionals to develop competence in working with other Canadian Aboriginal groups. RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY 297 METHOD Participants Sampling approach and criteria. Participants were selected through snowball sampling from the first author’s existing professional network (Patton, 2002). This author had relocated to Nunavut for 10 years to work in educational and counselling roles with Inuit students. Only counsellors who did not have an ongoing working relationship with the researcher were recruited for involvement in the present study. There were three criteria for study participation: a) the counsellors were born and raised in Canada, were of Western European or Canadian origin, and were native English speakers; b) they were employed in educational settings in Nunavut for a minimum of two years; and c) they had returned to southern Canada for a minimum of one year before this study began. The first criterion ensured that the participants would experience a change in status to becoming both a visible and linguistic minority when they relocated to Nunavut, creating heightened racial/cultural consciousness. The second criterion was based on previous research that identified two years of cross‐cultural immersion as a prerequisite for significant intercultural understanding and related personal identity change (Bennett, 1986). The third criterion was derived from Schild‐
Jones’ (1999) finding that sojourners need time to reflect on their cross‐
cultural immersion experiences after they return home to discover their significance and personal impact. Participants’ background and experiences. Eight female counsellors participated in this research. Information about the counsellors’ backgrounds, professional roles in Nunavut schools and post‐secondary institutions, and the duration of their sojourns is presented below. Pseudonyms chosen by the participants are used in the place of their real names. Demographic information such as participants’ ages and the specific years during which they lived in Nunavut is excluded from the descriptions to prevent identification. Bev spent 19 years in Nunavut working as a school guidance counsellor and then as the director of a community counselling agency. She had worked with Inuit people living in Ottawa prior to her sojourn. 298 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI While in Nunavut, Bev married an Inuit man and learned to speak Inuktitut. At the time of the study, Bev had been back in southern Canada for a period of one year, continuing her work in the mental health sector. Meeka, a guidance counsellor and experienced multicultural educator, spent 10 years in Nunavut directing a life skills program for Inuit youth, and providing services in a community school to children with behaviour disorders. Meeka returned to southern Canada seven years before this study took place. Upon her return, she continued to provide counselling services to Aboriginal youth. Debbie, a graduate level social worker (MSW) with previous experience working with Aboriginal bands in Alberta, spent seven years living in Nunavut involved in both direct counselling and counsellor training in a college Social Work program. At the time of the study, it had been six years since she had returned to southern Canada to teach multicultural counselling in a community college. Deborah, a criminologist who had participated in numerous foreign aid programs, spent six years involved in counselling and counsellor training in a college setting in Nunavut. She had been back in southern Canada for nine years at the time of this study, pursuing work in international and intercultural education. Fluff, a psychiatric social worker (MSW), lived in Nunavut for four years as a Mental Health Specialist, which involved work with teachers, parents and school children. Her previous cross‐cultural experience included working with Aboriginal bands in several provinces. She returned to southern Canada 10 years before this study took place and continued to work with Aboriginal communities. Pat, a graduate level social worker (MSW), had worked with the Mi’qmaq people in Nova Scotia prior to relocating to Nunavut for four years to coordinate a Community Wellness Program, which involved extensive work in schools. She had returned to southern Canada one year before this study took place, but returned to Nunavut periodically to work with Inuit men who had been sexually abused as children by a non‐Inuit teacher. Danya, a doctoral level psychologist, lived in Nunavut for two years to work as a counsellor at a community college. This was her first cross‐
RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY 299 cultural counselling experience. She had been back in southern Canada for seven years at the time of the study, working with immigrant students as a university counsellor. Rebecca, a social worker (BSW) with previous cross‐cultural experience teaching English in South America, spent two years working in Nunavut. Her generic community counsellor position involved work with adult students at the local community college. She returned to southern Canada two years prior to the time of this study to pursue a career in the mental health sector. Interview and Arts‐Based Data Collection The first author conducted individual interviews with the counsellor participants about their experiences of living in Nunavut and working in a counselling role with Inuit clients. The specific focus of the interviews was on participants’ perceived changes in their sense of self or racial/cultural identity as a result of cross‐cultural immersion. The interviews lasted from one to three hours, and took place at a time and location convenient for each participant. To deeply explore participants’ perceived self‐changes, each interview began with an arts‐based exercise adapted from the work of Norris (1995) and Betensky (2001). Each participant was first asked to write/draw her chosen pseudonym on an index card in such a way that the shape, colour, size, placement, and detailing of the letters in the name reflected a picture of herself before going to Nunavut. Each participant was then asked to write/draw her pseudonym in a way that reflected how she saw herself at the present time on another index card. The participants were subsequently invited to narrate each name drawing, comparing and contrasting the two self‐expressions or reflections. The interview continued with a dialogue about how participants’ sense of self and their racial/cultural identities were affected by their experiences in Nunavut, and about the specific experiences that prompted any identity change. Three participants introduced their own variations to the arts‐based exercise. Bev chose to do a series of drawings spanning from the beginning of her 19‐year sojourn to a year after she left Nunavut. Danya drew three names: Before, Immediately After, and Now. Debbie provided a 300 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI word picture rather than a drawing, indicating that she felt her artistic skill was not sufficient to convey the personal meaning of her sojourn. Rebecca declined to participate in this exercise, providing instead a narrative of her Nunavut experience and responding to direct questions related to identity change. Participants’ narrations of their name drawings and study interviews were audio‐taped and subsequently transcribed verbatim by the principal researcher or a trained transcriber. Interview transcripts were sent to each participant for review. During a scheduled follow‐up interview to seek clarification about drawing narrations or additional information about salient ideas emerging from the initial interview, each participant was given the opportunity to add, delete, or change material in her transcript. With the participants’ permission, review interviews were also audio‐taped and transcribed, and relevant comments were included in the data analysis. Data Analysis Participants’ narrations of their name drawings were analyzed in conjunction with related information in their interview disclosures. Based on the transcripts of the drawing narrations and interviews for each participant, a chronological narrative of the sojourning experience was constructed for each counsellor. Polkinghorne (1995) describes a narrative as a story with a beginning, middle, and end, where specific events or actions are described in their original context within an embedded plot. The sequencing of narratives for this study included counsellors’ reasons for moving to Nunavut, the adjustments they were faced with upon arriving in Nunavut, the cultural and racial consciousness‐raising experiences prompted by cross‐cultural contact, self and racial/cultural identity changes arising out of these experiences, and participants’ exit experiences. The audit trail (Merriam, 2002) from the raw transcript to the stories is easily traceable. The narratives were sent to the participants by mail for review and/or modification, and were discussed in a follow‐up phone call. Participants’ confirmed that the narratives accurately reflected their sojourning experiences. Polkinghorne’s (1995) method of analysis of narratives was used to identify shared experiences that prompted identity or self‐change among RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY 301 the counsellors, and common types of resulting changes that were demonstrated in the name drawings. In contrast to predefined coding systems for examining qualitative data, Polkinghorne’s method is a data‐
driven analysis process, which allowed participants’ narrations of their drawings and the meanings they attributed to the self‐changes they described to be categorized into themes consistent with their own interpretations. Analysis of narratives was a two‐step process: (a) initially, salient themes related to self‐change were identified within each participant’s chronological narrative, and (b) there was a search for congruities in themes and related exemplars across participants (Polkinghorne). Using this analysis process, various aspects of participants’ drawings were used to exemplify the specific types of identity changes that they suggested the drawings represented in their narratives, precluding alternative explanations that might be inconsistent with participants’ self‐appraisals. The following section describes the key self‐changes emerging from counsellors’ sojourns in Nunavut, and the cross‐cultural immersion experiences that precipitated them. EMERGING THEMES Analysis of participants’ interview responses and name drawings identified four themes: (a) increased White racial consciousness, (b) feeling unity with nature, (c) cultural shifts in worldview, and (d) recognizing universal human connections. Excerpts from participants’ interview disclosures are used to elucidate emerging themes. Name drawings are shown as exemplars of specific types of personal transformation. Increased White Racial Consciousness The counsellors explained that the experience of relocating to Nunavut sensitized them to their Whiteness. They communicated a newfound awareness of their status as members of the dominant group in Canadian society that historically victimized and colonized the Inuit. The increased complexity of their post‐Nunavut name drawings and changes in color reflected changes in their racial identities as a result of their sojourns. 302 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI Pat described her experience living and working in a small community, which was over 90 per cent Inuit. “It was really one of the first times that I was ever a minority.…It was an uncomfortable feeling, getting off that plane and looking down and thinking ‘Oooh, I’m being examined and stared at’. It was really strange.” Rebecca elaborated “When you’re part of the majority culture…you’re just normal….Being in a place where you are a minority forces you to realize, ‘Hey…I have a culture too’. Especially when you are being told how many times a day that you are qablunaaq (Inuktitut word for White)!” Rebecca highlighted, if she were describing herself, “I’m White would not be at the top of my list.” According to Fluff, the discomfort associated with this racial awareness is due to the fact that “it’s a difficult thing to identify as being of a race and culture that is oppressive to a lot of the world, and to recognize that…one’s culture exercises power in negative ways over other people.” In response, many participants expressed mixed feelings about being White. Rebecca’s feelings ranged from “feeling very guilty to feeling kind of defensive.” She sometimes felt that what had happened to the Inuit was not her fault. “What’s happened, happened and I didn’t do it.” Many of the participants attributed changes in their use of color in their pre‐ and post‐Nunavut name drawings to increasing awareness of cultural diversity and of their own racial distinctiveness. Pat’s name drawings exemplify this trend (see Figure 1). Pat’s After Nunavut drawing shows the use of more vibrant colors to display her name, in contrast to the simple lines and somber colours of her initial drawing. She also added additional color and shading to the middle letter of her name (a) in the second drawing, making it stand out. In her narration of her post‐Nunavut drawing, she stated “I became a little more colourful because I allowed myself to be different and to accept that.” RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY 303 Figure 1. Pat’s Before and After Nunavut Name Drawing Feeling Unity with Nature Besides heightened racial self‐consciousness, the counsellors showed a heightened awareness of the natural environment and their connection to the land as a result of their sojourns to Nunavut. Most of the participants’ post‐Nunavut name drawings reflected this change through the depiction of various aspects of nature that were not emphasized in their initial drawings, such as trees, grass, the sun, and clouds. Through their work with Inuit students, the counsellors learned that “the Inuit people have a spiritual connection to the Land” (Fluff). Fluff elaborated “…when they were out on the Land, when they were overburdened with worries and fears, they could see them (spiritual sources of help and problem solutions, such as ancestors).” Danya expanded on this idea by describing clients’ perceptions that when out on the land, animals could also offer them emotional assistance. She described a situation where a group of caribou surrounded one of her highly distressed clients while they were having a counselling session out on the tundra. Although she was initially very frightened by this occurrence, she spoke about the insight she gained into the Inuit worldview when the client assured her that they “just came really to 304 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI support her.” Danya described the encounter with the caribou as a “changing‐of‐boundaries experience,” leading her to enter into a relationship with the natural environment rather than just with other human beings. Deborah noted that the land and its various life forms like trees, plants, and animals were linked to culturally shared “alternate versions of reality” among the Inuit (e.g. visions of spiritual help). The participants expressed that their physical relocation to the Arctic helped them to appreciate this spiritual affinity for the natural environment. Deborah explained: You get a sense of just how small you are when you stand at the top of the world and you can see nothing but horizon all around you…That had a profound spiritual impact that emphasized to me…our place in the world, and…the importance of treading gently on the earth and dealing gently with people. (Debrah) Bev’s name drawings and narrations highlight changes in the counsellors’ self‐construals related to heightened environmental consciousness (see Figure 2 and Figure 3). In her Before Nunavut name drawing, she embedded the letters of her name in straight lines and small curves/spirals, explaining “I myself am always represented by a straight line. And then whatever is added on the side shows what I am.” The picture shows her name as disconnected from surrounding parts of the picture, such as the little “igloo” down below. Describing her After Nunavut name drawing, Bev stated: “This has changed me immensely, culturally…I have my roots down deep into the earth and the water and arms reaching up to the sky. I know the land intimately in a way that you can never know the land down here.” RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY Figure 2. Bev’s Before Nunavut Drawing Figure 3. Bev’s After Nunavut Drawing 305 306 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI Cultural Shifts in Worldview The self‐changes experienced by the counsellors moved beyond the level of racial and environmental consciousness. Participants’ interview disclosures suggested that their experiences working with Inuit students and families within their Indigenous cultural context prompted dramatic shifts in the way they understood the world and a client presenting problems. They reported a cognitive shift from a linear way of thinking to the circular framework of the Inuit people. This cognitive cultural change was evident from the rearrangement of letters and their positions in participants’ pre‐ and post‐sojourn name drawings. Debbie described the change she experienced as “a revolution” in her mind. She stated: “My thinking and the way I thought had nothing to do with the people I was involved with…they didn’t think the same way I did… It didn’t come as a gradual awareness, my brain literally changed.” Debbie explained that the nature of the change involved moving away from a “linear framework,” where cause and effect for a problem are clear and distinct and personal responsibility for problems is emphasized. She described moving towards a “circular way of thinking,” where all people relevant to the problem may have contributed to it and may play a part in its resolution. “It’s a matter of including things (teachers, parents etc.) not eliminating things (possible causes of the problem).” Deborah explained that this type of cultural shift in thinking was prompted by critical incidents where she made mistakes in her selection of counselling strategies or interventions. She described a situation where she mistakenly imposed a linear framework when working with a case of abuse; she encouraged the abused client to get out of the abusive family situation, while failing to acknowledge the need for the abuser and family to receive assistance and intervention. Discussing how the local Inuit women’s advisory group responded to her intervention, she shared: “As a body, these six women picked up their chairs and…excluded me completely from the discussion. The women didn’t speak to me for a few days. I just didn’t exist.” Rebecca described similar learning experiences, eventually reaching a point where before meeting with a given client, she would ask herself “What is their family situation RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY 307 like?…They may be talking about one piece but how that really spills out and relates to how everyone else is doing is what I need to think about.” Deborah’s name drawings for before she went to Nunavut and after she returned reflects the cognitive restructuring participants described (see Figure 4). Referring to the simplicity of her Before name drawing and her use of small block letters, she said “I was relatively self‐contained and self‐
assured…and life worked fairly much the way I felt it should.” Explaining her rearrangement of the letters of her name with a mixture of sizes and scripts within a larger letter D, Deborah stated that her experiences in Nunavut “made me see a lot more possibilities and made me realize that the world didn’t work the way I thought it did….it taught me a whole lot of new things about going beyond myself and beyond the borders of what was normal for me.” The extension of the letters of her name outside of the borders of the large D captured the border‐crossing she mentioned. Meeka also expressed similar shifts in her worldview as a result of her Nunavut experiences, and the process of learning from mistakes in working with Inuit students and their families. In her initial name drawing, her name is spelled correctly and the letters are presented on a level plane. However, in her post‐Nunavut name drawing, she has misspelled her name and placed some letters higher up and others lower down (see Figure 5). In discussing these changes, Meeka stated: [In looking at the second picture someone may think] Oh, she spelled her name wrong, but I thought it was very telling….If I knew then what I know now, what different things could I have done? Maybe I take some responsibility [for my mistakes] in some way, so I continue to carry that…but I’m ever changing and evolving. (Meeka) 308 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI (a) Before Nunavut (b) After Nunavut Figure 4. Deborah’s Before and After Nunavut Name Drawings Recognizing Universal Human Connections Despite their heightened awareness of racial and cultural differences, the counsellors expressed that their work with Inuit clients increased their RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY 309 appreciation of commonalities between people of diverse cultures and the deep connections between them. As Bev observed, “People are people…They have the same feelings. They have the same ideologies. They have the same psychological make‐up, basically.” Danya echoed Bev when she said, “In so many things, we’re the same. We’re all humans.” Meeka added support to this view when she said, “I learned there’s more similarities than differences in people.” Pat also reflected “In our most basic forms, we all have the same needs, and we all have the same wants to a different degree. My need for power may be different from yours, and for me power may be knowledge, and for you power may be money, but there’s sort of that need to find our place in the world.” Summarizing how these ideas were represented in participants’ lives when they returned to Southern Canada, Danya stated: “When living in Nunavut, what I had in the South was Canada. Now the rest of Canada has come to me….Canada is so much broader than it was before.” The changes in the participants’ pre‐ and post‐Nunavut name drawings illustrated that the recognition of human commonalities seemed to facilitate a feeling of interpersonal connection with the Inuit, a connection that is essential for developing helping relationships across cultures. Fluff’s Before and After Nunavut name drawings and narrations exemplify this change (see Figure 6). She initially described herself as “coming in a spirit of openness to where I was going.” The separation of letters in her name drawing attests to this self‐construal. In contrast, her After Nunavut name drawing connects all the letters of her name with curly lines, symbolizing feelings of “having a lot more interconnection.” DISCUSSION The counsellors’ name drawings and narratives of their sojourning experiences in Nunavut provided poignant evidence of the racial and cultural transformation that occurred through cross‐cultural immersion. The changes in their racial awareness provide support for Helms’ (1990, 1995) contention that cross‐cultural contact is a prerequisite for White Racial Identity Development. Exposure to cultural differences may provide opportunities for counsellors to learn about divergent cultural 310 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI (a) Before Nunavut (b) After Nunavut Figure 5. Meeka’s Before and After Nunavut Name Drawings RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY 311 experiences and worldviews through direct work with clients. The role of cross‐cultural exposure and cross‐cultural learning in the counsellors’ experiences is discussed in this section. Participants described themselves as first becoming aware of being White when they moved to Nunavut and became members of a racial and cultural minority. Reflection about their distinct appearance and cultural norms in contrast to those of the Inuit prompted recognition of their unique cultural heritage. The realization that they were members of the dominant group in Canadian society that played a role in the colonization of the Inuit was described as an emotionally unsettling experience by the counsellors. Their feelings of guilt about being members of the colonizing culture suggested experiences characteristic of the Disintegration status of Helms’ WRID model. Teacher participants in another recent study of cross‐cultural sojourning also expressed some challenges constructing a positive White identity when confronted with historical information about the oppressive role of the dominant group (Harper, 2002). Interestingly, participants expressed defensiveness/pride about being White simultaneously with guilty feelings. Rebecca’s comments showed her desire to separate herself from the “oppressor” identity, she wasn’t directly involved in victimizing the Inuit. Her comments reflected an attempt to assert a positive White identity despite her dominant group status. These reactions attest to some hyper‐vigilance regarding matters of race, a characteristic that Helms (1990, 1995) associated with the Immersion/Emersion status of WRID. The counsellors’ eventual conclusions about human commonalities and needs despite racial and cultural differences seemed to resemble deep expressions of humanism characteristic of people who reach the Autonomy status in Helms’ model and who tend to become advocates for equitable treatment of cultural minorities. Their descriptions of similarities between people of all cultures and appreciation of their realities reflect their development of the universal‐diverse orientation that Constantine, Arorash, Barakett, Blackmon, Donnelly, and Edles (2001) argued is essential for effective cross‐cultural helping relationships in today’s multicultural schools. 312 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI (a) Before Nunavut (b) After Nunavut Figure 6. Fluff’s Before and After Nunavut Name Drawings RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY 313 Although the counsellors showed advanced levels of racial and cultural identity development as a result of their sojourns, they did not appear to move through Helm’s (1990, 1995) model in a systematic way. None of the participants made remarks resembling Helms’ description of the Reintegration status, in which an individual first begins to question and then accepts White superiority. The counsellor participants appear to have skipped this identity status, illustrating the highly individual and variable nature of racial identity development. Holcomb‐McCoy (2004) and Constantine et al. (2001) argued that a critical aspect of multicultural competence among school and university‐
based mental health professionals is exploration of one’s own racial/cultural identity development. They argued that only when counsellors become aware of their own identity status are they in a position to adequately assess and understand the racial and cultural identities of their student clients, and to take these into account in their intervention planning. Sue and Sue (2003) described scenarios where counsellors with limited racial and cultural identity development encountered students/clients with alternate racial identity statuses. Their work showed that the helping process can be compromised by counsellors’ limited racial awareness. When working with students experiencing racism or discrimination in schools, counsellors who do not appreciate the minority experience and who do not recognize their dominant group status may minimize students’ experiences or fail to advocate for school anti‐racism practices and policies. They may also fail to implement intervention strategies that could assist students to develop positive racial identities, despite negative race‐related experiences in the school context. In terms of intervention strategies, the counsellors in this study highlighted situations in working with Inuit clients where their own cultural worldviews and intervention preferences were initially inconsistent with those of their clients. By receiving corrective and sometimes negative feedback/reactions from clients, they came to recognize this incongruence. Client reactions to their “outsider” perspectives resemble acculturative pressures experienced by missionaries sojourning overseas in Navara and James’ (2002) study. These client reactions seemed to serve to reorient the counsellors’ 314 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI perspectives and behaviours, serving as a vehicle for counsellor acculturation into Inuit culture. The participants in this study shared how they learned from their mistakes in working with Inuit clients to try to plan intervention approaches that were more culturally appropriate. The process of working with and learning from Inuit clients appeared to precipitate cultural change as well as racial identity transformation among the counsellors. Wenzel’s (1991) analysis of Inuit cultural identity is helpful in interpreting participants’ disclosures that they had become more connected to Inuit circular ways of thinking and to nature. The participants’ post‐Nunavut name drawings and their narratives reflected a move towards both increasing socio‐centrism and eco‐centrism, which are considered key characteristics of Inuit culture. That is, through immersion in an Inuit milieu, the participants had taken on qualities valued in Inuit culture. Participants described a radical cognitive restructuring process that occurred during their counselling interactions with Inuit students. They began to learn to take other family members and community members into account in conceptualizing students’ presenting problems and in generating problem solutions. The adoption of the “circular” way of thinking they discussed reflects a shift from an individualistic or independent orientation in the dominant group worldview to the interdependent or collectivist orientation in the Inuit worldview. In Constantine’s (2001) view, the change in counsellors’ self‐construals from independent to interdependent would position them well in contemporary Canadian schools, where Aboriginal students and many immigrant groups espouse collectivist cultural orientations. The circular orientation could encourage counsellors to involve parents and members of the cultural community in their children’s education. The counsellors’ narratives and changes in their name drawings also reflected a clear appreciation of the relationship between human beings and the natural environment in the Inuit worldview. They seemed to realize that the land had a special significance for the Inuit (Wenzel, 1991), in connecting them with spiritual sources of assistance, such as the spirits of their ancestors, when they were encountering life difficulties. The changes in counsellors’ name drawings suggested that they not only understood the significance of the land for the Inuit, but had developed RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY 315 their own relationships with the natural environment as a result of their sojourns. These changes in the counsellors’ own cultural identities and experiences would assist them in their cross‐cultural work. Holcomb‐
McCoy (2004) argued that understanding the worldview of culturally‐
different students is another essential aspect of the multicultural competence of school‐based mental health professionals. Appreciating students’ worldviews can promote the use of culturally appropriate intervention strategies in counselling. For example, counsellors working with Aboriginal students who appreciate the significance of the Land may hold some of their counselling sessions outside of the office in natural settings, which may have greater healing potential. Sue and Sue (2003) postulated that school‐based mental health professionals who work cross‐culturally need to be prepared to modify the counselling environment, counselling relationship, and their counselling style to offer culturally sensitive services. IMPLICATIONS FOR TRAINING The findings of this study suggest that the acquisition of more advanced White Racial Identity statuses and appreciation of different cultural worldviews can be facilitated by cross‐cultural immersion. It appears that it would be very helpful to supplement formal training in cultural/racial identity development models recommended by Arredondo and Arciniega (1996) and Holcomb‐McCoy (2005) with counselling practicum placements in culturally different communities. Sue (2006) postulated that the acquisition of cultural competence in terms of racial self‐awareness, culture‐specific knowledge, and culturally sensitive intervention skills requires both formal course work and the “experiential reality provided by direct contact and service delivery roles within specific cultural communities” (p. 48). Despite this assertion, Arthur and Januszkowski’s (2001) study revealed that only a small proportion of counsellors in Canada obtained applied experience working within culturally different communities during the course of their graduate programs. The findings of this study highlight the urgent need for change in counsellor education programs to bridge this gap. 316 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI Schick (2000) and Solomon and Levine‐Rasky (2003) described encountering resistance from some student teachers around the question of Whiteness when it was addressed in cross‐cultural course work. Sue and Sue (2003) also noted experiencing similar reactions when addressing Whiteness with school‐based mental health professionals in courses and workshops. Allowing students to experience directly what it feels like to be a minority and to learn about their own racial status through contact with minority group members may promote racial identity development. This could be accomplished through short‐term sojourning experiences built into counsellor education. In the Canadian context, this type of sojourn could take place through practicum placements where counsellor trainees live and work in Aboriginal communities. A formal focus on race and culture could be incorporated into the supervision process in the form of supported reflection during the sojourning experience, and through explicit linkages between race, culture, and intervention strategies. This type of reflection and supervision would ensure that cross‐cultural exposure is accompanied by learning on the part of counsellor trainees. Counsellors need to learn how to monitor client reactions to them and to their counselling approach, and how to mirror clients’ cultural worldviews in their practice. Because this study suggests that both exposure and learning from clients contribute to racial and cultural identity changes among counsellors that may result in culturally sensitive counselling, both processes should be addressed in immersion experiences. LIMITATIONS AND DIRECTIONS FOR FUTURE RESEARCH The results of this study are limited by the small sample size and the long interval between some counsellors’ practice in Nunavut and the timing of research interviews. Since the study was retrospective, it was not possible to trace the process of White identity development across time. Longitudinal research of cross‐cultural sojourning would deepen our understanding of the identity transformation process. Such research would also assist in identifying which aspects of the sojourning experience were instrumental in supporting or hindering White identity development. A more intensive post‐sojourn follow‐up would also RACIAL/CULTURAL IDENTITY 317 allow for an exploration of how White racial identity is affected by returning to a context in which Euro‐Canadians form the majority. 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115. Dr. Christine Wihak is a professor in Workplace & Adult Learning, Graduate Division of Educational Research, Faculty of Education, University of Calgary. Dr. Noorfarah Merali is a professor in the Department of Educational Psychology, Faculty of Education, University of Alberta. 322 CHRISTINE WIHAK & NOORFARAH MERALI This page intentionally left blank. INTERNATIONAL PROJECT PARTICIPATION BY WOMEN ACADEMICS Nancy Arthur, Wendy Patton, & Christine Giancarlo University of Calgary The internationalization of higher education has led to changing roles for academics, including opportunities to participate in international projects. The extent to which academics feel prepared to enter this arena has received little attention. This study examines women academics’ perceptions of barriers to, facilitators of, and career benefits of pursuing international projects. Thirteen women academics participated in semi‐structured interviews that illuminated six core themes: the benefits of international roles, influences on motivation, enablers and barriers, expanded personal and academic world views, and ways of gaining international competencies. Suggestions are given for supporting academic women to pursue international opportunities. Key words: women’s career development, women academics, internationalization communities L’internationalisation des études supérieures entraîne une évolution dans les rôles des professeurs, qui se voient ainsi entre autres offrir la possibilité de participer à des projets internationaux. Dans quelle mesure les professeurs se sentent‐ils prêts à entrer dans cette arène? Voilà une question qui a peu été analysée. Cette étude porte sur les perceptions qu’ont des universitaires de sexe féminin sur les obstacles à la participation à des projets internationaux, les facteurs qui la facilitent et les impacts positifs sur leur carrière. Treize professeures ont pris part des entrevues semi‐
structurées axées sur six thèmes clés : les bienfaits retirés des participations à des projets internationaux, les facteurs jouant sur la motivation, les catalyseurs et les obstacles, l’élargissement des visions du monde personnelles et professionnelles et les façons d’acquérir des compétences internationales. Des suggestions sont fournies pour inciter les universitaires de sexe féminin à profiter des débouchés internationaux. Mots clés : promotion de la carrière des femmes, universitaires de sexe féminin, internationalisation _________________ CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 323‐348 324 N. ARTHUR, W. PATTON, & C. GIANCARLO The changing world of work demands that academics incorporate global perspectives into career development. The global economy has affected how business is conducted through access to new markets and increasing diversity in the work force (Collin & Young, 2000). Shifting borders throughout the world lead to new trade, travel, and educational opportunities. International partnerships have an impact on employee mobility as people from different countries work together. As a result, people require cross‐cultural competencies to be successful in careers that are increasingly global in nature (Herr, 1993a, 1993b). As institutions in the public and private sectors internationalize their mandates, they need to consider the human dimensions of global enterprise. This includes equipping the workforce with the attitudes, knowledge, and skills required for international employment (Arthur, 2000, 2002; Association of Universities and Colleges of Canada, 2002). International competencies complement people’s technical skills for ensuring success in working across cultures and across countries (Wilson, 1999). People with the foresight to incorporate international experience into their career planning have a tremendous advantage in current and future employment contexts (Arthur, 2000; Hansen, 1990). This article focuses on the employment context of higher education. Changes in the world of work, including the influences of globalization, have affected academic life. Academics have increasing opportunities and pressures to incorporate international scholarship as an integral part of their academic portfolios. This can be achieved in many ways through the internationalization of higher education. For example, international partnerships have changed where education is conducted and how it is delivered. The links between international experience and the employment context of higher education have not been examined in terms of opportunities, barriers, and how international roles enhance women’s careers. The purpose of this research was to provide a better understanding about how women academics develop international competencies and the pathways that influence their career development. INTERNATIONAL PROJECT PARTICIPATION BY WOMEN ACADEMICS 325 CONTEXTUAL INFLUENCES ON THE CAREER DEVELOPMENT OF WOMEN ACADEMICS Three bodies of literature provided the foundation for our inquiry. First, we considered the context of academic institutions in light of mandates and practices related to internationalization. Second, the literature on women’s career development provided a foundation from which to examine barriers and enablers that facilitate women’s participation and mobility. Third, the literature from business and management provided examples of the barriers and facilitators that impact women’s careers in the international marketplace. This literature was instructive for examining potential influences on the career development of women academics. Internationalization of Higher Education Changes in the world of work due to globalization have changed the nature of institutions in higher education and the nature of academic roles (Marginson, 2000; Scott, 1998). Internationalization has been characterized as “a process that prepares the community for successful participation in an increasingly interdependent world” (Francis, 1993, p. 5); however, multiple and competing values drive the internationalization of higher education (Arthur, 2003). Although it is beyond the scope of this article, the potential local benefits of internationalization must be examined in light of concerns regarding economic motives and exploitation of education consumers. Institutional pressures for international partnerships and revenue generation are driving forces through which academics are encouraged to participate in international projects. Faculty members are expected to participate in the commercialization of curriculum, instruction, and supervision of learners from diverse countries and cultures, and the design and delivery of education in other countries and/or through the use of technology. An expanded definition captures the broad range of internationalization activities that are connected to academic roles. Internationalization of higher education is the process of integrating an international dimension into the teaching/learning, research and service functions of a university or college. An international dimension means a 326 N. ARTHUR, W. PATTON, & C. GIANCARLO perspective, activity or service which introduces or integrates an international/intercultural/global outlook into the major functions of an institution of higher education. (Knight, 1994, p. 3) International projects involve academic activities that may be conducted in local contexts or through offshore delivery of academic expertise. Internationalization has changed the rules and roles of academic work. International scholarship is increasingly becoming the expectation for faculty members as evidenced in changing norms for hiring practices and criteria for determining merit and promotion. However, little research has documented how academics incorporate mandates for internationalization into their academic practices. Participation in international projects requires academics to gain expertise beyond the usual scope of their academic role. Similar to international project work in the private sector, academics must consider expanding their repertoire of academic expertise to include project management and soft skills such as intercultural communication and conflict management to support working across cultures (Arthur, 2002; McDonald & Arthur, 2005). The preparation of academics for international projects and the methods through which international competencies are gained have not been identified in the literature. At a time when higher education is gaining increasing importance for the export market, parallel efforts must be given to support academics in the development of competencies for international roles. Contextual forces that impact the career development of academics must also be examined. Acker and Armenti (2004) emphasize that the structures and ideologies of higher education impact working conditions for women. In particular, they note the importance of expanding a critical examination of how global trends influence women academics’ experiences in higher education. A few sources examine the ways in which global influences on university work may affect male and female academics differentially (e.g., Brooks & Mackinnon, 2002; Currie, Thiele, & Harris, 2002; Luke, 2001). An overriding concern in the current study pertains to the career mobility of women academics and their access to international roles that enhance their academic profiles. INTERNATIONAL PROJECT PARTICIPATION BY WOMEN ACADEMICS 327 Barriers and Facilitators to Women’s Career Development In reviewing the literature on women and international careers, we noted the many themes that are reminiscent of the earlier literature on women’s career development. The issues for working internationally parallel these issues to explain women’s access to and mobility within the domestic workforce. Many variables, both internal and external, serve as barriers or facilitators of women’s careers (Patton, 1997; Worell & Remer, 2003). Betz (1994) has summarized how individual factors and environmental factors influence women’s career development, depending on the presence or absence of these factors (Patton, 1997). External barriers and internalized messages are believed to reciprocally influence both the scope and nature of career mobility (Betz & Hackett, 1997; Farmer & Associates, 1997). For example, the demand for women’s participation in the labour force has not been matched by their representation across employment sectors, and women continue to be under‐represented in high‐status (and usually high‐paying) occupations (Davey, 2001; Drolet, 2002). Social stereotyping about occupational roles continues to affect women’s career aspirations and the perceptions of available options held by young women (Worell & Remer, 2003). Many other environmental barriers and facilitators have been identified as potential influences on women’s career development, including lack of role models, a null environment that neither encourages nor discourages individuals and perpetuates the status quo, family‐career conflicts, self‐
efficacy, and expectancies for success (Betz, 1994; Fitzgerald & Weitzman, 1992; Lalande, Crozier, & Davey, 2000) Despite the bourgeoning literature in the career development field during the past 25 years, there continue to be serious impediments to women’s career development (Worell & Remer, 2003). Women in the International Marketplace Literature from the business and management field identifies several barriers and enablers for women’s participation in the international marketplace (Adler, 2002; Taylor, Knox‐Napier, & Mayrhofer, 2002). In a landmark discussion paper, Adler (1984) examined several myths surrounding the participation of women in international careers. During the last 20 years, research efforts have attempted to ascertain the validity 328 N. ARTHUR, W. PATTON, & C. GIANCARLO of claims levied against the successful participation of women in the international marketplace. This growing body of literature suggests that there continues to be resistance against women’s entry into and mobility within the management hierarchy through international assignments. For example, research has focused on women’s reluctance and internal reasons for not pursuing international assignments (Fischlmayr, 2002; Stroh, Varma, & Valy‐Durbin, 2000), the reluctance of home‐country male managers to send females on international assignments (Linehan, 2002), barriers for the acceptance of women in positions of influence by foreign partners (Caligiuri & Cascio, 1998), and working conditions outside their home countries (Napier & Taylor, 2002). In general, findings suggest that the primary barriers for participation in international assignments lie with home and work conflicts, restraining conditions within home organizations such as overlooking women as viable candidates for international projects and making assumptions about their career interests, and gender stereotypes that exist within both home and host countries (Caligiuri & Cascio, 1998; Mayrhofer & Scullion, 2002; Stroh, Varma, & Valy‐Durbin, 2000). Although each factor appears to influence the performance of women on global assignments, considerable evidence suggests that the most serious constraining influences lie with the home organization. As noted in an earlier study of female managers, “The most difficult job is getting sent, not succeeding once sent” (Adler, 1991, p. 296). Despite the evidence of barriers, participation in international careers shows positive outcomes. In an introduction to a special journal issue on women in global business, Taylor, Knox‐Napier, and Mayrhofer (2002) summarize the research noting that women succeed at working abroad even in environments that are unwelcoming. It appears timely for research to articulate the factors that facilitate the success of women on global work assignments (e.g., Caligiuri & Cascio, 1998). Beyond business and management contexts, researchers have not examined women and international careers in other occupational sectors. Given the concerns levied about women entering traditionally male occupations, additional study is needed on the extent to which international roles are gendered. Toren (1999) notes that women entering traditionally male INTERNATIONAL PROJECT PARTICIPATION BY WOMEN ACADEMICS 329 occupations are usually regarded and treated as strangers. This may partially account for the stereotyping and exclusion portrayed in the literature about women working in the international marketplace. Additional research is needed to examine the extent to which the “glass ceiling” has transferred to “guarded borders” in the international workplace. Our study emerged out of curiosity to explore the factors that pose as barriers and enablers related to the career development of academic women through participation in international education and, specifically, international projects. METHOD The overriding goals of this research were to gain a better understanding of both how women academics develop international competencies and the pathways that influence their career development. In particular, we examined women’s perceptions of barriers and facilitators to participation in international projects conducted in other countries. We invited women academics at one Canadian university to participate in our research. Through an e‐mail notice, we notified them about a website address where they could locate further information about the study, including a letter of invitation and consent form. Criteria for eligibility were that the participants were full‐time employees of the institution and that they had experience working in another country in at least one international project. We interviewed 13 women academics, ranging in ages from 33 to 61. The academic rank of participants included four assistant professors, six associate professors, and three full professors. All participants were Caucasian; the majority identified their ethnic background as European countries, Russia, or the United States. Because of the potential for identifying participants from faculties with few women academics, their faculty affiliations remain unnamed. We developed an interview protocol of semi‐structured questions, focusing on international projects and international employment competencies while encouraging the unique perspectives of each participant (Kvale, 1996). The interview content revolved around seven guiding questions: 330 N. ARTHUR, W. PATTON, & C. GIANCARLO 1. What relationship do you see between participation in international projects and your career development? 2. What is the significance for your career development of working on international projects? 3. What are the barriers to your participation in international projects? 4. What are the enablers for your participation in international projects? 5. What competencies have supported your success in international projects? 6. How did you acquire competencies for international projects? 7. What advice would you give to other women academics about their careers and participation in international projects? Using content analysis to sort data from the interviews, we identify key themes, employing a three‐stage process. The steps in the data analysis were undertaken with the general progression from macro‐ to micro‐analysis. The broadest categories were extracted first and became the six main themes. Sub‐themes were identified by categorizing the various components related to each core theme. The progression of analysis is chronologically recounted as follows: 1. All transcripts were read once as an overview to gain a general understanding of the breadth of data. 2. Notes were taken to record tentative themes, based on the frequency of identification by, and among, participants; six themes were thus formalized. 3. The transcripts were reviewed for the second time to identify content relevant to the study but outside of the topics queried by the specific questions. Adjustments to the wording of the six themes were made to more accurately reflect data content. 4. A number was assigned to each theme. Each transcript was then reread a third time and numbers were penciled in the margins to correspond with those of the themes. A comment made by a participant that corresponded to a given theme (i.e., 1 to 6) was given its number. 5. The numbered comments were then listed by theme number to have a summary of all points made relating to each given theme. The core INTERNATIONAL PROJECT PARTICIPATION BY WOMEN ACADEMICS 331 themes were based on comments made by all participants; therefore, the core themes represent unanimous facets of experience. 6. The sub‐themes were extracted from the six themes lists by counting the frequency of comments pertaining to each theme. The most frequently mentioned (i.e., by more than three participants) points became the 15 identified sub‐themes. 7. A chart was constructed to illustrate all points and their frequencies of identification made by participants, for each of the 15 sub‐themes. In this way, all relevant data were made available to validate the study and its conclusions. One researcher initially conducted these steps. In the next level of data analysis, a second researcher reviewed the material to check validity of the themes and to confirm the associations of sub‐themes both within and between the core categories. Third, a copy of interview summaries, themes, and sub‐themes was mailed to each participant to reflect on her responses and to elaborate on and/or correct information that she deemed to be important. RESULTS Participants identified a wide range of international experience as relevant to their career paths, including participation in international development projects both prior to and during their tenure as academics, teaching on‐site in other countries, and research collaboration with international partners. The variety of experience attests to a broad scope in defining “what counts” as international experience. The opportunities for international projects secured by individuals — including research collaboration, presentations at international forums and associated networking, and teaching experiences — are examples of how participants gained experience that they viewed as relevant for their academic careers. Benefits to Participation in International Projects Through participation in international projects, women academics reap benefits for themselves, for their academic institution, and for their home society. 332 N. ARTHUR, W. PATTON, & C. GIANCARLO The personal benefits in some way enhance women academics’ quality of life. For example, all participants indicated that they had acquired greater cross‐cultural understanding from their international research, a benefit that enhanced communication with others of different cultures, whether at home or abroad. [Y]ou just learn to think a lot differently, you have different perspectives and you have a deeper understanding of the sort of world problems and you can see so often both sides of . . . perhaps an international conflict in that things, the dogma you quite frequently read in the paper or a particular interest group taking a particular position about a company . . . that is doing something internationally, it’s not that simple; you know, it is really very complex. Participation in international projects also helped participants manage cross‐cultural transitions and reduced fear associated with experiencing novel situations in a foreign culture. I noticed with friends who have not traveled much during their lives and they say “okay, well you know, I’ll retire early or whatever and then I’m going to travel,” and generally speaking it’s a bit of a disaster because they’re not used to coping with the fact that you have so many things out of your immediate control. Benefits to the institution consisted of the participant’s better ability to establish rapport with her home students of various cultural backgrounds. For instance, all participants felt that because their institution had an increased focus on attracting foreign students, these students benefited from professors and teaching that is geared toward cross‐cultural diversity and commonality. The institution also benefits from the research carried out and the recognition that accompanies such projects. [O]ur Masters program is headquartered in [country not named to protect identity] . . . and we have had students from I think 14 countries, the program started in 1996 and they’re in the seventh class, and 16 countries have been involved to date. Societal benefits result from a general increase in cross‐cultural awareness and understanding. Participants indicated that while the INTERNATIONAL PROJECT PARTICIPATION BY WOMEN ACADEMICS 333 world is becoming smaller and travel more widespread and frequent, at the same time that global technology enables various cultures to communicate more freely, cross‐cultural teaching and research foster greater understanding. These experiences were connected to women academics’ strong value of making a difference through their international project work. [T]he CIDA projects are always about poverty alleviation so the logic goes that they will alleviate poverty in poor western [country not named to protect identity] by improving, or by giving kids, as they grow up better job opportunities, and they will do that by giving them better education, and they will do that by improving the quality of the teaching, therefore we will work on professional development for teachers, so that’s what we are actually doing. Motivation to Pursue International Projects Whether a women academic decides to participate in an international project depends on peer and mentor influences, the type and availability of work abroad, and the project location. Academic peers and mentors may encourage participation if they have experience with that project or a similar one, have traveled to the research site or area, and/or believe the potential academic to be a good fit in terms of competencies for that situation. For example, one participant told how she first met a new colleague at a conference. He invited her to write a chapter for his book because he was familiar with, and interested in, her area of expertise. He was a professor at a European university from that region; a subsequent cross‐cultural research project between his country and Canada resulted. And he approached me at a conference and said would I be interested in a chapter in a book he’s doing, and so I did that, and then he said let’s translate it into Italian, and he was the translator and published it in Italy, and so he became interested in my work and said ‘why don’t we do something together?’, and so we talked about it, and so we’re doing . . . [the study] . . . with the students there and I do it with students here . . . and after we had the data gathered, I was over there and we would work together on the data on two different occasions. The type and availability of work will be consistent with the competencies and academic expertise of researchers. For instance, a 334 N. ARTHUR, W. PATTON, & C. GIANCARLO project in Latin America, which involved teaching children, was of utmost interest to one participant who spoke fluent Spanish and was, herself, a teacher of similar grade levels. In another project, language competency combined with professional experience to open opportunities for participation in international projects. I was invited to participate as a nurse with a group of young people that were going to have an exposure to another culture . . . and that sort of started me on a path of going short‐term a few times. My first time was to Mexico . . . and then I went to Paraguay, South America, and then to the Dominican Republic and Haiti. Other factors that influence academic women’s decisions to pursue international projects pertain to logistical reasons. For example, participants considered when and where this work is being conducted to coincide with their ability to leave home and work commitments. All participants stated that flexibility in their academic schedules is limited and may not mesh with a project’s time frame, determined by such factors as funding tied to the fiscal year and seasonal weather patterns (e.g., monsoon season) in the country where the project is located. When I go to China it’s typically for a month, up to six weeks, so that’s a substantial block of time. That’s both personal and professional [barrier] because that’s away from your life at home . . . but it’s also a weight on your ongoing responsibilities at work. . . . The Chinese have their schedule . . . when their school, when their teachers are on holidays and are free to come to say, a summer class or something. If we want to see them teaching, we have to go when classes are in session and if we want them to be free to come to classes as students themselves, it has to be when they are on vacation, so there are all kinds of Chinese restrictions as well as restrictions here. Location of the project represents more than a geographical location and refers also to cultural influences. For example, one participant commented that she would not go to a place that did not recognize women as equal in status and value with men. [T]hey did ask me at one time, . . . I think it was Saudi Arabia, to go there and teach a course. It didn’t materialize but I [said], you know, I know how women INTERNATIONAL PROJECT PARTICIPATION BY WOMEN ACADEMICS 335 are treated there. If you send me over there, am I going to be accepted? Are they going to even listen to what I say . . . so I wouldn’t want to put myself in a position like that. Participation in International Projects Reduces Ethnocentrism in Academic Practices Ethnocentrism, the belief that one’s own culture is superior over others, is a major contributor to bias, especially in a cross‐cultural forum. Researcher expectations based on ethnocentric assumptions about the people one is studying affect interpretations of data in research projects and related researcher bias. For instance, researchers from two different cultures, both scoring data for the same study, might not score the same way. [Research] takes longer because you’re doing it by long distance . . . it’s messier. . . . our research is fairly messy anyway, especially class research is not black and white unless you do something like surveys and count things up . . . and even then, developing and scoring (the) scoring sheets, it gets messy and then you’re doing it in two languages . . . it’s very messy and the problem with getting a rate of reliability — are they scoring it the same as we are? . . . [I]t’s difficult to get interrelated reliability. Because of that, you want to make sure you’re scoring things consistently. Similarly, research ethics would be affected by cultural interpretations of observed behavioural phenomena. One participant recounted how some of her colleagues working on a teaching project were disappointed to discover what constituted as cheating among the Central American students, when in fact these students simply shared information to ensure each other’s success. [W]e certainly discovered in [country unnamed to protect identity], and since then I have discovered this is actually quite common in many cultures, cheating, what we would call cheating was a normal way of life, and in fact how you were helpful, so if you had . . . a very narrow inflexible point of view, yes those students cheated, yes by the university calendar they should have been expelled, but if you . . . looked at it from their culture, . . . you could get beyond that to see well, preferably helping one another is part of what you do here. 336 N. ARTHUR, W. PATTON, & C. GIANCARLO Where our culture values the individual and competition, here was a culture steeped in group values and co‐operation. The experience reminded this participant of equally valid but sometimes polar‐opposite cultural rules and motivators. Enablers Outweigh Barriers for Participating in International Projects The logistics of participating in international projects will ultimately determine whether a particular international opportunity is pursued. Enablers are factors that facilitate participation in a direct way. For example, all participants reported that adequate funding was an important aspect of international research, as was family support. [F]unding is a big issue too. But I find that [our university] is pretty generous in terms of the funding opportunities. [E]xternally would be SSHRC for me, but I think internally there are opportunities available for travel. Several participants had spouses who were eager and able to provide support such as accompanying her and assisting with operational tasks such as child care and accommodation arrangements. [My husband] could probably go down and set little business projects up, so he’s always said to me if I was able to get . . . even a teaching position somewhere, in a different country then, he said, go for it. Barriers consist of those factors that could prevent a woman academic from undertaking an international project. For example, children were mentioned as a potential logistical barrier, especially if the research location was considered unsafe because of health issues or political instability. I couldn’t go abroad because it was a big deal for us to even be pregnant and therefore we didn’t want to jeopardize my health, or the baby’s health so we decided not to take those chances, and so I could have gone to India to do a project, . . . but I couldn’t. Lack of flexibility in scheduling during the academic year could also prevent participation in a research project having a definite time frame. INTERNATIONAL PROJECT PARTICIPATION BY WOMEN ACADEMICS 337 [C]learly we would have to negotiate around our academic responsibilities here, and actually a colleague of mine, one of the men on faculty, and I had [collaborated about] the courses, and in fact, the first time I was there I taught one and he taught the other and the next time we switched, just because of timing. Participation in International Projects Broadens Academic Horizons The participants stressed that international projects do not facilitate career building. Instead, all participants reported that they engaged in international work to enhance their sense of personal and professional rewards. I think it intrigued me personally to be more open to international work in the future. So it opened my eyes to the possibilities and the rewards, at this very personal level, you know, becoming colleagues with people and its rewards. The university perspective, as probably in the eyes of seeing, it was a career‐
enhancing move regardless. . . . First, such participation builds competencies that help academics understand and relate to people of various cultures collaboratively. One participant reported that her research in the Middle East made her so much more empathetic toward this culture, and appreciative of her life and career opportunities in Canada. She felt motivated and grateful as a positive influence that she could reflect about and discuss in the local academic community. You learn as I am sure anybody who has done international work in politically sensitive areas, you learn how much propaganda we hear, and you also learn about the atrocities that nobody ever hears about. You can be very proud to be a Canadian. Second, academic credibility increases with experiential learning in other cultures. Participants considered working in countries with great cultural distance an asset for gaining credibility. They believed that they gained a broader knowledge of humanity after experiencing different cultural behaviour from their home environment. Several participants noted that they were now actively sought out by their own institutional colleagues and external agencies as the “person who does the 338 N. ARTHUR, W. PATTON, & C. GIANCARLO international stuff,” and the local expert. As one participant noted, “I think in my case I sort of became the international person, or one of the members of faculty that did international work and that it was good for the profile of the department and the faculty.” Developing Competencies for International Projects Is Multifaceted The skills required for conducting successful international research result from inherited personality traits, the social environment during one’s formative years, life experience, and formal education. These competencies culminate in a dynamic set of expertise that academic women acquire over a lifetime. Personality competencies include a person’s attitudes, attributes, and genetic endowments (e.g., disposition such as a sense of humour). [G]rowing up with another culture . . . [there are] personal experiences you can have that help shape you into who you are, what you’ve become, and how you accept situations and experiences and so forth. . . . [J]ust learning cultural sensitivity from an early age. . . . Professional competencies include such aspects as communication (e.g., understanding the language and cultural etiquette) and interpersonal and organizational skills. In one participant’s words, “[Y]ou go into a community and facilitate a discussion of ideas and events that the community can then resolve and you facilitate that process rather than swooping in as an external expert and imposing some kind of development solution.” Educational competencies are comprised of formal (i.e., degrees and accreditation) and informal (e.g., positions held on Boards and associations in paid and voluntary capacities) learning at school and in other community and service enterprises. I was part owner of a clinic for a few years which gave me a huge competency towards the consultatory roles, I wrote a lot of medical legals in the sense that I was asked to testify in court related to Workmen’s Compensation . . . so that gave me a lot of skills . . . a lot! INTERNATIONAL PROJECT PARTICIPATION BY WOMEN ACADEMICS 339 DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSION The changing world of work has affected the nature of academic roles, increasing pressure to incorporate international perspectives. This change needs to be accompanied by career‐planning processes to help women academics develop and articulate their competencies for participation in the international workplace (Arthur, 2004). Despite the limited sample size, the findings of this study point to some critical directions for women academics’ career development. In discussing a framework for interventions designed to expand women’s career options, Patton (1997) refers to strategies addressed by Hackett and Betz (1981) for fostering women’s career‐related, self‐efficacy expectations. Three important components are included in the framework: • providing exposure to female role models; • helping women to address the underlying sources of anxiety in relation to pursuing non‐traditional domains of employment in their career development; and • actively supporting women to develop interests, skills, and competencies. (Patton, 1997) We believe this framework has high utility for encouraging women academics to develop both the confidence and competence for working internationally. Rather than waiting to be invited to participate in international projects, women academics can be proactive about positioning themselves to gain relevant experience and take initiative to make international connections. First, it is important for women academics to have contact with role models and mentors. Substantial evidence suggests that women pursuing academic careers benefit from support (Collins, Chrisler, & Quina, 1998). Mentoring programs typically take on the form of matching newer academics with associate or full professors. de Janasz and Sullivan (2004) suggest that faculty need to develop multiple mentoring relationships across their academic career. The dissemination of “acquired wisdom” from the professorial network enhances the acquisition of career competencies. This requires articulating steps towards building and consolidating an academic 340 N. ARTHUR, W. PATTON, & C. GIANCARLO career, including ways for women academics to incorporate international perspectives. It also entails defining the competencies that are valued for international projects and identifying ways for women academics to gain relevant experience. Career‐related interventions are required that facilitate career building and career enhancing accomplishments for women academics. These are important considerations for helping women to expand the scope of their academic portfolios and to incorporate participation on international projects as a viable career direction. A key finding of this study is that participants perceived their international experience to extend beyond their academic roles. Although participants gained international experience through their academic roles, they were adamant about the personal benefits. The personal learning and enjoyment of interactions in other cultures was both a precipitating force for pursuing further experience and an outcome of international experience. The institutional benefits of faculty members participating in international projects appeared to be consistent with the overriding mandates for campus internationalization. Women academics discussed how they had broadened their personal worldviews, reduced their ethnocentrism, and incorporated international perspectives into their teaching and research. Participants consistently discussed how their international experience added global dimensions to their personal identity and to their academic role. Further research is needed to elaborate on these processes and to evaluate efforts through which faculty contribute to mandates for internationalization in higher education. The review of barriers and enablers that emerged from the experiences of participants offers several interesting insights that are consistent with the literature on women’s career development. In particular, the interface of dual careers and the work‐family interface surfaced as a major consideration about participation in international projects. This conclusion mirrors literature that discusses the complexities of women’s career decision making based on the salience of multiple‐role demands (Worell & Remer, 2003). Additional factors in the local environment such as funding to support international activities and balancing demands of international projects with demands during the INTERNATIONAL PROJECT PARTICIPATION BY WOMEN ACADEMICS 341 academic calendar year are important considerations for infrastructure. Safety considerations were also identified as external factors that would lead to interests in working in particular countries or concerns about hardships encountered in particular foreign environments. There are challenges related to the status of women in other countries. Some participants noted their reluctance to take on international project in countries with restricted norms about female gender roles. However, in countries with traditional gender roles women academics may have the potential to make the greatest influence. Research from business also suggests that the treatment afforded women during international projects may be less restrictive because usual gender roles are relaxed to focus on the expertise of international consultants (Caligiuri & Cascio, 1998). One important motivator for participating in international projects appears to be encouragement and recognition from academic peers. Becoming known as an expert in one’s field, along with networking, appears to be crucial for developing a profile that is known by others as deserving of consideration for international partnerships. However, beyond expertise and networking, participants identified the importance of peer support and encouragement for becoming involved in international projects. This suggests the importance of interpersonal connection in academic roles for women to feel confident about expressing their expertise in an international forum. The support of others such as mentors has been named as an important influence on women’s career development in general (Richie, Fassinger, Linn, Johnson, Prosser, & Robinson, 1997; Young & Richards, 1992) and for facilitating women’s participation on international assignments (Caligiuri & Cascio, 1998). Another important motivator for participating in international projects relates to a values orientation in working for social change and for making positive contributions to people in other parts of the world. This social justice perspective appears connected to the centrality of relational values that have been identified as important to women’s career identity (Crozier, 1999). The bottom line for participants in this study was that international experience should be viewed as “career‐enhancing” rather than “career‐
building.” In other words, participants were mindful of the demands 342 N. ARTHUR, W. PATTON, & C. GIANCARLO required in the early years of an academic career pertaining to research, teaching, and scholarship. Until academics have established a solid base of experience, including tenure, participation in international projects was not viewed as a desirable direction. In fact, several participants noted that international work could detract time and energy needed for productivity in more traditional domains of academic life. The advice offered by participants was for women academics to get their careers established first, then enhance their careers through participation on international projects. Most participants drew a direct connection between building a solid academic record and reputation that would be considered as reputable across countries. While women academics are establishing their academic careers, they can be gaining relevant and transferable experience in preparation for work on international projects. The advice noted by participants requires further examination regarding the costs and benefits of international dimensions of academic women’s careers. Many concerns have been raised about how the “old norms” in academia become rules of behaviour for women academics (Acker & Armenti, 2004). There is a constant interplay between the explicit pathways for academic success and the implicit experiences and personal costs for women of pursuing career success. For example, it was surprising to find little evidence in this study that the work/family interface was a core issue for participants because it has been identified as a significant tension for women faculty (Armenti, 2004; Wolf‐Wendel & Ward, 2003). In our research with women academics in Australia, partner support was identified as a major factor in contemplating international work (Patton & Arthur, 2007). It is possible that the current study involved a unique group of academic women who had appropriate support in place. The perspectives of women academics from more diverse backgrounds would also diversify the narratives about women’s experiences of working in international roles. Alternatively, we caution readers who expect to see traditional gendered concerns reflected in the data and might feel disappointed that this was not reflected in the data obtained from participants. It is precisely due to the representation of barriers pertaining to women’s participation in international work in other fields that lead us to inquire about the experience of academic women in higher education. More research is INTERNATIONAL PROJECT PARTICIPATION BY WOMEN ACADEMICS 343 needed to understand how internationalization has impacted women’s academic roles, the extent to which pressures for international involvement advantage or disadvantage women, and the responsibilities of academic institutions for supporting women in pursuing international roles. More practical information is needed about how to help women academics develop competencies for working internationally. Implications It was interesting to see the variety of experiences that participants considered under the inclusion criteria of international projects. The wide range of activities noted by participants suggests an expanded view of “what counts” as international experience. Several participants described a fuller repertoire of international experience as contributing to their personal and professional development. An implication of the selection criteria for this study, which focused on international projects in another country, is that some women academics who have developed international competencies through other means may not have defined themselves as eligible for participation. A wider net needs to be cast in future research to include a broader range of avenues for gaining and implementing international experience. Another implication of how international experience is defined has to do with the criteria through which academics are evaluated. The impetus for campus internationalization and specifically funded projects has led some faculties to incorporate international dimensions into their selection, merit, and promotion policies. However, there are controversies about “what counts” as international experience and how that experience compares to traditional sources of scholarly work. 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learning as a pedagogy and philosophy. The theoretical focus of this paper is Nancy Fraser’s (1997) criticisms of Jurgen Habermas’ (1992) bourgeois liberal model of the public sphere. We analyzed the class experiences with community service that emerged from students’ contributions to a database of community organizations, concept maps, and a student‐driven course evaluation. The outcomes of this research include a description of potentially useful course strategies and a narrative of a unique type of community‐service learning. Key words: community‐service learning, public sphere, citzenship, learning Cette recherche menée dans le cadre d’un cours d’introduction à la sociologie à l’Université de Colombie‐Britannique au cours de l’année universitaire 2001‐2002 portait sur l’apprentissage par l’engagement communautaire en tant que pédagogie et philosophie. La théorie sous‐jacente à cet article est tirée des critiques de Nancy Fraser (1997) au sujet du modèle libéral bourgeois de la sphère publique de Jurgen Habermas (1992). Les auteurs ont analysé les expériences du service communautaire qu’ont pu vivre les étudiants à travers leurs contributions à une base de données d’organisations communautaires, à des cartes conceptuelles et à une évaluation du cours. Les résultats de cette recherche comprennent une description de stratégies pédagogiques potentiellement utiles et un récit portant sur un type unique d’apprentissage par l’engagement communautaire Mots clés : apprentissage par l’engagement communautaire, sphère publique, citoyenneté, apprentissage CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 349‐376 350 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE Many educators are interested in teaching methods, learning theories, and philosophies that encourage university students to engage with the community. Some instructors attempt to promote community engagement through activities such as problem posing, critical reflection, and examining abstract concepts situated in their everyday communities (Collins, Brown, & Newman, 1989; Dewey, 1916; Freire, 1970; Lave & Wenger, 1991; Wolfson & Willinsky, 1998). In support of community engagement, university and college educators have begun to integrate community service‐learning into their courses. A pioneer of community service‐learning, John Dewey (1916) promoted an inter‐relationship between education, learning in the community, and citizenship. Maintaining that the community is integral to educational experiences, Dewey believed that through experiential learning, or learning by doing within the everyday social community environment, individuals could be challenged to go beyond the bounds of traditional information transmission that was the norm in classrooms at that time. Dewey contended that if students could apply their learning within the community, they would not only improve themselves, but also contribute to their communities as citizens. According to Dewey, Social efficiency as an educational purpose should mean cultivation of power to join freely and fully in shared or common activities. This is impossible without culture. One cannot share in intercourse with others without learning – without getting a broader point of view and perceiving things of which one would otherwise be ignorant. And there is perhaps no better definition of culture than that it is the capacity for constantly expanding the range and accuracy of one’s perception of meanings. (p. 122) For Dewey, the cultural awareness that emerges from hands‐on experiences links everyday life and the classroom. The Deweyan classroom is a space where students are encouraged to test out theories and concepts, build capacity, and create their communities anew. Learning in this way becomes an ongoing process that supersedes the confines of the classroom. In a similar manner to Dewey’s call for education promoting democracy, adult educator Eduard Lindeman (1937, 1938 as cited in Brookfield, 1987) maintains: RESEARCH IN THE SERVICE OF CO‐LEARNING 351 Education is an agency of progress if its short‐term goal of self‐improvement can be made compatible with a long‐term experimental but resolute policy of changing the social order [through] learning associated with social purposes…to synchronize the democratic and the learning process. (1937, p. 4; 1938, p. 5 as cited in Brookfield, 1987, p. 19) Dewey and Lindeman continue to inspire community service‐learning. Table 1 describes contemporary principles, characteristics, and outcomes of community service‐learning as synthesized by the following theorists and initiatives. (Anderson, 2000; Boyer, 1994; National & Community Service Trust Act, 1999; Waterman, 1997). The purpose of table 1 is to offer a brief description of community service‐learning by outlining its general principles, characteristics, and outcomes. The reader is discouraged from reading across rows as the table is not designed to align any one principle with a specific characteristic or outcome; it is merely descriptive. Community service‐learning valorizes learning through real‐world voluntary experience that, hopefully, cultivates a lifetime of community engagement to promote citizenship. In this article, we ask the following research question: Given that community service‐learning is a form of community engagement, how does classroom‐based research increase students’ understanding of political participation, public involvement, and public spaces? METHODOLOGY This research is a heuristic case study, a type of case study that “finds out” via analytic induction (Eckstein, 2000). Patton (1990) reminds us that the word heuristic, Greek in origin, means to discover. For us, a heuristic case study was a way to focus our attention on the process of community engagement, linked to the related ideas of political participation, public involvement, and use and ownership of public spaces. 352 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE Table 1 Community Service‐Learning Principles Characteristics Outcomes Stronger academic skills Service experiences Active participation that meet actual by students as community needs Learning through learners action Blending of service Collaboration activities with the Promoting personal between students and academic curriculum development those within community groups, Collaboration with the Applied research agencies, and school and community skills organizations groups, agencies, and organizations Contributing to Social Responsibility community groups, Reflection by students agencies, and Classroom as Public organizations to connect learning Space and service Fostering civic engagement The Case The case is a 6‐credit, 26‐week introductory Sociology 100 class at the University of British Columbia (UBC) during the 2001‐2002 academic year. Taught by co‐author VanWynsberghe and supported by a teaching assistant, the course included 65 students, 40 were female and 25 were male. In general, all were in their first year of university. The class was an ethnic multi‐cultural mix of Asian, Caucasian, and South Asian students with a number of foreign students from China also. As well, many students were first generation Canadians whose parents were RESEARCH IN THE SERVICE OF CO‐LEARNING 353 from Hong Kong. The syllabus outlined student objectives in the following way: • To acquire an overview of the social world. • To develop a conceptual and substantive understanding of the study of sociology. • To gain knowledge of various theoretical perspectives for understanding human social activity. • To investigate concepts of social life, such as culture and institutions. By adding separate teacher objectives, we established our goal as a basis for introducing research activities for the students as part of the course requirements. We alerted students to the atypical nature of community service‐learning so they could, as stated by some students, “decide if it was for them.” As a result, based on his use of community service learning since 1997 and inspired by Highlander Folk School in Tennessee, the Science Shop model from the Netherlands, and the Working Centre in Ontario, VanWynsberghe added a few instructor objectives to the course, including: • To demonstrate the theoretical reasoning and open‐minded consideration of the issues essential to sound sociological inquiry. • To enhance students’ critical thinking skills while sharpening their “sociological imaginations.” • To prepare students to undertake a social analysis that has public value. At the beginning of the course, we encouraged students to choose community service, service‐learning experiences that contributed to sustainability. We did not give students a specific definition of sustainability, but ideas like social justice, ecological integrity, and the well‐being of all living systems were linked to the term. Sustainability, an emergent property, develops through dialogue. Imposing a definition might have inhibited students from contributing to the conversation. As a result, the students chose a broad spectrum of organizations for their community service‐learning experiences. 354 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE Research in the Service of Co‐Learning (RSL) We specified and coined the type of community service learning that was employed in this case as “research in the service of co‐learning” or RSL (Barazangi et. al, 2003; Reardon, 1998; Schutz & Ruggles; 1998; Weinberg, 2003; Wiechman, 1996). This term, where higher education meets the community in a classroom, describes courses that are re‐
envisioned to teach about ways to improve local conditions. This idea encompasses community engagement wherein a student serves as a vital bridge between higher education and the community by conducting research as the service (Barazangi et al. 2003; Reardon, 1998). A few examples of RSL are useful to this brief discussion. Weinberg (2003) sees a natural link between RSL and sustainability. Weinberg’s students conducted service in small, multi‐class projects designed to promote community economic development. Student teams consulted with community partners, conducted research, made presentations, outlined next steps, and reflected on theories of community development. Weinberg shows that because his undergraduates have the research skills to conduct surveys, focus groups, and interviews, they were well qualified to provide these kinds of service. Weinberg’s research supports our intention to apply the sociological skills that students were acquiring to community‐based projects. Another example of the link between RSL and sustainability comes from Savan and Sider (2003) in their Sustainable Toronto research program. This program is a suite of action‐oriented research projects. Students assist in the research through co‐operatives, internships, and practicum courses. Data Collection We collected research evidence for this case study from a variety of sources. First, we used student contributions to the course database and website as a repository of experiences as well as a data collection and analytical tool. In the database, students analyzed the organization where they volunteered. In addition, we administered an eleven‐
question peer evaluation survey of students’ RSL experience (see Appendix 1). This survey was co‐designed by the instructor (VanWynsberghe) and two students. These students had lost their RSL opportunities due to a teachers’ strike at the time that had closed local RESEARCH IN THE SERVICE OF CO‐LEARNING 355 school classrooms (considered as communities for this research) where they had been volunteering. Analysis During the course, a research assistant, who acted as a participant observer of the classroom, analyzed each student’s assignment that was contributed to the website and the database. Her overall task was conceptual. She drew the available content from the website and database to provide a theoretical focal point for the RSL based classroom. Her observations were analyzed. Then, we (VanWynsberghe and Andruske) connected these to Nancy Fraser’s (1997) theoretical framework of multiple public spheres. For our analysis, we summarized Fraser’s ideas into five propositions that we used to analyze the material provided by the students’ experiences in the Sociology 100 courses in relation to RSL. In terms of the survey, simple descriptive statistics were employed to understand student satisfaction and community engagement. This evaluation data tells the story of the classroom while also assessing its impact on the students. LITERATURE REVIEW Fraser (1997) critiqued Jurgen Habermas’ (1992) “liberal model of the bourgeois public sphere” (p. 89). For Habermas, the public sphere [M]ay be conceived above all as the sphere of private people com[ing] together as a public; they soon claimed the public sphere … against the public authorities themselves, to engage them in debate over the general rules governing relations in the basically privatized but publicly relevant sphere of commodity exchange and social labor. (p. 27) Habermas established his criteria for the public sphere: critical, rational debate over matters pertaining to the common good. He asserted that common humanity is the basis for membership in the “public sphere” (pp. 36‐7, 58). Fraser (1997) discussed the pivotal significance Habermas’ (1992) attributes to the historical demarcation between the state and civil society. She defined civil society as “the nexus of non‐governmental or ‘secondary’ associations that are neither economic nor administrative” (Fraser, 1997, p. 89), and proposed an alternative vision: 356 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE What is needed … is a post‐bourgeois conception that can permit us to envision a greater role for the … public spheres than mere autonomous opinion formation removed from authoritative decision‐making …. a defensible conception must allow both for strong publics and for weak publics and [that] it should help theorize the relations among them. (p. 92) In her conceptualization of citizenship, Fraser illuminated five properties that capture how individuals navigate and inhabit a multiplicity of social worlds during their lives: 1. Personal membership and critical dialogue in diverse organizations make accessible political participation in the public arena (p. 70). 2. Membership in community organizations and dialogue are commitments to achieving social equality. Critical discussions reveal differences in social status, gender, and culture (p. 70). Discussions are often centered on an absence of an ideological distinction between “public” versus “private” matters (p. 76). 3. Recognizing a multiplicity of ‘publics’ fosters participation in organizations and conversations (p. 89). 4. “Strong” and “weak” publics are necessary for policy creation because community groups (i.e., weak publics) challenge strong organizations (e.g., universities) (p. 90). We have used these properties to explore this case study in RSL in relation to Fraser’s (1997) ideas of a competing plurality of publics to promote “a step toward greater democracy” (p. 77). We take Fraser’s assertion – that multiple publics can represent a movement toward greater democracy and social equality for students, the classroom, the university, and the community – and apply it to RSL. Making the connection between this classroom case study, Fraser explores how activities designed to promote RSL bring together multiple publics to promote dialogue about community‐university engagement, decision making and power, and improving local conditions. Fraser did not base her reformulation of the public sphere upon some vague invocation or deliberation of “the common good.” Fraser’s flexible, reflexive, and adaptable model encourages participants to explore whose needs are met in these public arenas and how they can create tensions by adding RESEARCH IN THE SERVICE OF CO‐LEARNING 357 oppositional voices to expert dialogue. We see this conceptual rethinking of Habermas’ theoretical framework as very useful to RSL. ACTIVITIES CENTRAL TO RSL Overview Students in the Sociology 100 course were required to become positively involved with UBC campus organizations and community agencies whose mandate was sustainability. As previously mentioned, we analyzed their experiences that they documented in a database that resided in a course‐based website that also contained the syllabus, course notes, readings, relevant websites, famous sociological quotes, and the concept map.1 During the term, five, largely self‐directed, students in the course, were responsible for maintaining various technological aspects of the website. This activity was consistent with our conceptualization of the classroom as a community. Called the “Dreamweavers,” these five students developed and revised the website, minimizing student frustrations with the technology and logistics. The “Dreamweavers” accomplished their task by helping other students enter the research data that they had gathered in the field on their volunteer organizations. Furthermore, the “Dreamweavers” added creative design elements to the course website, largely as a result of feedback from their peers. They were graded on their ability to organize, improve the quality of the website, and provide a service to the course community. Database of Community Organizations Students’ critical reflections on their volunteer experiences in the community organizations, groups, or agencies contributed to the database. Each class member was required to volunteer approximately 40 hours of his or her time. To prompt the necessary reflection, we asked students to answer a standardized series of logistical (e.g., contact information) and sociological (e.g., culture of the organization, networks) questions (see Appendix 2). These questions supplied the content for analyzing the nature and structure of the students’ chosen community groups and agencies. We added this information to the database with a data entry form that was available on the course website. Students could enter their responses to these questions in the database at any point in 358 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE the course and change information at any time. Students received a grade for their contributions to the database. Grading criteria were made available in advance to guide students in making successful contributions. Table 2 depicts a sample of organizations where the students in this study provided community service to the university and to the community. This table reveals a broad spectrum of organizations, ranging from schools and community centers, health agencies and hospitals, political parties and co‐ops, environmental non‐governmental agencies, and media, to religious groups. Choosing to volunteer with university organizations reflected students’ perception of the UBC campus as a community like other publics. As Table 2 illustrates, students described their community service experiences as contributing to one of a combination of community, economic, environmental, health, or social sustainability projects.2 The Concept Map In addition to the database, a series of linked assignments (as mentioned previously) led to the creation of an introductory sociology concept map (see Appendix 1 for an example of such an assignment). The “Dreamweavers” used this information to electronically create the course concept map. Students augmented the map with descriptions of how a concept (e.g., socialization) tied in with salient aspects of their experiences. Providing the entire map would be unwieldy because of its size; however, the map links theoretical concepts, often in surprising ways (e.g., socialism is one of four foundational concepts in sociology). The concepts were hyper‐linked in the website to text, pictures, and other expressions of concepts (e.g., poetry) that illuminated prominent aspects of the community‐service experience (e.g., socialization). We wanted to make concepts come alive by having students describe and analyze their applicability to students’ service experience to aid them in making connections between the sociological course content and these experiences. RESEARCH IN THE SERVICE OF CO‐LEARNING 359 Table 2 Organization and Type of Sustainability Organization UBC ‐ AMS Student Environment Centre (SEC) UBC Recycle (Part of UBC campus Sustainability) UBC ‐ Sustainable Development Research Institute (SDRI) Type of sustainability Economic/Social sustainability Environmental and Social sustainability Social sustainability; Environmental sustainability; Economic sustainability UBC Natural Foods Co‐op Environmental sustainability; Social sustainability UBC Trek 2000 Community Social sustainability service Program UBC Alma Mater Society (AMS) Environmental sustainability; Bike Co‐op Social sustainability UBC Farm (2 students) Social, Environmental, and Economic sustainability Vancouver Hospital and Health Social sustainability Sciences Centre Canadian Blood Services (CBS) Health and Social Sustainability Canadian Catholic Organization Environmental sustainability; for Development and Peace Economic and Social (CCODP) sustainability Canadian Mental Health Social sustainability Association (CMHA) Carnegie Community Centre Social sustainability Planned Parenthood Association Social sustainability of BC (PPABC) One student discussed the concept of subculture in describing service to the Surrey off Road Cycle Enthusiasts (SORCE), an organization dedicated to the creation of a safe and positive community of like‐minded mountain bikers. This student wrote: “Almost everybody 360 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE is part of a subculture. Media often conveys subculture in deviant [terms] and [with] negative associations. This is far from the truth. They will pay their taxes, respect the law, and support their government.” This student continued describing SORCE’s positive effects on health: [T]he very nature of riding a bike demands cardio‐vascular exercise and promotes physical strength, translating into good physical health. The experience of riding in the great outdoors promotes the study and knowledge of the area both geographically and historically thus fostering a respect for the environment. (student response) Another student performed service in an organization dedicated to saving the burrowing owl’s habitat. This student created a questionnaire to supplement the sociological concept of consumption. The questionnaire provided feedback to the respondents about how much effort they were putting into preserving the environment. The questionnaire itself was hyper‐linked to the course concept map. Taken together, the database and the concept map provided ways for the class to experience community engagement. What students learned from course lectures and readings changed as a result of their service experiences, and these changes were tracked through the collaborative development of the course concept map. To better understand how and what the students were learning about community engagement, we now turn to the findings. FINDINGS The findings are presented in two major sections. In the first section, we outline general findings from an eleven‐question, peer evaluation survey. In the second, we briefly examine five student exemplars that illustrate Fraser’s (1997) critique of Habermas. The survey tells the story of the students’ perceptions, good and bad, of their community experiences and, thus, sets the context for the discussion of the five students. Brief comments about some of the implications are mentioned as well. RSL Encourages Ongoing Community Service After the course was over and the end of the RSL project, 86 per cent of the 65 students in the class indicated they were inclined to perform RESEARCH IN THE SERVICE OF CO‐LEARNING 361 community service again. In fact, another 35 per cent of the 86 per cent explained their experience as having “opened their eyes” to benefits of helping others. Student interest in community service work and community service‐learning could be a catalyst to act as participating members in their communities. In the words of one student, “Community service is an important part of our society.” Representative of 19 per cent of the other students, this individual pointed out that always having wanted to engage in community service, but “because it was mandatory [for this class] it gave [him/her] that motivational push.” RSL Helps Understanding of Sociological Concepts Students noted the immediate benefits of community service to their understanding of sociological concepts, considering it to be a good approach to understand sociology because it was “hands on and applied to real life.” As a student explained, I’m taking classes like sociology to learn, specifically to learn about society, people, and how the world works. If I wanted to learn about sociological [sic] and history I would have just bought a book. For me, the idea of learning through participation in a community organization was very exciting and in combination with the lectures on sociological concepts made it a much better way to learn. (student response) Twenty‐three percent of the class of 65 demanded that, in future, a greater effort be put forward to ensure that connections are being made to sociological concepts. One possibility would be to present a student‐
created concept map at the beginning of the year to aide new students in thinking about the course terms as both independent phenomena and in relation to other concepts. Another technique could involve the instructors having feedback sessions where class time is put aside to discuss student experiences in connection to course concepts. This would have to be included in the syllabus or described in the first class. RSL Fosters Students’ Sense of “Making a Difference” Students were asked if they felt that they made a difference to the organization through their community service work. Seventy‐four per cent of the class of 65 decided that they had made a difference. Five 362 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE students felt that they contributed new ideas to the organization. Those working in areas of environmental sustainability seemed to have had the greatest number of positive experiences. The physical nature of much of the work, often taking place in the outdoors, made it easy for those students to see their personal impact on the environment. One student explained that her major contribution was “the smile on [her clients’] faces, dignity, and renewed or newly gained self esteem.” While another had the following reaction couched in terms of sustainability: In my own words, I believe sustainability is when we preserve and transmit cultural traditions and values. I believe I did this in my organization because I taught people about our English language and our own customs here in Canada, therefore, preserving and passing down our culture to new students in our country. (student response) Those stating that they felt they had not made an impact on their organization pointed out that they had been given menial tasks. They had felt “lost in a big organization.” One student complained: “A monkey probably could have done my job.” Another stated: “The organization would have gone [on] fine without me.” In fact, 15 per cent believed their expectations of the experience had not been met because they had been given too little responsibility. Other students complained that their skills had not been properly utilized. However, these students were not completely negative. One said, “I don’t think I made a difference to the organization per say because it is such a large, well‐
organized place already. I think it made more of a difference on me.ʺ RSL Fosters Students’ Interest in More RSL Many of the students (86 per cent of the class total of 65) discussed reasons for wanting to do more community service work in the future. For 35 percent of these respondents, their “eyes were opened’; as one student stated, there were “too many issues [that] I simply can’t ignore. I’m sure that for the rest of my life I will continue to be active on the issues that matter to me.” Another student noted: “Yes, it made me much more interested in my surroundings and what was going on. Now, I am more inclined to say yes to any of these activities than to say no. It helps me just as much as it helps others.” Others acknowledged the difference RESEARCH IN THE SERVICE OF CO‐LEARNING 363 they could make in their communities by pointing out: “It has made me more inclined to be active in my community because now I see what a difference I can make.ʺ Another student made connections to the world by saying, “To change the world, I learned we have to be willing to [perform] community service.” Students’ Definitions of Sustainability Changed At the outset of the course, 65 per cent of the class had chosen the environmental field, and 28 per cent had selected community service in the health sector. Originally, students had associated the concept of sustainability with the environmental sector. However, by the end of the term and the RSL experience, 50 per cent, as opposed to 38 per cent, of the students had changed their definition of sustainability to include the concept of social sustainability. Of these, 62 per cent had altered their thinking of sustainability from solely an environmental framing to include social and health sustainability. After completing the course, 88 per cent of students had a specific, inclusive, and concrete definition of sustainability. Student Constraints Associated with RSL Experiences Despite the overall positive experiences of the class, a few negative responses about community service‐learning emerged from students. Initially, some reacted adversely upon finding out that we were asking them to engage in this type of activity. As a result, 21 per cent of the group thought about switching out of the class, citing timetable issues or other socially acceptable excuses. Some mentioned unsatisfying responsibilities within some of the organizations. One individual pointed out he/she would have felt better about community service if it had not been forced by the teacher, but rather had been done out of student good will. However, students who felt that the community service aspect of the course had been “hugely” unsatisfactory only made up fewer than 12 per cent of the class. The less favorable perceptions did not emanate from a negative view of community service itself but rather from circumstantial factors, such as time and availability as well as personal issues with the way particular organizations were run. For example, one student summed up 364 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE these factors in his/her response: “It is too far from where I live, and I’m not really interested in environmental sustainability. Also, I don’t have that much time, since I work and go to school full‐time.” The other side to this is the six students not inclined to community service elsewhere or attend public forums rationalized their answers by saying, “I have always found excuses not to, I always will,” to “I see no point.” Another contended that students need money so desperately that “There is no time to do something that does not financially benefit them.” One response is representative of some of the negative comments: “The community service work I did does not make me want to [do] community service elsewhere nor more often, considering I could be getting paid for those hours I put in elsewhere.” Overall, despite some negative comments, most students had a positive RSL experience throughout the Sociology 100 course despite the extra work they perceived it to involve. In fact, 34 per cent of students mentioned that community service work was constructive because they had learned about their surroundings and developed new skills. The majority of students came away from the course with an expanded understanding of the concept of sustainability after having performed community service in a community organization, group, or agency. In sum, students are, indeed, interested in community service work. They engaged sociological theory by experiencing the multiple publics that Fraser (1997) says comprise the everyday world of community organizations. Activities associated with RSL, namely service, reflection, and active engagement with community had positive outcomes for the Sociology 100 students. Many of the student outcomes, such as increased participation in community service, connecting ideas and theories to everyday life, and making social change, represent common goals for educators interested in community issues, sustainability, conceptual understanding of social scientific concepts, and the development of students as citizens. Student Exemplars In this section, we illustrate Fraser’s rethinking of multiple publics through the research in the service of co‐learning (RSL) experiences of five students in the Sociology 100 class.3 Through these students’ service, RESEARCH IN THE SERVICE OF CO‐LEARNING 365 one can see that they were exposed to and participated in a diverse body of public strata. They also learned about the political orientations of their organizations. Furthermore, these students became more committed to future political action within the community. Distinctions between private or public areas became less clear as students worked with relative equanimity on political agendas ranging from human sexuality and abortion counseling to environmental conservation. Moreover, because these organizations shared their own commitments to addressing numerous manifestations of social inequality, students recognized the hierarchical relations of domination and subordination in the social milieu. In the following paragraphs, we have described the community experiences of specific students. In addition, we have connected these experiences to Fraserʹs five tenets of the public sphere. Where possible, we present a brief description of each organization to illustrate the connections to individual student experiences. Sharon and the Carnegie Community Centre. Fraser (1997) encourages sociologists to understand the public sphere as a space where people can ignore different statuses and where they can connect with one another. Sharon’s community service work with Carnegie Community Centre supports this assertion. Her experience offers an example of a service organization that is a bridge across social positions. Sharon explained that Carnegie ʺprovides a range of social, recreational, and educational programs for the poor and alienated residents of the Downtown Eastside.” Sharon also noted that Carnegie hosts a number of other community organizations. Participation in programs and events is free. This is important in a space where ʺthe survival and well‐being of its members [is] a first priority.ʺ Carnegie’s work inspired Sharon to call the centre a ʺliving room,ʺ ʺhaven,ʺ and a place that ʺbuild[s] up the community and create[s] opportunities for its members.ʺ Sharonʹs ability to offer sophisticated metaphors for Carnegie Community Centre reveals that experiences such as hers enable students to look beyond the circumstances in which agency users usually find themselves to consider the kinds of interaction that its programs foster. She discovered that part of Carnegie Centre’s mandate was to examine marginalized individuals’ access to leisure and education. Sharon felt that Carnegie encouraged citizenship by fostering a sense of belonging to society. Sharon connected 366 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE the concepts that she learned in the classroom to their manifestation within the community. Through her active community engagement, Sharon took on a citizenship role to assist in improving the lives of individuals at Carnegie Centre. In doing so, she learned about differences in social position and about the need to provide opportunities to improve local conditions for marginalized people. Liz and the Canadian Mental Health Association. Liz’s experiences while volunteering with the Canadian Mental Health Association (CMHA) buttress Fraserʹs (1997) argument that the public sphere is fluid and malleable. Liz described her experience with the Routes to Real Work project, an initiative that helps nearly 50 per cent of its participants find employment. Liz attempts to convey the desire for clients to take on a new principal status (i.e., employee rather than patient) through integration into the workforce: The Routes to Real Work project is related to social sustainability by integrating people with mental illnesses into the workforce. Through the help of this project, participants were able to contribute positively to the community, gain independence and skills, and, therefore, not need to rely on public support as much. It is a process of re‐socialization where a person is able to develop life skills, live independently, and be a part of the community. It also decreases the stigma surrounding mental illness so the public becomes more involved in helping people with inflictions [sic]. Through this project and others, the CMHA provides a medium between a total institution and complete independence by providing community support. It helps stop the cycle many people with mental illness go through: being in a psychiatric hospital, living in the community without support, and then revolving back into the hospital. Through this project, participants feel better about themselves, and their mental well‐being is sustained. (Liz’s response) Liz employed Sociology 100 course concepts (e.g., stigma, re‐
socialization, institution) to show that Routes to Work clients believed in the fluid nature of an individual’s social position. Especially important is the sense of transformation she described. This awareness is illustrative of Fraserʹs (1997) overall theoretical focus. In this example, individuals with mental illnesses are able to participate within their communities by taking part through active living. Liz used Sociology 100 concepts to explain the fluid nature of social position in this organization RESEARCH IN THE SERVICE OF CO‐LEARNING 367 and the possibility for marginalized individuals with mental illnesses to become active participants in their communities. Jennifer’s and the Canadian Blood Services. Jennifer’s experience with the Canadian Blood Services (CBS) grounds Fraserʹs assertion that conflating the public and the private realm is an important facet of the public sphere. To explain this idea, we draw on Jennifer’s contribution to the database. Jennifer described the CBS as an agency that ʺprovides a safe, secure, and affordable source of a national blood supply system.ʺ She also traced the history of the organization and its educational and recruitment strategies. Most significant, Jennifer, like Fraser (1997), recognized how private issues, such as blood transplants and surgeries, have public implications. She depicted blood as a ʺpublicʺ or ʺcommon good.” It connects individuals throughout the country through a national service that relies heavily on community services. In addition, by providing community services or by donating blood, private individuals are performing a type of caring service work to the larger public. In other words, private people become active as public actors to benefit the larger community (Tronto, 2001, p. 82). Maryʹs and Planned Parenthood Association of British Columbia. Maryʹs work with the Planned Parenthood Association of British Columbia (PPABC) is another example of civil society meeting public needs while also addressing those of private individuals. In her analysis, Mary focused on decision making because of its central position in the day‐to‐
day activities of the organization. According to Maryʹs contribution, Planned Parenthoodʹs mandate is to reduce unplanned pregnancy and promote reproductive health. She noted that the organization was formed in 1961 when a number of family planning agencies around the province merged with the use of funding from the United Way, local fundraising activities and events, community organizations, and private donations. The PPABC believes clients (members) have the right to information, access, choice, safety, privacy, confidentiality, comfort, continuity, expression, and treatment with dignity, courtesy, consideration, and attentiveness. Membership is open to everyone. Clients are ensured quality clinical care and education on reproductive health issues. Theoretically, this organization connects private, individual reproductive health to a healthy public community. 368 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE Promoting, enabling, and rewarding good decisions about contraception and planned parenting foster a healthy citizenry and society over the long‐term. The organization’s goals focus on individuals making good decisions. What is noteworthy about Maryʹs community service experience is her emphasis on this organization’s serving needs of the public. Her work also highlights that needs and choices of the strong public may produce tensions with the weak publics even through the process of good decision making. Jim and the Canadian Catholic Organization for Development and Peace. Fraser (1997) discusses the need for public dialogue and the overt politics that characterize what is acknowledged as a part of civil society. Jimʹs community service work with the Canadian Catholic Organization for Development and Peace (CCODP) led to his assertion that marketing coffee was a political issue and worthy of dialogue and political action. Jim was involved in a project that planned and coordinated a Just Coffee fundraising project to sell Fair Trade organic specialty coffee. In his contribution, Jim questioned the motives of big coffee retailers in advocating the need for fair trade brands that he considered to be ʺvirtually unknown.ʺ He explained that fair trade is an alternative system with the objective of aiding: [S]mall holders and members of democratic cooperatives in various Latin American countries and in Timor [where] a fair price is paid per pound of coffee beans produced by these coops. The beans are processed and exported by cooperatives in order to cut out the local middle [level managers], often referred to as “coyotes,” who exploit the growers. The Fair Trade system allows small farmer families to reinvest in sustainable agriculture and community development projects. By purchasing Fair Trade products, individuals help these families cover their production costs and receive a livable return for their labor. (Jim’s response) Jim considered the everyday practice of coffee consumption in relation to the more public national and international issues of globalization, aid, and development, as such, consumption patterns are a political issue and, therefore, part of the public sphere. Above all, Jimʹs example reinforces the need for conversation and dialogue between marginalized coffee producers, retailers, and consumer groups. This RESEARCH IN THE SERVICE OF CO‐LEARNING 369 example raises questions about the Catholic Church’s role in this kind of work as well as the consumer’s part in social change. Jim considered the topic with a critical eye. By becoming a community activist interested in supporting the rights of others, Jim engaged as a political actor in shaping not only his own decisions, but those of other coffee consumers and larger companies as well. While seeing citizenship in the form of political action, Jim’s experience speaks to the need for public dialogue to counter the concealed politics of civil society. Taken together, these students’ community service experiences exemplify and connect Fraserʹs (1997) theory of an expanded notion of community engagement by enacting it. Finally, these community service experiences provided an avenue for students to examine their roles as citizens within a variety of publics while linking their experiences to sociological theory learned in the classroom. CONCLUSION Community service‐learning provides an opportunity to ground concepts in organizations whose work contributes to a more democratic society. We used Fraser’s (1997) framework to support the argument that community organizations can instruct students in a number of areas. Organizations provide access to the public arena of political participation. This access is enacted through association and discursive relations (p. 70). The opportunity to challenge private matters by reconceptualizing them as public issues has been illustrated through the students’ reflections about their volunteering (p. 76). The students’ RSL experiences encouraged them to confront differences in individuals’ social statuses, gender, and diversities. In her theoretical discussion, Fraser explains such encouragement as fostering participatory parity (p. 89) and increased political awareness. Lastly, these student examples illustrate the necessity of dialogue between strong and weak publics in public decision making (p. 90). Finally, the online resources created as part of the project represent the culmination of the community service‐learning projects. In particular, the organizational database and the concept map functions of the website reflect public sphere participation in several ways. First, their accessibility via the Internet meets Fraser’s criteria for some level of 370 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE participatory parity. The World Wide Web is accessible, provided that one owns or has public access to a computer, source of dialogue, and information for students in higher education. In addition, the definitions of sociological terms used by the students for these online resources were developed through discursive interplay between classroom dialogue and lived experience. As students worked with concepts that were introduced via lectures and course readings, and throughout the process of students’ critical reflection upon their community service endeavors, the terms and definitions took on a discursive‐interactive character. From the perspective of sociology, notions of “difference” and “the other” were brought to the fore as students asked themselves what parts of, and how, their experiences related to theoretical concepts. Stereotypes and subcultures emerged as two foundational concepts in the Introductory Sociology concept map. Exercises based on these concepts helped students recognize the existence of multiple social worlds. This is an important counterbalance to the normative social world that is sometimes seen as completely overpowering. In short, community service‐learning can challenge concepts typically delivered in the Sociology 100 course while promoting experiences that foster community engagement. Furthermore, RSL provided the opportunity for students to engage as citizens in field experiences that took place either on or off campus. In this case, community service‐learning facilitated the production of student‐created tools for promoting information exchange (e.g., websites, databases, and video). This can further encourage collaboration between the university and the community. These information exchanging tools promote a fuller, richer public sphere – on and off campus – as well as the integration of teaching, research, and community service. RSL’s ability to bridge theoretical knowledge between the public sphere and the learning of abstract theoretical concepts can be reinforced by creating interactive websites that are maintained over time. Thus, RSL can provide an avenue for students to activate theory through participation as citizens within local communities. In this article, we have argued that community service‐learning can foster community engagement. We have presented a theoretical and applied argument for offering methods for conducting community RESEARCH IN THE SERVICE OF CO‐LEARNING 371 service learning. We have illustrated how community service learning can introduce students to their roles as engaged citizens in “affairs and their community” (Dietz, 1987, p. 14). The university can, and must, foster critical, reflective, and participatory dialogue within and outside its strict geographical boundaries. Learning through community engagement offers a space for interaction with a multiplicity of publics, and, in doing so; it provides a pathway between the community, students, classroom, and university. NOTES The database is no longer available for viewing because the server is 1
gone. Students were expected to explain the rationale for their choices of organizations in the context of sustainability. One student defined the role of an anti‐poverty resource centre as contributing to social sustainability as “every project organized and run by the Harvest Project is related to the social.” 2
3 The names of the five students in this section have been changed to protect and ensure anonymity. REFERENCES Anderson, J. (2000). Service‐learning and preservice teacher education: Learning in deed issue paper. Denver, CO: Education Commission of the States. Barazangi, N. H. et. al. (2003). Evaluation model for an undergraduate action research program©. Paper delivered at the World We Want Conference, Victoria, British Columbia. Boyer, E. L. (1994). Creating the new American college. Chronicle of Higher Education, p. A48. Brookfield, S. (1987). Learning democracy: Eduard Lindeman on adult education and social change. London, UK: Croom Helm. Brown, J. S., Collins, A., & Duguid, P. (1989). Situated cognition and the culture of learning. Educational Researcher, 18(1), 32‐42. Collins, A., Brown, J. S., & Newman, S. E. (1989). Cognitive apprenticeship: Teaching the crafts of reading, writing, and mathematics. In L. B. Resnick (Ed.), Knowing, learning and instruction: Essays in honour of Robert Glaser (pp. 453‐494). Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. 372 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE Dewey, J. (1916). Democracy and education: An introduction to the philosophy of education. New York: The Free Press. Dietz, M. G. (1987). Context is all: Feminism and theories of citizenship. Daedalus, 116(4), 1‐24. Eckstein, H. (2002). Case study and theory in political science. In R. Gomm, M. Hammersley, & P. Foster, (Eds.), Case study method: Key issues, key texts, (pp. 119‐163). London, UK: Sage. Fraser, N. (1997) Justice interruptus: Critical reflections on the ‘postsocialist’ condition. New York: Routledge. Freire, P. (1970). Pedagogy of the oppressed. (M. B. Ramos, Trans.). New York: Seabury. Habermas, J. (1992). The structural transformation of the public sphere: An inquiry into a category of bourgeois society. (T. Burger, Trans.). Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Lave, J., & Wenger, E. (1991). Situated learning: Legitimate peripheral participation. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. National and Community Service Act (1999). The National and Community Service Trust Act of 1990 (Amended in 1999). Government of the United States. Patton, M. Q. (1990). Qualitative evaluation and research methods (2nd ed.). Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Reardon, K. M. (1998). Participatory action research as RSL. New Directions for Teaching and Learning, 73(Spring), 37‐44. Savan, B., & Sider, D. (2003). Contrasting approaches to community‐based research: A case study of community sustainability. Local Environment, 8(3), 303‐316. Schutz, A., & Ruggles Gere, A. (1998). RSL and English studies: Rethinking “Public” service. College English, 60(2), 214‐223. Tronto, J.C. (2001). Who cares? Public and private caring and the rethinking of citizenship. In N.J. Hirschmann & U. Liebert (Eds.), Women and welfare: Theory and practice in the United States and Europe (pp. 65‐83). New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Waterman, A. S. (Ed.). (1997). Service‐learning: Applications from the research. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. RESEARCH IN THE SERVICE OF CO‐LEARNING 373 Wiechman Maybach, C. (1996). Investigating urban community needs: RSL from a social justice perspective. Education and Urban Society, 28(2), 224‐236. Weinberg, A. S. (2003). Negotiating community‐based research: A case study of the “Life’s Work” project. Michigan Journal of Community RSL, Summer, 26‐35. Wolfson, L., & Willinsky, J. (1998). What service‐learning can learn from situated learning. Michigan Journal of Community RSL, 5, 22‐31. Dr. Rob VanWynsbergheʹs research examines social sustainability and healthy community living in relation to urban sustainability, social movements and institutional change. Specific research is in the areas of community coalitions and mega‐events, sustainability education, cross‐case analysis, and Aboriginal taxation. He has taught numerous courses in Sociology, Sustainability, and Health Promotion in four institutions in two countries. Most recently, he has co‐
designed inter‐institutional and transdisciplinary courses that specifically focus on urban sustainability in Vancouver. Currently, Dr. Cynthia Lee Andruske is an adjunct professor at the University of Houston Clear Lake in Texas. She has just completed a post doctoral fellowship in Alberta at the University of Calgary where she explored relationships between hidden “costs” and invisible contributions of ethnic immigrants to culture and caregiving. Through her work with marginalized populations, Dr. Andruske’s research focuses on intersections between gender, resistance, learning, networks, care work, health, and citizenship. Through popular theatre, most recently, she worked with social workers to understand social justice in relation to practice. Currently, she is exploring social support and networks of immigrant and ethnic minority elderly. 374 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE Appendix 1. Concept Mapping Assignment Name _______________ Concept ______________ Objectives: 1/ Connect your volunteer experience with the concepts that we are learning in Sociology 100‐005. 2/ Improve the course web site (http://research2.csci.educ.ubc.ca/soc100/) as: • Collaborative learning space • Research tool for service learning Task: You are responsible for making one of these concepts “come alive” by handing in a two‐page document (print, not electronic) that accomplishes both objectives. Items 1‐3 must be included, a minimum of two options from items 4‐8 are also necessary. Required 1) Description of the concept (one paragraph) 2) Analysis of how the concept applies to your experience 3) Link to other concepts Choose a minimum of two of the following. 4) Identify interesting, related web‐sites 5) Create sample assignments to teach the concept and/or service learning 6) Find images that capture the reality the concept describes 7) Provide analogies that help to explain the concept 8) Photos, quotes, stories Audience: The cross between the “ho‐hum” and the “oh‐here‐we‐go‐again” crowd. You are going to turn these folks into the “on‐the‐edge‐of‐their chairs‐
with‐face‐smashed‐up‐to‐the‐computer‐screen‐‘cuz‐they‐can’t‐believe‐
they‐got‐by‐without‐this‐information” types.” RESEARCH IN THE SERVICE OF CO‐LEARNING 375 Rationale: One of the most difficult parts of the service learning part of this course is making the connections between the course content and your experiences. I am sure that many of you have successfully done so “in your heads” but that rarely means reflection. The point is that sharing these experiences against the backdrop of Sociology 100 will add tremendous value to the whole endeavour. The Dreamweavers will take each of your two‐pagers and use the information to create a course concept map. 376 ROB VANWYNSBERGHE & CYNTHIA LEE ANDRUSKE Appendix 2. Questions for Database 1. What is the name of your organization? 2. Who is the main contact (the boss)? 3. What is it mandate? 4. What kinds of projects is it currently working on? 5. Who are its funders? 6. How would you describe the culture of the organization, 7. What other organizations does it work with? 8. What sociological concept or concepts reflect this organization? Recensions / Book Reviews D. Jean Clandinin, Janice Huber, Marilyn Huber, M. Shaun Murphy, Anne Murray Orr, Marni Pearce, and Pam Steeves. (2006). Composing Divers Identities: Narrative Inquires into the Interwoven Lives of Children and Teachers. New York: Routledge. 196 pages. ISBN : 0‐415‐36218‐0 (hardback); 0‐415‐39747‐2 (paperback). Cheryl Craig is a professor in the Department of Curriculum and Instruction, University of Huston Co‐authored by D. Jean Clandinin, Janice Huber, Marilyn Huber, M. Shaun Murphy, Anne Murray Orr, Marni Pearce, and Pam Steeves (with an Afterword by Stefinee Pinnegar), Composing Diverse Identities: Narrative Inquiries into the Interwoven Lives of Children and Teachers extends the boundaries of what is known about curriculum, teaching/learning, and narrative inquiry as a research methodology. Drawing on the contributions of Dewey and Schwab and continuing in the pioneering tradition of Connelly and Clandinin, the work captures complex intersections where children’s stories nested against the backdrop of the narratives lived and told by their families meet institutional narratives lived and told by teachers and administrators. In the volume, lives in motion are slowed down and moments are closely attended to. Through this approach, readers come to know school as experienced by Lia, James, Julie, and Aaron, among other students. For example, Lia routinely arrives late because her Eastern cultural background privileges male children and she must deliver her brothers to their classrooms first; James struggles to fit in but his verbal acumen causes him to stand out; Julie wrestles with routines yet seemingly articulates elder wisdom as a First Nations Canadian; and Aaron’s Métis cultural practices collide with the story his urban school context demands that he live and tell. With enormous sensitivity to persons and keen insight into culture, the CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007): 377‐398 378 RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE authors introduce readers to wonders and puzzles that create tensions and entailments for these students and many more as they navigate the intricacies of their educational lives lived at Ravine Elementary School and City Heights School in Edmonton. Along the way, such commonplace matters as attendance policies, snack routines, and character education are called into question in ways that provoke re‐
thinking of their original purposes. Methodologically, readers are introduced to fictionalization, “an act of using what you know of something – your life, place, events – to create a story around this knowledge that shifts the original story of experience” (p. 66). Such fictionalized accounts can fruitfully be used as a research tool to explore possible plotlines to live by. At the same time, children, parents, and educators – as part of being human – also can employ imagined wonderings to bridge gaps between the stories individuals tell and the stories others expect of them. In certain situations, fictionalization can mask realities that contribute to troubling phenomena such as the student dropout rate. In other instances, fictionalization may be a form of “arrogant perception,” resulting in a “failure to identify with the person that one views arrogantly” (Lugones, 1987, p. 4). Thus, under the guise of benevolence, students may be pointed in directions that others believe are in their best interests, but with which they and/or their families may not agree. Hence, Clandinin et al. emphasize that: In attending to the stories of…children, we became aware that fictions may be created by and for children for different purposes and we began to realize the complexities of how fictions are intertwined with stories to live by. (p. 78, emphasis added) In addition to fictionalized accounts, the authors also productively use word images to chronicle a version of each of the educators’ lived and told stories. These word images stand in juxtaposition to the field and research texts that distinguish the student accounts. They give the teachers’ and administrators’ experiences a distinctive flavour without overpowering the children’s stories. Furthermore, a common narrative thread ties these images together: the educators’ personal tales of coming to know diversity. For example, readers become acquainted with RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE 379 another student, Amit, through “stitched‐together second‐hand stories” (p. 96) told by Jeanette, Amit’s principal, who attempts to walk with her “in a good way” (Young, 2003). Readers soon learn how chagrined Jeanette is to discover that Amit will be returned to India to live with her grandparents while her parents await the birth of a male child in Canada. Amit’s possible placement in a special learning strategies classroom, peopled by mostly male students, seemingly triggered the family decision. Not only will Amit end her formal education, she most certainly will be married at 13‐years of age, according to East Indian tradition. As layers of Jeanette’s coming‐to‐know‐diversity story become unraveled, readers learn of her personal experiences as a child and her experiences as a mother attempting to understand school life through her son’s eyes. All this contributes to the “multiple colliding stories” (p. 109) that Jeanette encounters as the situation with Amit escalates. Yet, despite her best attempts, Jeanette as a school principal is unable to interrupt the family story that has a stronghold on the child’s future. But, in the midst, readers will find themselves encountering an unanticipated turn of events: Jeanette engaging in a profoundly relational act that may on more than one occasion assist Amit in claiming her voice. Taken together, Composing Diverse Identities is a crowning achievement where relational inquiry and collaboratively written texts are concerned. Not only does the volume portray a team of researchers conducting a sustained inquiry in the throes of the doings and goings on of several characters (principals, teachers, children, parents) situated in two school settings, it involves the mindful negotiation of texts – field texts and research texts – with participants and fellow researchers alike. This was but one way that the complicated, interwoven texture of lives was instantiated. Another way was through co‐composition. The authors’ collaborative signature suggested that these researchers lived as deeply alongside one another as they did alongside their research participants. At the same time as Clandinin et al. managed to overcome the isolation and competitiveness that marks life in higher education, they were able to keep lived tensions and contradictions in the forefront and hold the dominant research plotline of arrogant perception at bay. Through this volume, readers are awakened to new possibilities of how 380 RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE research can be enacted and fresh ways that education can be lived. Thanks to this book, readers are afforded a penetrating look at what is – with an eye to what could be – in Canadian schools. REFERENCES Lugones, M. (1987). Playfulness, “world”‐travelling, and loving perception. Hypatia, 10(2), 23‐43. Young, M. (2003). Pimtisiwin: Walking in a good way. Unpublished doctoral dissertation. Edmonton, AB: University of Alberta. _____________________________ Rita M. Kissen, (Ed). (2002). Getting Ready for Benjamin: Preparing Teachers for Sexual Diversity in the Classroom. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2002. 266 pages. ISBN 0‐7425‐1677‐6. André P. Grace, Educational Policy Studies, Faculty of Education, University of Alberta. Getting Ready for Benjamin is a timely text for teacher educators, preservice and practicing teachers, and school administrators who want to make schools more inclusive spaces that visibly and meaningfully address sex‐and‐gender differences. It overtly attends to many complex issues, omissions, exclusions, hopes, desires, and possibilities that texture life in schools in the realm of these differences. This book provides a forum to engage the familial and the pedagogical in the edgy intersection where sex‐and‐gender differences are further complicated by culture, power, and other differences that characterize people. As editor, Rita M. Kissen has clear desires, desires that connect the personal and the pedagogical and take the reader to the heart of family and schooling: She wants schools and classrooms to be inclusive, welcoming spaces for her grandson Benjamin (who will enter first grade in 2005) and his two moms, one of whom is her daughter. And, she wants schools and classrooms to be inclusive, welcoming spaces for Benjamin’s LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender) and questioning classmates as they grow up. RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE 381 Still, in the face of history and tradition, these purposes remain difficult to achieve. Schools, as sociocultural sites that prepare the next generation of citizens, continue to be a collective replicator of a heteronormative status quo that keeps families like Benjamin’s invisible and disenfranchised. Kissen challenges teacher‐education programs to play an integral role in changing this status quo. She states, “The guiding vision behind this book is that lgbt issues are inextricably interwoven into the basic concerns of preservice [teacher and administrator] education” (p. 4, emphasis added). This position infers that when we fail to build awareness of sex‐and‐gender differences, we advance the implicit or hidden curriculum that also influences the educational process. Thus, for Kissen, the book is about making LGBT persons and issues more visible in teacher education. Moreover, it is about contributors to the book sharing how they enact a politics of visibility against the grain of heterosexism, which is a systemic barrier pervasive in curriculum and instruction that, by nature and design, helps normalize homophobia. In Part I of this book, Surveying the Landscape, the contributors depict the current state of LGBT awareness in teacher education. For example, in his chapter, Arthur Lipkin takes up the challenges of covering LGBT topics in teacher education in the face of the resistance in teacher‐
education programs to doing so. Sometimes the resistance is caught up in political fears; sometimes it is caught up in a lack of pedagogical preparedness to address such topics. Lipkin stresses the importance of engaging sex‐and‐gender topics in the context of preparing teachers for the exigencies of a diverse classroom. Other essays in Part I also take up the theme of resistance. In an essay on countering invisibility and creating allies in teacher‐education programs, Diana Straut and Mara Sapon‐Shevin identify four pervasive barriers to inclusion for academics and students in these programs: assumptions (everyone in this class is heterosexual), invisibility of the hegemonic norm (heteronormativity is taken for granted), counterhegemonic practices (attempts to include LGBT issues are usually perceived as dangerous instead of casual or normal), and curricular gaps (it is hard to find suitable resources). In examining practice and social interactions in physical education, Michael Gard argues that sexual diversity is central to physical education as an 382 RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE educational and cultural practice, and as a site where traditional norms of masculinity need to be challenged. He highlights the practical and curricular challenges that face physical education as a key sociocultural location where homophobic suspicion and violence are pervasive. Deborah P. Berrill and Wayne Martino explore the key issues of sexuality, masculinity, and normalization in the preparation of male teachers. They examine how heterosexism and homophobia regulate teacher identities and behaviors. They investigate the critical concern of male teachers who feel they become sexually suspect when they appear to be too nurturing. They also examine the critical concern of gay male teachers who often anxiously hide in their work because gay sexuality is associated with deviance and, even more insidiously, pedophilia. The remaining essays in this section speak to the need to improve the inclusive educational preparation of early childhood and elementary preservice teachers; absences in anti‐homophobia education; and the problems of juxtaposing LGBT issues with such topics as teen pregnancy, drug abuse, sexual abuse, STDs, and HIV/AIDS. In Part II, “Add LGBT and Stir:” Multiculturalism and Sexual Diversity, contributors survey the place of LGBT issues in multicultural education. In an essay focused on sexual diversity and inclusion, Paula Kluth and Kevin P. Colleary speak to the complexity of differences shaping student diversity today. They explore notions of dignity, respect, advocacy, and privacy as integral components of inclusive schooling. In his essay on expanding contemporary understanding of multiculturalism to include a focus on LGBT persons and issues, Will Letts calls for a thicker multiculturalism that not only focuses on equity and LGBT student identities and differences, but also focuses on countering heteronormativity and deconstructing homosexual/heterosexual, male/female, and other binaries. He suggests an important part of engaging this more encompassing multiculturalism is to examine the ways that LGBT persons and issues are both included and excluded in educational discourse. Other essays in this section explore examples of LGBT transformative projects in teacher education, and discuss challenges and strategies in relation to teaching for LGBT diversity. In Part III, Telling Our Stories, contributors describe their struggles as they accept responsibility to integrate LGBT awareness into teacher RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE 383 education and teaching practice. In an essay on teacher educators and the multicultural closet, James R. King and Roger Brindley investigate the failure of multicultural education to include a focus on sex‐and‐
gender differences. In particular, they examine how teachers interact with LGBT students and with students who come from an LGBT home life. They also make a specific and important argument that has ramifications for teachers’ codes of professional conduct: “Including one’s personal version of religious valuing as part of teaching is simply not professional” (p. 207). This argument speaks to the need for teachers to understand professional as engaging in a respectful, ethical public practice that accepts and accommodates every student. Other narrative essays in this section focus on what the preparation in teacher preparation programs might mean from inclusive perspectives; how LGBT teachers mediate their sex‐and‐gender identities amid societal and institutionalized homophobia in teacher‐education programs; how teachers’ self‐understandings are woven into processes of making meaning and sense of the academic subjects they teach; how preservice teachers manage their sexual identities; how teacher educators’ work to have preservice teachers engage in anti‐homophobia education still runs up against the reality of resistant schools; how a lesbian principal draws on her own multiple identities to advance a diversity curriculum in her school; and how teacher educators can assist students in teacher‐
education programs to become social justice educators. As an edited book on addressing sex‐and‐gender differences in teacher‐education programs, Getting Ready for Benjamin is a fine resource. Although contributors remind educators of the many exclusions around sex‐and‐gender differences in teacher education and teaching practice, they also keep hope and possibility at the forefront of their deliberations. Perhaps with the help of books like Getting Ready for Benjamin, it will continue to get better for LGBT students, parents, and teachers. Maybe one day being there for every student, including LGBT and questioning students, will be pervasive not provocative, usual not unusual, ordinary not odd. _____________________________ 384 RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE Guofang Li. (2005). Culturally Contested Pedagogy: Battles of Literacy and Schooling between Mainstream Teachers and Asian Immigrant Parents. Albany: State University of New York Press. 254 pages. ISBN 0‐7914‐
6549‐2 (hardcover : alk. paper) Yu Liu, doctoral student, Department of Language and Literacy Education, University of British Columbia “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” This saying is one of the first English sentences I learned in China about twenty years ago at the beginning of my secondary school. How should we understand this saying in the current Canadian context, with its rapid demographic changes? Should immigrants to Canada do as mainstream Canadians do? To answer these questions, Li’s research, Culturally Contested Pedagogy: Battles of Literacy and Schooling between Mainstream Teachers and Asian Immigrant Parents, is a fascinating, timely investigation into why communication and mutual accommodation between educators and parents are necessary, and how educators and parents can establish an effective partnership. Taking an enthnographic approach, well‐grounded in theory, Li’s study addresses the home‐school divide for Chinese immigrant children, an issue, as Li (2001) notes, rarely discussed in the qualitative research literature. I read this book as a literacy researcher and Chinese immigrant parent living in Canada Li’s book fulfills her first intent by documenting voices of eight focal students and their teachers and parents. The children in Li’s book are from middle‐class, immigrant families. These parents have financial capital to make up for what they find unsatisfactory in Canadian public schools: hiring tutors after class to teach their children English, Chinese, math, or other subjects. The mainstream teachers are the minority in the community where the school is located (Richmond, British Columbia). They have a strong sense of responsibility to assist their students, most of whom are of Chinese ethnic background, in literacy learning; however, they do not have a clear idea of the students’ home literacy practice or their parents’ beliefs about literacy teaching. Li spent one‐year in classrooms observing and interviewing teachers and parents. She concluded that the white, middle‐class teachers RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE 385 believed that progressive, student‐centered pedagogy effectively helps Chinese immigrant children learn. In contrast, she observed that the parents believed that their children needed teacher‐centered, skill‐
focused pedagogy to achieve academic success. In addition, Li found a lack of effective communication between educators and parents, which created an opposition between them. An example is the dispute about the homework that teachers assigned. Li found that some parents did not read with their children the English books assigned as homework, or that some students spent much time after‐school on homework assigned by tutors that their parents hired. The parents did not think it was fair of the teachers to rely on them to teach their children English because some parents did not speak fluent English. They hired tutors for their children because their children’s school did not adequately teach knowledge and skills. Li documents the battle and its consequences, but does not take either side of the battle. The consequences of the battle are reflected in the eight focal children’s struggles with literacy learning and identity development. In addition, Li acutely points out that these academically challenged children suffered from psychological and academic neglect created by the stereotype of the “model‐minority” myth: because all Chinese students enjoy success at school, they do not need psychological or academic assistance. This stereotype blurs differences among Chinese students (See also Li, 2001). Li examines the issue of Chinese immigrant children’s literacy experiences not only from a socio‐cultural but also an acculturative perspective. Her investigation includes an examination of larger contexts, such as schools and society, which have a significant impact on children’s development. Instead of blaming any individuals for children’s academic difficulties, Li advocates for informed parent/ educator cooperation, the second intent of her study. To fulfil this intent, Li suggests a pedagogy of cultural reciprocity that brings educators and parents together as partners. She provides educators with numerous suggestions how to establish this pedagogy. These include educators making adjustments in their ideologies and policies to respond to parents’ beliefs, and subsequently creating an empowering environment for the Chinese students in school; teachers 386 RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE modifing their progressive pedagogy to include more direct instruction; teachers creating methods to communicate with parents; and teachers using children’s home language and culture to facilitate their learning at school. Reading Li’s book through the eyes of an immigrant parent, I believe that parents can play a much larger role than she suggests. Although Li provides educators with numerous suggestions, her suggestions for parents are inadequate. I believe, for instance, that, just like educators, parents can also use Chinese language and culture as a resource at home to assist their children in building their learning of English and Chinese upon each other. For example, they can have children retell in Chinese what they read in English, and encourage conversations with children around the readings. Both school and home are places to facilitate children’s development of additive bilingualism and bi‐literacy (Cummins, 1981; Hamers & Blanc, 2000). In addition to creating a linguistic link between home and school, parents may also connect their home activities with children’s schooling practice. Links between home and school activities are crucial influences on children’s performances at school (Heath, 1983). Immigrant parents’ role in the construction of a pedagogy of cultural reciprocity is an issue that deserves intensive investigation, an area that Li has just touched on in her book. Li’s book documents a wonderful qualitative study of bridging the home‐school divide in the case of middle‐class Chinese immigrant children in Canada. Unfortunately, it seems to be mis‐titled. Because the study does not include Asian children or families beyond Chinese ethnic background, the phrase Asian Immigrant Parents in the title is misleading. It should read Chinese Immigrant Parents. In spite of its shortcomings, Li’s book informs on many levels. It reminds educators, schools, parents, and researchers that they need to establish reciprocal partnerships, and carry out informed negotiation of meaning both in school and at home. Well‐intended efforts to help immigrant children learn should be based on their needs that are framed by the socio‐cultural, socio‐political, and linguistic context. To answer the question I proposed at the beginning of this review, I maintain that it is not wise to require immigrant children to do as mainstream Canadian children do. In Li’s words, “Achieving a plural consciousness and RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE 387 cultivating a pedagogy of cultural reciprocity . . . requires us to abandon the binary oppositions that prevail in the dominant educational canon” (p. 231). REFERENCES Cummins, J. (1981). The role of primary language development in promoting educational success for language minority students. In California State Department of Education (Ed.), Schooling and language minority students: A theoretical framework. California State Univeristy: Evaluation, Dissemination and Assessment Center. Hamers, J. F., & Blanc, M. H. A. (2000). Bilinguality and bilingualism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Heath, S. B. (1983). Ways with words: Language, life, and work in communities and classrooms. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press. Li, G. (2001). Literacy as situated practice: The world of a Chinese preschooler. Canadian Journal of Education, 26, 57‐75. _____________________________ Fred L. Johnson and Alan L. Edmunds. (2006). From Chaos to Control: Understanding and Responding to the Behaviors of Students with Exceptionalities. London, ON: The Althouse Press. 227 pages. ISBN: 0‐
920354‐62‐9 Laureen McIntyre is a professor in the Department of Educational Psychology and Special Education, College of Education, University of Saskatchewan The classroom can be a challenging environment for students with emotional and behavioural difficulties and disorders and for their teachers. There is a need for practical resources that can help educators connect promising research findings, and the practical applications of these findings, when identifying and addressing the challenging behaviours of their students. The authors of From Chaos to Control set out to provide educators with “insights into the application of some practical classroom management techniques that teachers can use to turn what may be a chaotic classroom environment into one they can control” 388 RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE (p. viii). The subject of this book, understanding and responding to the behaviours of exceptional students, is indeed timely and of importance. The first five chapters outline different categories of exceptionality. In these chapters the authors outline: why students may engage in disruptive behaviours; describe how and why the behaviour patterns of students with exceptionalities differ from those of students without exceptionalities; and examine ways in which teachers can establish supportive, positive learning environments that not only encourage student learning but diminish disruptive behaviours. In the remaining chapters, chapters 6 through 12, the authors outline “how assessments of behaviour should be conducted and how behavioural interventions are to be designed planned, and implemented” (p. ix). In this book, the authors emphasized the individuality of students and the differing approaches educators may use to address these behaviours. However, a number of concerns arose for me when I reviewed its content more closely. First, the authors provide limited source citations for the information they were presenting, leaving the reader to wonder if this information was based on research evidence, the authors’ opinions, or undocumented teacher interviews. When the authors did provide source citations, they either extensively cited one source (e.g., Barkley, 2000), or relied on references that were 10 or more years old. Second, the authors incorrectly identified and described in their opening chapters at least two areas of exceptionality. For example, the authors referred to word‐finding problems as dystonia, citing an article by LaBlance and Rutherford (1991) as a source. When I reviewed this reference, I found that dystonia was actually defined as “a progressive neuromuscular disorder of unknown pathophysiology…characterized by sustained, involuntary twisting movements, which may affect muscle groups of varying size in the face, neck, trunk, and /or limbs” (Fahn, 1988, as cited in LaBlance & Rutherford 1991, p. 141). When speaking of word‐finding difficulties, the term the book’s authors were looking for is dysnomia (Paul, 2001). Similarly, the authors described dystaxia as “a language deficit that causes students to use short, choppy sentences or, in some cases, to skip words, making it difficult to comprehend what they say” (p. 16), providing no source citation for this explanation. RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE 389 Dystaxia is not a term recognized or used to describe any speech or language disorder by either the American Speech‐Language and Hearing Association (ASHA) or the Canadian Association for Speech‐Language Pathologists and Audiologists (CASLPA). Perhaps the authors were instead referring to dyspraxia, a motor speech disorder that affects articulation and verbal expression (Paul, 2001). Finally, the authors frequently made broad statements for which they provided only limited explanations. For example, in chapter 6, the authors stated, “Although caution should be taken in placing too much emphasis on an IQ score, the subtest scores can provide invaluable indicators of a child’s ability to perform different cognitive task[s]” (pp. 79‐80). Readers are left to infer why one should not place too much emphasis on IQ. In chapter 11, the authors state, “Research suggests that at certain ages children will have inadequate skills of self‐control” (p. 184). The authors give a vague reference to “research evidence,” but provide no examples of sources or explanations of studies that would back up this statement. This book set out to integrate “excellent teaching concepts and proven behavioural interventions into a comprehensive approach that will lead to an understanding of, and an ability to respond to, the continuum of disruptive behaviours that all students with exceptionalities exhibit” (p. vii). Limited and dated source citations, incorrect identification and descriptions of different categories of exceptionality, and limited explanations of provided statements resulted in the authors falling short of meeting these objectives. Overall, I would not recommend this book to educators hoping to find a well‐
documented resource to better understand and respond to the behaviours of their exceptional students. REFERENCES Barkley, R.A. (2000). Taking charge of ADHD: The complete, authoritative guide for parents (rev. ed.). New York: Guilford Press. LaBlance, G. R., & Rutherford, D. R . (1991). Respiratory dynamics and speech intelligibility in speakers with generalized dystonia. Journal of Communication Disorders, 24(2), 141‐156. 390 RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE Paul, R. (2001). Language disorders from infancy through adolescence: Assessment and intervention (2nd ed.). Toronto: Mosby. _____________________________ Robert Fisher. (2003). Teaching Thinking (2nd edition). New York & London. Continuum. 286 pages. ISBN: 0‐8264‐6804‐7 (hard cover); 0‐
8264‐6805‐5 (paperback) Kathleen Ronsyn, doctoral candidate, Department of Policy Studies, Ontario Institute for the Study of Education of the University of Toronto Essentially, Teaching Thinking is a book rooted in a belief that teaching students to become independent thinkers and learners for life is an educational necessity. The author embraces philosophical discussion “through a community of enquiry approach” (p. 4) used by facilitators to develop thinking and learning capacities with students. As part of a “world‐wide ‘philosophy for children’ movement” (p. 1), Teaching Thinking supports “the theory and practice of philosophy with children, illustrated with work from children and teachers in schools in the UK” (p. 2). Progress in the community of enquiry, discussed in chapter three, means that students learn to maximize their metacognitive thinking capacities with and among others. Teaching Thinking begins with an in‐depth introduction for each chapter. Most noteworthy are the numerous “how,” “what,” and “why” questions asked and explicitly answered throughout this book. There is an array of expertise used in conjunction with the author’s own writings and research, ending each chapter with numerous notes and references. The author includes over a page of Internet websites that readers may access to learn more about this topic, and five focused appendices that are both specific and provide a quick reference for readers. Questions and topics for philosophical enquiry, discourse vocabulary, a reference of discourse skills, assessing progress for philosophical enquiry, and evaluating philosophy for children are all appendices described in detail. The bibliography includes an extensive list of the author’s own work. Chapter 1, “Why Philosophy? Thinking about Thinking,” is a discussion on the necessity of developing thinking and learning RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE 391 capacities with students, and the role of philosophical discussion in this process. The justifications for teaching thinking are numerous, and equally numerous are the benefits for students both individually and socially. For example, individuals can benefit from philosophical enquiry by improving their “self‐esteem” (p. 55) and “intellectual confidence” (p. 55), and develop their ability to “participate in reasoned discussion” (p. 55). Equally important to understand why teaching thinking is important is to understand the manifestations of faulty thinking over time. The intellectual cost of not developing thinking capacities with students seems too great a cost to ignore both socially and for individuals. In a balanced discussion, the author gives an early focus to how philosophical enquiry helps students develop thinking capacities toward a metacognitive level of thinking, and why philosophical enquiry is a vital activity for students of all ages. Chapter 2, “Philosophy for Children: Teaching Children to Think” offers readers an in‐depth description of the ‘Philosophy for Children Programme’ by Matthew Lipman. An American pioneer programme developed over 20 years ago, Matthew Lipman’s programme is widely used in countries around the world. The author connects Matthew Lipman’s Programme within his book as a programme which aims “to provide a context for moral and social education through a specific teaching strategy called ‘community of inquiry (or enquiry)’ (p. 2). Through a critique of Matthew Lipman’s Programme, the author invites readers to critique how educators support the improvement of thinking with students. In Chapter 3, “Community of Enquiry: Creating Contexts for Moral Education”, the author tailors the discussion to provide an understanding of the essence of the community of enquiry. Extending the discussion in chapter 6, I appreciated the author’s direct approach to explicitly unfold his perspective (through the use of headings) on how a community of enquiry can be achieved, and how moral and social values may be taught within this context. At the end of this chapter, a useful table identifies the “early stage of growth in community” (p. 91), and a “mature stage of growth in community” offering educators an opportunity to reflect on their own strategies used when developing a 392 RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE community of enquiry environment with students. Taken seriously, improving student thinking in this context requires that the facilitator ensure that students eventually own the process. The facilitator must understand that growth in the community of enquiry means that students move from an external focus of discourse “about the discourse of others” (p. 90) to an internal focus of discourse for personal understanding. This movement is described as “second‐order to first‐
order discourse” (p. 90) where student engagement in the process is a necessity. Furthermore, overcoming a potential challenge of creating a foundation of caring among any group of students as part of the community of enquiry can lead students to prosper from the benefits of philosophical discussion. In Chapter 4, “Stories for Thinking: Using Stories to Develop Thinking and Literacy” Fisher provides pedagogical reasons for using story to develop thinking, giving many examples of stories to use for philosophical enquiry, with each example discussed individually. He presents numerous practical suggestions for leading a discussion to ensure forward movement of the discussion. Emphasizing intellectual rigour for discussions, Robert Fisher maximizes the usefulness of story in this chapter. Chapter 5, “Socratic Teaching: Facilitating Philosophical Discussion” continues with guiding educators to understand the development of thinking toward a metacognitive level. Outlining a Socratic method of teaching, Robert Fisher expresses that “effective thinkers know more about themselves as thinkers and learners” (p. 141). Reflecting this metacognitive level of thinking, students develop the tools to engage themselves as full participants within a democratic society. The author maximizes the usefulness of the Socratic method of teaching in this chapter. In Chapter 6, “Philosophy in the Classroom: Reviewing and Assessing Progress,” Fisher discusses the logistics for participating in the community of enquiry. There is no room for the assumption that students know how to engage in this process. Essentially, following student‐driven expectations for philosophical discussion reinforces responsibility for the process. This chapter is rich with ideas that contribute to the success of the community of enquiry and ideas that aim RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE 393 to maximize student engagement in the process. The evaluation of the philosophical discussion is a significant part of the process outlined at the end of this chapter. In the final Chapter 7, “Philosophy Across the Curriculum: Improving the Quality of Thinking and Learning,” Robert Fisher presents variability in the applications of philosophical enquiry across the curriculum. Continuing the discussion to any area of the curriculum, I see this book applicable to education in the Canadian context because essentially improving student thinking is a universal endeavour although approaches to supporting the development of student thinking may be somewhat varied. Extending the benefits of philosophical enquiry for individuals means that students develop the “intellectual tools” to “play their full part in a pluralistic and democratic society” (p. 55). On the other hand, the reader learns from chapter 3 that growth in a community of enquiry means that students move from “second‐order to first‐order discourse” (p. 90). This means that every stage of the community of enquiry provides students with opportunities for personal growth and development and opportunities to discover and/or better understand their own uniqueness, while simultaneously learning to appreciate the uniqueness of others, through their interactions with peers. Evidently, then, the role of the facilitator is critical for supporting the personal benefits of philosophical enquiry as well as nurturing the social development among groups of students. Teaching Thinking provides clarity for readers who aim to teach thinking to students giving valuable suggestions to parents, administrators, and all individuals dedicated to improving student thinking. Incorporating conversation and insights from students and teachers gives added value to each chapter. Readers can expect ample suggestions for leading a philosophical discussion, and a very direct approach to facilitating philosophical discussions with students. Whether individuals are experienced in facilitating philosophical discussions, or looking to learn about a direct approach to getting started, Robert Fisher’s Teaching Thinking provides focus, guidance, and opportunity to reflect on information and current practices for teaching thinking to students of all ages. 394 RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE _____________________________ Mary Kay Moskal and Camille Blackowicz. (2006). Partnering for fluency. New York: The Guilford Press. 142 pages. ISBN: 1‐59385‐265‐7 (cloth); 1‐
59385‐264‐9 (paperback). Timothy Rasinski, Camille Blackowicz, and Kristin Lems. (2006). Fluency Instruction: Research‐based Best Practices. New York: The Guilford Press. 302 pages. ISBN: 1‐59385‐254‐1 (cloth); 1‐5385‐254‐3 (paperback). Carolyn Thauberger, doctoral candidate, Language and Literacy Department, Faculty of Education, University of British Columbia Every few years the process of reading undergoes a major redefinition to reflect the latest thinking about research. This redefinition sets the stage for additional review of how to define, assess, and develop various reading subskills, and it establishes directions for future research. The current surge of interest in reading fluency reflects recent redefinition of the reading process and new perceptions of the critical role of fluency in that process. What is the role of fluency in current views of reading and how important is it? What indicates fluent reading? How can it be developed? The two books under review here address these important questions in the light of recent thinking about reading and the role of fluency in that process. Fluent oral reading is easily recognized, so fluid, expressive, and rapid it appears effortless. Disfluent readers on the other hand read slowly and laboriously, stumbling and repeating as they struggle to decode unknown words, maintain the speech‐like quality of the writing, and grasp at least the gist of the meaning. Despite this obvious distinction, consensus on a formal definition of fluency has not been achieved. Consensus is important. Researchers need measures that are broadly accepted as valid and reliable. Without a clear definition of fluency acceptable tools cannot be built that measure the necessary qualities, and in the end educators will not get the information they need. Defining fluency is critical and it hasn’t been done. RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE 395 That is why the more theoretical Rasinski, Blachowicz, and Lems book is so valuable. It presents the thinking of prominent researchers and educators, each elaborating some dimension of how fluency may be perceived, assessed, or developed. The foundation for thinking about fluency is in Samuels’ (pp 7‐20) excellent article reviewing and updating his early automaticity theory of reading (LaBerge & Samuels, 1974). As Samuels notes, automaticity theory attempts to explain how people such as athletes and musicians become highly skilled at difficult tasks. Early automaticity theory applied to reading hypothesized that readers have a finite capacity available for cognitive tasks, and that automaticity in decoding and word recognition frees up attention for use in dealing with the ideas coming from and to the text. As Samuels points out recent cognitive research in general agrees with this theory, but it suggests comprehension processes be included in the model. Rather than being a fairly linear process, newer research shows that information may be gathered from both bottom‐up and top‐down sources and simultaneously analyzed into meaning. Fluency is therefore dependent not only on automatic decoding and word recognition skills as previously thought but also on the simultaneous automaticity of top‐
down knowledge based on lexical, syntactic, and semantic information that is then managed in a complex interactive process. This is the interactive view of reading and it explains why most definitions of fluency now include comprehension. Samuels notes, “the essence of fluency is…the ability to decode and comprehend text at the same time” (p 9). The other authors in both books use definitions of fluency that involve the performance attributes of decoding accuracy and rate. Some of these authors add some evaluation of quality of reading in terms of proper expression or prosody, and a few of them include some indication of more advanced comprehension. It is clear that even within the carefully chosen articles in Rasinski, Blachowicz, and Lems there is not complete agreement. Without agreement as to what fluency is, it is not surprising that widely accepted assessment tools are scarce and that research has been limited as a result. Researchers want numeric precision; fluent reading has a qualitative aspect. That is why many popular fluency assessment measures may lack validity. They do not consider all that is known about 396 RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE the construct. The simplest are based on rate and accuracy alone and are clearly described with their variations in both books. Curriculum Based Measure (CBM), and its variations, asks students to read for one minute from a passage of grade level classroom material while rate and accuracy scores are taken. Repeated assessments or comparison with expected standard rate/accuracy charts indicate progress. Note there is no penalty for sharpie students who neglect comprehension as they race to read the most words in the shortest time. To improve this validity concern, prosody can be added by using a rubric or checklist of qualities (samples in both texts), but then reliability may be lost in the qualitative judgment scoring prosody requires. Comprehension can also be included by asking for a passage summary or by questioning. Now the assessment begins to look a lot like that old standby, the informal reading inventory. Are educators and researchers getting there with fluency assessment or are they circling? As some of the authors in these two books suggest, the future of the fluency research field depends on the development of acceptable measurement. Despite their mismatch with recent definitions, fluency assessment based on rate and accuracy correlates highly with more comprehensive standardized assessments of reading. To my mild disappointment, both of these books appear to support the use of quick fluency assessments that do not include comprehension. There are readers who comprehend poorly despite apparently fluent reading and high rate/accuracy scores. Assessment based on rate and accuracy may be handy on average for teachers, but researchers need something better. I also have concerns about requiring all students to read from grade level text, as it is uncomfortable for struggling readers. But of more concern is that this text level will force some students into disfluent reading. Doesn’t this go against the principles of automaticity theory where correct practice develops skill while errors practised even once make them harder to correct (think of your golf swing)? Why not ask students to read from finely graded passages and see how high they can read before they lose fluency? This would have the added advantage of avoiding the use of those relatively new charts of rate/accuracy norms (see Moskal & Blachowicz, p. 29), a technique fraught with concerns RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE 397 related to text type, student interest in that text, and a lack of Canadian norms. Whatever the difficulties with assessment the authors in these books agree about how to help students get the kind of practice that develops fluent reading. To achieve fluency, readers need repeated opportunities to read aloud the same words and similar patterns of words in connected text so that stimuli are mapped consistently onto the same responses throughout practice. Instruction must provide motivation and opportunities for this practice. Until recently two approaches had been recommended – repeated oral reading, and extensive silent reading, but, as both books explain, that recommendation has changed. The influential American National Reading Panel report (NRP, 2000) found evidence that oral repeated reading practice, where the same passage is repeated until fluency is achieved, combined with modeling and support for fluency meta‐awareness definitely improves skill. Struggling readers may need additional instruction in other missing subskills and good readers may not need fluency instruction at all. The panel was unable to find enough experimental evidence (plenty of correlational evidence) to support a recommendation for the use of extensive silent reading. There are other excellent reasons why students might be encouraged to read extensively, but it appears that repeated oral reading is what is needed for developing fluency. Our two books both offer excellent descriptions of the most common repeated reading techniques. This is not the old round robin oral reading but repeated rehearsal of a single passage until oral fluency is achieved. Critical to this instruction is the difficulty of the text relative to a student’s ability. Recommendations in these books vary as to exactly what that level is, and again it is good to have the opportunity to see that discussion of the range of views. Moskal and Blachowicz suggest if expert support is available teachers may use passages where students achieve 85 per cent word recognition. That number would seem low to most authors in Rasinski, Blachowicz, and Lems. If too many of the words require non‐automatic processing, both comprehension and reading fluency growth will be impeded. Motivation may suffer as well. Such techniques as Readers Theatre can also unintentionally force readers into text above the level from which they will develop fluency. In 398 RECENSIONS EN LIGNE/BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE the past, lists of words were sometimes used for fluency practice rather than continuous text, but that method is rare when comprehension is viewed as part of the process. The use of computers to model, record, evaluate, and even partner students (read to my computer?) is reported in these books, but generally results have not been as strong as with other methods. Fluency is an area of growing interest at present and so it should be, for reading fluently is the bridge between decoding and comprehension. Though written for different audience levels, both of these books contain theoretical and practical information, offering the best ideas recommended for understanding this important concept, for assessing it, and for implementing a rich fluency development program based on repeated oral reading. The theoretical information in the Moskal and Blachowicz text is intentionally limited, perhaps too limited for real understanding. When I understand concepts I can think of my own ways to teach, so even for the purpose of developing an instruction program I might prefer the more theoretical Rasinski, Blachowicz, and Lems. Such books as this that pull together diverse thinking about fluency help to clarify what it is. When that concept is clear, tools can be developed to assess fluency with precision, and reading fluency research can move ahead. REFERENCES LaBerge, D., & Samuels, S. (1974). Toward a theory of automatic information processing in reading. Cognitive Psychology, 6, 293‐323. National Reading Panel. (2000). Teaching children to read: An evidence‐based assessment of the scientific research literature on reading and its implications for reading instruction (National Institute of Health Publication No. 00‐
4769). Washington, DC: National Institute of Child Health and Human Development. _____________________________ Politique rédactionnelle
La Revue canadienne de l’éducation publie des articles s’inscrivant dans diverses traditions
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CANADIAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION 30, 1 (2007)