Educational Mosaics

Contents
i
Educational Mosaics
Sharing Our Work and Findings: Moving into the Mosaic
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications
Faculty of Education, The University of Manitoba
Editors: Zana M. Lutfiyya, Karen E. Smith, and Stan B. Straw
ii
1999 GRADUATE STUDENTS SYMPOSIUM
Copyright © Faculty of Education, The University of Manitoba 2005
All rights reserved.
Cover and Text Design: Karen Armstrong
Printed and bound in Canada
Library and Archives Cataloguing in Publication
Graduate Students Symposium (2000 : University of Manitoba)
Educational mosaics : Sharing our work and findings: moving into
the mosaic : Research, curriculum and pedagogy: exploring applications :
proceedings
of the 2000 and 2002 Graduate Students Symposia.
Edited by Zana Marie Lutfiyya and Karen Smith.
Includes bibliographical references.
ISBN 0-9695481-7-6
1. Education--Congresses. I. Lutfiyya, Zana Marie II. Smith, Karen
Elaine, 1955III. University of Manitoba. Faculty of Education IV. Graduate Students
Symposium
(2002 : University of Manitoba) V. Title. VI. Title: Sharing our work and findings.
VII. Title: Research, curriculum and pedagogy.
L107.G72
2005
370
C2005-901288-9
Proceedings from future symposia may be viewed at
<www.umanitoba.ca/education>
Additional copies of this book are available from:
Faculty of Education
The University of Manitoba
Winnipeg, Manitoba R3T 2N2
Canada
Telephone: 1 (204) 474-9000
Acknowledgements
We would like to thank the Dean of Education, graduate students, and
members of the organizing committee for their co-operation. We also
thank members of our support staff who helped to make the 2000 and
2002 Symposia possible.
Programme
Sharing Our Work and Findings:
Moving into the Mosaic
Proceedings of the 2000 Graduate Students Symposium
Held Friday and Saturday, March 17th and 18th, 2000
Room 200, Education Building
Faculty of Education, The University of Manitoba
Editors: Zana M. Lutfiyya, Karen E. Smith, and Stan B. Straw
Table of Contents
.
I NTRODUCTION
PART I: B REAKING B OUNDARIES
“You know what? You always use yourself!”
The Influence of Teachers’ Personal Reading and
Writing on their Teaching Practice
Laura Atkinson
15
Kindergarten Children’s Gender Schematicity and
Its Relationship to Sibling and Parental Variables
Laura Sokal
31
Student Dialogue in the Computer Room:
An Exploration of Research Methodology
Karen E. Smith
45
PART II: “I SSUES ON THE E DGE ”
From Desperation to Hope: The Stories of Three
Aboriginal Women
Chris Loewen
65
Intellectual Disability and Aboriginal People
Cheryl Martens
79
PART III: “C HALLENGE OF A N EW P RAXIS ”
Some Assembly Required? Representations of
Teacher in Popular Film
Chris Higgins
97
Should We Remove Section 43 from the Criminal Code?
Zhide Li
103
The Garden as a Metaphor for Curriculum and for
Curriculum Inquiry
Karen Wilson Baptiste
123
Toward a Reconsideration of Biography as an Instrument
for Studying Leadership in Educational Administration
John V. Brandon
135
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Contents
Introduction
The Faculty of Education at the University of Manitoba held its second Graduate Student Symposium on March 17th and 18th, 2000. M.Ed. and Ph.D.
students embraced the opportunity to share their work and findings at this
second gathering because the first symposium, held in 1999, had been so
well received. Graduate students in both M.Ed. and Ph.D. programs presented
their research at the 2000 Symposium. Their work is a mosaic of research
conducted throughout their graduate programs, both on the way to their thesis and dissertation topics and as a result of that work.
This second symposium drew a slightly larger crowd of applicants and
audience than the first, demonstrating a growing local interest in graduate
work. The organizing committee, made up of Dr. Rosa Bruno-Jofré, Chris
Higgins, Zhidi Li, Jana Jilek, Karen Smith, Laura Sokal, and Carol Fournier
Dicks (Organizing Assistant) worked hard to pull the event together, arranging the program, discussants, and refreshments.
The program was grouped by topics matching the title phrase, Moving
into the Mosaic, which depicts a changing, evolving landscape of graduate
research. The title followed from the work in the first symposium entitled,
An Educational Mosaic. Section I, Breaking Boundaries, is a collection of papers that take aim at current practices and depict educational innovation.
Section II, Issues on the Edge, is a collection of papers examining specific
populations that challenge mainstream thinking. Section III, Challenge of a
New Praxis, is a collection of papers examining research issues in new ways.
The proceedings from Moving into the Mosaic follow the same groupings as
the original program which has been included in this volume.
There were three sessions held over the two days of the 2000 Symposium. One session was held on the Friday evening and the other two sessions were held the next morning. Questions and discussion followed each
of the program sessions. At the conclusion of each session, audience members presented questions to the presenters and a lively debate of topics ensued. Ample refreshments and informal discussion also added to the
atmosphere of this important graduate student event. A growing interest in
graduate work is ensured through the success of the 2000 Symposium.
Karen E. Smith
xi
Part I: Breaking Boundaries
Breaking Boundaries
“You know what? You always use yourself!”
The Influence of Teachers’ Personal Reading and Writing
on their Teaching Practice
Laura Atkinson
This article originally formed part of a larger study of teacher change in instructional practices in response to changes in theory and practice in reading and
writing. The original study involved 13 teachers of grades 3 to 6 in two elementary schools. In a structured interview, the teachers were asked about
their teaching histories and their thoughts and ideas about the changes they
had seen over their careers in the theory and practice of teaching reading and
writing (Atkinson, 2000). One of the questions in the interview was about the
teachers’ personal practices in reading and writing in their private lives, their
self-concept as a reader and as a writer, and the influence of these practices
and self-concepts on their teaching of reading and writing
In the analysis of this data the influence of the teachers’ practices and selfconcepts on their teaching practice was obvious but this influence was generally not articulated by the teachers in the interviews. The relationship was
clear from their accounts of their experiences and their accounts of their teaching practices but was not obvious to the teachers. Their personal experiences
in reading and writing were largely unexamined and therefore the effects were
not mediated in any way in their impact on teaching. The teachers also assumed that any influence from experience to practice was a positive one.
Nearly all of the teachers said that they were avid readers and that they
had also read a lot as children. They felt that this had had an influence on their
teaching. Most of the teachers talked exclusively about the reading of fiction
for pleasure. A few included in their discussion their non-fiction reading, their
reading for information, and/or their reading of more literary works. A few others distinguished between reading for pleasure and the reading that they had
been required to do in school or the reading that they might now do for professional purposes. Generally the teachers seemed to consider the latter two
kinds of reading (required reading and/or professional reading) to be of less
interest and reason for comment than reading for pleasure.
The concept or model of reading that underlay their comments seemed
derived directly from their reading experience as children and adolescents.
When adult experience was evoked, it did not yield a more sophisticated concept of reading. Even when their actual practices were more in line with a
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more complex concept they did not articulate the concept. The teachers’ concepts of reading are in line with the earliest construct of reading as translation. In this conceptualization, reading is solely the acquisition of the meanings
that are resident in the text. More current models of reading are: an interaction model which assumes an active (but individual) reader and a construction model in which the reader constructs meanings socially (Straw, 1990;
Straw & Sadowy, 1990).
With regard to writing, almost all of the teachers were critical or unsure of
their writing abilities and yet most felt that this lack of skill or confidence had
little effect on their teaching of writing. Despite this, their comments about
their personal experience of writing clearly did show a pattern of influence on
their teaching although this was not something they had thought about. Five
of the thirteen teachers found in the course of the interview and, on reflection, that their personal difficulties or lack of confidence in their own writing
when they were in school, or more recently in adult experience, had influenced them to teach writing in a particular way. Three teachers also specifically mentioned a reverse effect. They felt that their writing skills and
confidence in their writing had improved as a result of teaching writing or other
academic activities more recently in their careers.
In most of their answers to questions about their personal reading and
writing, the teachers drew on experiences in childhood and in school, in addition to talking about current experience. With regard to reading, almost all
talked about current habits and practices. They all seemed to assume that
the topic was “reading for pleasure” and they nearly all do presently read for
pleasure. In contrast, when talking about writing, they were much more likely
to talk about past experiences. In this case they nearly all assumed that the
topic was academic or literary writing. Very few of them do that kind of writing. In addition, writing for pleasure was an unaccustomed idea for all but a
very few.
The teachers also seemed to treat their early school experiences alongside of their adult experiences as if they were parallel in time. They did not
differentiate in importance between experiences that they had as a child and
those they had as an adult, as if their perceptions and learning in the two circumstances were equally valid. This is probably an effect of unexamined experience but it suggests that teachers consider all of their experiences as a
well of accumulated material to draw on in formulating teaching plans. Teachers have not generally had the opportunity to consider their own experiences
and the effect that their experiences might have on their teaching. There is
potentially a powerful vehicle here for teachers to develop their thinking and
their practice of teaching in reading and writing that has not been generally
developed in teacher education or professional development programs.
Breaking Boundaries
“If you’re not a reader, how can you expect kids to read?”
Personal Practices in Reading and their Influence on Teaching
The teachers’ personal reading practices varied somewhat but they nearly all
said that they loved to read and read a lot for personal pleasure. They all felt
either as a matter of customary thinking or on reflection that these personal
habits and practices had some influence on their teaching of reading.
“I can’t imagine a child having a life without a book.”
Kim spoke for several teachers on the question of her personal reading
practices and the influence of these practices on her teaching of reading. She
described herself as an avid reader, one for whom reading was a major part
of life. She concluded that her biggest goal with her students was to induce
them to love reading as well.
That’s my hobby. That’s what I enjoy to do. I like the fantasy of reading. I like the realistic reading. I mean, if I’m hungry, I’ll read anything that anybody has. It doesn’t matter. You know, if someone has
a book I’ll read it. I mean, I happen to love it. And I like the excitement. I can’t imagine a child having a life without a book. So that’s
my main thing. As a teacher, probably in grade three my biggest goal
. . . is to teach them to love it . . . And that’s an easy goal . . . They
love it. My kids love to read. If I say, “Let’s silent read,” they cheer
. . . (Kim p. 8)
This is a common, non-analytic approach to the question. Teachers assume
that reading a great deal would be a major benefit to their students and they
make a simple connection between their own recreational reading and their
promotion of reading in the classroom. Almost all of the teachers in the study,
also assume that, in grades three to six, promoting reading is the same as
teaching reading.
“I was a reader. That’s all there was to say.”
Another teacher, Donna, tells a familiar story about herself as a child reader
There was no television. I was a voracious reader. I would read two
or three books a night . . . I know that when I was in the eighth grade
. . . I was allowed into the adult section because they knew that I
had read every book. I was a reader. That’s all there was to say. (Donna
pp. 5-6)
When asked what effect her reading history had had on her teaching, she
distinguished between just reading and being a “reader” and talked about
the impact of that difference on students’ reading. If the teacher doesn’t love
reading, the students won’t either. A teacher who is not a reader will cover
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what is required but won’t give the students enough time to read on their
own. If a teacher is uncomfortable or feels inadequate with something, that
something will tend to disappear from the curriculum. “If you’re not a reader,
how can you expect kids to read?” (Donna pp. 24-25).
Donna thinks of being a reader as a happy contagion that you hope can be
passed to the children in the care of the lucky sufferer. This idea coincides
though with the ideas of the other teachers who thought that inducing children to read a lot through stimulating their interest would solve the problem
of poor or reluctant readers.
“I know what it’s like to have to read a book.”
Suzanne’s approach to the question was also similar but she adds another
element. Even when discussing her own reading interests she displays a close
identification between her own problems finding a book to read and her students’ situation
I have trouble finding a good book. When you were younger—I look
at the kids and I’m so envious because we have a class library and
there’s books beyond books, and books and books, and they can read
forever, and when you’re an adult, it just doesn’t seem that you have
that type of selection. The books are out there but . . . I find, I need
to hear first that the book is unbelievable and I should try it, or if someone recommends it to me and that I’ve heard about it . . . (Suzanne
p. 8)
Her classroom reading program is designed to have the students do a lot
of reading. In another instance of her identification with her students, Suzanne
keeps some books in the room, a type that other teachers disapprove of, because she does not want to affect her students’ love of reading by restricting
the choices available to them.
I don’t keep a lot of the “smutty” books in my classes—some teachers call them—the Sweet Valley High, but I do have some because I
want the kids reading . . . You know, you learn things from every book
. . . I just remember so many books, mostly in junior high, that we
had to read that I was just, you know, I couldn’t get through. There
were other books I can’t put them down and I’m up all night reading
them, and that’s a great feeling. I love reading and enjoying a book
like that and I want them to as well . . . (Suzanne p. 11)
Suzanne assumes that all of her students are like she was as a student
(and like she still is) and she uses her experience as a guide for teaching them.
She is certain that if the students can be induced to read a lot they will have
no problems dealing with or understanding what they are reading.
“I do it [oral reading] religiously no matter what grade I teach.”
Breaking Boundaries
Sarah’s approach to reading, particularly in her oral reading program, sees
it primarily as a performance that reproduces the text as it is written. Comprehension is assumed to be immediate in the transfer of meaning from the
page to the reader. The process by which the student builds an understanding of the meaning of the passage rather than the simple reproduction of the
text orally is now the central concern of reading programs. A current approach
to reading would have students read and respond to literature in an active/
interactive process of building understanding and constructing meaning
(Peterson & Eeds, 1990).
Sarah is also one of the few teachers who have a considered program for
teaching about literature as part of an elementary reading program. She has
decided, on the basis of her own experiences, to teach the study of literature
in a very traditional fashion, either a traditional historical method in interpreting poetry or the tracing of character, plot, and setting in the analysis of novels. Her experiences with poetry in high school and her later training in
university have convinced her that there is one correct way to interpret poetry, that the correct answers can be arrived at through study, and that she is
able to provide her students with the correct answers.
I remember very well, when it came to grade . . . ten—everything was sight
prose. There was no background on the author or the poet. You had to take a
look at the poem and interpret and answer questions and I have a very vivid
imagination. I answered as I thought it should be answered and I was always
wrong . . . But I’ve learned a lot over the years . . . it was really my university
English that brought out more of the . . . ability to interpret works. And I think
I’m fairly good at it now . . . when you take poetry . . . a lot of them are written
because of a longing for something or a lack of something in their own life . .
. you need to know the background of why that poem was written. Then when
you read the words you can more instinctively and actually educationally . . .
build an understanding. And not guess at it because there’s no guesswork
involved. You should be able to see, with studying, clearly, what that message was . . .
Anything I teach . . . we read about the author first . . . the novels
that I choose to teach . . . We talk about theme, we talk about setting—I do all the traditional things that I know they’re going to need .
. . I don’t think you could just give them the novel and say, guess
where it took place, and what do you think they’re going through? . .
. I take literature in its ultimate form very seriously. And for anyone
to appreciate, especially the classics, and even modern literature, you
still need to know and appreciate why the author built such a story
(Sarah p. 7-8).
“Reading is like breathing.”
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Doris finds a lot of pleasure in reading and this is what she would
like to communicate to her students. Reading doesn’t have to be hard
work if you can find the pleasure in it, and see it as a “movie in the
hand.” Even when a student tells her that he doesn’t like the stories
he is given to read, she assumes that the real reason is that he finds
reading hard and she goes about convincing him that he can have
fun with it.
I sort of go off on something and I will read that for a while because
I just want to grab it all . . . [I] try to do some professional reading as
that comes along. That’s sort of ongoing. I guess I don’t even count,
I don’t even think about that as reading . . . I’ve never taught reading
or thought [of] reading as work. So I guess that’s how I present it as
well. In fact I told one of the little ones this morning when he said to
me that he doesn’t like reading . . . I said, “Do you not like reading
because reading is hard or that you don’t like the stories you’re reading?” . . . Of course his answer was reading is hard. [But] He said,
“Sometimes I don’t like the story.” So I told him about . . . my son
who told me . . . as I grounded him from TV . . . “Well, I’ll just read
my book and I have a movie in my hand.” And that’s how I guess I
always saw reading, that reading wasn’t work, it was just pleasure
because where you sort of withdraw . . . And this is what I told this
little guy . . . I said, “When you read do you see pictures in your mind?”
. . . (Doris pp. 20-22)
It seems clear that for Doris reading is an intellectual pleasure but she
doesn’t see it as that and so she promotes a pleasure of another kind with
her students. Her comments about creating pictures in the mind and so on,
suggest “reading as construction” but she is unaware of the implications of
this. Of course, awareness would not necessarily give her another way to teach
but it has the potential to show another way. Like one of her students, Doris
says, “How can anyone not like reading?” Based on her own experience and
that of her family, she does not really have an answer to this.
“I’m sure that everybody says this.”
Nora reads a lot too and attributes her success in school to having been
well-read. She demonstrates to her students that her knowledge comes from
reading. If they read they will gain information and thus be successful in school.
I read a lot . . . I was a good student in high school and university,
and I think a lot of it had to do with being well-read . . . I show the
kids all the time that—they’ll say to me, “How do you know this?”
and I’ll say, “Because I read it.”. . . I don’t sit down to watch TV, I
read a book . . . (Nora pp. 5-6)
Breaking Boundaries
She recalls her experience and decides that reading led to academic success because it gave her information not because it was intellectual exercise
and language practice. When asked how her love of reading has affected her
teaching, she answered that she was able to motivate her students to love
reading. She also mentions making sure that her students know that you can
find out anything you want to know in a book but most of her time and energy is directed at motivating the students to read for an experience that is
exciting and pleasurable.
I’m sure that everybody says this, but I feel that if I could teach kids
to love reading . . . then I’ll feel I’ve been successful . . . and when I
see that I’ve turned a kid on to an author and they’re buying every
book that that author has turned out, or they’re going to the library . .
. I feel that I’ve done something right. And I feel I have a lot to offer
because I myself love books . . . and I consider myself a very enthusiastic person and I can get excited and I can get the kids excited
and I guess I feel that one of my strengths as a teacher is I can take
something that . . . could be pretty boring and make it very exciting .
. . if I can transfer that . . . enthusiasm to their work and to the kids .
. . to really want to read . . . then to me, I don’t need a report card.
(Nora pp. 8-9)
Nora uses herself, her experiences, and her enthusiasms as a sort of template for her work with her students. She is sure that “everybody says this”
as well. Her methods seem to be effective with her students but she has not
entertained the possibility that other approaches may be necessary as well.
What exactly is the pleasure of reading? It is always assumed that the reader
continues to read because of the interest and enjoyment of the story. An alternative explanation is that the complex interplay and use of the intellect is
what is enjoyable in reading. To come to this conclusion requires an understanding of a model of reading beyond the translation model—an understanding of the interaction model of reading. Furthermore to understand how the
social influence of the classroom community of readers influences children
to be enthusiastic about reading, requires a further progression in models of
reading towards the construction model of reading in which the experience
of reading is socially constructed (Straw, 1990). Nora is, in some ways, acting
on this theory without being aware of it.
“There are other issues which are at different levels.”
Barbara is the one teacher who says that she is not now and never has
been an avid reader but she works with her students to understand what they
can get out of reading—she teaches her students critical or analytical reading. What she actually describes is that she is able to help students to under-
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stand the process of insight into literature, to recognize that all genuine insight has validity, and to feel confident in their own insight.
I’m not an avid reader . . . I’m a very active person and I don’t sit still
for very long. So . . . I don’t think my love of reading is being shared.
I think my enthusiasm about what we are reading, I do share . . . Like,
I’ve told the kids how we see things at different levels. Sometimes
they bring plays into the school, and they’re very basic plays . . . I
prepare them for the play. I tell them that there are other issues which
are at different levels, at their level . . . even in a movie, I tell them . .
. a kid can go to a movie and see something from Beauty and The
Beast or whatever. And they see something. There’s different things
that they can pick out . . . So I think they’ve sort of—they’ve developed that. I think they’re developing that, which is great . . . (Barbara
pp. 6-7)
For Barbara too, the reading and the pleasure to be found in reading were
not ends in themselves. She talks about the reading that students do in connection with what they are going to write or think further about. The reading
is purposeful. It provides insight, ideas, and information and allows the students to make or construct something further.
Most of the teachers feel that their love of reading is something that they
can somehow transfer to their students. If only students could be induced to
read enough, all of the purposes for reading would somehow be met. Very
few of the teachers even mention the importance of the motivation of reading for information, even though this can be, for some students, as strong a
motivator as reading narrative (Pappas, 1991). In addition, none of the teachers talk about teaching self-monitoring strategies or other conscious strategies for aiding comprehension of written information. If students have any
difficulty at all reading they think that it is interest that is lacking and that pleasure would be the greatest aid to learning. This was the interpretation of their
experience for almost all of these teachers themselves. For most of their students it has seemed to be an adequate approach. They have not seen the
necessity for any other route in teaching reading. Personal experience, especially if it is unexamined, and reflection only on action are good guides only
for dealing with people who are very similar to yourself, people with similar
abilities, similar experiences, and tastes, similar responses to things, and similar purposes for reading.
Breaking Boundaries
“You know what? You always use yourself:”
Personal Writing Practices and their Influence on Teaching
With regard to the teachers’ personal writing practices and the influence of
these experiences on their teaching, the situation was somewhat different.
The majority of the teachers were very critical of their own writing abilities.
The most common self-assessments were lack of ease, poor skills, inordinate effort required, insecurities, and anxiety. Some marveled that they had
done well in school in spite of their lack of ability in writing. What they were
most lacking was a realistic sense of what they were capable of doing. Nancy
was the only one of the group who talked about enjoying writing.
“When I was taught, you learned to read and writing was just there.”
Kim denigrates her own writing skills and says that she does not find pleasure in writing but concludes that her skills are adequate for teaching.
As [for] my personal writing I’m not good . . . I won’t sit and write
poetry . . . while I’ll sit and read a book . . . the new way of teaching,
it is such an interactive way that they like to write. They like writing
their stories . . . They also like to look at a book and do research skills
and put it into a paper. They feel good about that kind of a skill . . .
When I was taught you learned to read and writing was just there.
I remember when writing, you had to take your sentence and you
made the diagrams and the preposition went here and the predicate
went here . . . I worked really hard and learned it. But I didn’t like it . .
. I don’t remember doing creative writing, I don’t think we did do creative writing. (Kim pp. 8-9)
Kim realizes that her skills were not well developed because writing was
never really taught when she was in school. This realization certainly reinforces
her dedication to a strongly literacy-based program in her class. In this sense
she is inspired by her own experience and difficulties to teach the way she
does.
“I feel that I am learning with them.”
Suzanne also feels that she is an inadequate writer. Continuing with her
identification of her own needs with her students’ work, she mentally works
through her own assignments to the students, assuming that if she can handle them that she is on the right track.
I’ve never thought of myself as a very good writer. Yet I would do
well in my essays . . . I am a factual person and a science person, so
when I would write, if I wrote about something factual . . . I was able
to express myself better. I don’t think I’m a very good creative writer
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. . . I value creative writing. I wish I was a better creative writer and
that’s what’s really important for me and . . . I want to observe some
other teachers and learn more about the writing process, because I
want to help my kids to become the better writers that I wish I could
have been. But because I don’t feel I am that writer, I feel that I am
going to have trouble helping them to get that . . . (Suzanne pp. 1112)
Inspired by her own difficulties, she is attempting, in effect, to be a participant with her students in their learning.
I love writing letters . . . more so than a story or essay. It’s not something I ever enjoyed doing . . . I try not to let that come through in the
classroom. I try to learn from my students and watch them . . . For
example, I gave them the topic of “winter.”. . . they could take winter wherever they wanted to. I don’t like to limit them too much . . .
It’s like reading a book you don’t want to read about. It’s writing about
something you don’t want to write about. I think, “Where would I go
with this?” . . . “What would I do with this?” Then I’d think, “Well, I
can write as good a story as theirs . . .” (Suzanne pp. 12-13)
Suzanne does not offer her students any direct instruction on how to do
the writing assignment, no structures to help them put together their “story.”
In fact her directions to them are deliberately wide-open. She seems to think
that the “ideas” for stories, along with the necessary structures, are within
the students and that these will emerge naturally in their writing performance.
That is why she wants to watch the students as they do their writing so she
can learn creative writing herself by doing the task, at least in her mind, and
comparing her performance to theirs.
Something like this may be at the root of a great deal of practice in the
teaching of writing. Suzanne’s her thinking about writing are similar to the
expressivist theory of writing instruction (Elbow, 1973) in which the natural
expression of the students is the single most important guide to the writing
teacher. More current theories of writing would also include explicit teaching
of the elements of the writing process and more rhetorical concern for genre,
audience and purpose (Hairston, 1982).
“I go out of my way to make sure the kids feel great about the way
they write.”
Nora has a lot of doubts about her own writing based on comparisons with
her siblings who seem to her to write with no effort. In spite of doing well in
school she has never felt confident about her writing ability.
Breaking Boundaries
I’m a terrible writer! . . . it takes me a very long time to write something that I consider really good. As I say, I did very well in university
and I wrote some really good papers and I look now and I can’t believe that I wrote it! . . . I guess I’m hard on myself because I look at
my brothers—it’s sibling rivalry, I guess! And I look at what they can
write and I don’t feel that I can write. I mean I did very well in university. I worked hard. But it didn’t come easily to me . . . But . . . I would
say no, I’m not a particularly good writer. (Nora pp. 6-7)
Nora realizes on reflection that she has always made a particular effort to
help her students feel good about their writing because she has always had
such doubts about her own. It goes beyond just writing though. She wants
them to feel that they have good ideas and that their interpretations are valid.
This emphasis suggests that the lack of confidence in the writing is combined
with a lack of confidence in the ideas. Students are often reluctant to have
their writing judged because writing so nakedly shows one’s ideas. Nora reasons that feeling good about your writing gives you confidence and that when
children feel confident about their ideas they will work hard to perfect the piece
of writing that contains and conveys them.
I go out of my way to make the kids feel very good about themselves
because I don’t feel particularly good about the way I write. So I’m
very big on praise . . . “You go for it. Good, you’re doing well. Take
it!”. . . I probably overcompensate because of my own insecurities
about writing . . . I’d want them to feel . . . that they have a good idea
and that their idea isn’t any worse than the next person’s and their
interpretation of something isn’t any more right or wrong than someone else’s . . . It’s a confidence issue (Nora p. 7)
Her basic method is to treat the children and their ideas with respect and
help them to feel good about their work and their ideas. It’s a good example
of how a teacher’s own difficulties with writing can inspire her to develop effective teaching methods.
In a sense the teachers’ reactions to their personal experience have been
the opposite of what they could have been. If they could have imagined a love
of writing, they might have figured out ways to encourage it in their students.
If they could have imagined difficulties with reading, they might have been
more able to teach strategies to deal with that. In a sense both approaches
are needed in teaching both reading and writing—the love of it to encourage
the doing and the learning and the strategies to deal with the problems. Most
of the teachers seem to be inspired by their experience to provide only one
aspect. They love reading so they want to encourage it. They have problems
with writing and want to provide help with it for their students.
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“If I have to write a report, I don’t shake. I don’t shake anymore.”
When asked to talk about herself as a writer, Barbara went back to her own
experience in school where she felt that she was not given the encouragement that she needed to develop her writing skills. Thinking about her own
experience, makes her feel even better about her students who have been
given the chance to develop writing skills. She is particularly pleased by their
confidence in self-expression. She hastens to add that they are not coddled,
nor are they down-graded or too harshly criticized either. She wishes she had
been taught that way when she was in school.
I was never a good writer, never . . . I don’t think I was ever made to
feel comfortable about my writing. I think I was always criticized. I
think when I went to school people were always—Some people find
writing very easy, it’s just a talent. I always thought I was put down.
I don’t want that ever to happen to any of my students . . .
I think there were things that I did have to say, but I think—and even
when I first started teaching, they swung too much the other way. I
feel I’ve got an even balance for what I’m doing. I’m not tearing them
down. As a final job they can’t hand in garbage. So, personally, I feel
that’s what I would have liked to have been at, at that point. (Barbara
p. 8)
She wants a balance between the freedom and encouragement that at
times may border on license and the kind of harsh requirements that may stifle the initiative that is essential to confident writing.
Barbara’s experiences in school have had an influence on her teaching but
there is also an influence that has worked the other way. The experience of
working with students on their ideas and their writing has had an effect on
her attitudes toward her own writing and to learning situations in general. In
situations where she is evaluating information or having to display her ability
and understanding in any way, she is much more comfortable and confident.
Because I am trying to preach to the kids how important it is . . . I
realize there is so much . . . depth in things, that I try to read different materials . . . I don’t do much writing . . . But . . . if I do have to
write, I write with more confidence . . . the key thing is confidence
and knowing someone is not going to shoot you down. Like no one
is going to shoot me down now. I can write whatever I want. I think I
went through an era where everything was red circled and everything
was torn apart in literature, and that’s awful . . . it’s so hard to rebuild
that confidence . . . If I have to write a report, I don’t shake. I don’t
shake anymore. I think that’s a result, too, of . . . imparting this to the
Breaking Boundaries
kids at school. I am beginning to believe what I am teaching . . . I
wish somebody had said to me there’s not an exact answer for everything. That’s where I think the system failed . . . Knowing that, hey,
if I went to a movie and I got something else out of the movie than
someone else, I would think that I was wrong. But you don’t have to
be wrong. There’s different ways. (Barbara pp. 24-25)
Barbara has been emboldened to think for herself, to put forward an opinion, and to spend time reading and thinking. Her teaching and her work with
her students have had a profound effect on her level of confidence in her own
thinking and learning abilities.
“So I can really relate to them as writers and they can relate to me.”
Nancy was the only one of the teachers who volunteered that she liked to
write for pleasure and that she wrote professionally. She also was the only
one who considered the two kinds of writing together when asked about her
personal writing practices and immediately talked about the influence of her
own writing on her teaching of writing in the classroom.
I write also personally . . . since I was a teenager I’ve really been into
poetry and things like that and I just started up again a few years ago.
And I’ve put some articles in magazines and a really exciting part of
that is with my class when I’m going through the writing process with
them, and I tell them the story of how I sit at the lake and I write.
And I rewrite and I write and I rewrite . . . So I can really relate to
them as writers and they can relate to me . . . Because I tell them
about how frustrated I get or how when I write it the first time I don’t
care about the spelling . . . (Nancy pp. 7-8)
She talks about having done this since she was a teenager but Nancy is
also one of the teachers who learned innovative methods of teaching very
early in her teaching career—including instruction in teaching the writing process. It seems likely that she put these methods to use in her own writing
very early in her teaching and that her experiences and teaching practices have
continued to influence each other over the years.
In conclusion, it does seem that experience, and reflection on that experience, become part of every teacher’s repertoire. Each of the teachers drew
heavily on her own experiences when constructing her teaching practice. This
is not necessarily a good single basis for teacher knowledge and practice because experience is necessarily individual and it is subjective. There were
specific ways that the teachers’ reading practices tended to limit their teaching practice. They assumed that the best method for getting students to read
a great deal was to engage their interest in narrative. Their implied theory of
reading comprehension was that a child who reads a great deal of fiction will
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learn to get information from text in general, in the course of doing the reading and some activities such as answering questions on stories or chapters
in a novel. The teachers seemed to believe that reading practices learned in
reading fiction, will serve the student equally well for reading non-fiction or
informational text of various kinds. They seem unaware of the specific strategies that are needed to read effectively for information. It may well be that
the best way to begin to teach reading is to get the students interested in
listening to and reading stories. However, this idea by itself is not a sufficient
theory about the nature of reading and what is going on when students are
learning to read and learning to read for meaning and/or information. It does
not offer any remedial approaches, no theories of reading comprehension,
no repertoire of reading strategies to give the teacher alternative ideas or approaches.
Many teachers think that they are avoiding the old way of teaching reading based on a decoding theory of reading in which students are simply assigned texts and skill practice. They have not embraced, however, a new
method of supported response to reading based on a meaning-making definition of reading. They have often given their students more freedom to choose
and less direct guidance for skill development.
A few of the teachers did mention specifically reading for information and
reading with a purpose. Even so, none of them acknowledged that reluctant
readers are often motivated and able to read text that is difficult for them when
the text contains information that they consider essential to know. There was
only one teacher who based her teaching of reading on encouraging her students to construct their own meaning from a text. She explored with them
how people get meaning from text in different ways at different levels and
encouraged them to have confidence in their own ideas and interpretations.
She was also the only teacher who admitted that she was not an avid reader.
The influence of the teachers’ personal difficulties with writing was even
more obvious and problematic than the influence of their experiences with
reading. When asked to talk about themselves as writers and their experiences as writers, the theme that emerged most clearly was that the majority
had problems. Eleven of the teachers were critical and/or unsure of their own
writing ability. Only one of the teachers said that she loved to write. She and
one other described themselves as good writers. All of the others said they
did not consider themselves to be good writers, that writing was hard work,
and that they did not enjoy it. Several of the teachers added that in spite of
this they had done alright in school and university. Some seemed to suggest
that they had worked very hard to attain success, others that their standards
for themselves were higher than their teachers’. Many comments implied a
reluctance to write because of the fear of being evaluated negatively. Several
mentioned the fear of not being sufficiently creative to meet expectations.
Almost all of the comment about writing focused on writing that had been
done for school. There was an unspoken assumption that the topic was school
Breaking Boundaries
writing or academic writing. Writing for pleasure—activities such as journaling
or letter writing—were mentioned by a few of the teachers but discounted
as if this kind of activity was not the topic of the discussion. Most of their
descriptions of school writing were necessarily from the past. Despite this
there was an immediacy to their descriptions of writing anxieties and difficulties, as if they had only to think back to experience them fully again, with all
of the attendant feelings.
Those who had difficulties with writing nevertheless believed that there
was little effect of this on their teaching. Only on reflection did some find some
connections between their own negative experiences and the practices that
they used for teaching writing. Moreover, the majority of these practices are
less than perfect and even the best of them cannot stand alone as a single
approach to teaching writing. An effective writing instruction program would
include: instruction in and use of the elements of the writing process (prewriting, drafting, and revising), peer editing, self publishing, attention to rhetorical concerns of purpose, audience, and occasion, and awareness of genre
issues. It has been suggested that while reading is certainly important, a good
process writing curriculum is the essential element in a literacy program
(Applebee, 1991; Raphael & Hiebert, 1996) to ensure that students develop
and maintain confidence in their skills. In addition, Au and Scheu (1996) have
found that only partial use of the elements of an effective program reduces
the realization of the potential positive effect on the literacy development of
students. A few good practices will not result in a program that makes differences for students.
Despite the clear links between experience and practice, for these teachers, their practice of teaching reading and writing was largely unexamined.
The difficulties that the teachers had all had with writing were largely
unexamined, even after years of experience as teachers of writing, working
with students to develop writing skills. In several cases their difficulties could
clearly be seen as barriers to effective work with students. When methods
are formed as a reaction to experience and not based on a full understanding
of the discipline, there are bound to be inconsistencies, overemphasis, and
lack of coverage.
A teacher would have a better basis for teaching reading and writing if she
had spent some time analyzing her own experiences. She could first examine her memories and organize them into the theories of instruction that were
current at the time that she was in school. She could then compare her memories with those of others to find out if her experiences were typical for her
time. Then she could compare her reactions to them to see what part personality played in the sense she has made of her experiences and whether
other reactions to them were also possible. It seems that it is inevitable that
personal experience of schooling will have an effect on teachers’ practices. It
makes sense that this process should be examined and become more conscious.
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R EFERENCES
Applebee, A. N. (1991).Environments for language teaching and learning: Contemporary issues and future directions. In J. Flood, J. M. Jensen, D. Lapp, &
J. R. Squire (Eds.), Handbook of research on teaching the English language
arts (pp. 549-556). NY: Macmillan.
Atkinson, L. E. (2000). “What I’m doing is really working in the language arts with
the kids:”Teacher knowledge, teacher change and the construction of
teaching practice for reading and writing. Winnipeg, MB: Doctoral Dissertation, University of Manitoba.
Au, K. H. & Scheu, J. A. (1996). Journey toward holistic instruction. The Reading
Teacher, 49, 468-477.
Elbow, P. (1973). Writing without teachers. NY: Oxford University Press.
Hairston, M. (1982). The winds of change: Thomas Kuhn and the revolution in the
teaching of writing. College Composition and Communication, 33(1), 7688.
Pappas, C. C. (1991). Fostering full access to literacy by including information
books. Language Arts, 68, 449-462.
Peterson, R. & Eeds, M. (1990). Grand conversations: Literature groups in action.
Richmond Hill, ON: Scholastic.
Raphael, T. E. & Hiebert, E. H. (1996). Creating an integrated approach to literacy
instruction. Fort Worth, TX: Harcourt Brace.
Straw, S. B. (1990). Challenging communication: Readers reading for actualization. In D. Bogdan & S. B. Straw (Eds.), Beyond communication: Reading
comprehension and criticism. (pp. 67-90). Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook
Heinemann.
Straw, S. B. & Sadowy, P. (1990). Dynamics of communication: Transmission, translation, and interaction in reading comprehension. In D. Bogdan & S. B. Straw
(Eds.), Beyond communication: Reading comprehension and criticism. (pp.
21-48). Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook Heinemann.
Breaking Boundaries
Kindergarten Children’s Gender Schematicity and
Its Relationship to Sibling and Parental Variables
Laura Sokal
This research was supported by a graduate fellowship from the University of
Manitoba and by a graduate fellowship from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. The author would like to acknowledge the
support of the students, parents, teachers, and principals of the Fort Garry
School Division. Correspondence should be addressed to the author at the
Bachelor of Education Program, University of Winnipeg, 515 Portage Avenue,
Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada R3B 2E9. Phone: (204) 786-9915; FAX: (204) 7727980. Electronic mail may be sent to [email protected]
A BSTRACT
Gender schematicity was studied in 88 kindergarten children and their parents. Children were administered a computerized measure to determine their
gender schematicity levels. Parents were administered the Bem Sex Role
Inventory. Regression analysis revealed positive relationships between child
gender schematicty and parental gender typing. Group differences in gender
schematicity were found through univariate analysis of variance between kindergarten boys and kindergarten girls, and between child with and without
older same-sex and other-sex siblings. Results are discussed in the context
of understanding children’s gender schematic development by examining
multiple environmental and within-child variables.
I NTRODUCTION
According to most classical and contemporary theories of gender development, socializing forces are key to children’s gender development. To varying
degrees in social learning theory (Bussey & Bandura, 1999), psycho-analytic
theory (Freud, 1925), cognitive-developmental theory (Kohlberg, 1966), and
gender schema theory (Bem, 1981a; Martin & Halverson, 1981), parents are
viewed as important influences. Notwithstanding the importance of parents
as socialization agents, ninety percent of children are raised within familial
environments that also include siblings (Katz, 1987). However, the effects of
familial influences other than parents have received little attention in the research literature. When sibling influences have been considered, they have
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been studied in isolation, rather than within a family context. It is reasonable
to predict that siblings may influence also children’s gender development (Katz,
1987; Katz & Ksansnak, 1994). The current project explored one aspect of
children’s gender development, namely gender schematicity, and its relationship to parental gender-typing, sibling constellation, and sex. Set within gender schema theory, the goal was to explore children’s gender schematicity
within the family context, rather than exploring parental and sibling influences
in isolation.
An Overview of Gender Schema Theory
While once viewed as a bi-polar, uni-dimensional construct with masculinity
and femininity as contrasting endpoints, gender schema theories (Bem, 1981,
Martin & Halverson, 1981) propose that gender role development is instead
multi-dimensional (Martin, 1993), and includes gender knowledge, gender flexibility, gender preferences and gender schematicity. Studies of gender role
development have illuminated its multi-dimensional nature as well as the incongruence between dimensions, supporting the notion that gender studies
must be respectful these distinctions. Interestingly, few studies have looked
at gender role development in elementary school children (see Serbin,
Powlishta, & Gulko, 1993 for an exception), instead focusing on gender acquisition during the preschool years (Martin, 1993). As such, gender development trajectories within elementary school children are less clear than those
within the pre-school age group.
Although most children develop extensive knowledge of society’s gender
stereotypes, they vary in their degree of gender flexibility and gender preferences. According to gender schema theories (Bem, 1981; Martin & Haverson,
1981), the underpinning to these differences is found within children’s gender schemata. “The basic idea is that stereotypes are ‘schemata’ or naïve
theories that are relevant to self, and function to organize and structure experience by telling the perceiver the kinds of information to look for in the environment and how to interpret such information” (Martin & Halverson, 1983,
p. 563). Children vary in their degrees of gender schematicity- their inclination to use gender as a salient schema for processing social information (Levy
& Carter, 1989). Psychological research has shown that preschool boys are
more gender schematic than girls (Carter & Levy, 1988; Sokal, 2001) and perceive greater restraints on their social behaviour than do girls (Ragg, 1999).
High gender schematic children, particularly boys, tend to self-select out of
activities that they perceive as gender inappropriate (Bauer, 1992; Huston,
1983). This is unremarkable since boys are viewed more negatively than girls
for cross-gender behaviours (Bussey & Perry, 1982; Levy, Taylor, & Gelman,
1995; Martin, 1990; Sandnabba & Ahlberg, 1999) and are more likely than girls
to receive negative consequences (Fagot, 1977, 1989, 1995; Zucker, WilsonSmith, Kurita, & Stern, 1995), including parental punishment (Heilbrun, Wydra,
Breaking Boundaries
& Friedburg, 1989), for cross-gendered behaviours. Levy, Taylor and Gelman
(1995) demonstrated that boy’s violations of gender roles were viewed as similar to moral violations, while girls’ violations were viewed as less serious violations of social conventions.
The developmental trajectory of gender schematicity is not well understood.
Until recently there have been no consistent instruments for measuring gender schematicity in children throughout their school years. Recently, Lobel,
Bar-David, Gruber, Lau, and Bar-Tal (2000) developed a computer program that
uses response latencies to measure gender schematicity in elementary school
children. They found that gender schematicity level and age were related to
Chinese elementary school children’s judgments of others’ behaviours. Four
computer programs (Sokal, Carter, & Levy, 1999; 2001) have been developed
that extend the use response latencies to infer children’s level of gender
schematicity from kindergarten to grade twelve in Canadian children. These
measures were developed based on interviews with Canadian children and
incorporate their perspectives on age-appropriate masculine, feminine and
gender-neutral activities. They are sensitive to cultural and temporal issues in
children’s perceptions of the gender-typing of toys, therefore addressing a
concern expressed regarding the validity of some instruments (Sokal, 2001).
It is now possible to study the trajectory of gender schematicity throughout
the span of the school years in ways that allow meaningful comparisons with
other developmental and individual characteristics such as family composition.
Differential Treatment of Boys and Girls by Mothers and Fathers
Although initial findings regarding this issue were obscured because parental
socializing behaviours were combined for statistical analyses in many studies (Bradley & Gobbart, 1989), subsequent research that considered mothers and fathers separately has done little to clarify the situation. Adding to
the debate of differential parental treatment was the proposal that mothers
and fathers might treat each sex differently and therefore require separate
examination of socialization within the four family dyads: mother/daughter,
mother/son, father/daughter, father/son (Dumas, LaFreniere, & Serketich,
1995; Russell & Saebel, 1997). Fagot (1995), observed that “… there is still
considerable controversy over the strength of parental differences in the
socialization of the sexes” (p. 5).
Evidence of differences in treatment focus on parental reactions to children’s behaviors. Fathers demonstrate greater concern with gender role conformity in sons, and selectively reinforce behaviours deemed appropriate while
punishing cross gender-typed behaviours (Heilbrun, Wydra, & Friedburg, 1989).
Whereas mothers treat daughters and sons in similar ways, fathers treat them
differentially by sex, therefore exerting stronger influence (Block, 1976).
Women in general have been shown to be more accepting of cross-gender
behaviours than men (Leve & Fagot, 1997; Martin, 1990).
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Bradley and Gobbart (1989) and Jacklin, DiPietro, and Maccoby (1984) concluded that fathers may be primarily responsible for the emergence of gender-typed play by their children, a conclusion that suggests the importance of
examining maternal and paternal influences separately. In addition to the studies previously mentioned, others who have investigated differential treatment
of children have highlighted the behaviour of fathers (Fagot & Leinbach, 1989;
Katz & Ksansnak, 1994; Serbin, Powlishta, & Gulko, 1993). Siegal (1987) reviewed 39 studies that looked at maternal and paternal behaviour toward children. In half of the studies, differences were found in how fathers treated
sons and daughters. Differential treatment by mothers was rarely found. Some
of the studies revealed that fathers engage in more rough and tumble play
with sons than daughters (Jacklin, DiPietro, & Maccoby, 1984; Power,
McGrath, Hughes, & Manire, 1994). Fathers also tended to show more sympathy for dependence in their daughters than in their sons (Russell & Russell,
1987). Fathers reacted more negatively to their sons engaging in cross gender-typed play than did mothers (Langlois & Downs, 1980).
In contrast to the previous findings, Fagot (1995) suggested that while some
differential treatment by fathers has been reported, the differences related
mainly to attitudes rather than behaviours, were contradictory across studies, and were relatively small. Lytton and Romney (1991) completed a review
and uncovered only one consistent area of differential treatment—play as
measured by rough and tumble play and toy selection in both mothers and
fathers. From this observation, it might be argued that parents treat children
the same, regardless of child sex. However, fathers differed more in how they
treated boys and girls than did mothers. Furthermore, the two special cases
of differential treatment, namely rough and tumble play and toy selection, may
be related. Leaper & Gleason (1996) found that the type of toys selected
mediated the types of play that followed. When the parents selected active
toys, more active types of play ensued. The father-son dyad was by far the
most active dyad.
In light of the lack of conclusive findings, current research must be sensitive to both the sex of the parents and the sex of the children in examining
the parent/child relationship in terms of gender development in children.
Sibling Effects on Gender Development
According to Bem (1983), gender schematic environments are created by a
combination of forces. The investigation of home environmental influences
on children’s gender development has focused on the influence of parents,
and occasionally on the influence of television viewing, while extensively ignoring the influence of siblings. Koch (1955) and Brim (1958) found that having an other-sexed sibling was associated with less gender-typed behaviour
in the target child. These research reports, however, pre-date the proposal of
gender schema theories and were therefore not examined from this theoretical perspective. With the exception of the work of Katz (Katz, 1987; Katz
Breaking Boundaries
& Boswell, 1984), little subsequent research was done in this area. Katz and
Boswell (1984) found that girls without siblings exhibited less gender-typed
behaviours than those girls with siblings and that children with other-sex siblings were more flexible than those with same-sex siblings. The latter finding
runs counter to the work of Gendler (1984), who found that girls with only
sisters and no brothers were less stereotyped than boys with only brothers
and no sisters.
A recent resurgence in the investigation on sibling effects on gender
development has yielded interesting findings. Rust, Golomblok, Hines,
Johnston, and Golding (2000) found that both preschool boys and girls with a
same-sex older sibling were more gender-typed than boys and girls without
siblings. Furthermore, children without siblings were more gender-typed than
children with other-sexed older siblings. McHale, Updegraff, Helms-Erikson,
and Crouter (2001) looked at sibling effects in adolescence and found that
younger siblings gender role qualities were more strongly linked to those of
other siblings than to those of parents, while older siblings gender role qualities were more strongly related to those of their parents. They interpret their
findings from a social learning theory perspective and suggest that older children are more salient models for younger siblings. This interpretation is supported by other work on empathy in children (Tucker, Updegraff, McHale, &
Crouter, 1999) that demonstrated the uni-directional influence of older siblings on younger siblings.
Given the previous research findings, several hypotheses were predicted:
1.
Children with highly gender-typed mothers will demonstrate higher
levels of gender schematicity.
2.
Children with highly gender-typed fathers will demonstrate higher
levels of gender schematicity.
3.
Children with a same-sex older sibling would be more gender schematic than those without an older same-sex sibling.
4.
Children with an other-sex older sibling would be less gender schematic than those without an older other-sex sibling.
M ETHOD
Participants
The sample studied included 88 kindergarten children (46 girls and 42 boys)
drawn from seven elementary schools in a central Canadian city, their mothers (N = 88), and their fathers (N = 88). The sample averaged 5 years 5 months
of age (SD = 4.42 months, range 4 years 10 months to 6 years 3 months). All
children lived in homes with both their biological parents. In 93.82% of children’s homes, English was the primary language spoken. Annual family income before taxes as reported by parental survey placed most families at an
upper middle to high level of socio-economic status.
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P ROCEDURE
Data was collected from a random sample of children by using two instruments.
Bem Sex Role Inventory
The first of two instruments used in the study was the Bem Sex Role Inventory Short Test (Bem, 1981b), the most widely used test of androgyny (Myers
& Gonda, 1982). This test includes 30 items comprised of adjectives. Participants were asked to indicate the degree to which they thought each adjective applied to themselves on a seven-point scale. Ten of the adjectives are
masculine traits, 10 items are feminine traits, 5 adjectives are socially desirable gender-neutral traits, and 5 items are socially undesirable gender-neutral
traits.
Test re-test reliability for the femininity, and masculinity scores was reported
ranging from .76 to .91 for males and females using the Bem Sex Role Inventory Short Form (Bem, 1981b). Internal consistency was computed using
coefficient alpha for males and females. The resulting coefficient alphas ranged
from .84 to .90, indicating the internal consistency was high.
Completion of the BSRI results in two raw scores: the masculinity score
and the femininity score. In order to create a score indicative of the level of
gender typing that is sensitive to the relationship between the masculine and
feminine scores, each parent’s femininity score is subtracted from his or her
masculinity score. The resulting difference is standardized and made absolute in order to calculate the parent gender-typing score. In this way, a high
gender-typing score represents a person who very strongly exhibits masculine or feminine characteristics. A low score represents a person who exhibits relatively equal levels of both masculine and feminine characteristics.
Child Gender Schematicity Measure
The second instrument used was based on Carter and Levy’s (1988) gender
schematic processing measure. This test has been shown to distinguish high
gender schematic children from children with low gender schematicity (Levy,
1989). The basis of Carter and Levy’s measure is that highly gender schematic
individuals will be able to process social information more quickly when they
can utilize their gender schema. Individuals with low gender schematicity will
not process social information more quickly when they can utilize their gender schema. This claim is based on the gender schema tenet that highly gender schematic individuals have more ready access to their gender schema
than do people with low gender schematicity (Bem, 1981b).
The original test was comprised of 24 line drawings of children’s toys. The
black and white drawings were 10 cm X 10 cm and depicted masculine, feminine, and neutral toys. Gender-typed and neutral toys were selected based
on previous research (Carter & Maclosky, 1984; Levy, 1989). For the current
project, the line drawings were incorporated into a computer program called
Breaking Boundaries
the Child Gender Schematicity Measure (Sokal, Carter, & Levy, 1999). The illustrations were presented in pairs on a lap top computer screen. The pairs
consisted of nine masculine-feminine pairs, three masculine-neutral pairs,
three feminine-neutral pairs, three neutral-neutral toys, three pairs of masculine toys, and three pairs of feminine toys. Masculine and feminine toys appeared equally on the right and the left side of the computer screen. The
children indicated their preference for the toy on the right or left by pressing
the corresponding key. The computer registered both the child’s choice and
their response latency.
Two separate scores are derived from this measure. The first score,
termed the schema facilitated score, was based on the mean of the response
latencies children demonstrated in choosing preferred toys in the masculinefeminine pairs related to their average latencies for all types of pairs. The second score, the schema inhibited score, was derived from the mean of the
latency times children demonstrate in choosing between two same gender
toys related to their average latencies for all types of pairs. As directed by
Levy in the original measure, “in both cases, the child’s mean response latency was subtracted from his or her response latencies to the relevant pairings and then divided by the standard deviation of the child’s response
latencies” (Levy, 1989). Children’s latencies in pairings where neutral items
appeared were used in computing each child’s overall latency, but did not enter
into the two schema latency scores. In this way, children with low facilitated
scores were more gender schematic than those with high facilitated scores,
because the shorter latency suggested that gender schema was being used
to assist in decision-making. The opposite is true in the case of inhibited scores.
A high inhibited score would indicate a gender schematic child, as the stimuli
do not facilitate an easy choice when gender schema is being used as the
basis of selection. In order to decrease confusion, the facilitated scores are
presented by multiplying each score by a negative one. In this way, high facilitated scores now represent high gender schematicity, as do high inhibited
scores. Internal reliability scores for facilitated and inhibited scores (Cronbach
alpha= .73 and .78, respectively) exceed those of the manual measure.
R ESULTS
As expected and demonstrated in past research (Carter & Levy, 1988; Levy,
1989; Levy, Sadovsky & Sokal, 2001), a child’s facilitated and inhibited scores
were significantly related (r =.34, p<.01) . However, since prior research suggests that these two scores differ in their relationship to other variables (Levy
& Carter, 1989), they were therefore examined separately in the analyses. Due
to some variables being orthogonal while others were continuous in nature,
two types of analyses were used. Independent orthogonal variables included
child sex, the presence of an older same-sexed sibling, and the presence of
an older other-sexed sibling. Independent continuous variables included mothers’
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2000 GRADUATE STUDENTS SYMPOSIUM
gender-typing scores and fathers’ gender-typing scores. Dependent variables
were continuous in nature and included children’s gender facilitated and gender
inhibited scores. Alpha was set a .05 for all analyses.
Simple correlations indicated a significant correlation between mothers’ level of gender-typing and children’s gender inhibited scores (r = .26, p
<.05) and between fathers’ level of gender-typing and children’s gender inhibited scores (r = .24, p <.05). This indicated that high levels of maternal and
paternal gender typing were related to high levels of child gender schematicity.
There was no significant relation between parental gender-typing and children’s
gender facilitated scores.
In order to capture the ordinal variables, a series of univariate analysis
of variance were conducted. In the first model, a 2 (Child sex) X 2 (Presence
of an older same-sexed sibling) X 2 (Presence of an older other-sexed sibling)
ANOVA was conducted with children’s facilitated scores as the dependant
variable. There were no significant interactions, and the only significant main
effect was that of child sex, F (1,87) = 5.85, p = .02. Examination of the means
indicated that boys (M =.18) exhibited higher gender facilitated scores, and
therefore higher gender schematicity, than girls (M =.10).
A second 2 (Child sex) X 2 (Presence of an older same-sexed sibling) X 2
(Presence of an older other-sexed sibling) ANOVA was conducted with children’s gender inhibited scores as the dependant variable. Although no significant main effects were demonstrated, two significant interactions were found.
The presence of an older other-sex sibling interacted with child sex, F (1, 87)
= 5.57, p = .02. Examination of the means indicated that boys without an older
sister (M = -.11) were more schematic than girls without an older brother
(M = -.16), than girls with an older brother (M = -.17) and than boys with an
older sister (M = -.22). The presence of having an older same-sex sibling interacted with child sex, F (1, 87) = 5.80, p = .02. Examination of the means
indicated that girls with older sisters (M = -.08) were more schematic than
boys with an older brother (M = -.12), than boys without an older brother
(M = -.14) and than girls without older sisters (M = -.21)
D ISCUSSION
Overall, the concept of examining children within a family context including
both parents and siblings was supported. The parental-child relationships,
however, are much more straightforward than those of siblings. Sibling relationships are affected by both birth order and by the sex of the target child
and the sibling.
Relationships between Parental Gender Typing and
Child Gender Schematicity
Gender-typed parents had children with higher levels of gender schematicity.
These findings were expected and consistent with most theoretical accounts
of socialization. Major classic theories of gender development- psychoana-
Breaking Boundaries
lytic theory, social learning theory, and cognitive developmental theory- all posit
that parents are important in children’s gender development. Gender schema
theory also holds that parents are important socializing agents, but proposes
that parents are just one agent among many affecting children’s gender development.
A recent reformulation of social learning theory, now called social cognitive theory, has reduced its stress on children’s identification with their samesex parents (Bussey & Bandura, 1999). These theorists do not abandon their
claims of parental influence all together. In fact, they criticize Lytton and
Romney (1991) for their selective literature review that failed to support the
influence of parents in children’s gender development. However, the once
strong claims of same-sex parent modeling effects are conspicuously absent
from the latest theoretical development. Furthermore, Bussey and Bandura
contend that the blurring of traditional gender roles within the parenting roles
makes the direct modeling of gender stereotypes less likely. As such, attention must be paid not only to the sex of the parents but also to their gender
roles, a distinction also made in the current research. Interestingly, although
some fundamental differences still exist between gender schema theories
and the reformulated social cognitive theory, the common ground between
these theories has increased.
Gender Differences in Gender Schematicity
The finding that boys were more gender schematic than girls was predicted
and consistent with existing gender schema theory and social learning theory.
Research suggests that very limited gender roles are socially acceptable for
boys, and an awareness of these very rigid limitations therefore seems adaptive to being raised as a son (Pollack, 1998; Sadker & Sadker, 1994). Girls, in
contrast, are free to cross gender barriers with less fear of punishment and
rejection. In this way, girls can utilize other schemata for selection of activities and behaviours. When a fear of negative consequences is not present, it
is much more unlikely that children will attach salience to gendered choices.
These findings have implications on the opportunities children exercise at
school. Previous research has demonstrated that gender-typed children selfselect out of school activities that they view as inappropriate to their gender
(Laskin & O’Neil, 1992; Baily, 1993). Girls, for example, may have traditionally
trailed behind boys in math and sciences partly because of this self-selection.
These subjects became the focus of many interventions aimed at increasing
girls’ school outcomes. Recent national Canadian tests have indicated that
girls have caught up with, and in some cases surpassed boys in these subject areas (Council of Ministers in Education, Canada, 1999). Less well known,
however, is that boys have consistently trailed one and a half years behind
girls in Language Arts (Hoff Sommer, 2000). Whether the specificity of academic skill development in boys is related to gender schematicity deserves
further investigation.
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Sibling Constellation and Child Gender Schematicity
The most interesting findings regarding the relationship between children’s
gender schematicity and their sibling constellation are the lack of main effects
and the occurrence of interaction effects. These finding suggest that sibling
relationships are complex and that researchers must explore the subtleties
of the relationships in order to understand them. Analogously, Block (1973)
found that boys and girls responded differentially to the various combinations
of parent gender typing and socialization. This finding, though dated, is based
on a very persuasive forty-year longitudinal study and supports the possibility
that boys and girls exposed to the same environments develop their gender
differentially. Such may also be the case with sibling effects within the environment.
The current research has clear implications for studying gender development in children. When children’s socialization environments are examined,
siblings as agents of socialization must be considered alongside parents in
order to understand the relationships associated with children’s gender development. Speculation that socializing influences impact differentially on boys
and girls also needs further exploration. Through understanding the links between gender development in boys, girls, and their environments, we can
better focus interventions on the most salient socializing agents. The current
research suggests that some of these agents are parents and siblings, but it
marks only the beginning of new understandings in the socialization of gender.
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Breaking Boundaries
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Breaking Boundaries
Student Dialogue in the Computer Room:
An Exploration of Research Methodology
Karen E. Smith
A BSTRACT
This study was an exploration of research methods that could be used to examine the dialogical environment in computer rooms for a better understanding of how to teach English Language Arts in the presence of technology. A
sample of conversations in the computer room was tested to see if M.A.K.
Halliday’s functions of language would work as a categorical measure for exploring conversations in the presence of technology. The hypothesis of the
study was that M.A.K. Halliday’s functions of language would provide a reasonable tool for analyzing language in the computer room. Six pairs of students participated in the study, three each from two classes of grade nine
students. Their conversations were transcribed from video tapes and then later
categorized and given numbers for the type of conversational move that was
made. A conversational move was defined as a phrase or phrase/gesture combination that clearly indicated a category of M.A.K. Halliday’s functions of language. Rater reliability was further validated through a second rater.
The results of the study suggest that M.A.K. Halliday’s functions of language facilitate an analysis of teaching using technology and that student-tostudent dialogue in the computer room improves learning and encourages
students to not be afraid of the problems they can encounter using technology. Recommendations for teachers include providing students with a high
degree of self-regulatory background knowledge in order to successfully stay
on task using the Internet as a research tool. Self-regulatory knowledge must
include Web search skills, broad knowledge of web site resources, and broad
and narrow concepts of content knowledge.
Student Dialogue in the Computer Room
The purpose of this study was to examine student conversations in a computer room in order to see how classroom dialogue could most profitably be researched. A dissertation about classroom dialogic relations in the presence
of technology will follow, based on the recommendations from this study. The
eventual dissertation will address the question: Are there changes to the language used in teaching and learning that occur in the presence of technology, and if so, what implications do these changes have for literacy teaching
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and learning? Therefore, in this exploratory study, actual conversations in a
high school computer room were gathered and transcribed to see first, if they
could be categorized for analysis; and secondly, to assess how they could be
categorized. It was determined that M.A.K. Halliday’s functions of language
would provide a terrain for language analysis. Additionally, it was determined
that recommendations for further research could be predicted from categorizing the conversations and reflecting on the data collected.
The Study. The hypothesis of this exploratory study was that a reasonable
tool could be devised for analyzing language in the computer room using
M.A.K. Halliday’s functions of language. Originally I examined Joan Tough’s
categories of language, however, after seeing the transcripts and attempting
to use each system to categorize the conversations, I settled on using
Halliday’s work because the distribution of Halliday’s functions seemed more
appropriate for the high school setting than Tough’s categories. Perhaps
Tough’s categories would work better in a second sampling of conversations.
I also considered using emerging themes and repeated language moves that
would rise from the data, but the review of the literature suggested that there
was already a great deal of linguistic analysis done on student dialogue. Therefore, testing the use of linguistic analysis that had already been connected to
regular instruction became an important part of the quest to create a reasonable tool from this pilot study.
O VERVIEW OF THE S TUDY
The study took place in an urban public high school that has a reputation for
high standards of academic achievement. The school has an enrolment of 1034
students in grades 9 through 12. Located in a middle class district with open
boundaries, the school draws students both locally and from other parts of
the city where it is situated. Students are mostly Caucasian of mixed nationality.
Two senior high English Language Arts teachers participated in the study.
Both teachers, a male and a female, have experience beyond 20 years in secondary Language Arts. Each teacher invited three pairs of students from their
classes to volunteer for the study. Altogether twelve students in dyads participated, three dyads from each class. In the male teacher’s class, the students were writing mysteries using a word processing program called Claris
Works. In the second class, the students were researching The Tempest using Netscape.
A daily routine was established in both classes. Each day the students received instructions from their teachers at the beginning of each class and then
proceeded to the computer room to complete their tasks. The students in
both classes were video taped as they worked on their tasks for approximately
one hour a day for three consecutive classes. Students came into the computer room and completed their tasks without teacher assistance. They returned to their regular classroom toward the end of the school day period.
Breaking Boundaries
The video tapes were later transcribed, divided into individual conversational moves, and then each move (see Definition of Terms) was categorized
according to M.A.K. Halliday’s functions of language. A second rater verified
the categories assigned by the researcher. Observations and categorization
were considered in the final analysis.
D EFINITION OF T ERMS
Conversational move - A student statement that could be separated from another student statement based on its ability to stand alone as one separate
language function. For instance, if two identical functions followed one another, they could still be counted as separate based on punctuation that separated the sentences or based on the intention of the statement.
Functions of language - M.A.K. Halliday found that students used language
for seven basic functions namely: instrumental, regulatory, personal,
interactional, imaginative, heuristic, and representational. In this study the
functions were numbered for identity (non-hierarchically) and defined as follows:
1.
Instrumental: “I want.” (language as a means of getting things,
satisfying materials needs)
2.
Regulatory: “Do as I tell you.” (controlling the behavior, feelings,
or attitudes of others)
3.
Personal: “Here I come.” (expressing individuality, awareness of
self, pride)
4.
Interactional: “Me and you.” (getting along with others, establishing relative status and separateness: “Me against you”)
5.
Imaginative: “Let’s pretend.” (creating new worlds, making up
stories, poems)
6.
Heuristic: “Tell me why?” (seeking and testing knowledge)
7.
Representational: “I’ve got something to tell you.” (communicating information, descriptions, expressing propositions)
8.
Other - Language was inaudible or the function of the language
was not discernable.
(adapted from Edwards & Malicky, 1996, p. 4)
In a review of the research on literacy and technology, Kamil and Lane (1998)
state that there is an urgent need to research the implications of reading and
technology especially literacy and the Internet. This chapter is devoted to a
discussion about the selection of research method and design for a study about
the dialogical environment for literacy learning in the presence of technology,
with special emphasis on literacy and the Internet.
Some researchers have commented that there is a shift in classroom authority in the face of technology (Garner & Gillingham, 1999; Neilsen, 1998;
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and Stensaas, 1999). They suggest that different types of teacher-to-student(s)
and student-to-student(s) relationships exist when technology becomes part
of the classroom tasks. The shifts occur for a variety of reasons. In some cases
it is because teachers are not always viewed as the techno authorities in the
classroom. In other cases it is because the students are learning in and through
authorities outside the classroom such as in e-mailing experts. Whatever the
reason, transmission oriented teaching appears to be less used in the presence of technology. Since language is an important part of teaching and learning, it seems reasonable to predict that shifts in language could occur when
technology becomes a main part of literacy learning. What is different in a
classroom when technology is introduced and how could that effect language?
Which research methods could be used to examine conversations in the computer room?
T HE P RESENCE OF T ECHNOLOGY
There is a perception that students will become technologically literate by placing computers in their classrooms. The vision for technology in the classroom
is notably different than the actual implementation of it in the classroom. First
of all, there is a disparity in the amount of money that districts and schools
provide for implementing technology, so there is an inequality in the technology in each classroom. Secondly, schools do not buy the same types of software and hardware, so the types of technology learning done in one class
vary widely from that done in another. Thirdly, teacher skills vary according to
individual expertise and interest in technology since many teachers are learning what they know about computers through their own pursuit of knowledge
in this area, not necessarily through teacher training programs (Garner &
Gillingham, 1998). Suffice it to say, there is a range of complexity in the implementation of technology both across school districts and from teacher to
teacher (Wresch, 1996).
In this Information Age, the competition to be most technologically advanced is highly present in schools. Districts appear convinced that having
technology will produce technologically literate students. This type of vision/
illusion could be a deterrent to research about computer use in that it could
cause bias. For example, no school district would want to report that their
students were not receiving sufficient training in computer use. Politically,
every school district would want to have only good news about technology,
not bad news. At the same time, other areas of education are being labeled
bad news. Literacy levels, for example, are often given bad press (Robertson,
1998). Technology implementation without measure receives good press and
literacy with research measure receives bad press. With these conflicting
political issues in mind and the sensitivity of school divisions to media pressure concerning technology, literacy and technology research needs to be
skillfully conducted with a consciousness for these issues. Issues that effect
Breaking Boundaries
technology and literacy are interwoven with school politics, financial concerns,
emotional drive to keep current in technology, and expanded definitions of
literacy. Researchers should be aware of these meta forces that could bias a
study but at the same time also provide powerful insight into solutions and
problems.
Mosenthal (1993) suggests that the agenda for reading research could be
more effectively administered if three agendas that frame problems and goals
were simultaneously considered. These agendas are: (1) administrative efficiency, (2) client-satisfaction, and (3) emancipatory perspective. Administrative efficiency has to do with the way goals are set centrally and the way
problems are dealt with from a systems point of view. Client-satisfaction
frames problems and goals from an individual’s point of view and addresses
the needs of the individual in the organization. The emancipatory perspective
has to do with the greater frame of how education socializes individuals and
empowers them to create change and growth in society. Technology and literacy research could possibly have a broader impact if these agendas were
considered. However, an understanding of the technology and literacy requires
a different kind of lens than literacy researchers are accustomed to because
technology and literacy together are new territory for researchers (Kamil &
Lane, 1998; McKenna, 1999). What are some of the attributes of literacy in
the presence of technology?
Kamil and Lane (1998) state that research must also be interwoven with
the developments of technology in the work place. Without a precursor as to
the future of technological innovation, there is little hope that the research
done today will be valuable or even relevant to the future. For instance, studies done on CAI (Computer Assisted Instruction) in the 60’s bear little resemblance to the CAI instruction done in schools today because the growth of
Internet use is factored into the equation (Wresch, 1996). The constants to
research must be sought or the research will not be relevant to either practice or further research.
Another important aspect of technology and literacy research to consider
is the need for researchers to define new and expanded definitions of literacy
(McKenna, 1998; Reinking, 1997). Computer use, multiple intelligences (e.g.,
Howard Gardner’s seven intelligences) and multiple literacies (e.g., scientific
literacy, computer literacy, visual literacy) have stretched the concept of literacy. Researchers also note that computer text is different than book text
(McKenna, 1999; Reinking 1997) so altered reading and writing skills may
change the nature of literacy.
With expanded definitions of literacy come changes in instruction of literacy
(e.g. new genres such as e-mail, new ways of editing in hypertextual environments). Garner and Gillingham (1998) found through their research that
three major changes occur: (1) “Materials and methods in each teacher’s repertoire”, (2) “Reinvigorating teacher reflection on practice”, and (3) Movement
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away from transmission-oriented pedagogy” (p. 225). The complex nature of
literacy pedagogy and the new skills that need to be engendered are central
issues in technology and literacy research.
Another topic complicated by many opposing issues is whether past research has anything to say about technology improving literacy skills. The most
recent NAEP report (Donahue, Voelkl, Campbell, & Mazzeo, 1999) indicates
that technology aids in literacy learning. However, a research extraction
site called No Significant Difference (http://teleeducation.ng.ca/
nosignificandifference/), containing 355 research reports dating back to 1945,
states that there is no significant difference in literacy learning using technology. Bangert-Drowns (1993) reports that technology improves literacy when
students word-process. However, Gillingham (1993) reports that technology
has disadvantages for reading, especially where multi-media interferes with
reading comprehension. Another issue is that common use of email conflicts
with the administrative agenda of teaching students formal-style writing (Kamil
& Lane, 1998, p. 333). Still another conflict is that students mostly encounter
websites with high expository writing whereas teachers mostly expose students to narrative style (Kamil & Lane, 1998, p. 332). Naming these conflicts
only touches on the many conflicts in literacy and technology research, but
they also suggest a need for a comprehensive agenda in literacy research.
Based on the nature of the presence of technology in classrooms, what is a
good question for researchers to ask, and how should that question be answered through research?
T HE Q UESTION
McKenna (1998) forecasts that technology developments are more likely to
“affect literacy education than any of the other trends now in evidence” (p.
380). Kamil and Lane (1998) comment that literacy research should be brought
into step with technological innovation. Together, they suggest an urgent need
to research technological innovation and literacy. But what is technological
innovation in literacy learning and how should it be measured? Leu, Hillinger,
Loseby, Balcom, Dinkin, Eckels, Johnson, Mathews, & Raegler (1998) state
that the integration of new technology into classroom practice is a “central
paradox” (p. 204) of technology in education. They mention that the presence
of technology does not guarantee that it will be used, or provide any indicators about how it will be used by teachers. The question of innovations directing the technology as a tool also has an effect on what we call literacy.
Do we make more literate individuals as we perform technology tasks using
the computer, or, are there some problems in that process that are both
instructionally related and student related? A study by Bangert-Drowns and
Pyke (1999) provides some insight into the connection between literacy and
technology as an indicator of the transfer that is required by literate individuals who then try a new tool such as the computer. Bangert-Drowns and Pyke
Breaking Boundaries
identified seven levels of non-literate to literate behavior for children who were
observed as they used computers in class. This study puts forward the idea
that transfer of literacy skills from books to computers is not necessarily automatic or done with facility. The taxonomy is:
How do students engage with educational software?
A taxonomy of modes of student engagement with educational software:
Literate Thinking. Student understands the content of the software from
multiple and personally meaningful perspectives. Student manipulates software features to explore different perspectives and develop different interpretations as an opportunity to reflect on personal values or experiences.
Critical Engagement. Student attempts to identify operational and content-related limitations of the software. Student manipulates software feature, keenly observes the effects of the manipulation, and integrates the
results in future interactions to test personal understandings or limitations of
the software presentation. Software structure becomes an object of critical
reflections and a stimulus for perspective-taking.
Self-Regulated. Student creates personal goals within the software to
make the software as personally interesting as possible. Student adjusts software features to sustain deeply involved, interesting, or challenging interactions. Student creatively uses software for personally defined purposes.
Structure-Dependent. Student is sensitive to and competent with software operation and navigation. Student pursues goals communicated by the
software. Student may not yet display full mastery of software feature, but
responds to operation, navigational, or content organization. Students demonstrate patterns of interaction that make competent use of software structure.
Frustrated Engagement. Student possesses clear goals when working
with the software but is unsuccessful in accomplishing them. Student tried
to interact effectively with the software, but is unsuccessful. Student knows
what the software can do, but cannot accomplish it. Student may manifest
stress or frustration in negative comments, confusion, aggression, erratic
behavior, agitation, distress, or anxiety. Students are aware of the goals structure of the software.
Unsystematic Engagement. Student has unclear goals when working
with the software. Student moves from one incomplete activity to another
without apparent reason. Student successfully completes simple tasks within
the software but does not link tasks for high-order goals. Students remain
engaged with software.
Disengagement. Student avoids working with the software or discontinues use prematurely. Student resists or stops interacting with the software
Student may sit and tinker with the software in a seemingly purposeless or
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disinterested way with little or no response to feedback from the computer.
Or, student may in fact turn away from the software or resist using it at all. (p.
3)
The relationship between skill at the computer and the skill required to read
and write has implications for the types of software that are used, the way
teachers and students will engage in the software, the motivation of the
learner, and the manner that teachers will use to direct the teaching of literacy
activities. These are all important considerations in the decision to research
how to teach literacy using technology.
T HE Q UESTION AND S ELECTING M EASURES
Are there changes to the language used in teaching and learning that occur in
the presence of technology, and if so, what implications do these changes
have for literacy teaching and learning? The decision to use one method of
research or another is complicated by the diverse use of computers in Language Arts. Yet there remains one common factor, teachers and students in
the classroom (This factor could be extended to include teachers and students
in cyberspace). It seems that if teachers knew how to foster better dialogical
environments in the face of technology that they could retain a type of authority in the classroom but at the same time dispense with the need for the
teacher as a consistently central focus for transmitting knowledge (or certain
kinds of knowledge). Researchers must examine the dialogical environment
of the computer room to address this question. To do this, researchers need
to go out into the field and observe teachers and students as they use technology.
S INGLE S UBJECT AND Q UALITATIVE M EASURES
Hammeter, Doyle, Collins, and Ault (1996) state that “the success of research
investigation cannot be solely ensured through (a) previously positive research
experiences, (b) the careful selection of direct service providers, or (c) the
appropriate selection of both research question and design. Rather, it may be
the combination of these and other factors that make a successful research
experience” (p. 344). They suggest that a combination of discussion with
teachers and single-subject intervention be used when doing field research.
In this way, teachers can ask questions and researchers can provide independent variables where none exist. Due to the unique nature of literacy and technology in diverse classrooms, this research advice could provide insight into
technology innovations in combination with literacy dialogue.
Further to this, Bisesi and Raphael (1995) have suggestions for combining
single-subject and qualitative research in literacy research. They suggest that
the combination of research methods provides improved validity for a study
based in a social context. First of all any type of single-subject intervention
(e.g. a software program) will have improved “social validity” (p. 114) if the
social context is reported like a case-study combined with the quantitative
analysis of the intervention. The case-study information could add to the in-
Breaking Boundaries
tegrity of the study based on researchers’ ability to replicate the situation since
they would then know the context of the study.
Single subject research comes from the behaviouralists who needed to
examine students that had unique problems and disabilities. Behaviouralists
were interested in behavior change that could be produced through intervention. Traditional parametric statistical measures did not work with these subjects because there was no established base line in many situations (e.g.
autistic children) and the subjects were so unique that no comparison could
be made except when the subject was treated by an independent variable
and compared to the subject’s changed behavior after intervention. With single-subject research, a baseline could be established measuring the single
subject’s own behavior with and without the intervention over time. Singlesubject research was therefore found to be more valid than parametric statistical research in the study of unique subjects in unique situations.
McCormick (1995) states that single-subject research is particularly useful for
providing data about students in resource programs. It could also be useful in
technology and literacy research because classrooms use technology in diverse ways with diverse learners.
Alone, however, single-subject research could become subjective or even
appear to be manipulative especially if the student or teacher desires a particular reaction using a certain computer program. Researcher, teacher, and/
or student could merely act in a serendipitous manner or lose their spontaneity in the course of the research.
Single-subject research is usually analyzed visually using a graph that displays data for visual inspection (Kratochwill, 1992). Wampold (1992) recommends the procedures used in single-subject research for the intensive
examination of social interactions (p. 93) because they can be applied to unique
settings and replicated. He states that because social interaction is “bi-directional in that an individual’s behavior is both a response to another’s previous
behavior as well as a stimulus for the other’s behavior” (p. 93) that social interactions cannot be considered single cases, but by using the same procedures it can be predicted if one behavior follows another and to what level of
probability. He states that coding and reliability of the coding are important
considerations in this type of adaptation of single-subject research. The dominance of one pattern of speech, power relationships, and the patterns within
a cluster of phrases can be examined using this method. Single-subject research in combination with a rich description of the context would appear to
be a most valuable method of analyzing dialogue in the presence of technology. Wampold (1992) recommends the use of single-subject measures, citing several examples where this method has provided exceptional data that
could not be found using any other measure.
It is recommended through this study that a combination of single-subject
and case-study research methods be adapted and used to examine the social interaction of Language Arts classrooms in the presence of technology.
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These procedures should follow the recommendations for studying social interaction as set forth by Wampold (1992), the combination of single-subject
and qualitative research as described by Bisesi and Raphael (1995), and the
reading research agendas as recommended by Mosenthal (1993).
R ESULTS AND D ISCUSSION
The study that follows took place in two grade nine classes. Twelve students
and two teachers participated. The students in both classes were given a brief
lecture at the beginning of each class. The lectures were about what they
were expected to do, how they were to perform their work, and what deadlines they would be expected to meet. The male teacher who was working
with his students on mystery writing had all of his students work independently at the computer, as would be their normal procedure. However, for the
sake of the study, he instructed the three pairs in his room to talk together as
they were writing. The students were compliant but the tapes show that almost all of their talk was contrived and done for the camera. They did not
work in pairs naturally unless they were doing the same task.
Mrs. Sheffield’s (pseudonym) dyads did an Internet research project. She
did not have her whole class perform an Internet research of The Tempest.
As is her typical pattern, some students performed parts of a play, others rewrote drafts of their work, and still others were working on another undisclosed project. For the sake of the study, Mrs. Sheffield had her six students
work in dyads in the Language Arts computer room telling them that they
would be responsible for finding research that both she and students could
use in their eventual writing projects about The Tempest. Although this description of the task may appear to be contrived because Mrs. Sheffield only
used the six subjects in the research gathering, there is no doubt that having
students work together in pairs, having students work on different projects
than their classmates, and having students contribute to the classroom community rather than just their own work is supported by the teacher and is common practice for Mrs. Sheffield.
After viewing the tapes from both classes, it was decided that the students
working on the Internet would be the only class that would be transcribed.
Two of the dyads in Mr. Fishman’s (pseudonym) class worked at separate
computers contriving their dialogue to appear as if they were supporting one
another during the video taping. The third dyad worked on one person’s mystery and then on the other person’s mystery. Although this last dyad had interesting dialogue that was naturally occurring to the task at hand, there was
no other group to compare it to. At a later time this set of tapes could be transcribed but for the purpose of this study, the dyads in Mrs. Sheffield’s class
appeared to generate more naturally occurring information about dialogue.
The student dyads were designated by team names: Team 1, 2, and 3 in
each class. Each student was given a pseudonym and a limited amount of
description of each team member was provided in the transcription of the
Breaking Boundaries
video tapes. In a future study it is recommended that a full thick description
be made of each team member. Mr. Fishman’s class had one team of boys
and two teams of girls. Mrs. Sheffield’s class had three teams of girls only.
This was not intentional.
The computer lab is set up for exclusive use by English Language Arts teachers. The lab is controlled by the male teacher, Mr. Fishman, who has an adjoining regular classroom. The lab is cared for and maintained by a school based
computer technician. It is common practice for English Language Arts students to go to the lab during classes to do Internet research and word-process. The lab is usually full all day. A chart on the wall assists teachers in booking
the room although students frequently come to the room to work on assignments without teacher supervision.
Students were recorded for approximately one hour each day for three
consecutive days. Later the video tapes were transcribed and the transcription notes were divided up into conversational moves. Each move was numbered page by page. For example, on page 1 there were 11 moves and on
page 2 there were 12 moves. Each move is numbered this way, Team 1, April
12, page 2.12. If an error was detected in numbering moves and a or b was
placed beside the change so that errors could be reviewed. All moves were
numbered according to their language function.
No controls were applied. The Language Arts activity proceeded as normally as possible with the students noticing that they were being taped.
I NTERRATER R ELIABILITY
After scoring the conversational moves of all three teams that were transcribed, the first rater then trained a second rater. The second rater was selected based on her experience in language arts curriculum and teaching. The
procedure for training the second rater was to explain M.A.K.’s seven functions of language and have the rater use a guide sheet that contained information about what a typical function/move might be along with a definition
of the function. Both raters used identical guide sheets (see Appendix). The
first rater demonstrated the rating to the second rater as they practiced rating the first four pages of Team 1’s first day together. A trial of ten pages for
interrater reliability resulted in a very low rate of reliability of .58216. Considering this to be too low, the first rater then retrained the second rater, finding
that there was a difference in how each rater viewed conversation as either
an interactional function or as functions within student conversations. The
researcher (first rater) determined that student conversations were less valuable to the functions of discourse because they depended on an administrative function (the speed of the network). So, they were clustered as
conversation off-task, but still rated individually as conversational moves. In
this way, private conversations could be separated from actual on-task conversations. Following this discussion between raters and practice of another
six pages of transcribing, the interrater reliability improved to .89655. It was
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2000 GRADUATE STUDENTS SYMPOSIUM
evident that further practice would nearly ensure a hundred percent interrater
reliability. This should be noted as important for the approximate time needed
to train a second rater.
C ONVERSATION A NALYSIS
Conversations were analyzed by plotting them on a table containing number
of functions as follows:
Table 1.
Number of Halliday’s Language Functions Recorded by Date and Team
Team
1
1
1
2
2
2
3
3
3
total
Apr 12 Apr 13 Apr 14 Apr 12 Apr 13 Apr14 Apr 12 Apr 13 Apr 14
instrumental
15
16
regulatory
4
18
personal
22
64
interaction
17
76
imaginative
1
0
heuristic
4
representation
18
Other
total
11
5
4
4
12
7
16
80
6
2
4
5
8
9
7
63
49
22
7
27
50
47
34
322
67
20
37
60
77
71
30
455
0
0
0
1
0
0
0
2
23
13
10
6
13
37
24
20
150
81
46
12
14
19
48
32
20
290
7
13
10
10
7
12
9
7
5
80
88
291
202
81
79
141
241
197
122
1442
O BSERVATIONS AND R ESULTS
It was concluded that M.A.K. Halliday’s functions of language could be used
to gather and code speech patterns but it was not determined how these functions of language might be used in the final analysis of classroom language
patterns. Certain patterns appear to emerge from this brief study. For instance,
the students appeared to be most engaged in the task and most productive
when interactive functions were highest. Team 3 as an example was highly
productive and engaged until their computer did not work on the third day.
Their interactions fell sharply on that day. Team 1 had low interaction functions on the first day when they had low productivity due to a computer problem. In contrast, Team 2 was not productive on any of the three days and
gradually became disengaged on the third day when interaction functions rose
sharply.
It was interesting to note that imaginative functions hardly ever appeared
and when they did it appeared to be mostly due to boredom.
An inaudible language move (#8) probably would have been an interactional
function of language since the students purposely made their voices softer
so they could not be heard by the microphone on the camera.
Breaking Boundaries
The computer processed approximately 30% of the time that the students
worked on their research. This was interesting because when students were
using time on-task most productively, either the computer was downloading
or the printer was processing, their personal and conversational functions rose
in number. If the computer was perceived to functioning improperly but still
processing, personal and conversational functions dropped and regulatory
functions increased.
Very little of the labor was divided up. Outside of one student picking up
the printouts, only two times did one student look at notes while the other
chose sites. Roles were very clearly defined in the most efficient teams. For
example, Team 3 appeared to be most efficient and the roles were most specifically defined. One person used the mouse and the other coached. Likewise, Team 1 only changed roles when they experienced trouble. Team 2,
the least efficient team changed roles constantly. Team 3 appeared to be the
least frustrated when the computer did not work the way they wanted, yet
on the third day when the system was down, they had the highest level of
frustration with the computer.
All students, even those not involved in the study, appeared to stay ontask when using computers and do not seem to need outside prodding from
a teacher to stay engaged. Occasionally Team members would prod each other
to stay on task and not drift off into interesting Internet sites. They were quite
annoyed at and suspicious of the amount of advertising on the Internet.
Descriptions in combination with counting the functions appeared to go
hand-in-hand for making observations. It is predicted that together they would
provide rich data for follow-up study.
Q UESTIONS FOR F URTHER R ESEARCH
•
Is there a correlation between high technology literacy levels and
language functions?
•
Which functions of language are most effective in on-task computer
assisted behavior?
•
What types of social relations should be encouraged in the face of
technology?
•
Noting that the machine was processing approximately 30% of the
time that students worked on the research task: What types of work
behaviors should be encouraged during the times that the machine
is processing and how can these behaviors be implemented?
•
What usual classroom activities could be used in off-task situations?
•
Students appear to stay on-task and self regulate their behavior when
using computers They do not seem to need prompting from a teacher
to stay engaged. Why is this?
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2000 GRADUATE STUDENTS SYMPOSIUM
•
What kinds of on-task functions move the work ahead?
•
How much time on-task is there in comparison to conversation time
using the Internet?
•
What is it in the nature of conversation clusters that helps students
to solve technology literacy problems?
•
In keeping with Mosenthal’s agenda for reading research: What physical structures to the computer room could be improved? What do
students desire to help them work more effectively in the computer
room? What kinds of information, preparation, and input could teachers provide to improve the dialogical environment of the classroom
in the presence of technology?
•
How should the teacher’s language be reported and analyzed?
•
What functions of language contribute/detract from literacy?
•
What is the definition of literacy in this classroom?
•
Through researchers (e.g. McKenna, 1998; Kamil and Lane, 1998)
discussion of the visual literacy involved in selecting research sites
it is apparent that some students may have a predisposition to spatial ability or visual ability. Can these abilities be tested so the subjects are better understood in terms of the special nature of the text
they will be engaging in?
S UMMARY AND C ONCLUSIONS
This study was limited by the number and type of subjects. There were far
too few subjects in this study to represent any type of pervasive behavioral
analysis that could be replicated in another setting. A broader range of subjects and consideration for gender should be part of future research. For example, all the subjects were high achievers and all the subjects were girls.
The results may or may not be different if boys were involved.
The type of measurement that was done should be more detailed, timed,
and more descriptive. This would help to explain why certain moves were
made. Moves should be clustered to see if there is a pattern.
An instructional dilemma that needs to be addressed is how to keep the
study more natural. In the three days, although students settled into normal
dialogue, they were still performing the study for their teacher and conscious
that the camera was picking up their usual intimate conversations.
It was originally planned that these students would be the only class in the
computer room but customary behavior took precedence over the activity of
the study. The researcher did not interfere with this activity by asking other
students to leave. Instead, grade 12 students came into the room and worked
alongside the grade nine students. It was interesting to note that students
only compared their behavior with students from their own grade level, not
with those from the other grade level. Very little talking went on between
Breaking Boundaries
senior students and the grade nines. In fact, the only real situation in a period
of three days that occurred was when grade nines mentioned that the grade
twelves were back again. A second incident was when grade nine girls noticed the grade twelve boys sitting next to them. However, even in these
cases, very little conversation went on between the two groups. Noticeably,
grade nine students experiencing difficulty getting the server to start or, as in
Team 2 where they were experiencing slow download speed. That was when
team members looked at the other teams to compare how they themselves
were doing. They appeared to compare their behavior to the other teams to
judge their own success on the network.
M EDIA S UGGESTIONS
Video 8 cameras (a professional quality camera) were used in the video taping and transcribing. This quality is superior to regular home video format which
is often used in home recording situations. The superior quality allowed the
transcriber to hear conversation specific to the teams in a very busy room full
of students who did not keep their conversational level in check. It is recommended that Video 8 production be used in further research due to its high
audio and visual quality.
The position of the cameras could be altered very easily because they were
on tripods. From the many perspectives that were used, none worked better
than the camera on the side of a dyad. Students appeared to forget the camera was there after only a few minutes. This can be judged by the amount of
times that “private” conversations were recorded that would not usually be
said to a camera. The camera high on the table appeared to work well, too,
although it was difficult to see the expressions on students’ faces from this
angle. Any position no less than three feet appeared to work well as far as
students forgetting about performing for the camera. However, greater than
six feet away, the camera microphones picked up other students’ speaking
and movement in the class.
Cameras could tape what was on the screen but the information was difficult to see due to the waving screen. Video cameras see the screen differently than do human eyes and therefore pick up a monitor with waving screen
rather than a steady image. It was more valuable to see the students’ expressions and have them print out their information than to see what was on the
screen. Perhaps, with research about the Internet, it would beneficial to explore what a spy-type program (software that shows where a user has gone
on the World Wide Web) could do, to track what the students are actually
looked at on the screen.
A final suggestion for media is to use a timer to examine the length of time
on and off task in relationship to the functions of language. The flow of activities appears to be a result of interaction with the computers so there are some
possibilities for examining correlations between these two sets of data.
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S UMMARY AND C ONCLUSIONS
The scope of this exploratory study was limited in that it did not necessarily
measure the ideal technology class nor the most innovative technology teachers. Examining that type of teacher may satisfy the administrative research
agenda but it does not balance with those agendas that involve the technophobic
nor the technologically underprivileged. Their needs stem from the client-satisfaction and emancipatory agendas. The individuals that are addressed in these
agendas may need to hear from research that has a different scope, a broader
lens, and a more ethnographic dimension.
The recommendations from this study suggest that the study of literacy and
technology should involve a close link between the reality of the classroom and
the vision that is presented. In this way, schools can choose better equipment
and make more efficient use of student time. They can avoid the pitfalls of
technophobia and provide more meaningful daily experiences for students. It
may not be the total responsibility of the teacher to provide skills and knowledge that make learning experiences valuable in the face of technology. Perhaps
the mission that is set for students needs to be changed and their self monitoring, their peer relations, and their sense of achievement need to be fine tuned.
In reforming the question that was asked at the beginning of this study, now
that it is over, it makes sense to have an ethnographic research using singlesubject measures. This would be most likely to provide a blend of Mosenthal’s
agendas for reading research. The question reshaped could be: What functions
of language purposely enhance or detract from on-task literacy behavior?
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Breaking Boundaries
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NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.
Wresch, W. (1996). Disconnected: Haves and the have-nots in the information age.
New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press.
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Part II: Issues on the Edge
Issues on the Edge
From Desperation to Hope:
The Stories of Three Aboriginal Women
Chris Loewen
A BSTRACT
The colonization of Aboriginal People in Canada has been the underlying malaise for a host of problems currently facing many Aboriginal communities. The
results of governmental policies aimed at the assimilation of “Indian” people,
coupled with the forced implementation of residential schools, have taken their
toll. Three Aboriginal women who have experienced the full impact of colonization share their stories of desperation and, ultimately, hope. A woman who
drank throughout her three pregnancies, her mother – a residential school survivor – and her daughter talk candidly about their lives. The three life stages
examined for each woman are their disconnection, their epiphanies, and ultimately their reconnection to their respective lives.
From Desperation to Hope
You can see them make their way from their reserve to the nearest town with
a tavern. They leave at the same time every morning to make the 6 _ mile trek.
On those occasions when I have business at either the Band Office or the Child
and Family Services (CFS) Office in the afternoon, I often pick them up and
drop them off at their homes. By this time they are invariably thoroughly intoxicated. They will get up the following morning only to repeat the cycle.
I started working for an Aboriginal Child Welfare Agency six years ago. The
snapshot of what I saw only served to further entrench the negative stereotypes I had in my mind of life on a Manitoba reserve. I saw high rates of alcoholism, crime, suicide, unemployment, high school dropouts, sniffing, apathy,
and an overwhelming sense of anger and oppression.
In order to make sense of what I saw on a daily basis on this particular reserve, I needed to see things in a broader context. I needed not just a snapshot of the reserve, but rather a moving picture that went back to the time of
Aboriginal contact with the Europeans. And so I decided to go back to university. I took several courses in Native Studies and Aboriginal History. I decided
to enroll in the Interdisciplinary Masters Program, as it allowed me the broader
context in which I felt I needed to work.
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About this time, my agency was looking for someone to specialize in the
area of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (see Note 1) and Fetal Alcohol Effects (see
Note 2)– an affliction affecting children whose birth mothers (see Note 3) consumed alcohol while pregnant. I was sent to a number of conferences and
workshops that were related to this topic. I also wrote a number of university
papers that focussed on FAS and its relationship to Aboriginal people.
Several months prior to my employment with CFS, a study had been conducted on the aforementioned reserve revealing FAS rates to be between 30
and 100 times the worldwide average (Kowlessar, 1997). I decided to explore
the precipitating factors that led to this community’s high rate of FAS/E, all the
while hoping to attain a level of understanding, perspective, and context that
would allow me to be a more empathic and effective worker.
As I continued my studies at university, I discovered that little or no attention had been paid to examining the socio-epidemiological factors of FAS/E in
the Aboriginal community. As time passed and trust grew between myself and
the community, residents started to share more and more about their past, providing me with more pieces of the contextual puzzle. In time, one Aboriginal
woman from the community, who had heard about my studies, agreed to share
her story. Susan (see Note 4) had drunk throughout her three pregnancies. She
wanted her story to be told so that others might learn and not go through the
same torture she endured. As I was looking for the intergenerational effects of
drinking, I asked Susan if her mother and daughter would be willing to share
their stories as well; they were.
Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and Fetal Alcohol Effects (FAS/E) and their relationship to Aboriginal (see Note 5) peoples is a topic attracting much attention.
Studies over the past three decades have conclusively proven that the development of the fetus is harmed if the mother drinks alcohol during the pregnancy. They also indicate a higher prevalence of FAS/E among certain
Aboriginal populations. These findings have helped focus the blame for children affected by alcohol on the birth mother, especially the Aboriginal birth
mother. In order to better understand this issue, it is crucial that the Aboriginal
birth mother is heard and that we see her life in the proper context.
My primary objective is to explore the factors that led to an Aboriginal birth
mother to drink throughout her pregnancies. To this end I will explore the following critical issues: FAS/E and its relationship to the Aboriginal birth mother
and the historical association between alcohol and Aboriginal people. An examination of FAS/E and related issues is dealt with first as it provides the necessary perspective to the historical overview. The historical synopsis is
followed by the stories of the three women, an overview of the qualitative research methods I employed in my research, and the conclusions I have
reached.
When we first think about a woman who gives birth to a child affected by
FAS, we think “bad woman, bad mother. Who on earth would drink while pregnant? Obviously that woman doesn’t care about, let alone love, her child.” The
Issues on the Edge
forward in the latest edition of “The Broken Chord” (Dorris, 1989), a book about
an Indian who adopts a baby from his home reserve, advocates the use of prisons for women who are drinking while pregnant. In the celebrated “G” case,
CFS came down on the side of forced treatment for the mother who was using drugs and alcohol while pregnant. CFS continues to apprehend children at
birth in cases where the mother was drinking. Two years ago, CFS apprehended the eleventh child affected by alcohol borne by the same mother.
Poor white women who are birth mothers are seen as “white trash.” Aboriginal birth mothers are often seen in an even worse light. In fact, FAS is often
seen as strictly an Aboriginal disease. At a recent workshop I gave on FAS, one
of the participants asked if white people could even get FAS as he understood
only Aboriginal people could. A few years ago one of my Aboriginal colleagues
was asked to attend a meeting at her son’s school. Her teenage son was having a hard time concentrating in school. They thought he might have an attention deficit. The usual group was in attendance: Child Guidance Clinic (CGC)
worker, principal, vice-principal, teacher, counsellor, etc. The first question the
CGC worker asked my colleague was, “Did you drink while you were pregnant
with your son?” My colleague asked if the worker would have asked the same
question to a mother with lighter skin.
Interestingly, white middle class, upper middle class and upper class
women seldom have children diagnosed with FAS. As one CGC worker admitted to me, they don’t like to stigmatize the white mothers with a diagnosis of
FAS, so their children are often diagnosed with ADD or ADHD, a much more
acceptable diagnosis. May (1994) argues that Native children are more likely to
have the diagnosis of FAS on their birth records than others and are more likely
to be diagnosed with FAS if the child shows any signs of cognitive and/or behavioural problems in school. Some researchers argue that there is a race/class
bias to the diagnostic process and that physicians are more reluctant to ask
about prenatal alcohol use or to enter FAS diagnosis in the official medical
record, especially with non-Aboriginal middle and upper income families (Aase,
1994; Sampson, Streissguth, Bookstein, Little, Clarren, Dehaene, Hanson, &
Graham, 1997). This may lead to the tendency of underreporting of FAS/E in
these specific groups (Sparks, 1993). At times, “a child is labelled with Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADHD) or some other disorder, because the
physician avoided asking a mother about her alcohol use, and in effect, prevented ‘blaming the mother’ for her behaviours” (Nanson & Hiscock, 1990;
Shaywitz et al., 1980, as cited in Jones, 1997, p. 8).
M ETHODS
My research question was: Why would an Aboriginal woman drink throughout
her pregnancy? My research combines an overview of the available literature
on FAS/E and an historical analysis of the relationship between alcohol and
Aboriginals with a case study of an Aboriginal birth mother who drank throughout her three pregnancies.
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As it was one of my goals to determine the factors that contributed to each
of the informants’ life experiences (see Note 6), three main areas were explored with each informant. The first area focused on the informant’s personal
history. In this phase, a family tree was established, as well as events the informants identified as significant. Information gathered during this “oral history” phase was used to help formulate the second set of questions. These
included questions about other family members and/or friends relevant to the
study. The purpose here was to determine how family members were affected
and what effect friends and family had on the informants. The third set of questions dealt specifically with the informants’ experience with and attitude toward alcohol, their feelings regarding pregnancy, and their thoughts on FAS/E
in particular. To collect my data, I used qualitative research methods.
Q UALITATIVE R ESEARCH
The two major theoretical perspectives that dominate the social sciences are
positivism and phenomenology. Whereas the positivist “seeks the facts or
causes of social phenomena apart from the subjective states of individuals,”
the phenomenologist “is committed to understanding social phenomena from
the actor’s own perspective” (Taylor & Bogdan, 1984, pp.1-2). The
phenomenologist uses qualitative methods such as participant observation and
in-depth interviews that produce descriptive data. These descriptive data are
comprised of people’s own written or spoken words and observable behaviour.
Identifying Informants
Through my work as an FAS/E consultant for an Aboriginal Child & Family Services agency, I was able to make contact with a number of individuals interested
in my proposed study. There was one particular Aboriginal birth mother whom
I met several years ago and had spoken with about my proposed study who
agreed to be interviewed. I interviewed this birth mother, her daughter, and
her mother, offering an intergenerational perspective to this study. While
focussing on only one woman and her family may result in a study with less
breadth than one including many informants, it provides greater depth. No one
was contacted until both my thesis proposal and ethics proposal were accepted.
In-Depth Interviews
In-depth interviews, which are unstructured, open-ended, flexible, and dynamic, were utilized as the primary data collection tool. This required face-toface encounters between the researcher and informants. An interview guide
was used as a tool to help formulate the questions in a methodical fashion.
Written permission from each of the participants was acquired prior to the interviews. I followed the guidelines of the Faculty of Education Research and
Ethics Committee’s Department on Human Subjects.
Issues on the Edge
A birth mother, her mother, and her daughter were interviewed in the course
of this study. I interviewed the birth mother four times and her mother and
daughter each once. The interviews lasted between _ an hour and 1 _ hours
yielding roughly 8 hours of interviews. All of the interviews were taped and
transcribed. Field notes and observer’s comments were written up as soon
after the interviews as possible.
Reliability
The transcriptions, notes and comments were submitted on a regular basis to
my advisor to allow feedback and to guide my subsequent interviews. The interviews produced 225 pages of prose text. A “member check” was done with
the birth mother after each interview to allow her to read the transcript. This
was done in case she felt she had said something that she did not want published. Nothing was removed from the original prose text.
D ATA A NALYSIS
I initially read over the transcripts of the interviews several times. I then started
reading in search of themes. I was looking for the common elements that
linked the stories of these three women. My first attempt yielded 17 themes.
This was clearly an unmanageable number to work with. I therefore utilized a
“computerized piles” method; that is, I colour-coded each theme and then coloured each portion of each interview as it related to that theme. I “cut” each
theme from the transcript and “pasted” it into the appropriate file. This left me
with 17 sub-theme files. Several more readings allowed me to pare down the
17 sub-themes into 3 main themes. These were i) Disconnection; ii) Epiphany;
and iii) (Re)Connection. All three women went through these stages in one
form or another.
Disconnection
Individuals may become disconnected in many ways: physically, socially, emotionally, psychologically, and, as is the case with these women, historically. One
may either disconnect from society (the community) or from oneself. In the
case of these three women, it is impossible to determine whether the disconnection that occurred for each of them was a result of symptoms such as the
abuse, alcoholism, and violence they suffered, or whether these symptoms
occurred as a result of their disconnection. In all likelihood, the two occurred
concurrently, exacerbating and accelerating the rate of each other.
A Need to Escape
This “vicious cycle” perpetuated a downward spiral, causing the need to escape and a further increase in the symptoms. This need to escape is one of
the most frequent theories accounting for alcohol addiction (Richards, 1993, p.
47). All three women recounted that they used alcohol to escape the reality of
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their lives. Susan remembers one of the first times she went drinking. “I
blacked out. All I knew was that I really enjoyed it because blacking out meant
I wouldn’t remember. It took me away. It took me away from myself.” Agnes
recalls that “You didn’t worry about anything when you were drinking. You
know, get away from all my problems. Have a few drinks.” Susan and Agnes
were not alone. All but one of their respective siblings became alcoholics.
They also, as Lithman (1979) asserts, drank to get drunk. Susan, in her last
drinking binge, found that beer didn’t do what she wanted it to do and so
switched to whiskey. This corroborates Hamer’s (1965) position that, for some,
the most important criterion in selecting alcohol is the high alcohol content.
There exists a connection between this need to escape and the three women’s lack of “roots.” Both Susan and Debra talk repeatedly about their transient
upbringings. Susan says she lived “All over. Staying with a sister. Staying with
mom. Kind of all over. Wherever I went. Stayed with an auntie.” Debra’s experience was similar. Her earliest childhood memories were:
“moving lots. Moving to different places. We lived in Brandon, moved
to Calgary. Lived lots of places in Calgary. We’d move twice a year or
something and we’d stay somewhere for so long and then end up
moving somewhere else in Calgary.”
No place really felt like home. It is little wonder they did not feel connected
to the rest of society. They seldom stayed in one place long enough to develop
any kind of bond or attachment to anyone or anything. Debra hated moving
schools. “I hated moving. Never really got to be close to anybody.” To this day
her best friend is a girl she briefly met in grade five class in Calgary.
A Dirty Indian
Susan says she felt like she was in her “own little world” while growing up.
Here is an excerpt from her interview:
“Like the more that I think about it. Like I was so disconnected from
society, like really disconnected and not growing up with my people. I
wasn’t even connected there . . . and not having an identity to start
off with, like it was just, it was hard, it was difficult. I think not knowing anything about yourself. Imagine growing up with a life not knowing anything. Not knowing where you came from. Not knowing your
background. Not knowing your grandparents and then being put down
for who you are, but you don’t understand why. You know, being
called a dirty Indian.”
Because Agnes believed that all Native kids were “simple,” Susan grew up
believing she was mentally handicapped. Almost all of her brothers and sisters
were placed in “simple classrooms.” Susan’s daughter Debra didn’t like being
Native because she thought, “all Native people were alcoholics.” She dealt
with this by claiming she was Spanish.
Issues on the Edge
Familial Disconnection
This disconnection permeated every facet of these women’s lives. Not only
did they feel alienated from society at large; they were also disconnected from
their own biological family. Agnes’ case is the starkest example. She was physically and forcibly removed from her family and sent to a residential school from
the age of “about six or seven” till the age of 14. She was gone from September to June every year, and because her parents were too poor, they were unable to visit her during the year. Debra’s disconnection from her family was, on
the other hand, largely one of her choosing.
“I started taking off when I was thirteen. I’d run away for weeks . . .
and my mom would have to send the cops after me to bring me
home. I just . . .I didn’t want to be home. I wanted to be on my own,
and since I was 13 I guess that’s how it’s always been.”
Given Agnes’ lack of parenting skills and her fight with alcoholism, it is
doubtful that a firm bond was ever initially established between mother and
daughter. Susan’s mother did not seem to possess the requisite skills to form
a bond with any of her children. As Susan says, her mother ran the household
as the nuns ran the residential school. It was clean and orderly, but little or no
attention was paid to the other needs of the children. Susan remembers what
it was like when she was pregnant at the age of 16 and feeling all alone.
“So there I was . . . just 16 at the time, and my mom . . . my mom at
the time was not around. She was going to try to recover somewhere.
I think at a dryout centre somewhere.”
Susan met her biological father for the first time when she was 20. They
met in a bar, “sat down and drank, got stoned. That was my encounter with
my dad. He was a drug dealer and probably a pimp. Useless, useless, useless
man.” One of the only “connections” Susan made growing up was with one
of her aunts. “I probably . . . cared more for her than I did for my own mother
because . . . there was this person that was talking to me and acknowledged
my existence. She was everything.” Susan’s aunt was stabbed to death by her
husband when Susan was 15.
It is doubtful whether Susan was initially “connected” to anyone or anything. She did not know who she was or where she fit it. Susan was sexually
abused by her uncle’s brother at the age of “four or five.” Her home environment was extraordinarily violent. After her father left, her eldest brother “took
it upon himself to be the father” and beat his siblings on a continual basis. On
the weekends, when her mom’s friends came over to drink, “there’d be a lot
of fighting and blood all over.” It is little wonder that between the ages of 11
and 18 Susan experienced multiple suicide attempts, that she became violent—venting her frustration by “scrapping” at booze cans — that she was
nearly charged with attempted murder after cutting up someone with a broken beer bottle and that she was committed to a mental institution for several
months.
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Epiphany
The question of how one begins the transition from being so completely disconnected to becoming a part of society and connecting with oneself is one
faced by these women. For all three women there was a defining encounter,
or series of encounters, that provided the impetus for change.
For Susan, her healing journey began in a booze can in Calgary. A friend of
her brother’s walked up to her and said, “You don’t belong here.” What he said
“really did something to me.” Although she continued to drink, it was the beginning of the end of her drinking. Susan recalls her last visit to a booze can.
She ended up getting into a fight where she was knocked unconscious and
then beaten up. Her partner “made me go to the hospital because I was all
beat up and stuff like that and in pretty rough shape.” X-rays revealed three
breaks in her jaw. When offered painkillers, Susan declined.
“I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t feel any pain. And that’s what I find really said, is when a person, you can be beaten up so bad, and there is
just no more physical pain left in that person.Then all of a sudden, I
don’t know what happened. It’s like for the first time in my life my
eyes were opened [and] I saw all my kids around me — my three kids
— and I was just looking at them and I was wondering, “I know these
kids are mine but who are they?” And so for the first time I saw my
children and they were crying and it’s like my eyes were opened for
the very first time in my life. And then I realized, you know, that I had
three beautiful children but I didn’t know who they were. You know I
really didn’t.”
As she looked at her crying children, Susan began to feel pain; “and it felt
so good . . . because I hadn’t felt pain in so long.” That night Susan made a
decision. She said, “Okay God, I’m throwing the towel in now and I can promise you I’ll try to stay sober one day at a time now. Just, that’s all I can do.”
Susan admitted defeat against alcohol and knew it would kill her if she continued to drink. To this day she can’t say whether she’ll be drunk tomorrow or
not, and so she takes it just one day at a time. That day marked the beginning
of Susan’s sobriety and her connection to herself and the world around her.
Agnes’ epiphany came when a worker for Child & Family Services came to
her house and asked her if she would consider a position as a family aide
worker. The worker explained that the job entailed being a role model for other
mothers, teaching them parenting skills and helping them look after their kids.
Agnes had never worked in her life but said that this job allowed her to start
caring and feeling good about herself. She was taken off half her government
assistance thereby increasing Agnes’ self-esteem. She held this job for seven
years before she moved from Brandon. She went to Winnipeg to a dry-up centre for two weeks. “I learned quite a bit from there. I think I fell off the wagon
about three times after that. That was it.”
Issues on the Edge
Debra’s transition from disconnection to reconnection was traumatic. At the
age of 16 Debra spent time in and out of jail. “It would be so empty and I would
be scared, and I’d cry and . . . I ended up in a mental institution for being suicidal.” Being locked up brought on fear and depression. This fear of being reincarcerated convinced Debra to stop hanging around with her friends.
“They were all ending up in jail. They were committing suicide. They
were hurting each other. They were all turning against each other.
They were getting into heavier drugs. I just, I guess I didn’t want that
anymore. I didn’t want to be around . . . I was getting scared.”
Debra was feeling alone and a need to be with her mother. Although things
remained difficult for Debra for the next couple of years, the recognition that
her friends’ lives weren’t going anywhere was the first step of many that Debra
took on her path to reconnection.
(Re)Connection
I believe that for both Agnes and Debra, the next stage of their life involved a
re-connection to a life they had lost. In the case of Susan, I don’t believe she
was ever initially connected to anyone or anything. So for her, this stage was
not a re-connection, but a connection to herself and those around her. This
stage involves not only the establishment of a connection, but also the acquisition of the tools necessary to ensure its sustainability. It is one thing to stop
drinking; it is quite another to never drink again.
A New Identity
Susan had managed to stay sober for several days at a time prior to her
epiphany, but always ended up drinking again. This time was different. As
Susan says, this time she sobered up “into a completely different world . . .
into a life I did not know.” She sobered up into a new “identity”, as a
“caregiver” for someone whose “life relied on me.” She needed to be sober
to help her newly rediscovered child. Susan knew her daughter was going to
die. She also knew that if she didn’t start working on some of her guilt she
wouldn’t be able to live with herself. So she threw everything she had in herself into building a relationship with her daughter. Susan asked God for two
things:
“Like I know you’re going to take her in the end. But . . .don’t take her
before I’m ready — give me that time. And . . . don’t let her die without me there.
I think working with her, you know, with all that I did with her, keeping her alive, really taught me a lot about how powerful and strong I
really am as an individual. Like with her I did things that . . . she brought
a lot in me. She brought out a lot of strengths that I didn’t think I had.
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Not a Total Defect
Another key to Susan remaining on her road to healing was her opportunity to
go to university and “learn about my people and not feeling that I was 100% a
total defect.” Realizing what Aboriginal people have been through, and continue to endure, allowed Susan to put some of the blame that she had foisted
on herself, back on society. Her studies enlightened her about the effects that
residential schools had, specifically on her mother. This helped Susan understand why her mother raised her children the way she did and helped her understand a great deal about her own life. “And in the end, I’m not crazy, and I’m
not . . . a dirty soulless Indian.” Susan paid a visit to the residential school where
her mother had been abused. “Everywhere I looked I can see this little girl and
I just wanted to grab her and protect her from what was done to her.”
The Importance of Children
Children play a prominent role in Agnes’ ability to remain on her healing path as
well. When Agnes talks about Cassandra, the girl they’ve been fostering for
the past seven years, she says if she hadn’t come into their lives, she doesn’t
know how she would have coped. Caring for Cassandra has allowed Agnes to
hug and say things like, “I love you;” not only to Cassandra, but to her own
children as well. She is also able to talk with one of her sisters who is “the same
way as I am. She couldn’t hug her kids or tell them she loved them, but now
she’s learning with her grandchildren.”
Agnes attributes two other factors in her successful transition from a
woman who was suicidal, lonely, depressed, and hated life to where she is today: quitting drinking and meeting Dennis — her current partner — who does
not drink. “Now I want to live. I don’t want to die now. Every time I feel pain I
run to the doctor.”
For Debra, her reconnection came when she knew she was pregnant. Although she does drink from time to time, she would never “raise a hand to my
child, I would never go on a drinking binge and leave my child somewhere.”
She quit drinking the moment she found out she was pregnant with both her
children. She never drank while breastfeeding. “I quit drinking, totally. Never
once did I touch a beer. I was scared I guess. Scared of having a sick child.
Knowing that if I did drink then that would be abuse already.”
What is important to note is that in the lives of each of the three women
studied, their epiphanies and reconnections all involved children. For Susan it
was clearly the realization that she had three beautiful children. Agnes’ life
started turning around when she began working with children taken into care
by a Child & Family Services agency. And Debra stopped her drinking the day
she found out she was pregnant.
All three women talked about their need to escape the reality of their lives.
They all drank to get drunk. Although research has revealed the impetus of
some Indian drinking, it remains clear that, for some, the ‘high’ generated by
alcohol is the prime reason for its over consumption. Lemert’s (1958) study of
Issues on the Edge
three Salish tribes in B.C. convinced him that for them, the objective in drinking was to get drunk. He points to the consumption of home brew before it is
completely fermented, the gulping of drinks, the drinking until the supply is exhausted, and the preference for strong liquor when obtainable, as support for
this assertion. Lithman’s (1979) statement that people drink because they like
to do what they can do when they are drunk is one explanation for why one
may drink to excess. Mancall (1995) believed some Indians took advantage of
the custom of exonerating inebriated perpetrators by purposely getting drunk
and exacting revenge on their enemies. For the Whitehorse Potawatomi, the
most important criterion in selecting alcohol is that it have a high alcohol content (Hamer, 1965). According to Mancall (1995) “Indians treated alcohol as if
it were some sort of medicine that had to be taken in great quantity if the
drinker were to derive any benefit from it” (p.70).
Table 1
Overview of the Three Women’s Lives denoting their Similarities
Susan
Agnes
Debra
born in 1959
born in 1934
born in 1978
one of nine children
• seven biological,
• two step
one of eight children
one of three children
has given birth to
three children (the
first at age 16)
had nine children of
her own, seven with
first husband, two
with second husband
has two children
alcoholic
alcoholic
alcoholic
sexually abused
sexually abused
sexually abused
multiple partners
multiple partners
multiple partners
physically abused by
her partners
physically abused by
her partners
physically abused by
her partners
drank throughout all
three pregnancies
drank throughout
last two pregnancies
quit drinking when
she realized she was
pregnant
began drinking at 12
and quit at 26
began drinking at 29
and quit at 42
began drinking at 13,
continues to drink
has attempted
suicide
has attempted
suicide
has attempted
suicide
all siblings but one
are alcoholics
all siblings but one
are alcoholics
brother drinks from
time to time
spent time in a
mental institution
spent time in a
mental institution
spent time in a
mental institution
The chart above gives an overview of the lives these three women have
lived to date. The similarities are striking. I contend that it is precisely these
factors that are the underlying cause for the symptom of FAS/E. These women
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are victims of colonization and all the ravages it has bestowed upon Aboriginal
people.
Although this study looks at only three women in particular, their life experiences are played out on a daily basis in Aboriginal communities, across this
country. And yet, despite the tragedies they endured, the indelible message
they leave us is one of hope. Hope for Aboriginal women, Aboriginal communities and, perhaps most importantly, Aboriginal children. As has been noted, it
was children that enabled each of these three women to recover back from
their personal hell, and children that are the hope for future generations.
N OTES :
1.
“Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is a specific type of birth defect caused by
heavy prenatal alcohol exposure and manifested by a cluster of specific features. The FAS diagnosis is employed when children whose
mothers abused alcohol during pregnancy have some features in
each of three categories (1) craniofacial anomalies; (2) growth deficiency; and (3) Central Nervous System (CNS) effects” (Stratton,
Howe, & Battaglia, 1996).
For the purposes of this report, the terms FAS and FAS/E were used
throughout to describe those individuals affected by alcohol in utero.
2.
In many cases, children born to mothers who drank may have some,
but not all of the physical signs of FAS and may also exhibit cognitive
or behavioural issues similar to FAS children. In the past, a ‘soft’
diagnosis of Fetal Alcohol Effects (FAE) which was suggestive of
possible alcohol related birth defects, was commonly used. The FAE
label attempted to capture a child’s educational and/or social needs
without a definitive medical diagnosis (Aase, 1994, p.8). An FAE label has proven to be unsatisfactory to many as it fails to specify
issues or to identify the level and extent of need in affected children.
In 1996, the American Institute of Medicine proposed to redefine
FAE into two categories, Alcohol-Related Birth Defects (ARBD) and
Alcohol-Related Neurodevelopmental Disorders (ARND). Under these
definitions, ARBD is used to refer to children who exhibit congenital
(physical) anomalies while the ARND classification would encompass those with evidence of central nervous system damage, including patterns in behaviour or cognitive abilities inconsistent with
other disabling conditions (Stratton et al., 1996, p.4-5). For the purposes of this report, the terms FAS and FAS/E was used throughout
to describe those individuals affected by alcohol in utero.
3.
The term “birth mother” is used in this paper to denote a woman
who has given birth to a child affected by alcohol and/or who has
consumed alcohol during her pregnancy. I used the term as stated
although many writers use this term strictly for mothers who have
Issues on the Edge
given birth to a child affected by alcohol in utero and because my
interest is more in discovering the determinants that would lead a
woman to drink during her pregnancy than whether she gave birth
to a child affected by alcohol.
4.
All names used in this paper are pseudonyms.
5. “One of the great consequences of the great dispossession and dominance of the Aboriginal peoples by settler people in Canada has been
the process of attaching settler, mainly English names to describe
various groupings of Aboriginal people” (Chartrand, 1991, p. 2). The
term “Aboriginal” was used throughout this paper to denote the
descendants of the ancient societies that inhabited what is known
as North America. It includes what section 35 of the Constitution
Act of 1982 refers to as Indian, Inuit and Métis. The term Aboriginal
has been widely used as a self-reference by the three aforementioned groups. In the chapter on capitalization, The Canadian style: A
guide to writing and editing (1985), published by the Department of
the Secretary of State, directs that the form preferred or used by the
person being addressed or referred to should be retained if used. It
also states that the capitalization of both nouns and adjectives should
be implemented when denoting race, tribe, nationality and language.
Other forms of nomenclature (e.g., Indians, First Nations) was used
when referencing or quoting authors or participants in this study.
6.
In one way or another, every event that occurs in our lives is significant and contributes to our overall state, but I am particularly interested in the factors that have contributed to the informants’ views
on alcohol and pregnancy.
R EFERENCES
Aase, J. (1994). Clinical recognition of FAS: Difficulties in diagnosis. Alcohol: Health
and Research World, 18(1), 5-9.
Chartrand, P. (1991). “Terms of division”: Problems of ‘outside-naming’ for
Aboriginal people in Canada. Journal of Indigenous Studies, 2(2), 1-26.
Department of the Secretary of the State of Canada (1985). The Canadian style: A
guide to writing and editing. Toronto, Ontario, Canada: Dundurn Press.
Dorris, M. (1989). The Broken Chord. New York: Harper & Row.
Hamer, J. H. (1965). Acculturation stress and the functions of alcohol among the
Forest Potawatomi. In J. H. Hamer & J. Steinbring (Eds.), Alcohol and
Native Peoples of the North (pp.107-153). Lanham, MD: University Press
of America.
Kowlessar, Debra L. (1997). An examination of the effects of prenatal alcohol exposure
on school-age children in a Manitoba First Nation community: A study of Fetal
Alcohol Syndrome prevalence and dysmorphology. Unpublished master’s thesis, University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada.
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Lemert, E. M. (1958). The use of alcohol in three Salish Indian tribes. In J. H. Hamer
& J. Steinbring (Eds.), Alcohol and Native Peoples of the North (pp. 49-71).
Lanham, MD: University Press of America.
Lithman, Y. G. (1979). Feeling good and getting smashed. Ethnos, 44(1-2), 119-133.
Mancall, P. C. (1995). Deadly medicine: Indians and alcohol in early America. Ithaca,
NY: Cornell University Press.
May, P. A. (1994). The epidemiology of alcohol abuse among American Indians: The
mythical and real properties. American Indian Culture and Research
Journal, 18(2), 121-143.
Richards, H. J. (1993). Therapy of the substance abuse syndromes. London: Jason
Aronson.
Sampson, P. D., Streissguth, A. P., Bookstein, F. L., Little, R. E., Clarren, S. K.,
Dehaene, P., Hanson, J. W., & Graham, Jr., J. M. (1997). Incidence of Fetal
Alcohol Syndrome and prevalence of alcohol-related neurodevelopmental
disorder. Tereatology 56, 317-326.
Stratton, K., Howe, C., & Battaglia (Eds.) (1996). Fetal Alcohol Syndrome:
Diagnosis, epistemology, prevention and treatment. Washington, DC:
National Academy Press.
Taylor, S. J., & Bogdan, R. (1984). Introduction to qualitative research methods: The
search for meanings. New York: Wiley.
Issues on the Edge
Intellectual Disability and Aboriginal People:
An Over view of Current Practise and Process in
Institutionalization
Cheryl Martens
Currently, in Manitoba, Aboriginal individuals with intellectual disabilities are
more highly represented in the Province’s large, hospital-like settings than in
community agencies or services. At a time when advocacy movements are
demanding that citizens with intellectual disabilities take their rightful place as
full participants in society, it appears that the institutional experience continues to be the norm for people who are Aboriginal. In this study I examined the
institutional experience of people who are Aboriginal and have an intellectual
disability. Data were collected from both people in key decision-making roles
and those who live with the resulting policies and decisions.
D EFINING K EY T ERMS
The Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP) uses the term Aboriginal
to refer to “the indigenous inhabitants of Canada . . . to Inuit and to First Nations and Metis people” (Vol. 1, Terminology, XV). For this paper, these groups
of people will be referred to as Aboriginal. Currently 10% of Manitoba’s population is Aboriginal (RCAP, 1997).
Over the years people with intellectual disabilities have been referred to in
a variety of ways, for example, as “mentally retarded”, “developmentally disabled”, or “intellectually impaired.” I will be using the term intellectual disability. The Roeher Institute, which is the research branch of the advocacy
organization, Canadian Association for Community Living, has used the term
intellectual disability since 1992 (Roslyn Ward, personal communication, September 1999).
Of particular interest to me is the experience of institutionalization for Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities. Aboriginal individuals who were
placed in institutions for the intellectually disabled would no doubt have experienced the same things that other residents report; however, their loneliness,
loss, and separation would have been compounded by a loss of culture and
language. As Traustadottir, Lutfiyya and Shoultz observe, “members of racial
minority groups with disabilities experience a double dose of discrimination”
(1994, p. 415). Everett Soop, in the Saskatchewan Indian (April, 1988), says
that “to be handicapped and to be Native means to be doubly pitted against
the whole Canadian Establishment” (Removing Barriers: An Action Plan for
Aboriginal, p. 1).
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M ETHOD
This was a qualitative research study based in Manitoba. Aboriginal people who
have intellectual disabilities, their family members, and professionals who
were knowledgeable were asked to share their perspectives about this topic.
Interviews were conducted during two periods: a beginning study in the spring
of 1997 and the thesis study during the summer and fall of 1998. The data are
comprised almost entirely of the transcriptions of these taped interviews. A
small portion of the data is made up of the contextual notes and debriefing sessions for each interview. A third part of the data collection occurred in February
of 1999. Various direct services for people with intellectual disabilities were
contacted about the number of Aboriginal people they support.
Presence of Aboriginal Research Assistants
The thesis study differed from the beginning study because of the presence
of four Aboriginal research assistants. I am a non-Aboriginal person, who does
not at this point in life have a disability. It can be very difficult to understand
from a personal perspective what life is like for individuals who are Aboriginal
and have a developmental disability. While none of the research assistants had
an intellectual disability, as Aboriginal people, they certainly held membership
in the perspectives, history, and on-going issues of Aboriginal people. The research assistants were involved in the data collection portion of the study; however, the data analysis was my responsibility, and I am solely accountable for
the conclusions drawn from the data.
The Participants
In determining who to talk to about this topic, I felt that there were four groups
of people who would potentially be most helpful:
1.
Aboriginal people and their families. These are the individuals who
would be most able to give a first-hand account of the experience of
having an intellectual disability and being Aboriginal.
2.
Personnel from institutional settings. In the beginning study, I
was able to talk with two people from one institutional setting in the
province. The information they provided on this topic was extremely
helpful. For this study I had hoped to broaden the scope by meeting
with personnel from two other provincial institutional settings. This
was not possible; however, I was able to refer to a 1985 study of all
provincial institutions that estimated the population of Aboriginal residents to be about three times that of their representation in the
general population (Evans, Hunter, Thompson, & Ramsey, 1985, p.
155).
3.
Representatives from government departments. I was able to
speak with individuals from three different departments in
Issues on the Edge
Manitoba’s provincial government and with someone from the
Department of Indian and Northern Affairs.
4.
Representatives of organizations run by or for Aboriginal people. Four of the interviews were with personnel from Aboriginal agencies. Two of these were with individuals primarily involved in rural
reserve communities and two were with people working in urban
centres. A final interview was held with a woman who has worked
on advocacy, planning, and family issues for many years and her
husband who is working with health organizations, about 90% of
which were band councils.
T HEMES IN THE S TUDY
The themes are key ideas or responses from participants that addressed the
questions of the study: namely, what is the experience of people who are Aboriginal and have intellectual disabilities, and why do these individuals seem to
be over-represented in institutional settings.
Responsibility for the Delivery, Coordination, and Funding of Needed Supports
It is very difficult to summarize or clearly define the roles of the various government departments that are involved in the lives of Aboriginal people. Depending on who is speaking, there may be a variety of interpretations about lines of
responsibility. The two key players are the Federal and Provincial governments,
and each of these branches of government have varying responsibilities and
funding contingencies. One participant responded to the issue of responsibility by saying that if you walked into a group of people from all branches of government and asked who is responsible for making life good for Aboriginal
people with disabilities, “No one would put up their hand” (Transcript 1, p. 8).
Role of the Federal Government
The federal government, through the Department of Indian and Northern Affairs, has primary responsibility for Aboriginal people when they are on reserve
communities. As well, Health and Welfare Canada, another federal department, channels funds to reserve communities through a branch that provides
medical services (Transcript 5). These are the two key federal branches that
have relevance for Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities; however, at
present neither of these branches play a role in ensuring services for people
with intellectual disabilities.
Participants said that the service system for people with intellectual disabilities is pretty well non-existent in Aboriginal communities. One participant responded to the question of whether services were available as follows, “In the
Aboriginal community? I doubt it. We never get that kind of money. ” (Transcript 6, p. 7). Another said, “Right now, I can tell you truthfully, there is nothing there for them at this point” (Transcript 3, p. 7).
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Role of the Provincial Government
The provincial government is the funding source for services to people with
intellectual disabilities. The province supports a “continuum of services” (Transcript 4, p. 3) ranging from institutional care to highly integrated community
residential and day programs. Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities can
receive support from the provincial government provided they are not living in
their reserve communities.
Currently the provincial government is not mandated to pay for services for
adults with intellectual disabilities. There is no certainty of service provision nor
is there a legal obligation on the part of government to provide service. In some
ways, service providers for people with intellectual disabilities in the province
have often had to take a ‘cap-in hand’ approach when trying to access provincial dollars.
The Vulnerable Persons Act (1996), which is provincial legislation related to
people with intellectual disabilities, outlines various rights related to decisionmaking, abuse, and protection for people with intellectual disabilities. While
this legislation outlines some rights of citizens with intellectual disabilities, it
does not entitle them to services.
Though it is clearly practice for the province not to provide funding to reserve communities, some participants felt that this was not appropriate. They
pointed out that the block funding which comes to the province from the federal government is meant to provide health, education, and community services to all Manitobans including people in reserve communities (Transcript 2,
p. 7).
Problems of Fiscal Restraint
There are other issues that further complicate the question of responsibility.
The federal government has been in a period of fiscal restraint for a number of
years. The practice of withdrawing funds was expressed by one person as a
“tightness in the system” (Transcript 5, p. 13). Like the federal government,
the province also reports that it has insufficient funds (Transcript 4).
It is very difficult to understand how decisions are made about who receives
funding and who does not. While the general rule appears to be that the federal government provides funding on reserves and the province provides funding off-reserve, there are exceptions to this rule. At present, if people in reserve
communities do receive service, it is typically carved out of federal funding
sources that have been delegated to other services. It would seem that the
long-term consequence of using funds designated for other sources to assist
people with intellectual disabilities may not be positive. It is likely to lead to
unequal quality in services, and over time, there may also be growing resentment from those individuals needing the services for which the funding was
initially intended.
Issues on the Edge
Problems of Current Systemic Change
Related to these jurisdictional issues is the fact that the federal government, in
consultation with provinces and Aboriginal groups, is dismantling the Department of Indian and Northern Affairs. The plan is that “departmental functions”
will be taken over “by first nations bodies, and, so all of our programs are moving in that direction” (Transcript 7, p. 9). Simultaneously, a similar kind of withdrawal is taking place in medical services. Soon the provision of all services in
reserve communities will be over-seen by First Nations people. In general, the
Aboriginal participants in this study viewed this change to increased self-government as a positive thing, but the implications for people with disabilities are
hard to predict, particularly since people living in institutions may have lost their
links to particular bands.
The result of not addressing the issue of responsibility is that Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities must take what they can get in terms of services. Often this results in institutionalization because no one is actively trying
to prevent this or provide other alternatives. The path of least resistance is chosen.
Lack of Services in Reserve Communities
Many reserve communities are located in remote areas far from the large urban areas where most services tend to be congregated. According to the Royal
Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, over one third of the reserves in Manitoba,
“have no ready access to a service centre” (p. 133). One participant explained,
“there just isn’t enough resources in the area to provide resources to everyone, everywhere in the province, so services tend to be congregated in the
areas with the large population centres” (Transcript 5, p. 10). Often, for people
who are Aboriginal, the pattern for accessing services is to be flown out of the
community to an urban centre.
The Size of the Reserve Community
Another related issue has to do with the size of reserve communities. There is
at least one community with a population approaching 5000 people while there
are other reserves that may only have 100 people (Transcript 7, p. 5; RCAP, p.
130). Communities with larger populations are more able to develop a base for
service provision than smaller communities. So, for an Aboriginal person with
a intellectual disability, one of the factors that will affect whether or not he/she
receives service is whether he/she was born into a large or small reserve community.
Lack of Training about Disability
One resource that is often missing is trained staff to work with people with
intellectual disabilities. One woman asked the following question, “Would it
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be as beneficial for them to come home, if you don’t have anything ready for
them?” (Transcript 3, p. 12) Another said, “The problem in the reserve communities . . . is that there is nobody trained” (Transcript 7, p. 18), and another
commented, “It’s going to take awhile and there’s a need for a lot of training
and a lot of support” (Transcript 9, p. 19). Lack of trained personnel in reserve
communities means that often people with intellectual disabilities must go off
reserve for support.
At present most of the jobs related to supporting Aboriginal children and
adults with disabilities go to workers from outside of reserve communities.
These employment opportunities are lost for Aboriginal people on reserves
because people with disabilities are sent elsewhere for care. Even in non-reserve communities such as Winnipeg, Aboriginal people appear not to be
highly represented in staffing groups. The family members interviewed commented that they seldom encountered Aboriginal staff.
Concerns about Off-reserve Services
Participants in the study expressed some concern about the nature of existing
off-reserve services. One participant commented, “These are not the kinds of
systems, I don’t think, that we would set up for our families or for our children”
(Transcript 6, p. 7). She went on to comment that Aboriginal people have not
been involved for very long in the existing service system, so time will be
needed before a vision of a new and better way of doing things becomes apparent.
In non-reserve settings Aboriginal people do not currently use ‘community
based’ services as readily as other citizens. In an informal phone survey of community-based services for people with intellectual disabilities in Winnipeg, it
was shown that about 5 percent of participants are Aboriginal. The Aboriginal
population of Winnipeg is at least 10% of the total population; so this would
seem to suggest that Aboriginal people are under-represented in communitybased services.
Aboriginal People are Poor
When participants were asked to identify possible reasons for the institutionalization of Aboriginal people with disabilities, the most frequent response was
related to the financial poverty of Aboriginal people. The Royal Commission
Report (1997) points out that in 1991 “over half of the total Aboriginal population received social assistance or welfare payments” (p. 176). Poverty exists
for Aboriginal people both on- and off-reserve communities.
In reserve communities poverty is often related to basic creature comforts
such as housing, heating, electricity, running water, and so on. Also, in remote
communities the cost of food, clothing, and other supplies are excessive because of transport costs. High unemployment, reliance on welfare, and underemployment in reserve communities result in these communities being
considerably poorer than non-Aboriginal urban and rural settings.
Issues on the Edge
For Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities, the result of poverty in
reserve communities is that there is no resource base upon which to draw in
developing supports. In practical terms, it means that it would be hard for a
person with a disability to get a home, in that it is hard for anyone to get a home.
Likewise, if someone wanted to support people with disabilities to find jobs, it
would be very difficult because there simply are no jobs. There are further implications for people whose disabilities have a medical component. The lack of
electricity, for example, is problematic for people who need dialysis or have
respiratory conditions.
In non-reserve communities, poverty is still an issue for Aboriginal families.
The Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (1997) outlines two key factors
related to the level of poverty of Aboriginal peoples who don’t live on reserves.
Obtaining employment off reserve is very difficult for Aboriginal people; only
four out of ten people find employment when they leave the reserve (Royal
Commission Report, 1997, p. 145). Discrimination plays a role in that Aboriginal people may be paid less for doing the same job (RCAP, p. 147). Lack of
employment also means that there is increased reliance on welfare, which by
definition ensures that people are poor. Off-reserve Aboriginal people continue
to be poor, unemployed, and underpaid.
It seems that poverty may lead to an over-representation of Aboriginal people in some services and an under-representation in others. One person explains, “I think the Aboriginal community of Winnipeg doesn’t fit the
mainstream community in terms of, you know, where they are socio-economically, and yet a lot of the programs that are offered are made for the mainstream” (Transcript 8, p. 7). People who are poorer may not feel welcome in
the typical middle-class model of services.
History and Institutionalization
One participant commented, “It seems that the kids that are born with severe
disabilities are whisked way very quickly” (Transcript 1, p. 5). People who are
Aboriginal have a history of being taken from their home communities in order
to receive services of one kind or another. The most notable of these is the
experience of being plucked from home to attend the residential school, but
people have also had to leave for medical care and to advance their education
or access training. Perhaps it is this history of being taken away to receive services that, in part, accounts for the high incidence of institutionalization. When
the pattern that has developed over the past century is one of leaving the community for services, it is not surprising that this becomes the practice for children with intellectual disabilities.
Institutionalization is often the easiest option to implement. Often community placement is difficult to arrange. For example, an individual might visit three
or four potential residential service providers to see what they like best, then
they would do the same to find a day program. Social workers or advocates
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are involved at each of these visits, so the process can be quite involved. Institutional options provide greater ease of access because all services are provided in one location. The process can be completed in one trip.
Racism and Institutionalization
The issue of racism is very complicated. One participant said, “I think racism
today, when it does happen is so much more subtle. We almost sometimes
don’t recognize it anymore as racism” (Transcript 8, p. 15). Webster’s Dictionary (1996) defines racism as, “A belief that race is the primary determinant of
human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race.” The definition also includes “racial prejudice or
discrimination.”
In general, participants in the study tended to feel that overt racism was not
a primary problem leading to institutionalization. For example, one person said,
“The jurisdiction is more heavier than the racial thing” (Transcript 3, p. 24); another said, “I don’t know if it’s really had to do with racism, than it is bureaucracy and what is [money] saving tactics” (Transcript 2, p. 12), while still another
said, “I don’t know how much of it is racism and how much of it is classism
and how much of it is just cultural difference - so, I’m not saying that the person is necessarily racist . . . but they just see the world differently . . . so they
may over-react to that situation in a racist way and not necessarily be a racist”
(Transcript 6, p. 11).
A factor that may be related to race is that Aboriginal people in institutions
may be less likely to be returned to their home communities. During the late
eighties the province undertook a deinstitutionalization project. The project focused on returning people to their home communities. One of the conditions
of returning home was that there needed to be a support system in place to
receive people. Typically such systems could not have been in place for Aboriginal people because there was no service delivery mechanism. Also, in light
of the fact that this was a provincial initiative and that provincial dollars will
never go on to reserve communities, there was essentially a systemic as well
as a programmatic restriction on the return of Aboriginal people with disabilities to their home communities.
Advocacy for Change
It is primarily because of parent advocacy that institutionalization is no longer
the sole option for most children with intellectual disabilities in the mainstream
culture. Within the Aboriginal community there has been little opportunity to
form similar advocacy groups or to join existing advocacy movements. One
participant commented that “People who are Aboriginal in developmental centres lose contact with their families, and they have nobody advocating for
them” (Transcript 4, p. 16). Simply being separated may lead to a lack of knowledge about the circumstances of a son or daughter with a disability and the
need for advocacy may simply not be known.
Issues on the Edge
It Shouldn’t Be Like This: A Focus on Traditional Values
Without fail, participants felt that, traditionally, institutionalization would never
have been what Aboriginal people would have accepted for members with intellectual disabilities. They described a perspective that focused on the gifts,
contributions, and roles of all members within a society. In the mainstream
culture, it is only in the past twenty years or so that new perspectives focusing
on giftedness have begun to flourish. Participants described these as being traditional values within Aboriginal culture.
Individual Stories
My goal in relating these individual stories is to give a human face to a topic
that might otherwise be solely bureaucratic in nature. Also, many of the realities faced by these individuals are echoes of the themes described.
Donald Morgan was born in 1963. When he was two, he experienced seizures that left him with some physical and intellectual restrictions. For most of
his life he has been involved with various kinds of services including foster care,
group homes, sanitariums, hospitals, and sheltered workshops. He has experienced physical abuse, he has been lied to by services providers, he was separated from his family, and has never been paid for his labour. He is currently
very contented, living with his mother and members of his extended family.
The second family interview was with a woman named Joanne Simpson.
She has a brother and a sister living in an institutional setting. Her sister Colleen has lived in this setting for about twenty years and is currently in her late
thirties, while her brother, Jim, has been there all of his life. Colleen was not
born with a mental disability but when she was about three months old, she
fell off of the bed. This seems to have caused some damage which, down the
road, led to epilepsy, and finally the development of behavioural and intellectual problems which resulted in institutionalization. Joanne’s brother was born
with a mental disability, possibly the result of a medical prescription taken by
his mother before he was born.
The third interview was held in the home of a woman named Kelly who lives
in a reserve community north of a large urban centre. Darrel is Kelly’s adopted
son, and, at the time of the interview, he was twelve years old. She adopted
him when he was five days old, and he was able to stay home until he was
about eighteen months old. At that time Kelly became pregnant and was no
longer physically able to handle him because of her increasing size and his need
for twenty-four-hour care. Darrel contracted herpes from his birth mother when
he was about a month and a half old, which resulted in brain damage and fairly
extensive physical disabilities. His need for twenty-four-hour physical care and
nursing care was a determining factor in his institutionalization.
The final family interview was with a woman named Cassandra who is currently a college student studying nursing. She has a brother, Tom, who has
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been in an institutional setting for about eighteen years. She and her family
came from a northern reserve community. In recalling how her brother was
institutionalized, Cassandra said, “ I was still pretty young when he did leave,
so I didn’t really know very much that was happening, but I think he was diagnosed as mild retardation due to solvent abuse” (p. 3). She said that Tom’s behaviour started to change, his school work started going down, he started
getting into trouble, and finally he began running away from home. She feels
at this point that the solvent abuse has caused brain damage and the result is
that “his total personality is different . . . his speech is pretty well gone” (p. 4).
The family stories confirm many of the themes mentioned by other participants. All families report a lack of resources in reserve communities, and for
Colleen, Jim, and Tom, the remoteness of their communities compounded the
problem. Their institutionalization resulted in a loss of connection with family,
a loss of advocacy, and a loss of language. All family participants described how
institutionalization was the only option that parents felt they had available.
Poverty was another problem sited in all of the family interviews. In some
instances, participants referred to personal poverty, and in others to the overall
material poverty of the reserve community. Three of the four families indicated
that racism was a factor that in some way affected the institutionalization of
Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities. They also said that decisions
were being made that were out of their hands, and in some instances, they
were not informed about decisions. This feeling of not being in control was
identified most clearly in the family interviews.
R ECOMMENDATIONS FOR S ERVICE P ROVISION
The issue of funding seems most crucial for Aboriginal people with intellectual
disabilities in reserve communities. Every branch of government seems to
have ways of abdicating responsibility. For example, the federal government
can argue that disability is not really a health-related issue so it is not covered
by treaty considerations. The new legislation for people with intellectual disabilities, namely, the Vulnerable Persons Act, has not yet been effectively used
to ensure service in non-reserve communities, so it is difficult to know what
the effect of a challenge would be for reserve communities. The provincial government can argue that its service to people with intellectual disabilities is not
mandated and that they have no jurisdiction on the reserve. Bands that administer funds can argue that the funding is allocated to specific things and that
they are barely able to provide a minimal level of service to those without disabilities, let alone supporting individuals who may need more.
In an atmosphere where everyone is abdicating responsibility, the people
who lose out will be Aboriginal people with disabilities and their families. This
means that all branches of government need to consciously decide to address
the needs of Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities.
There may be a role for the broader disability movement in bringing about
change. Typically individuals advocating for the rights of people with intellec-
Issues on the Edge
tual disabilities have assumed that they were fighting for all people with disabilities regardless of race. If, as this study is suggesting, some racial groups
may be being left out of services then there may be a need to address this
omission. Also, the low representation of Aboriginal people in off-reserve services may mean that some kind of outreach or welcoming process should be in
place so that Aboriginal families will feel a sense of welcome in existing services.
In terms of service design and delivery, it was an over-riding response that
people would be best supported within the context of family and community.
What follows are key ideas about the philosophical underpinnings of systems
that might be appropriate for people who are Aboriginal and have intellectual
disabilities:
Language. It is important that services be provided in the language of the
person with disabilities.
Holistic approach. Aboriginal participants described disability as having a
spiritual, emotional, intellectual, and social context. Services would have to
address all of these.
Giftedness. Service delivery would need to focus on giftedness. All community members have gifts, and it is the responsibility of the community to
nurture and use these gifts.
Community-based and -controlled. It is important that people receive
services in their home communities and that services be individualized to the
specific needs of families.
Keep kids in families. Services must focus on keeping kids in families and
building supports to families.
Use flexible models of support. Service alternatives that focus on flexibility
were also identified as being important.
Hire Aboriginal staff. The importance of hiring Aboriginal staff to work with
Aboriginal people who have intellectual disabilities was mentioned in several
instances.
Naturally, changing a service system is not an easy thing to do, but many of
the suggestions and comments made by participants led in a positive
direction.
C ONCLUSION
Several themes have been identified that help to explain why Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities have been institutionalized. These include: jurisdictional issues, problems related to being in a remote community, problems
associated with poverty, a history of having been exported from home communities in order to get services, problems related to racism, a lack of training
about disability issues, problems related to services and resources, lack of clear
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legislation, and finally, a present lack of advocacy for change. These conclusions were drawn from the words of people in government, in service delivery, advocacy groups, and from people with intellectual disabilities and their
families.
In addition to these themes, I feel there are at least four key conclusions
that can be drawn from this study. The first is related to the fact that this is a
new topic for discussion. It seems that at this point very little thought has really been given to the institutionalization of Aboriginal people who have intellectual disabilities. An initial conclusion is that awareness and thoughtfulness
are needed. Aboriginal communities, people from within the intellectual disability advocacy movement, and people involved in the service delivery system need to consider whether this is an important issue, and if it is, what can
be done about it.
A second conclusion is that this issue occurs in a very complex environment. It would be an extreme understatement to say that Aboriginal people
have a ‘lot on their plate’ at the moment. Broad issues of disability and health
care are just beginning to be addressed. Systemic problems of poverty and jurisdictional wrangling mean that nothing is clear cut in terms of what should
happen. Though, without fail, participants said that within the traditional value
system people would not have been institutionalized, it is very difficult at this
juncture to find easy solutions.
Thirdly, I would conclude that there is a very different level of support services for Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities than there is for non-Aboriginal Manitobans. At present we have two diverse levels of service in the
same province. While participants did not say that this was the result of racism, Aboriginal people in reserve communities are the only Manitobans with
intellectual disabilities without existing supports. I think there are systemic issues that must be addressed in order for life to change for people with intellectual disabilities who are Aboriginal.
A final conclusion is that there are many reasons to think that things can
change for the better. Participants in this study did not approach issues with
any kind of fatalism or despair. They seemed to have confidence that things
could change for the better. The numerous recommendations that participants
made for improved support to people with intellectual disabilities who are Aboriginal reflect a sense that things can change and that perhaps the time is coming for things to begin to change.
Issues on the Edge
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Bogdan, R. C., & Biklen, S. K. (1992). Qualitative research for education: An introduction to theory and methods (2nd ed.). Boston: Allyn & Bacon.
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University of Manitoba Press.
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Chrisjohn, R. D., & Young, S. L. (1995). The circle game: Shadows and substance in
the Indian residential school experience in Canada. A report to the Royal
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Canada.
Dybwad, R. F. (1990). Perspectives on a parent movement: The revolt of parents of
children with intellectual limitations. Cambridge: Brookline Books.
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Evans, J. A., Hunter, A. G., Thompson, D. R., & Ramsey, S. (1985). A study of institutionalized mentally retarded patients in Manitoba: Over-representation by
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Facing a life of barriers: Aboriginal people with disabilities. (n.d.) Available January
11, 2000 at http://www.schoolnet.ca/aboriginal/disable3/3-e.html
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Fricke, M. W. (1998). First Nations people with disabilities: An analysis of service
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Wolfensberger, W. (1992). A brief introduction to social role valorization as a highorder concept for structuring human services (2nd ed.). Syracuse, NY: Training Institute for Human Service Planning, Leadership and Change Agentry.
Wolfensberger, W. (1975). The origin and nature of our institutional models.
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Ziegler, M. (1997). Cultural inclusion: Connecting with the American Indian community. Impact, 10 (3), 12-13.
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Part III: Challenge of a New Praxis
Challenge of a New Praxis
Some Assembly Required?
Representations of Teacher in Popular Film
Chris Higgins
What is the purpose of an educational story? Certainly, a persuasive narrative
takes a reader away to a new place, introduces characters that the reader can
identify with, and reveals a situation that the characters in the story must deal
with. In this way an educational story spurs on a voyage of imagination into an
existence that is at the same time different and common to our own. Such
stories also have an instructive or argument dimension – they are the way in
which individuals make sense of the amorphous mass of information that each
of us receives. However, narratives cannot reflect out of a vacuum. Stories
exist in negotiation with the needs, expectations, and wants of society as a
whole. Jerome Bruner (1990) describes this as the social function of narrative.
For him, the establishment of meaning comes from the synthesis of self and
society via a narrative text. In this discussion, I explore the social function of
narrative by examining the way that teachers are represented in popular film.
Texts are books. Texts are movies. Texts, in fact, are episodes which can be
read everywhere. Reading the texts of popular culture as stories which supply
citizens with meaning can provide insights into how people or groups are included, excluded, and assembled. But proposing such a directive role for cultural stories exposes critical assumptions about the power of narrative. Is it
warranted to assume that such texts are instructive or ordering tools? More
specifically, are tales of teachers which enchant through the “culturally available” (Atkinson, 1990) contributors to educators’ self construction?
In approaching representations of teacher in film I am not considering popular texts as simply escapist entertainment; but rather as an index of generalized popular attitudes. I propose that this indexing is rooted in the Jungian
principle that the images extant in a society enchant because they are produced through universal longings, and satisfy in response to these needs. This
universalism in story construction, that “we all lead storied lives” (Connelly &
Clandinin, 1991) is one of the rationales for the magnetism and value of narrative as a form of educational inquiry. As Jean Clandinin (1992) reports:
In the accounts of research, issues of representation and audience
are of central concern[because]...One purpose of narrative research
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is to have other readers raise questions about their practices, their
ways of knowing ...and see in the narrative accounts stories of their
own stories...(to) suggest new truths especially the extent to which
all living is a creative act of greater or less authenticity, hindered or
helped by the fictions to which we submit ourselves.
(pp. 135-136).
While inquiring into narrative as educational research I have been confronted
by the idea that the representations a society mints for itself instigate as much
as they mirror cultural tensions and appetites. Clandinin and others seem to
concur by suggesting that any given narrative is offered up as a lesson;
“writ[ten] in such a way that others may use our journeys to help them “read
themselves” (Newman, 1999). However, while educators are presented more
and more through a canon of the popular to each other, the same canon can be
at work supporting an uncritical acceptance of iconography of popular images.
The teacher icon in popular film is an almalgum of tensions, appetites, and
longings that deserves our attention, because in a world where life is text these
images inform, and perhaps even preface our metanarrative. As Frank
Kermode (1981) remarks, generic texts encourage under-reading. I speculate
that contemporary representations of teacher are ingested, digested, and then
function as models for discourse in this manner.
So how would this under-reading work? The two films I have chosen as
demonstrations are almost identical in their plots and themes, although they
were produced 28 years apart. They are To Sir with Love (1967) and
Dangerous Minds (1995). In both of these films I find a facet of teacher representation that revolves around the saintly rebel with a classroom (Bauer, 1998)
who performs miracles on the level of loaves and fishes. Both involve naive,
accidental educators; people who are allowed to teach because no on else will
brave the environment they find themselves in. However, In “Dangerous
Minds” (1995), the teacher is represented as not wanting or not able to “make
any trouble” for her student. This film is based on Louanne Johnson’s memoir,
“My posse don’t do homework”, and is presented as a retelling of actual
events. She is shaped as a person who is ineffective in preparing him for the
world; but paradoxically creates a sanctuary of poetry.
In the earlier film, the teacher seems to make a very different offer. In 1967,
viewers heard:
Teacher: Dunlop?
Dunlop: What are we going to talk about sir?
Teacher: About life, survival, love, death, sex, rebellion, marriage-anything you want.
Challenge of a New Praxis
And from the same film:
Teacher: Don’t be afraid to experiment, and always remember you can
eat well, even though you’re broke, see?
Girl One: Have you ever been broke sir? Real broke? Skint?
Teacher: Yeah. Many, many, many times.
Boy: Oh, I don’t understand you a bit sir. I mean you’re a toff, and you
ain’t.
Teacher: Huh?
Girl Two: Sir, what he means is blimey, I can’t sort of put into words or
anything
but...
Girl One: Well sir you’re like us, but you ain’t, I mean you’re not; its
kind of scary
but nice-you know what I mean don’t you?
Teacher: Well I don’t know how to answer you except to say I teach
you the truths, my truths-and it is kind of scary dealing with the truth,
scary and dangerous.
This movie is “To Sir with Love”, also based on a teacher memoir by E.R.
Braithwaite. In contrast to the teacher icon in “Dangerous Minds”, this educator is an expounder of life’s big questions, and he’s ready to preach. The 1967
character had a function-it assisted an audience of people just like me in constructing our icon of teacher. Not surprisingly, I have often found myself speaking back to opposing texts – complaining that the teacher characters suffer a
moral absence. I want a 1967 teacher, who knows his truth and its strengths
and dangers.
So what function is being performed by the teacher icon in “Dangerous
Minds”? This contemporary text presents different arguments and lessons. In
this scene viewers heard:
Teacher: Nasty cut. You mind telling me what the fight was about in
the first place?
Boy: Yeah!
Teacher: I really would like to know what happened. I’m not going to
make any trouble for you. I just want to know. Was it worth it?
Boy: Yeah it was worth it.
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Teacher: Why?
Boy: Because it felt good hitting him in the face. I got him good man.
Teacher: You like to hit people?
Boy: Yeah, I like to hit people
Teacher: Why? You feel angry a lot of the time?
Boy: So now your going to psychologize me? You gonna try and figure
me out?
I’ll help you out. I come from a broken home and we’re poor okay? I
see the same
f**ing movies you do man.
Teacher: I would like to help Emilio.
Boy: Thank you very much. And how would you like to do that? You
gonna give
me some advice? Just say no? You gonna get me off the streets? Well
forget it!
How the f** you gonna save me from my life? Huh?
I believe that there is a sea of change in the rhetoric of teacher presentation
between “To Sir with Love”, and “Dangerous Minds”. Here we have an intimate conversation between two people who happen to be a teacher and her
student. Instead of life issues, we are offered a reflexive reference to the medium itself, directing viewers to under read both individuals as symbolic
“types”. Even more tellingly, the final scene in “Dangerous Minds” offers up
these instructions:
Male Teacher: How’d they get you to come back?
Female Teacher: They gave me candy and called me the light.
Male Teacher: That’ll do it.
For better or worse, “Dangerous Minds” instigates both despair and religious style fervor through the teacher icon it presents. However, it is imperative to note that a comparison of these two films offers nothing as simple as a
good/bad dichotomy. The teacher in “Dangerous Minds” is caring, passionate,
and in many ways appropriate to her place and time. The teacher in “To Sir
with Love” must also be as critically examined as a nostalgic glow will allow.
He instructs his truth-that of the dominant ideology in many ways, and encourages a class-based society. Most significantly, both films contain the prevailing
Challenge of a New Praxis 101
representation of teacher in popular media; that of a “bright light” in a school
of darkness (Dalton, 1996). These idealized educators as celebrities are successful totally due to their Don Quixote style personal quests and their rejection of authority. In the end, the commonalties in both of these representations
are as provocative as their differences.
Accepting that popular texts do provide lessons for educators has implications. By becoming aware of the instigation aspect of narrative I have found it
possible to view these icons and define who I am not. But films also demonstrate for me that these stories can work within a hermeneutic circle, because
they influence my perspectives while reflecting back on my role as a consumer
of popular culture. The social function of these popular representations may
clarify components of the teacher characters we all meet in educational texts
and journals, seemingly far from the world of “To Sir with Love”, “Dangerous
Minds”, or even “Reader’s Digest”. Both professional and popular educational
narratives are populated by rebels, saints, and other icons of social construction. As Keroes (1999) suggests, “Teachers remain figures on which we test
social change” (p. 4).
As well, there is a growing body of literature which suggests that narrative
accounts such as biographies and life stories are a legitimate and important
methodology for deepening the understanding of teachers in their everyday
practice (Barone, 1992; Clandinin & Connelly, 1991; Elbaz-Luwisch, 1997).
These texts are justly celebrated, and deserve to have their social archeology
explored. Examining how society views teachers through the prism of popular
films such as “To Sir With Love” and “Dangerous Minds” can productively
problematize the dominant concept of personal, practical knowledge. Such an
awareness of how prevailing discourses legitimate certain texts for certain audiences (Giroux, 1999) directs viewers to ask how our deepest concerns are
reflected back upon us, shaping, enhancing, and even manipulating perceptions in the process.
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R EFERENCES
Atkinson, P. (1990). The ethnographic imagination. London: Routledge, Chapman
& Hall.
Barone, T. (1992). A narrative of enhanced professionalism: Educational researchers and popular storybooks about schoolpeople. Educational Researcher,
21(8), 15-22.
Bauer, D. (1998). Indecent proposals: Teachers in the movies. In College English,
3(60), 301-17.
Braithwaite, E. R. (1959). To sir, with love. London: Bodley Head Press.
Bruner, J. S. (1990). Acts of meaning. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Connelly, F. & Clandinin, J. (1991). Narrative inquiry: Storied experience. In E. C.
Short, (Ed.), Forms of Curriculum Inquiry (pp. 121-154). Albany: State
University of New York Press.
Clandinin, D. J. (1992). Narrative and story in teacher education. In T. Russell &
H. Munby (Eds.), Teachers and teaching: From classroom to reflection. London,
New York: Falmer Press.
Clavell, J. (Director). (1967). To sir with love [Motion picture]. United States:
Sterling Entertainment.
Dalton, M. (1996). Hollywood curriculum: Teachers and teaching in the movies.
New York: Peter Lang.
Elbaz-Luwisch, F. (1997). Narrative research: Political issues and implications.
Teaching and Teacher Education,13(1), 75-83.
Giroux, (1999). Reclaiming the social: Pedagogy, resistance, and politics in celluloid
culture. In J. Collins, H. Radner, & A. Preacher Collins (Eds.), Film theory
goes to the movies. London: Routledge.
Johnson, L. (1992). My posse don’t do homework. New York: St. Martin’s Paperbacks.
Kermode, F. (1981). Secrets and narrative sequence. In W. J. T. Mitchell (Ed.), On
narrative (pp. 79-97). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Keroes, J. (1999). Tales out of school: Gender, longing, and the teacher in fiction
and film. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press.
Newman, J. (1999). Validity and action research: An online conversation. Hughes.
I. Action Research Electronic Reader retrieved March 11, 2000, from
http://www.behs.cchs.usyd.edu.au/arow/reader/
Smith, J. (Director). (1995). Dangerous minds [Motion picture]. United States:
Hollywood Pictures.
Challenge of a New Praxis 103
Should We Remove Corporal Punishment
from the Criminal Code?
Zhide Li
I NTRODUCTION
Section 43 (s.43) of Canada’s Criminal Code is on tutorial corporal punishment.
The present version of s.43 reads:
Every schoolteacher, parent or person standing in place of a parent is
justified in using force by way of correction toward a pupil or child, as
the case may be, who is under his care, if the force does not exceed
what is reasonable under the circumstances.
Section 43 does not create a right for schoolteachers, parents, or other people standing in place of a parent to administer corporal punishment on children
or pupils, nor does it literally encourage the use of force on the young in general. It protects the authority of use of force by those adults toward children/
pupils for the purpose of “correction,” provided the force is “reasonable” under the circumstances. In recent years, especially after the entrenchment of
the Charter of Rights and Freedoms in Canadian Constitution, s.43 has evoked
much controversy. The core issue of the controversy is not how s.43 should
be applied, but whether or not it should exist. To some people, the function of
s.43 is simply justifying an action that would otherwise be charged as an assault. To some others, s.43 protects a type of authority that has some value in
child/pupil discipline. Discipline, in the context of child rearing, is traditionally
interpreted as “correction; chastisement; punishment inflicted by way of correction and training” and “to chastise, thrash, punish” (The Oxford English Dictionary 1933, pp. 415-416). In the context of s.43, discipline is expressed as
“using force by way of correction toward a pupil or child.”
The principle of corporal punishment on children underlying the present s.43
in the Criminal Code of Canada dates back to the year 1877. Fitzjames
Stephen’s A Digest of the Criminal Law (1877) states that:
It is not a crime to inflict bodily harm by way of lawful correction, or by
any lawful application of force ... to the person of another; but if the
harm inflicted on such an occasion is excessive, the act which inflicts
it is unlawful, and, even if there is no excess, it is the duty of every
104 2 0 0 0 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
person applying the force to take reasonable precautions against the
infliction of other or greater harm than the occasion requires (p.126).
In the 1892 Canadian Criminal Code, under the heading of “Discipline of
Minors,” in the part titled “Protection of persons in authority,” Section 55
states that:
It is lawful for every parent, or person in the place of a parent, schoolmaster or master, to use force by way of correction towards any child,
pupil or apprentice under his care, provided that such force is reasonable under the circumstances (Cited in McGillivray 1997, p. 207).
The 1900 version of this provision is found in s.280 in the Queensland Code
of 1900 and is virtually identical to s.55 in 1892 Criminal Code (McGillivray,
1997). In 1906, the heading was changed to “Correction of child by force.” In
1953, the section was reworded to the present version after a few alterations.
First, “schoolteachers” replaced “schoolmasters” and came before “parents.” Secondly, “master” and “apprentice” were taken off the list. The principle of “reasonable” remains and governs all circumstances under which a
punishment is administered, including the injury, risk, instruments, and causes
for “correction.” To understand what “reasonable” means, it is necessary to
know first where the disciplinary authority of parents and schoolteachers over
children/pupils came from.
The Disciplinary Authority of Parents and
Schoolteachers Over Children/Pupils
Parents’ Disciplinary Authority Over Children
Parents obtain authority to discipline their children from three sources: religious, historical/ societal, and legal (Cryan 1987; Malik & Des Dixon 1986;
McGillivray 1997; Miller 1990; Pritchard 1989). Some Biblical provisions clearly
support disciplining children with force. Examples are:
1. “Do not be chary of correcting a child, a stroke of the cane is not
likely to be fatal” (Proverbs 23:13);
2. “Give him a stroke of the cane, you will save his soul from the
Sheol” (Proverbs 23:14);
3. “Folly is anchored in the heart of a youth, the whip of instruction
will rid him of it” (Proverbs 22:15);
4. “Whoever fails to use the stick hates his child; whoever is free
with his correction loves him” (Proverbs 13:24); and
5. “While there is hope for him, chastise your child, but do not get so
angry as to kill him” (Proverbs 19:18).
Challenge of a New Praxis 105
Actually, Bergen (1984) provides an example of an Alberta case judged on
the basis of the “forms” of punishment used; the motives were beyond questioning owing to biblical provisions. According to Scott (1938), historically, the
utility of corporal punishment to train and teach children has been viewed both
necessary and virtuous since Roman times. Most of the ancient philosophers
and law-makers were in favour of flogging children and regarded it both as a
means to shape their conduct and to educate them. Presently, some beliefs
about corporal punishment are wide accepted. For example, violence can be
used as a means of conflict resolution; parental autonomy in disciplining children is a right; not disciplining children is decadent (Malik & Des Dixon, 1986).
The legal origin of parents’ authority to discipline a child by force, also the legal
origin of s.43, is, “no doubt, the Roman concept of patria potestas,” which
means in Roman law “paternal authority” (Law Reform Commission 1984, p.
55). Blackstone (1765/1966) commented that one responsibility of the parents
for their children is:
of giving them an education suitable to their station in life: a duty
pointed out by reason, and of the greatest importance of any (p. 438).
. . . The power of a parent by our English law is much more moderate;
but still sufficient to keep the child in order and obedience. He may
lawfully correct his child, being under age, in a reasonable manner;
for this is for the benefit of his education (p. 440).
So, parents’ authority to discipline their children derives from their “duty”
of giving children a “suitable” education so as to help them fit in their future
positions in the society. Canadian courts recognize this parental authority. For
example, in R. v. Peterson [April, 1995], the court found that David Peterson’s
“bare-bottomed spanking” of his five-year-old daughter in a crowded parking
lot was justifiable and said that the Peterson couple’s discipline policy “seemed
reasonable and designed with the best interests of their children... to properly
correct and educate their children” (McGillivray, 1997, pp. 197-198).
Teachers’ Authority of Using Corporal Punishment
to Discipline Pupils
Teachers’ legal authority to administer corporal punishment to discipline pupils
has sources in the common law of England, the statutory provisions for discipline, and case law. The most quoted common law doctrine with this respect
is in loco parentis. Blackstone (1765/1966) explains that a parent
... may also delegate part of his parental authority, during his life to
tutor or school master of his child; who is then in loco parentis, and
has such a portion of the power of the parent committed to his charge,
viz. that restraint and correction, as may be necessary to answer the
purpose for which he is employed (pp. 440-441).
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It is believed that, by in loco parentis, a portion of parents’ authority of child
discipline is lawfully delegated to a teacher. Canadian courts recognize the in
loco parentis doctrine in judicial decisions (Dickinson & MacKay, 1989; Hurlbert
& Hurlbert, 1992; MacKay & Sutherland, 1992). For example, in R. v. Sweet
([1986] Unreported decision of the Ontario District Court), Judge Vannini stated
that teachers have the authority to discipline students “with lawful justification;” students have the obligations to “accept such discipline as would be
exercised by a kind, firm and judicious parent” (School Law Commentary,
1987, p. 2). However, people question the functioning capacity of the in loco
parentis doctrine in present-day schools. Schooling today is a public enterprise,
where teacher-student interactions become more public, and are more often
framed by “teachers’ legal duties,” rather than by “parent-child relationships”
(Ghosh & Ray, 1995, p. 268).
Teachers’ legal duties are defined in statutory provisions, which are another
source from which teachers obtain their power for discipline. Education is now
state funded and the power of the state over education has been delegated to
a large school system through government legislatures. That is why some people argue that it would be more appropriate to view teachers as state agents
rather than persons standing in the classroom as substitute parents (Dickinson
& MacKay, 1989; MacKay & Sutherland, 1992). Courts recognize the status of
teachers both as in loco parentis and as state agents. One early case affirming
teacher’s authority in school discipline based on the public nature of the
teacher-student relationship is Mansell v. Griffin (1908). In this case, a certified
mistress disciplined a child and caused injury. Justice Phillimore presented his
judgement:
. . . it has from the earliest times been the practice for teachers to enforce discipline by some form of coercion . . . . This being the case, if
this punishment was moderate . . . . and was administered by a certified assistant mistress who was in charge of this class, apparently
some forty children, we think she can in an action justify that which
she did (Dickinson & MacKay, 1989, pp. 300-301).
The person in this case is viewed as a “certified” assistant mistress who is
“in charge of the class,” rather than a person standing in place of a parent.
The third source from which teachers obtain their discipline authority is case
law. Case law defines the acceptable/unacceptable conditions and circumstances under which disciplinary actions may be/may not be legally administered in individual cases.
Challenge of a New Praxis 107
A Brief Historical Account of the Use of s.43 in Canadian Courts
According to s.43, anyone providing evidence that he/she is a schoolteacher, a
parent, or a person in place of a parent, “is justified in using force by way of
correction toward a pupil or child.” The next question is whether the instance
is “reasonable under the circumstances.” Bargen (1961) suggests a list of criteria in the determination of whether a particular corporal punishment instance
is considered “reasonable” by the courts (p. 129). Today, these criteria are still
in use in Canadian courts (Hurlbert & Hurlbert, 1992; MacKay, 1984).
Bargen’s Criteria for a Corporal Punishment Instance to be Considered
“Reasonable Under the Circumstances”:
1.
It is for the purpose of correction and without malice. A classic
case to illustrate this point is Reg. v. Robinson (1899), in which a
teacher administered straps on the hands of a 14-year-old boy, causing blisters and bruising. The teacher was acquitted on appeal. This
case is noted for the legal principle applied that purpose/motive for
punishment carries decisive weight for a judgement
2.
There is sufficient cause for punishment. In the case, Brisson v.
Lafontaine (1864), a 6-year-old pupil was not quick enough to find
the page for reading. The teacher, using a leather strap of 15 inches
long, struck him violently for 10 to 15 minutes, inflicting serious
wounds on his face and hands. The teacher was found guilty for her
brutal and inhuman punishment administered (see Note 1). This case
is noted for the insufficient cause for the punishment, the excessive
force used, and the serious injury caused.
3.
It is not cruel or excessive and leaves no permanent mark or
injury. In R. v. Metcalfe (1927), a teacher punished a female student
by administering strapping on her backside. The court found the
punishment not excessive because no permanent injury was caused.
This case established the principle of existence of permanent injury
as criterion for excessive force used. Since then, ‘lasting injury’ has
remained an ‘acid test’ for excessive force used and unreasonable
correction (McGillivray, 1997). In the case of R. v. Peterson (April,
1995), the Court ruled that the force used was not excessive solely
because there was no severe bodily harm (McGillivray, 1997).
4.
It is suited to the age and sex of the child. In Campeau v. R. [1951]
103 C.C.C.355, the teacher who struck two young boys’ knuckles
against a table was held liable because the boys were young and
their knuckles were fragile. (see Note 2). In R. v. Baptiste and Baptiste
(1981), the plaintiff’s gender was considered:
Use of force by way of correction of a 15-year-old-girl can seldom be
justified... Not only is there a great danger of a teen-aged girl suffering physical injury but emotional damage is also likely. It implies a
lack of respect (Cited in McGillivray, 1997, p. 215).
108 2 0 0 0 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
In R. v. Schnick (1988) O.J. No.1037 (unreported), handcuffing a young
boy to a radiator for 10 minutes was considered reasonable. In R. v.
Taylor (1985), tying the hands of an adolescent girl to a basement
post for 15 minutes was not reasonable.
5.
It is not protracted beyond the child’s power of endurance. This
criterion concerns how many times and how long a punishment
lasted. When this criterion is applied, physical conditions such as
age and gender of a child are considered (Hurlbert & Hurlbert, 1992).
6.
The instrument used for punishment is suitable. This criterion is
also based on a child’s physical condition. In Brisson v. Lafontaine
(1864), the 15-inch long strap was considered too heavy for a 6-yearold-boy. The judge in R. v. Hilton (1927) expressly pointed out that
the use of a dangerous weapon is likely to arouse criminal charges
against the person who used it (see Note 3).
7.
It does not endanger life, limbs, or health, or disfigure the child.
This criterion, as Hurlbert and Hurlbert (1992) note, was derived from
the American case of State v. Pendergass (1937), (N.C. 1837):
Any punishment, therefore, which may endanger life, limbs, or health,
or shall disfigure the child, or cause any other permanent injury, may
be pronounced in itself immoderate, as not only being unnecessary
for, but inconsistent with the purpose for which correction is authorized. (Cited in Hurlbert & Hurlbert, 1992, p. 206)
8.
It is administered to an appropriate part of the child’s anatomy.
In Andrew v. Hopkins (1932), a teacher strapped a girl for misbehaviour and accidentally delivered a severe blow to one of the girl’s
breasts, which caused a chronic condition of mastitis. The judge
ruled: “There was negligence on the part of the teacher for which
she must be held responsible” (Bargen, 1961, p. 131).
Supplementary Points to Bargen’s Criteria
1.
Hidden criteria. One hidden criterion is societal norms/community
standards. This criterion affects the standards and interpretation of
the reasonableness of a corporal punishment instance. An interesting example is found with the different attitudes held by two courts
in the case R. v. Dupperon (1985). The trial court did not view appropriate strapping of a 13-year-old boy’s bare buttocks for punishment,
and stated, “ You don’t beat kids into being good kids. You beat
them into jail . . . . We’re not in the dark ages now . . . ” (McGillivray,
1997, pp. 224, 226). The appeal Court disagreed saying that the defendant’s motive of preventing his son from “growing up to be a
bum” was corrective (McGillivray, 1997, p. 226). Apparently, it is the
different standards and interpretations of the term “reasonable” that
Challenge of a New Praxis 109
led to different judgements. Another hidden criterion is about the
cognitive, psychological, and emotional injury, harm, danger, disfiguring, and pain that the children/ pupils suffer from the corporal punishment. Regretfully, very few courts paid attention to this less visible
criterion as the Ontario Provincial Court did in R. v. Baptiste and
Baptiste (date), in which the emotional damage of a 15-year old girl
was considered.
2.
The criterion of “correction.” For a child to be corrected by force,
this child must be a correctable child. In R. v. Griffin (1869), the father beat his infant daughter with a leather strap and the child died.
The court ruled that, “The law as to correction has reference only to
a child capable of appreciating correction and not to an infant of two
years and half old.” The father was convicted of manslaughter. The
same reasoning was applied one hundred years later. In R. v. Inwood
(1989), a one-year-old boy was slapped and bruised by his father,
and the father’s defence was denied (Note 4). In Ogg-Moss v. R.
(1984), a worker of an institution hit an institutionalized and severely
mentally challenged adult repeatedly on the forehead with a large
spoon for spilling food. The Court ruled that the “correction” must
benefit the child and that a child who cannot control the behaviour
being corrected is not a correctable child (see Note 5).
3.
Use of force. The distinction between ‘use of force’ and ‘corporal
punishment’ is important. Force can be used for many purposes;
corporal punishment is one of them. For example, in R. v. Imbeault
(1977), force was used when a teacher pushed a student in a shoving match, but there was no intention of punishment involved. In R.
v. Godin (March 20, 1996), a teacher struck two boys in the face
when trying to break up a fight between them. The Court held that
the teacher was entitled to “intervene” and to use reasonable force
to “stop” any disruptive behaviour; failure to do so would have been
a dereliction of his responsibilities (i.e., negligence) (see Note 6).
Some Arguments over Retaining and Repealing s.43
P. F. Bargen (1961) states that there are two views commonly held about corporal punishment. One is that beating is brutal but ought to be inflicted. The
other is that corporal punishment is a necessary process in the establishment
of good characters in children (Bargen, 1961). In reality, the views that people
hold of corporal punishment are more complex and have gone beyond the two
polarised views depicted by Bargen. For example, people argue for repealing
s.43 from other perspectives besides “beating is brutal,” and people who want
to reserve corporal punishment may not really believe in the goodness of beating, but simply want to keep it as the last resort to mark the line between acceptable and unacceptable behaviours.
110 2 0 0 0 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
Arguments for Retaining Corporal Punishment
1.
Corporal punishment has some value in school management.
People holding this opinion argue that corporal punishment matches
the norms and general practices of the present society (Carter, 1976),
can assist the students under the punishment to learn self-discipline
and protect other students’ right to learn from being impeded by
those disruptive students (Jefferson, 1984), and is an effective deterrent for stopping undesirable behaviour for short periods of time,
although not for longer periods of time (Hindle, 1987).
2.
Parents and teachers are entitled to use corporal punishment.
Giles (1988) believes that “teacher is a surrogate parent,” and by in
loco parentis is entitled to use reasonable force to maintain discipline and compel compliance (p. 49). A New Brunswick judge expressed his view that legislative provisions prohibiting corporal
punishment purport to take away a statutory right that all teachers
possess under s.43 of the Criminal Code and thus are contrary to
the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms (Sussel, 1997).
3.
We have divine authority to use corporal punishment. Buchanan
(1987) holds that, if we love our children, we should follow the biblical teachings to strap them. Corporal punishment should have a place
in school and at home, because it is “a loving discipline,” because
“we have divine authority to use the strap,” and because “it works
and always will” (pp. 6-7).
4.
Other views. Genereus (1990) holds that corporal punishment is
different from violence and child abuse and is “an acceptable behaviour in relation to particular children” (p. 32). To her, removing a child
from classroom is no better than corporally punishing him in terms
of ensuring his human dignity. In the Report to the House of Commons, the Standing Committee on Health, Welfare and Social Affairs (1976) decided not to recommend the repeal of s.43 without
further study, out of the consideration that this “might deprive parents and teachers of needed protection against unfounded complaints” (p. 19).
Arguments for Repealing Corporal Punishment
1.
Corporal punishment is legalized child abuse. People argue that
corporal punishment receives support from societal beliefs (e.g., punishment is an effective discipline technique) and from legal supports
(e.g., s.43; the in loco parentis doctrine). To eliminate child abuse,
we need to alter these social beliefs and reform related legal provisions (Durrant & Rose-Krasner, 1995; Law Reform Commission, 1984;
McFadden, 1987a, 1987b; McGillivray, 1993, 1997; Pritchard, 1988).
Challenge of a New Praxis 111
2.
Corporal punishment is against Charter provisions. The Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms guarantees the right to security of the person (Section 7), the right of not being subjected to
unusual and cruel treatment (Section 12), and equal protection of
the law without discrimination on the basis of age (Section 15). Limitations to these rights are allowed only when they are “demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society” (Section 1). Since
numerous evidences reveal that corporal punishment does not benefit children development; therefore, it cannot be demonstrably justified under the Charter (Durrant & Rose-Krasnor, 1995; Law Reform
Commission, 1984; McFadden, 1987a, 1987b; McGillivray, 1993,
1997; Parker-Jenkins, 1988; Pritchard, 1988, 1989; Watkinson, 1987,
1988).
3.
Corporal punishment is not compatible with the present societal
norms and community standards. Attitudes, beliefs, concepts,
theories, and practices regarding corporal punishment reflect the
extent to which the society can accept this practice. Canada ratified
The United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child in 1991.
The Convention requires that all States Parties take all appropriate
measures to protect children from violence and maltreatment. (see
Appendix 1 for “Article 19.1” and “Article 28.2” of the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child.) In 1995, the Committee on the Rights
of the Child first time assessed the situation of the rights of the child
in Canada. Canada was urged by this UN Committee to change the
situations of corporal punishment on children in Canada, especially
through legislative reform. (see Appendix 2 for quotations of the
assessment of this Committee on the situations of corporal punishment on children in Canada, and recommendations.)
Researchers and scholars also assessed the status of Canadian legislation on corporal punishment within an international context and
urged legislative change. They related that, of 27 countries listed in
The Progress of Nations by UNICEF in 1994, Canada is one of the
only three that still permit corporal punishment in their schools, while
by 1900, corporal punishment had already been abolished in the
schools in Poland, the Netherlands, Luxembourg, Italy, Belgium,
Austria, Finland, and France (Durrant & Rose-Krasnor, 1995;
McGillivray, 1993). Now, corporal punishment has been abolished in
every Western European country (Durrant & Rose-Krasnor, 1995;
Parker-Jenkins, 1988), and is forbidden in schools in China, Cyprus,
Ecuador, Hong Kong, Israel, Japan, Maurotius, New Zealand,
Philipines, Qatar, and Turkey (Hyman, 1990, cited in Durrant & RoseKrasnor, 1995, p. 31). A new trend is emerging in the U.S.: between
1940 and 1980, only 4 states banned this practice in schools; by
112 2 0 0 0 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
1994, the number of states rose to 26 (Straus & Mathur, 1994). Also,
in Canada, Durrant and Rose-Krasnor (1995) reported that, between
1976 and 1993, 11 government-sponsored reports recommended
that s.43 be reconsidered, amended, or repealed that a growing
number of organizations oppose officially the use of corporal punishment on children, and that recent survey data also indicate that Canadians are becoming aware of the ineffectiveness of corporal
punishment and many would support the abolition.
4. Recommendations of strategies for child/pupil discipline management. Repealing s.43 is not the ultimate purpose of the battle. Alternative management strategies and many kinds of education programs
must be provided to improve the quality of child education and child
rearing. Recommendations with this respect range from classroom
management strategies to teacher education (pre- and in-service),
from family education programs to public campaigns (Beckingham,
1976; Board of Education for the city of London, 1982; Cryan, 1987;
Durrant & Rose-Krasnor, 1995; Law Reform Commission, 1984; Malik
& Des Dixon, 1986; McFadden, 1987a, 1987b; McGillivray, 1997;
Straus, 1994).
Corporal Punishment Should be Removed
My opinion is that corporal punishment on children should not be used either
by parents or by educators; s.43 should be removed. Before proceeding any
further, I want to make two points clear. First, corporal punishment on children
should not be used, but the use of force is sometimes justifiable. As stated by
Law Reform Commission (1984), in emergency situations such as for the safeguarding of a child or others or protection of property, use of reasonable force
is necessary and is thus justifiable. Corporal punishment lacks the urgent aspect in emergency situations; therefore, it is not readily justifiable in terms of
necessity. Second, I do not see that parents’ authority over child discipline is
absolute. I respect a parent’s rights that are protected by law and under the
Charter. But their rights should not infringe on children’s rights that are also protected by law and under the Charter. These two points said, let me proceed to
my other arguments.
Change of Social Ideology.
The standard for acceptable/unacceptable student discipline practices is “a
function of current ideology in regard to punishment and the use of force on
children” (Hurlbert and Hurlbert, 1992, p. 194). Social ideology is a powerful
force in setting standards and norms for law-making. Here is an example. On
August 15, 1987, when the Education (No.2) Act (1986) became law, it also
abolished physical chastisement on pupils in British state schools. Section
47(1) of the Act states:
Challenge of a New Praxis 113
Where, in any proceedings, it is shown that corporal punishment has
been given to a pupil by or on the authority of a member of the staff,
giving the punishment cannot be justified on the ground that it was
done in pursuance of a right exercisable by the member of the staff
by virtue of his position as such (Cited in Parker-Jenkins, 1988, p. 10).
This points to the issue that teachers in Britain can no longer invoke the
common law doctrine “in loco parentis” to administer corporal punishment and
defend themselves against a charge of assault. Section 47(1) does not state
explicitly that this common law doctrine is “dated” altogether, but a need to
re-define this concept is clearly indicated (Parker-Jenkins, 1988). One teacher
in England recalled that he performed 1,115,800 raps on the heads of the pupils during his fifty-one years of teaching career in the earlier years of 1900s
(Barnes, 1976), which works out to 60 raps a day on average. In 1987, corporal
punishment was abolished in British state schools. When the social ideology
of using force on children changes such as in the U.K., birthplace of the in loco
parentis doctrine, the value of this 200-year-old doctrine has to be reconsidered.
In Canada, one significant event in recent years is the constitutionalization
of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Bergen (1984) sees that the version of
“a free and democratic society” in Section 1 is related to both prevailing and
emerging societal values and norms. Magsino (1983) points out further that
the “freedoms” given here must be understood before they can be applied
and that proper understanding is based on our rational autonomy capacity. This
argument leads our attention to the development in the young citizens the
knowledge, skills, and dispositions needed for the responsible exercise of
rights granted by the Charter (White & Pritchard, 1989). Section 43 defends
parents and teachers’ absolute authority of using force on children, and is incompatible with the principles in Section 12 and Section 15 of the Charter.
Section 12 of Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms raises two difficulties for s.43. First, if the onus is on the challenger of s.12 to demonstrate that a
practice is cruel and unusual treatment, then, the onus “shifts” to the government or its agents to show that this practice is reasonable and demonstrably
justified under s.1 (Watkinson, 1988) (see Note 7). Second, if the use of corporal punishment cannot be justified under Section 12, it cannot be justified as
“reasonable limits” under Section 1 of the Charter. Consequently, the capacity
of s.43 to protect the practice of corporal punishment becomes questionable.
Actually, many alternatives of student discipline have been in use or recommended. For example, the Board of Education for the city of London (1982)
issued a booklet with a summary of nearly 100 classroom management strategies suggested by the principals. The philosophy of the Board is: “Students
are individuals. Programs to meet their individual needs are essential to successful management and discipline” (Front cover). Malik and Des Dixon (1986)
found that Ontario teachers have been using humanistic approaches to estab-
114 2 0 0 0 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
lish a school environment that promotes student self-discipline, better attendance, and high academic achievement.
Section 15 of the Charter presents one more challenge to s.43. Section
15 is often referred to as the equality section. It requires that people be treated
equally, without discrimination based on, for example, age, when a judicial decision is made. It also places an onus on governments, or their agents, to justify all laws, regulations, or acts of the government that discriminate against
individuals because of their age. In R. v. Ogg-Moss (1984), Chief Justice
Dickson said:
One of the key rights in our society is the individual’s right to be free
from unconsented invasions on his or her physical security or dignity
and it is a central purpose of the criminal law to protect members of
society from such invasions . . . Any derogation from this right and
this protection ought to be strictly construed (p. 92).
When s.43 is used to defend the use of a kind of force by some adult members on some minor members of the society, it is defending an action, which
would otherwise be charged as assault if it happens between two adults.
“Reasonable” and “Correction” Questioned
Section 43 does not provide any definition for what constitutes reasonable circumstances, reasonable force, instruments involved, etc. The definitions and
standards of “reasonable” are left for case law to answer. In the Courts, what
constitutes “reasonable” force and “reasonable” cause has been given a wide
range of and liberal interpretations. Of the cases regarding corporal punishment, it is not uncommon that a judicial decision made by one court was rejected by another court, e.g., R. v. Ogg-Moss (1984). Also, judicial decisions
may be highly controversial since its birth, e.g., R. v. Haberstock (1971). There
are also human factors to consider: the preference/bias of the people who
make the judgements, e.g., R. v. Dupperon (1985). Further, interpretations of
“reasonable” differ in different times and in different communities. In R. v.
Pitamber (unreported, Krindle, 1990), a woman punched her daughter in the
face and “switched” all her children. She argued that what she had done is
commonplace in Guyana, her country of origin. The judge of Manitoba Court of
Queen’s Bench said:
Sitting around the judges’ table we talked about this business of discipline. Guy Kroft said that his father disciplined him that way and his
father was a loving, gentle man. My father . . . whacking me and hitting me with a belt. I am not saying that I would now do that to kids or
that my kids would do it to theirs. Philosophies have changed. But
twenty-five years ago, here in Canada, this conduct was not seen as
being criminal. As a matter of fact it was seen as being normal by gentle responsible people.
Challenge of a New Praxis 115
We now call it abuse. We have now become more enlightened.
We are now talking about children’s rights. I hope the day will come
when people stop hitting their children (Cited in McGillivray, 1997, p.
218).
“Correction” refers to altering children’s wrong behaviours so they can
adopt correct ones. Many research findings have successfully argued that violence breeds violence, not stops it, and that beating/physical punishment does
not benefit the development of children nor the development of the society
(Durrant & Rose-Krasnor, 1995; Miller, 1990; Straus, 1994). Therefore, “correction” of behaviours, the goal of corporal punishment in general, and a long-term
goal in particular, can hardly be achieved through the use of corporal punishment. For example, Derek Wright (1971) found that there is a clear relationship
between violent punishment of children at home by the father and violent behaviour of the children outside the home. One explanation is that the father is
the child’s chief model of how adults behave. Through corporal punishment,
the father has showed the child that violence and aggression are acceptable
ways when dealing with other people. A massive study of inner-city London
schools reveals that pupil behaviour was significantly worse in schools where
corporal punishment was used frequently, that corporal punishment was highly
correlated with the worst patterns of pupil behaviour, and that pupil behaviour
was significantly better in schools where school atmosphere was positive and
task-oriented. The conclusion was: school ethos made a difference (Rutter,
Maughan, Mortimore, Ouston & Smith, 1979). Durrant and Rose-Krasnor
(1995) reviewed a large number of research reports and summarized that majority of abusive incidents began as disciplinary encounters that escalated out
of control. For example, they also reported:
— In a study of temper tantrums among preschool children, “a clear
association” was found between maternal use (vs. non-use) of corporal punishment and severe (vs. not-severe) tantrums (Needleman,
Stevenson & Zuckerman, 1991, Cited in Durrant & Rose-Krasnor,
1995, p. 4).
— An analysis of the National Family Violence Survey (1980) found
a positive linear relationship between the frequency of parents’ spanking their children and the frequency of aggressive acts their children
directed against them, and an even stronger linear association between spanking frequency and child’s aggression towards siblings.
But “there is no evidence that a threshold frequency of spanking is
necessary before it begins to influence child aggression” (p. 31).
(Larzelere,1986, Cited in Durrant & Rose-Krasnor, 1995, p. 6)
— Ralph Welsh (1978) found a strong positive relationship between severe parental punishment and delinquent aggression among
a court sample of 58 boys. (Durrant & Rose-Krasnor, 1995, p. 7)
116 2 0 0 0 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
— Straus and Smith (1992) found that parents who were physically
punished at age 13 assaulted their spouses significantly more often
than those who were not hit at that age.
(Durrant & Rose-Krasnor, 1995, p. 7)
These findings are but a drop of water in an ocean of the literature on the
consequences of corporal punishment on children. One source of the literature can be found in the list of “Books on child abuse searched for discussions
of corporal punishment,” provided by a leading American researcher, Murray
Straus (1994).
Recommendations
Along with the removal of s.43, some substantial measures should be taken
to support teachers to carry out their duties. For instance, legal provisions
should be established to protect teachers’ rights and encourage teachers’ responsibilities to: a) discipline students in ways acceptable to a free, democratic
society, b) maintain school order and a learning-supportive environment for the
interests of the students as a whole, and c) use force, when necessary, to deal
with emergent situations. I do not see the proposal that educators should adopt
disciplinary means that are compatible with their own values and beliefs
(Glickman & Wolfgang 1980, Cited in Hindle, 1987) to be appropriate. Instead,
the guidelines of school discipline should be the character development of the
students, particularly the virtues that are valued in this free and democratic
society and that are expected to develop in a pupil through education.
Challenge of a New Praxis 117
N OTES
1.
The story is re-written on the basis of the passage in Campeau v.
The King [1951] 103 C.C.C. p. 357.
2.
Cited by Bargen 1961 and by MacKay 1984.
3.
This is an interpretation based on the citation in Hurlbert and Hurlbert
(1992), p. 205.
4.
See McGillivray (1997), pp.219-220, for the cases of R.v. Griffin and
R.v.Inwood.
5.
See Ogg-Moss v. R., in Dickinson and MacKay (1989), p.344-352.
6.
See “Corporal punishment: Conviction overturned.” EduLaw. The
Education Law Reporter, 7(10), June 1996, p.73.
7.
In R. v. Oakes (1986), the Supreme Court expanded on the meaning
of s.1 by outlining criteria and components which must be met by
governments or their agents in order to justify limiting a right or freedom:.
(1)
The limit must be “prescribed by law”;
(2) The objective to be gained by limiting a right or freedom is of sufficient importance;
(3) The method chosen to limit a right or freedom is reasonable and
demonstrably justified. This is demonstrated by showing;
(a)
the method is rationally connected to the objective to be served;
(b) the method impairs, as little as possible, the right of freedom; and
(c) there is a proportionality between the effects of the method used
and the legitimate objective.
(Watkinson 1988, p.20)
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C ASES C ITED
Andrew v. Hopkins [1932] 3 D.L.R. 459, 5M.P.R.7.
Brisson v. Lafontaine [1864] 8 L.C.J 173 (Que.S.C.)
Campeau v. The King [1951] 103 C.C.C.355
Mansell v. Griffin ([1908] 1 K.B. 160.
R. v. Baptiste and Baptiste 61 C.C.C. (2d) 438
R. v. Dupperon [1985] 6 C.C.C.(3d) 453.
R. v. Godin ([March 20, 1996],N.B.J. No.148 (N.B.Q.B.))
R. v. Griffin [1869], XI Cox’s C.C. 402
R. v. Haberstock [1971] 1 C.C.C.(2d) 433 (Sask.CA)
R. v. Imbeault [1977] 17 N.B.R. (2nd) 234 (Co.Ct.)
R. v. Inwood [1989], 32 O.A.C. 287
R. v. Metcalfe (1927) 49 C.C.C. 260 (Sask.D.C.)
R. v. Ogg-Moss [1984], 54 N.R. 81.
R. v. Peterson [1995] O.J. No.1366, Menzies J., 16 April 1995
R. v. Schnick [1988] O.J. No.1037 (unreported)
R. v. Pitamber (unreported, Krindle J.,9 1990) (Manitoba)
R. v. Sweet [1986] Unreported decision of the Ontario District Court dated 7
November 1986.
R. v. Taylor (1985), 44 C.R(3d) 263
Reg. v. Robinson (1899) 7 C.C.C 52 (N.S.Co.Ct.).
State v. Pendergass 19 N.C. 365, 31 Am. Dec.416, (N.C. 1837)
Challenge of a New Praxis 121
A DDITIONAL N OTES :
1.
“Article 19.1” and “Article 28.2” of the UN Convention on the Rights
of the Child).
States Parties shall take all appropriate legislative, administrative,
social and educational measures to protect the child from all forms
of physical or mental violence, injury or abuse, neglect or negligent
treatment, maltreatment or exploitation, including sexual abuse while
in the care of parent(s), legal guardian(s), or any other person who
has the care of the child (Article 19.1).
States Parties shall take all appropriate measure to ensure that school
discipline is administered in a manner consistent with the child’s
human dignity and in conformity with the present Convention (Article 28.2).
2.
Quotations of the assessment of the Committee on the situations
of corporal punishment on children in Canada, and recommendations. [The United Nations Convention on Rights of the Child 1995,
p.5])
Further measures seems to be needed to effectively prevent anc
combat all forms of corporal punishment and ill-treatment of children in schools or in institutions where children may be placed. The
Committee is also preoccupied by the existence of child abuse and
violence within family and the insufficient protection afforded by the
existing legislation in that regard (p.3).
The Committee suggests that the State party examine the possibility of reviewing the penal legislation allowing corporal punishment
of children by parents, in schools and in institutions where children
may be placed.... the Committee recommends that the physical punishment of children in families be prohibited.... the Committee further suggests that the State party consider the possibility of
introducing new legislation and follow-up mechanisms to prevent
violence within the family, and that education campaigns be launched
with a view to changing attitudes in society on the use of physical
punishment in the family and fostering the acceptance of its legal
prohibition (p. 5).
Challenge of a New Praxis 123
The Garden as a Metaphor for Curriculum
and for Curriculum Inquiry
Karen Wilson Baptist
A BSTRACT
This paper explores the notion of the garden as a metaphor for curriculum and
for curriculum inquiry, because like curriculum, the garden, too is primarily a
social construct which reflects the intent of the maker and the prevailing cultural ideologies of the time. Research into the social and cultural evolution of
the garden can broadened our collective conceptions of what a garden can or
could be; of what a garden can or could mean. Similarily, interpretive, artistic
and aesthetic forms of curriculum can open eyes to new roles for curriculum
and curriculum inquiry. The garden metaphor allows us to let go of the necessity to enclose, define and frame a particular meaning for inquiry. Metaphor
inspires fresh ways of seeing through discovery, imagination, and play.
The imagination is not only holy,
It is precise
It is not only fierce it is practical
Men die every day for the lack of it
It is vast & elegant
Diane DiPrima, Rant, 1985
I NTRODUCTION
Twenty five years ago in William Pinar’s ground breaking collection of
reconceptualist thought, Curriculum Theorizing: The Reconceptualists,
(Kliebard, 1975) focused the attention of contemporary curriculum theorists on
the descriptive power of metaphor as an aid to re-imagining curriculum. In his
brief contribution to that collection, “Metaphorical roots of curriculum design”,
Kliebard characterizes curriculum through three metaphoric descriptors: production, growth and travel. Production is described as a curricular form in which
“the student is the raw material which will be transformed into a finished and
useful product under the control of a highly skilled technician” (p.84). The production metaphor emphasizes predictable outcomes, efficiency and effective
channelling of resources. The metaphor of growth describes the learner as a
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member of a community of plants in a greenhouse. Here, the educator acts as
gardener, taking responsibility for the development of each plant according to
specific individualized needs. Kliebard observes: “no attempt is made to divert
the inherent potential of the individual plant from its own metamorphosis or
development to the whims and desires of the gardener.” (pp.84-85) Finally,
through the metaphor of travel, the educational experience is seen as a journey of discovery for the learner. Both the nature of the road and the nature of
the learner are considered in determining the course of the experience. As
guide and companion, the educator is concerned less with a need to “anticipate the exact nature of the effect on the traveller” and more with providing a
journey “as rich, as fascinating, and as memorable as possible” (p.85).
Arts-based curricular theorists such as Greene (1995) and Eisner (1991) provide a historical and intellectual context for employing metaphorical thinking in
expansive ways. Slattery (1995), Diamond and Mullen (1999) and Snowber
(1999) have explored the potential of a postmodern interpretation of metaphor
through artistic, hermeneutic and phenomenological approaches to contemporary curriculum theory. The use of metaphor as a figure of comparison by
scholars generates new ways of examining curricular forms by merging two
or more seemingly unconnected concepts together. Sarup (1993) observes:
“metaphors are not just the concern of the poet or the literary critic, ... they
represent one of the ways in which many kinds of discourse are structured
and powerfully influence how we conceive things” (p.48).
Following these examples, this paper explores the notion of the garden as
a metaphor for curriculum and for curriculum inquiry, because like curriculum,
the garden, too is primarily a social construct which reflects the intent of the
maker and the prevailing cultural ideologies of the time. The lived experiences
of the person within both curriculum and garden are a synthesis of orchestrated
and phenomenological experiences. The garden and the curriculum employ a
common interpretive stance by referencing the artistry of creation within an
aesthetic of experience. Within this hermeneutic relationship lies the potential
for moving dreams and visions from private contemplation to public interpretation. Gardens, like curriculum, can be rigorously planned, plucked and nurtured,
leaving as little as possible to happenstance; alternatively, they can be wild,
left completely to the hands of nature. The garden and curriculum invite participation through physical movement, intellectual engagement and creative
imagination. At their best, each can awaken the senses, provide delight, evoke
love; at their worst, provoke hatred, prejudice and terror.
Re-conceptualizing Curriculum through
the Metaphor of the Garden
Mead (1936) described the educational milieu as a place where the learner, insulated from the external environment, engages in a process of self discovery
and invention. By association, the garden as metaphor for curriculum can therefore be a medieval hortus conclusus, the biblical Garden of Eden or a post ro-
Challenge of a New Praxis 125
mantic garden in the wild. Yet as the student killings in Tabor, Alberta and
Littletown, Colorado have so tragically illustrated, the innocents seeking the
apple of knowledge arrive in the garden packing gym bags heavy with artillery.
Who brought the serpent to the garden? Was it Marc Lépine in Ecole
Polytechnique in Montreal, or Dan Kebold and Eric Harris in Colombine High
School, or paradoxically, did the corruption flourish within the garden as others
would have it, through promoting tolerance for prejudice and hate? In that way
was the curriculum so restrictive, so fragmented, that these angry young men
could find no better way to express themselves than through an eruption of
violence and revenge? Even in a walled garden, outside elements such as sun
and rain cannot be shut out. No matter how proficient the gardener or the
curricularist, no one can predict or control all factors which could influence the
garden or the curriculum. Slattery (1995) aptly illustrates this concept when he
uses the 1993 floods of the rigidly controlled Mississippi River as a metaphor
for “... teachers and students whose movement through the places of education is often confined, restricted, and polluted by those who seek to conquer
the mind and spirit.” (p.186). If the goal is then the creation of optimum conditions for growth for all learners, how can this be attained?
In Balmori and Morton’s (1993) study of homeless people’s gardens in New
York City, there is a pair of images which capture “Anna’s Garden”. Enclosed
within a chain link barrier, a profusion of stuffed animals and dolls crowd this
tiny garden. Through this collection, an alleged concentration camp survivor
expresses her inner terror in a garden which both fascinates and frightens the
viewer with its complexity and obsessiveness. Anna’s garden becomes Anna’s
voice. Balmori and Morton (1993) comment, “We have here two gardens juxtaposed: a Garden of Eden for animals and plants and a garden of evil for the
doll-humans. Wholeness is set against the wounded, and a feeling of imminent danger is pervasive” (p.39).
Anna’s garden illustrates the darker side of human inventiveness. If Anna
could not speak through her garden, she could potentially express her fear and
anger through internal or external destructiveness. The paradox of humanity is
that each of us are potentially both good and evil. Curriculum can present learners with an opportunity to express the many facets of human nature. There is
a price for favoring one voice over another; there is a cost for silence. According to Slattery (1995), “Curriculum development in the postmodern era respects and celebrates the uniqueness of each individual person, text, event,
culture and educative moment, but all within the context of an interdependent
cosmological view” (p. 142).
In the community of the garden, all elements are considered equally essential to the overall success of the garden. The re-enchantment of curriculum
through the metaphor of garden is not a fanciful notion. An enhanced understanding of this metaphor for curriculum could focus our collective attention
on the potential of contemporary curricular theorizing to deliver imaginative,
real life solutions to educational dilemmas.
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The Garden and Curriculum as Simulacra
The similarity between curriculum and garden occurs because they are both
mimetic constructions based on nature and natural forms of knowing. Therefore, as fabrications of ecologies, the garden and the curriculum exist as
simulacra. According to Jameson (1991), simulacrum is “the identical copy
for which no original ever existed” (p.18). In nature, learning occurs when the
more experienced animal engages with the offspring in the transfer of crucial
skills and knowledge systems. Combining imitation with a process of experimentation allows the animal to individualize techniques for survival. For example, because they are typically adopted by 6 to 8 weeks of age, household cats
often fail to kill their prey. Instinct provides them with the actions of a hunter
but the replacement of the natural learning processes delivered by the mother
cat, for the discipline and control of domestication, means that kittens often
lack rudimentary knowledge of how best to deliver a fatal bite. Similarity,
through trial and error a child discovers the optimum way to individualize knowledge through actions which will initiate personally desired outcomes. Curriculum can distort natural forms of learning through organizationally
institutionalized, constrained modes of education. In its best constructions,
curriculum mimics natural forms of learning through dialogical, cooperative
learning modes which encourage individualized interpretations of knowledge.
Similarly, in some gardens the natural processes of nature are arrested. The
gardener imposes order, weeding out all deviant forms. Yet in others, the fluidity of the structure allows for the flourishing of spontaneous growth. For
Francis and Hester (1995):
Gardens have special meanings. They are powerful settings for human life, transcending time, place and culture. Gardens are mirrors of
ourselves, reflections of sensual and personal experiences. By making gardens, using or admiring them and dreaming them we create
our own idealized order of nature and culture. Gardens connect us to
our collective and primeval pasts. Since the beginning of time we have
expressed ourselves through the gardens we have made. They live
on as records of our private beliefs and public values, good and bad
(p.2).
Gardens exhibit the consummation of deliberately selected components:
plants, objects, soil, color, forms, and shapes. Similarly, the commonplaces of
curriculum consist of a combination of subjects, learners, teachers, experiences and environment (Schwab, 1970). Thus, the quest of the gardener is not
unlike the goal of the educator. In a successful garden, individual elements act
in concert, evoking a holistic experience for the observer/participant. Recently
emerging strands in curriculum inquiry commit to that same holistic tendency
by incorporating elements of theory, practice and experience, and a view of
Challenge of a New Praxis 127
inquiry and the research text that constructs an image of curriculum that is individual, relevant and whole (Bowers, 1997). Therefore as a metaphor for curriculum, the garden expresses the need for an “ecology of interrelatedness
and connected thoughts, spaces, activities and symbols” (Francis & Hester,
1995, p.2).
Re-imagining Curriculum
Garden as a metaphor for curriculum references the creative and the imaginative. Metaphoric inquiry can liberate the inquirer from disciplinary and philosophical boundaries, creating new possibilities for meaning-making. As a poetic
idea, the garden metaphor encourages the inquirer to individually shape the
inquiry. Each curricularist frames curriculum inquiry through a form born in personal meaning systems and observations of social life. The placement of these
ideologies into the communal realm reflects the public act of the gardener. The
reader, as observer and participant, is invited to process these ideas through
their own personal meaning systems. This action reflects aesthetic and artist
modes of inquiry where the private becomes public and then, through reflection, becomes private once more. Personal synthesis of public and private, of
theory, ideas, practice, and the requirements or restrictions of each mode of
inquiry can be difficult to explicate. The garden provides a model for resolution
through the acceptance of contradiction. Francis & Hester (1995) observe that:
“In the garden these apparent irreconcilables are clarified and mediated because the garden accepts paradox. Anyone who has ever gardened, knows
that a garden represents constancy yet is ever changing” (p.4). Curriculum inquiry, as with the garden experience, is a gift. It has shape, relevance and structure; but in the hands and eyes of each new recipient, it takes on additional
layers of meaning.
Six Views of the Garden Metaphor
Francis & Hester (1995), provide a structure for curriculum inquiry that demonstrates the versatility of the garden metaphor. Their six muses of the contemporary garden: faith, power, ordering, cultural and personal expression and
healing provide a unique stance from which to view curriculum.
Faith. Currriculum and curriculum inquiry based on faith creates a space for
the spiritual nature of humankind. In story of the Garden of Eden, Adam and
Eve struggled to find their place in a unspoiled world. In contemporary society,
we struggle to find our humanity in a world defiled by science, technology and
economic factors. According to Francis and Hester (1995) “faith can also form
a creative future by providing alternatives to those forces of modern life that
deaden humanity” (p.10). The modern demons of consumerism, crime, illness, and genocide seek our discipleship. We have learned to accept bloodshed, material lust and the destruction of our earth, because our fragmented
educational environments muffle our responsibility for the perpetuation of
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these horrors. For example, consumer desire for inexpensive goods has lead
to the proliferation of child labor camps in third world countries and the destruction of the domestic clothing industry (see Hawkins, 1993; Barber, 1995).
Our conduct in this place and time has consequences. We need time to consider our actions. Yet contemporary life leaves little opportunity for contemplation. Snowber (1999) observes: “We live in a world that thrives on an
accelerated pace of life, consumerism and production more than the art of being, an environment not conducive to listening to the organic rhythm of our
bodies’ pulses” (p.18). It is within the silences of our lives that we find the time
and place to connect with our spirituality. Gardens provide intervals for reflection. This should be a goal for curriculum as well.
Power.The ideologies represented in various new forms of curriculum inquiry (Short, 1991) embody the potential to evoke and document powerful cultural or political change. Curriculum, like the garden, can be a symbol of
individual or political prowess. Louis the XIV’s garden at Versailles is an example of how a garden can express the power of the individual and of the political
structure. Francis and Hester (1995) observe that: “The garden may express
personal or cultural power or suppressed desire for it. It may include or promote self-confidence. It may represent a vital temporary refuge that restores
personal power or a total withdrawal by the utterly powerless” (p.11). Curriculum can potentially restore equality between genders, inspire diversity and reunite humanity with the earth. Voices can be awakened or silenced through
curriculum. As Slattery (1995) observes:
If the curriculum ignores sedimented perceptors, identity formation,
and social construction and suppresses individual visions and dreams
in the content and context of education, and if individuals are constantly required to conform to someone else’s worldview, then either
dreams will be repressed, hope will be suppressed, people will incorporate the other’s vision of themselves into their own self-understanding, and/or they will lash out in anger against those systems that exclude their voice. (p.135)
To experience the gardens at Versailles is to see how the hand of a collective power was imposed upon the landscape and the lives of the people of that
time. Alternatively, to create a garden of one’s own is an enactment of the creative power of the self.
Order. Order provides structure to garden and curriculum. Social, mathematical, biological, ecological, and aesthetic ordering in the garden speak of
the purpose and underlying philosophy of the garden. In the curriculum, order
may be provided by aesthetic, phenomenological, normative, critical, action
based, religious, and hierarchical framing modes. Francis and Hester (1995)
observe that: “Uncovering the order is a key to the meaning of the garden.
Understanding order is essential to the creation of meaningful gardens” (p.11).
This holds equally true for curriculum. The learner’s view of world and self will
Challenge of a New Praxis 129
be determined by how these ideologies are put into action. A task of the curriculum inquirer is to uncover the implicit meaning systems, to make the invisible - visible. According to Smith (1991), “how we interpret details is very much
related to our macro-frames, so we struggle continuously and contingently to
extend our sense of what is at work “ (p.199). As in the garden, interpretation
may be disabled by an inquiry method that seeks the truth only in surface details, refusing to look beyond the obvious. According to Francis and Hester:
But the garden’s order may be difficult to grasp, mistakenly identified,
misinterpreted, or interpreted consciously by some to mislead others,
as in the case of orders that are made to appear beautiful but are in
fact based on evil, injustice, or environmental degradation. (p.12)
Cultural Expression. As cultural expression, garden and curriculum are a
reflections of their place and their time. Both mirror the prevailing social systems that formed them. Puerto Rican social clubs have created a piece of
home in empty lots on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. Casitas are more than a
community garden, they are a social centre, where people gather to celebrate,
to converse and to find shelter from the harsh social realities of immigrant life
(Woodard, 1999, p.53). Curriculum can act to both encourage or to preserve
cultural forms. For example, in Winnipeg, Aboriginal schools are struggling to
achieve a balance between academic rigor and cultural preservation. (Martin,
1999, p.1) Yet the preservation of diversity is not the only problem facing our
society. Homogeneity encouraged by mass media, big box retailers and globalization threaten to flatten human reality. Retailers encourage consumers to
seek comfort in the ubiquitous. “Everyone in leather,” ordained a recent Gap
campaign. In the natural world, bio-diversity is threatened by habitat loss, agricultural monocultures and the extinction of species. “We believe that it is essential to maintain and celebrate cultural diversity in a landscape increasingly
made uniform ….”, remark Francis and Hester (1995, p.12). Curriculum inquirers can encourage such diversity through the creation of curricular forms that
encourage and celebrate multiple ways of knowing.
Personal Expression. A garden creates opportunity for personal creativity
and expression. Gardens provide delight. What if curriculum could do that too?
Imagine a curricular experience that rewards personal engagement in the holistic manner of the garden. Toil and labor result in self-gratification and in a public expression of beauty. The impetus for the garden of Max Wood of Merryall,
Pennsylvania was predicated by a question: How is bread made? Max cleared
a plot, planted cereal grains, nurtured and finally harvested the results of his
labor. Max described his experience thus: “We rototilled the ground, then we
planted the wheat and rye. Then we watched it grow. I was happy. It was fun”
(Wood, 1999, p.10). Delight results from educational opportunities which allow the learner to explore personally relevant questions that develop the confidence to act upon personal and community values. This evolution of private
ideologies to public action, requires courage, knowledge and above all a com-
130 2 0 0 0 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
mitment to collective action. Through community gardens, individuals work
together to counter urban and cultural decay and to re-establish a relationship
with nature. Lippard (1997) notes: “Mediators between nature and culture,
gardens are paradoxically, communal places that encourage solitude and self
reliance” (p.253). In this scenario, the garden and the individual are intimately
united - each gives and receives from and to each other. In curriculum, learner
and knowledge merge, forging new levels of understanding. According to
Bowers (1987):
The task of thinking about curriculum in a manner that takes account
of the phenomenological world of the student and the pattern of
thought in our culture being communicated through the curriculum
appears difficult to the educator who is habituated to think in a (dichotomous) manner that neatly separates the student from the objective knowledge to be learned. (p.79)
The gardener and the garden grow together, as do the learner and the elements of curriculum. Neither the plants of the garden, nor forms of knowledge
in the curriculum are frozen in this scenario. Each is transitory, ever changing,
like life itself. Overly and Spalding (1992) observe: “In a democracy, schooling
and the education that is fostered within its framework take on a particular texture because the relationship between the individual and society is seen as
evolving and interactive, not static” (p.2).
Healing. The healing power of the garden is well documented. The gardens
of the dispossessed in Balmori and Morton (1993) demonstrate how even a
person without home desires a place in the world. They indicate that: “The
truth is that all gardens are transitory, more like our lives, less like architecture;
we build them to give an illusion of permanence” (p.1). Tuned to the rhythm of
nature, gardens remind us that we are participants in the cycle of life and death.
Like Jimmy who carved out a garden from a barren city lot, we seek to establish a place of our own upon the earth, where through love and care and tillage
we can create beauty, make food, heal our souls and our communities. Here
is the story of Jimmy’s garden:
Not one of the components of Jimmy’s garden is permanent. There
are no underground pipes running into the pool; no concrete has been
poured to make its basin. The pool, in fact, is but one example of the
impermanence of nearly everything here, a site that overtly confronts
the essential characteristic of landscape: the limits of time. At times,
teenage boys come into the lot and steal the goldfish; other times, for
cruel sport, they take them out of the water and leave them to die.
Jimmy always finds a way to obtain money to replace the fish
(Balmori, & Morton, 1993, p. 62).
Jimmy’s garden is an attempt to recover a place in nature, a place of one’s
own. We live in an age when many of us and many of our children feel lost and
Challenge of a New Praxis 131
alone in the world. Curriculum can help us live inside the world again. As educators we must commit to the creation of curriculum that can potentially promote healing and growth; that re-establishes a sense of personal meaning and
balance. Cooper Marcus (1995) states:
The garden is a place where matter is transformed from one state to
another. It is a potent symbol for what many believe is happening to
humankind - a transformation of consciousness in which spiritual and
global perspectives are emerging organically from the necessary but
partial perspective of ego and nation-state. (p.32)
The Garden as a Metaphor for Reconstruction
Curriculum can help learners verify their vitality by forging links with the world.
As theorist and researcher, the inquirer can create curricular forms which energize participants for action beyond the confines of the learning milieu. The destruction of individual dignity, the erosion of a collective commitment to the
social good, and the widespread degradation of our planet result in part from
an educational system which objectifies both knowledge and learners. Cultural
critic Suzi Gablik (1991) notes: “Our culture has failed to generate a living cosmology that would enable us to hold the sacredness and inter-connectiveness
of life in mind. Because awareness of the whole escapes us, we devastate the
land in greed” (p.82). Curriculum, like the garden, is an environment that restores and heals the self, the community and the earth. Hence, the act of the
curricularist falls like a pebble in a pond. What may begin as a tiny splash, may
have the potential to evoke ripples of change.
If you and I describe a garden, our stories are likely quite different. If we are
to define curriculum or curricular inquiry, we again spin a unique tale. Each of
us has some form of internal script or image file through which we order the
elements of our life world. This research into the social and cultural evolution
of the garden can broadened our collective conceptions of what a garden can
or could be; of what a garden can or could mean. Similarly, interpretive, artistic
and aesthetic forms of curriculum can open eyes to new roles for curriculum
and curriculum inquiry. The garden metaphor allows us to let go of the necessity to enclose, define and frame a particular meaning for inquiry. Metaphor
inspires fresh ways of seeing through discovery, imagination, and play. Garden
as metaphor for curriculum encourages new beginnings, new forms and new
shapes. In the words of Cooper Marcus (1990):
Many people passionately embrace the metaphor and reality of the
garden because it enables them to marry two modes of thought - intuitive/logical, right brain/left brain, feminine/masculine - and by doing
so, to resolve certain inner conflicts that remain in the individual and
the group psyche. We garden because that activity requires knowledge and intuition, science and nurturance, planning and faith (p.27).
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Schwab, J. (1970). The practical: A language for curriculum. Washington: National
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Curriculum Theorizing, 15, 17-25
van Manen, M. (1990). Researching lived experience: Human science for an action
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Wood, M. (1998). The breadwinner: A young contender for this year’s golden trowel
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Challenge of a New Praxis 135
Toward a Reconsideration of Biography as an
Instrument for Studying Leadership in
Educational Administration
John V. Brandon
A BSTRACT
The thesis of this paper is that “biography” does offer something valuable to
educational administration, and that biography ought to be reconsidered as a
legitimate instrument for the study of educational leadership. Traditional research methodologies (e.g., questionnaire surveys) normally associated with
positivist approaches to the study of educational leadership remain theorists’
predominant mode of inquiry. Such methods, however, do not pay sufficient
attention to the role played by institutional contexts in the definition and structuring of human agency. Biography acknowledges the importance of context
in the social construction of leaders and leadership systems. The difference
between biography and social science also relates to the level of generality – a
sort of micro/macro distinction. Educational leadership theorists, by training
and inclination, look to the general, while biography deals with the particular.
Biography can be moved beyond narration and storytelling to the construction
of case studies to test or evaluate theories. And it can be argued that to understand a system, we need to look at leadership both “close up” and from the
“long view.” Previous approaches to the study of educational leadership
decontextualized not only the decisions but the “process” involved in developing them. Biography can restore the “wholeness” of the entire act of leadership.
I NTRODUCTION
Biographies are not unwelcome visitors to the history of education in Canada.
Sissons’s (1947) remarkable biography of Egerton Ryerson’s administration
during the mid-nineteenth century will attest to that. Regardless of the precise
effect of his influence, Ryerson’s dictum that “to be a State system of Public
instruction, there must be State contoul (sic) as well as State law”, was implemented across the country (Allison, 1991, p. 227, citing Ryerson). In fact,
Ontario’s school superintendents must still qualify for their position through an
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examination process initiated in 1871 when Ryerson consolidated his hold over
the Ontario inspectorate (Allison, 1991, p. 203, citing Ryerson). Thus it seems
odd that the field of educational administration, where “leadership” is of central concern, has shunned biography both as a legitimate instrument for the
study of educational leadership and as a legitimate instrument for teaching
educational administration. The main reason for this situation stems from
“positivist” approaches to leadership.
Simon’s book, Administrative Behaviour (1945, 1957), was the first major
work centred on behaviourism/logical positivism in public administration. While
his work made no mention of educational administration, it had considerable
theoretical scope, partly because of the theoretical vocabulary employed, and
partly because it attempted to derive a theory of administration from the logic
and psychology of choice. And, it was Simon’s work that provided the most
direct conduit (in the 1940s - 1950s) for the flow of “administrative science”
into educational administration in a form known as the New Movement. Modern practitioners of educational administration know it under a different rubric
namely, the “theory movement”.
Despite its fall from grace, the legacy of the theory movement is still evident in much of the leadership research today, even though different methodologies and analytical approaches deriving from the interpretive paradigm,
emerging in the 1980s, have enlarged the scope of educational leadership research and alternative methodologies available to researchers. Notwithstanding, educational leadership research can no longer abide studies which still rely
on simple correlation analysis of a finite number of variables, reputational approaches, or the most convenient methodologies (e.g., questionnaire surveys),
because such methods pay insufficient attention to the role played by “context” in the definition and structuring of leadership.
Leadership is both enabled and constrained by social context, including the
people within it. Hence, the freedom to do as one pleases or to assert one’s
individual will is mediated by the leader’s social relationship with others. To
the extent that an individual’s actions are determined or dictated by others, to
that extent he or she becomes less morally blameworthy. Leadership, therefore, is intimately connected with responsibility (in common usage, responsibility refers to the human struggle to reconcile one’s individual will with
accountability) and the self-reflexive awareness of the limits and possibilities
of the exercise of leadership, and whatever rights public servants may sacrifice in return for their employment. Freedom, asserts Harmon (1995), has to
be seen as an intrinsic aspect of a public administrator’s responsibility, rather
than subordinated to it or apart from it.
Structure refers to social and cultural entities (the state, nation, or family)
which shape and mould leadership. Gronn and Ribbins (1996) explain that no
matter how clear an interpretation of an action from the point of view of its
meaning, it alone does not explain the individual’s action because both conscious and unconscious motives always drive the individual concerned. One
Challenge of a New Praxis 137
must also appreciate how social and cultural constructs or abstractions, such
as leadership, have a powerful - often decisive influence on the course of action of real individuals, serving to guide, control or regulate proper and acceptable behaviour. Leaders orient themselves to these entities which, in turn,
“structure” leadership but also act as constraints on the exercise of leaders’
free will (Gronn & Ribbins, 1996, p. 466). So, it would seem that constraint is
itself a precondition of freedom.
The perspective advanced here is that biography ought to be reconsidered
as a method for studying leadership in educational administration.
The Case for Biography
Biography is slowly gaining ground as a viable approach to the study of leadership among scholars in the field of educational administration. Biography is one
form of life writing. Life writing has several labels: portrayals, portraits, profiles,
memoirs, life histories, oral histories, and case studies. According to Stone
(1981), the three most advanced exemplars of life writing are biography, autobiography, and prosopography (group biography).
In the proposal for her case study entitled, Dr. Elizabeth Murray of
Tatamagouche: A Case Study in the Meaning of Educational Leadership, Carol
Harris (1992) points out that the dominant view of leadership has been strongly
influenced by psychological thought. This view focuses on the characteristics
of individual leaders, typically, charisma, vision, communication skills, and sensitivity to the conflicting demands of the organization. The predominant emphasis on personal attributes has resulted in a downplaying of more
philosophical notions of leadership that would focus on values, ethics, and
morality as well as the pursuit of valued ends. Support of the more philosophical view allows us to examine the character, traced as beliefs, attitudes, and
values expressed in action, of leaders and the meanings that bind leaders, followers, and indeed all participants together in the same social setting.
Character, asserts Kaplan (1990), is the point of anchorage because it directs
us to try to determine the essential properties of people who hold and want
institutional responsibility (pp. 417-422). Kets de Vries (1990) extended this
argument by proposing an “interpsychic model of the mind,” claiming that if
one really wants to understand a person’s life, he (or she) must know the context of that life and analyze it over time as a “patterned continuum.” He also
observed that a study of character actually serves to highlight the impact of
the interplay of genetic predispositions, parental influence, and the effects of
society at each stage of one’s life. Kets de Vries defined character as the basic
core of the individual, representing one’s singularity, uniqueness and predictability. Thus, character is manifest in a leader’s outlook and style of work. And,
the best way to portray and understand character is through psychobiography.
For Kets de Vries, then, biographical writing is basically a “semiotic analogue”
in which, “a human life thus becomes a ‘text’ to be ‘read’” (p. 424).
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Westley and Mintsberg (1988) advocate the use of biography as a means of
better understanding vision and leadership style, especially visionary leadership
and leaders’ vision content styles (pp. 162-212). Ralston (1995) seems to have
taken Westley and Mintsberg’s advice, because she used biographical techniques to illustrate the aspects of vision formulation and implementation in her
biography of Australian scientist and explorer, Dr. Phillip Law. Ralston was able
to show that visionary leadership is aimed at engineering the transformation of
organizational culture (pp. 97-110).
Stone (1981) draws our attention to the fact that not only is personal biography important but prosopography in particular adds a further dimension to the
study of leadership. It provides insight into the larger problems of social structure and social mobility. Networks, connections, and family relationships (support) are built on individual people interacting together for their own interests.
Mapping those linkages is an important means of delving into the motives,
personalities, and characters of a movement, family, organization, government,
or social reformers. Group biography can also link together constitutional and
institutional history and personal biography, two of the oldest and best developed parts of the historian’s craft, but ones that have run too independent of
each other. Oral history, investigative journalism in the political domain and the
making of archives offer an array of possibilities to the historian, because the
roots of political actions lie in the motives, personalities, and characters of key
individual actors in any set of important historical events (Stone, 1981, pp. 286305).
Wilson’s (1978) account of Daniel McIntyre’s life and educational leadership
as Superintendent of the Winnipeg School Division from 1885 to 1928, especially his commitment to social control in the interests of preserving, promoting and perpetuating the system of values which were represented in the
British Protestant middle class in Winnipeg affords a unique opportunity to assess his life’s work as the builder of an educational system in Winnipeg.
McIntyre’s work is viewed through his organizing of the system, his pursuit of
his guiding principles of unity and harmony in society, and his work through
the public school system to achieve a unified, harmonious, structured and orderly society (pp. 1-270). Wilson’s biography of Daniel McIntyre affords a better understanding of what educational leaders do and why they do what they
do than traditional mainstream methodologies, because it puts context back
into the study of leadership. In fact, Wilson’s biography of Daniel McIntyre is a
superb source for understanding the context in which a “master practitioner”
functioned. However, educational administration, as a discipline, does not enjoy an extensive literature of master practitioners – biography can provide
whole lives in context as exemplars of “artists in action”. Perhaps it is time to
thoughtfully reconsider the use of biography and other forms of life writing as
a focus for teaching educational administration.
Challenge of a New Praxis 139
Nothing is more difficult than achieving insight into “the figure under the
carpet,” as Edel (1979) has observed. And nothing is more important to the
biographer than coming to know the essence of one’s subject. The best one
can do is to construct a pattern that fits well the data one has gathered about
the life of one’s subject. Or, as Stone (1981) has observed, “The figure under
the carpet is not so much found as constructed” (p. 291). The thinking of the
scholars noted above suggests that there is an alternative way to reveal a leader’s character structure, if one chooses to use it. Biography overcomes a
number of defects fatal to traditional research methodologies into leader behaviour.
The Significance of Leadership Contexts
Leadership research makes use of a variety of methodological approaches and
draws from both a structural-functional paradigm (traditional science, behaviourism) and an interpretive paradigm (hermeneutics). But one of the most curious things about leadership research is its continued reliance on approaches
using simple correlational analysis of a limited number of variables, or approaches that use outdated questionnaires, or the use of a traits or attributes
approach or simple descriptive procedures or approaches that use the most
convenient samples or methods, and a general failure to account for possible
alternative explanations, or to consider issues of reliability and validity. The continued use of questionnaire data from constructed, simulated, or hypothetical
(or otherwise contrived or controlled) situations raises serious problems of validity with much inquiry. On the other hand, while the use of reputational approaches might be justified in getting at leadership style (for example), these
kinds of data are not as defensible in studying behaviour, especially in the sense
of what leaders actually do. At an even more telling level, given what is known
from inquiry about leadership and leadership behaviour, its complexity, its
situational nature, and the two-way nature of effects makes this approach to
data collection (without corroboration) more than just suspect. The need, suggests Immegart (1988), is not only to investigate and collect data about actual
leadership situations, but also to systematically accumulate a large number of
incidents portraying actual examples of leader behaviour in leadership situations.
Much of what we know of leadership in education, or in other fields of human endeavour, observes English (1995), has been gleaned through research
methods in which the context in which leadership is exercised has been neglected. Worse, introductory texts in administrative studies in education
present a decontextualized notion of leadership. If the objective in leadership
research is to understand and illuminate behaviour, only the use of data acquired from real settings/contexts will move the study of leadership beyond
the presumptuousness of trying to ascertain what leaders do from reputational
approaches (English, 1995, p. 204).
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In addition, both Hodgkinson (1991) and Greenfield (1988) argue for the relevance of feelings, values, moral issues, and real, lived experience in research
on educational leadership. Greenfield insisted that leadership research should
focus on the new invention of social realities; he called for a new science which
“will require methods and instruments that are adequate to these, [sujective]
realities” (p. 155). Hodgkinson proposed the use of maxims that reside between guesswork and empirical assertions for educational leadership research.
Interestingly, if one examines past educational leadership research beginning in the 1960s, one cannot help but notice that some practitioners in educational administration (Broad, 1963; Kearns, 1976; House & Baetz, 1979; Peters
& Waterman, 1982; Sergiovanni & Corbally, 1984; Bennis & Nanus, 1985) advocated the use of biography, because it would allow leadership researchers
to look at a greater number of variables than scientific inquiry, such as the cultural or environmental aspects of situations; the goals and motivations of leaders in various situations; the role of second-level or subordinate leaders or
leadership structures; how leaders use resources and array organizations and
their members to achieve results, and how leaders get from here to there.
At present, there is a clear need in leadership research to expand the
number of leadership variables to be investigated. At the very least, four kinds
of sets of variables ought to be included in leadership studies: (1) personal characteristics of the leader, including traits; (2) behaviour or patterns of behaviour/
style; (3) the situation or context, task, and environment, and (4) outcomes or
effects. There is also a need in educational leadership research to theorize
about leadership. Accordingly, one might ask: “How does biography facilitate
theorizing about leadership?”
Leaders’ Careers in Context
According to Gronn and Ribbins (1996) there are at least three ways in which
biographies facilitate theorizing about leadership. First, as detailed case histories, biographies may be examined for evidence of the development and learning of leadership attributes. Second, biographies afford “analytical balance
sheets” on the goals to which leaders have directed their attributes throughout their leadership careers within the shifting demands on, and options available to them. Third, a comparative analysis of leaders’ career paths, as revealed
in biographies, would answer broader institutional-level questions, such as
whether a particular set of leaders share common attributes and whether societies and organizations screen their leadership cohorts in such a way as to guarantee conformity to preferred cultural models or types (Gronn & Ribbins, 1996,
pp. 452-470). In other words, biography can be used to generate more holistic,
contextually grounded theories of leadership.
Gronn and Ribbins (1996) also point out that biographical subjects provide
useful tests of or “counterfoils” to existing models or theories of leadership,
and neglect of them as legitimate sources of theoretical insight carries impor-
Challenge of a New Praxis 141
tant consequences for the study of leadership. For example, there is a clear
lack of understanding in the literature of how individuals become leaders, because ignorance of culturally diverse patterns of defining leadership and knowledge of the culturally different ways prospective leaders learn their leadership
is still in its infancy. In short, there is no satisfactory answer to the question:
“What determines who will become a leader and who will not?” One solution,
suggest Gronn and Ribbins, is to devise a contextual framework or pathway
for ordering the biographical detail of leaders’ lives. By using “leadership career” as a conceptual pathway through time, there is the added advantage of
being able to determine the dialectical interplay between any leader’s own
sense of agency and the social structure in which his/her agency is embedded
(Gronn & Ribbins, 1996, p. 465). What, then, does a leader’s career comprise?
Gronn and Ribbins (1996) argue that leadership ought to be thought of as
four career phases or stages. The first is formation, when all leaders of every
type, in all sectors, and at every institutional level learn their leadership. As part
of this formation, prospective leaders are socialized into various institutional
norms and values by three key agencies: family, school, and reference groups.
These groups and agencies shape a prospective leader’s character by generating a conception of self and the beginnings of a workstyle and outlook. During
the second stage, accession, the rate, direction, and timing of upward mobility
are all determined by well-documented mechanisms, such as training, succession, selection, and induction. While they are waiting for their call to office, prospective leaders rely on networks of peers, patrons, and sponsors for support.
At the third stage, incumbency, leaders called to office undergo formal or informal induction into their new institutional roles. Each new role requires further
induction, and transformations, into organizational and workplace norms. But,
regardless of their location or status within an organization, institutional roles
comprise three elements: constraints, demands, and opportunities. In turn, the
precise mix of these elements and nature of the leader’s role shape and give
expression to the new leader’s sense of self, style, and outlook. During incumbency, the new leader develops a distinct persona, projects his/her authority,
expresses his/her potency, ambition and vision, and exercises the responsibility of his/her office. The final stage, divestiture, signifies the end-point of a leader’s career, because of factors associated with aging, incapacity, mandatory or
voluntary retirement, or death. Divestiture connotes the relinquishing of office,
the almost certain loss of influence by the leader and the potential loss of one’s
heritage of leadership at the hands of a successor (Gronn & Ribbins, 1996, pp.
466-467).
Implicit in Gronn and Ribbin’s (1996) contextualized framework is the proposition that any leader’s myriad life events can be encompassed by four stages,
and that an individual’s leadership career consists of four stages as opposed to
three or just two. In effect, the four-phased framework described above actually screens for (or selects for) individuals whose leadership careers and myriad
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experiences can be chronologically ordered into four neat, distinct, and sequential stages. In short, the framework is not perfect, but it does provide a starting
point for understanding leadership reproduction processes, and for appreciating the variety of ways in which leaders of different cultures define complex
problems and the actions they take to resolve them, and why.
At present, biographies provide the most powerful evidence of the institutional effects of induction and socialization in the preparation of leaders and
the values informing their subsequent actions, whatever the particular setting.
But, as Immegart (1988) wryly points out here, “A number of things that can
be gleaned from case accounts and biographies that warrant the attention of
leadership researchers have escaped conscious and systematic attention” (p.
269). If leadership researchers heeded Immegart’s advice, what kinds of contributions would biography make to our understanding of leadership?
Uses of Biography in Leadership Research
By regarding biographies as case studies, it is possible to link theory and practice, and to test and evaluate theories about educational administration. Inasmuch as all case studies, by definition, deal with the exceptional, the scope for
generalization is reduced/qualified, though this limitation can be overcome by
the use of multiple and comparative, as opposed to single, case studies. And
clearly, to the extent to which case studies emphasize the importance of context (historical, institutional, and cultural) is a strength when it comes to understanding what leaders do and why they do what they do in a particular setting,
especially when their organizations are confronted by challenging situations.
Comparative biography also makes sense as a research tool because leadership in educational organizations is perhaps best studied and analysed from
a historical perspective, focusing on the evolution of educational institutions
and leadership actions and roles over long time periods. According to Leavy
and Wilson (1994), long time-frames of analysis have the advantage of lending
a perspective to the varying potency and powerlessness of individual action.
As importantly, comparative biography can illustrate the different ways in
which leadership is exercised in an educational organization, including the opportunities for and constraints on leadership. In other words, a biographical
approach to leadership affords a means to connect individual biographies to
key developments in the history of an organization.
Furthermore, useful lessons can be learned by studying the biographies of
acknowledged leaders; by looking at their personal qualities, their methods,
their successes, and their failures. Moreover, according to Riccucci (1995), if
one compares individual biographies of educational administrators, one can
generalize about the skills, qualities, traits, career-experiences, and other factors associated with effective leadership. Thus, an important factor in explaining the effectiveness of certain leaders is their possession of relevant
knowledge and expertise. Similarly, important career experiences may, in
some ways, influence an individual’s outlook and approach to leadership.
Challenge of a New Praxis 143
Since biography claims that individuals do matter, the challenge is to determine how much leaders matter and to identify under what conditions or in
what circumstances they do make a difference. In biographical research, therefore, one has to pay attention to the connections between the individual story
and the person’s institutional location and historical scope in terms of the character of the system, the prevailing traditions and the general circumstances of
the period, what their achievements were and whether in retrospect some
years later they are seen as having made an important contribution, otherwise
the result is a sort of journalistic “bio-pic”.
Problems Associated with the Use of Biography
Certain problems attend the use of biography. First, any approach to leadership that affords the subject an opportunity to define or evaluate his or her leadership invites a distortion of the truth. Here documents, public records of
events, and the perceptions and recollections of peers and subordinates, for
example, about the subject’s leadership are critical in terms of supporting (or
contesting) the accuracy of the subject’s recollection or interpretation of key
events in the history of an organization.
Second, biography that emphasizes the leadership of a specific individual
does so at the expense of the contributions of the wider group or collectivity:
the so-called “lesser lights.” And, while there is scope for individual interpretations and actions, the number of times a leader exceeds his “institutional self”
can be exaggerated. In short, leadership without the collaboration of others,
advises Theakston (1997), may be theoretically pure but historically arid (p.
656).
Third, biographies of administrative leaders are problematic when it comes
to establishing a clear link between individual actions and public policy outcomes: was the action performed by the leader one that would have been performed by any leader in the same situation or role? Assessing an individual’s
actions (and impact) against what might be predicted or expected on the basis
of his or her institutional identity (and authority) and context may be useful,
suggest Burch and Holiday (1996), in connecting an administrator’s actions to
particular policy outcomes. Greenstein (1970) restates the problem as establishing actor and action dispensability. It is up to the biographer to establish
whether a particular action taken by the subject was a necessary condition of a
historical outcome (action dispensability), and if so whether the action is one
that needs to be explained in terms of the actor’s personal characteristics (actor dispensability).
Fourth, certain ethical problems always attend the biographies of administrative leaders. Such problems concern the relationship between the subject
and the biographer. The biographer, cautions Novarr (1986), should not “love”
or “hate” the biographee, nor should the biographer become unduly involved
with him or her. Put simply, attempts at reconstruction ought to be comprehensive, open, logical, inclusive, non-reductionistic, and non-polemical. Auty
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(1981) is also concerned about conveying a “true portrait” of the subject. The
biographer is irresponsible if he or she does not ensure that the facts about the
life of the subject are arranged in such a way as to achieve a proper balance
between his/her private and public life. Further, does the biography convey the
real and whole human being, does it make him/her a living person, and does it
show why the biographee is a suitable subject for biography?
Establishing a clear link between individual actions and specific outcomes
within an organizational setting is one of the most problematic issues of all for
biographers. Recognizing that structure and agency are relevant here is absolutely critical, but often ignored by biographers. Burch and Holiday’s (1996) argument about assessing individuals’ actions and impacts against what might
be predicted or expected on the basis of their institutional identity or location is
useful in this context, because there may be critical occasions when leaders
do exceed their institutional self in order to achieve a desired objective.
C ONCLUSION
Thus far, biography has not figured prominently in a field in which so much significance is attached to the causal agency of individual leaders. And despite
the advantages of using biography in educational leadership research, a majority of theorists refuse to be swayed; instead, many remain committed to the
provision of behavioural technologies of leadership with narrowly defined categorical views of context, even in the face of more appeals for naturalistic and
longitudinal studies (Foster, 1989; Bryman, 1992, for example). Yet, paradoxically, as soon as concerns are raised about the quality (enhanced performance),
and effectiveness of leadership, the searchlight of research is likely to be
refocused on the social structures of which leaders are products. So, the
search begins anew for ways of guaranteeing the production of preferred outcomes, and, inevitably, answers to how it is that competing organizations or
how some cultures seem to do things more efficiently.
It was the classical management theorists who first drew attention to the
significance of the quality of leaders’ institutional socialization arrangements.
If anything, the interest currently attached to the production and performance
of key organizational leaders has increased. The appeal of leadership has increased because of the promise of change, for the better, to be wrought by
highly placed individuals. Biographical method affords a legitimate means of
understanding leadership reproduction processes, provided one is willing to
painstakingly map leaders’ career experiences and passages onto the structural features of the systems that produced them. And for those critics of biography who seem to think that reliance on biographical data constitutes a
reversion to hagiography and theories of heroic leadership, scrutiny of the socalled “heroic leaders” and a thorough analysis of what made them the kind of
individuals they were affords the “best corrective” to the residuum of the
“great man” theory of leadership.
Challenge of a New Praxis 145
I MPLICATIONS
One finding in this study was that biography will have broader implications for
the training of teachers, by providing a deeper understanding of the valuational
aspects of leadership, and the preparation of future administrators and other
educational leaders. Further, over the course of the last decade, there has been
increasingly an acknowledgement, among scholars, of the significance of the
“voices” of administrators, teachers, and students. This development appears
to be shifting the emphasis away from the experimental locus (controlled by
the researcher) and towards an emphasis on the educational context and the
way those who initiate educational happenings interpret and receive the action. Increasingly, a growing number of scholars are leaving the lofty seclusion
of the so-called “ivory tower” to chart new territories and to interact with people to describe phenomena both as he or she believes them to be and as perceived by others, and to evaluate the data gathered from multiple sources in
light of a specific theoretical framework and new concepts as they emerge.
One way to hear those voices is biography. However, re-centering educational
administration on leadership through biography (and other forms of life writing) means abandoning the traditional academic “boxes” and “specialties”
which have come to dominate approaches to the preparation of school administrators. Accordingly, how universities approach the preparation of future leaders will change.
N EW A VENUES FOR R ESEARCH
Avenues for further research aimed at developing a curriculum for future educational leaders might include: (1) improved efforts to integrate qualitative and
quantitative methodologies and to use several approaches in one study, including life writing; (2) understanding, applying, and integrating knowledge from
the social sciences, the humanities and the arts into the training process, and
(3) renewed efforts to focus on real leaders in real settings, and in real situations in order to develop a curriculum that will help potential leaders engage in
the practical/real problems which will confront them on the job.
146 2 0 0 0 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
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Research Curriculum and Pedagogy:
Exploring Applications
Proceedings of the 2002 Graduate Students Symposium
Held Friday and Saturday, March 8th and 9th, 2002
Room 200, Education Building
Faculty of Education, The University of Manitoba
Editors: Zana M. Lutfiyya and Karen E. Smith
Programme
Table of Contents
.
I NTRODUCTION
PART I:
The Effect of a Traditional, a Process Writing and a
159
Combined Talking and Writing Instructional Approach on the
Quality of Secondary English Students’ Written Response
Mark Reimer
Pedagogy of the Oppressed: Flights in the Field
Diane Driedger
177
Dialogic Crossroads:A Bakhtinian Perspective
on Selected Theories of Reader Response
Karen Krasny
191
PART II:
The Social Integration of Parents and School Effectiveness 211
Ian Riffel
The Origins of the Manitoba text Book Bureau
School Trustees and the provincial Government
John Tooth
227
Students’ Perspectives Toward Disruptive Behaviour
Problems in Elementary School
Barbara Myron
253
The Prevalence of Problem and Pathological Gambling
in a Canadian University Student Population
Bill Smitheringale
269
The Nature of the Conceptual Changes that Students
Undergo as They Become Aware of Their Own
Growth in Mathematical Problem Solving
Hanhsong Vuong
283
Unifying Theory and Practice in Implementing Change
Jaclyn Koskie
297
PART III:
Part I
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 159
The Effect of a Traditional, a Process Writing and
a Combined Talking and Writing Instructional
Approach on the Quality of Secondary
English Students’ Written Response
Mark Reimer
I NTRODUCTION OF P URPOSE
The English Language Arts (ELA) curriculum in Manitoba is divided into six
areas: reading, writing, listening, speaking, viewing and representing. The elements of reading and writing are important not only to the language arts,
but to all areas of subject learning. Being able to read and write, to interact
with ideas and to effectively communicate responses to those ideas, is essential to experiencing success in grade school, and arguably, beyond those
years as well. With the importance of written communication being what it
is, instructors need to offer opportunities for developing and improving the
quality of students’ written responses. Grade school ELA classes present
writing lessons in a variety of ways in efforts to help students clearly present
ideas and responses to topics and issues encountered in the classroom and
in their communities. In those language arts classes there are students whose
writing ability ranges from barely capable of self-expression, verbally or in
writing, to others who produce fluid, creative and powerful writing in polished
pieces that showcase their eloquent thinking and ability to manipulate language. As a teacher, I muse about whether it is possible to in some way attempt to bring those distant polarities between students closer together
through the use of different instructional approaches. By examining the effects of (1) a “traditional”, (2) a writing response, and (3) a combination of
student talking and writing, this study will attempt to discover whether different instructional approaches can impact the quality of writing.
There was a time when teachers, using a transmission model, were the
centre of all instruction (Hillocks, 1971). We now refer to that as the “traditional” method of delivery. During that time, it was believed that the teacher
possessed all the knowledge and skills deemed necessary for a student’s
education. Teachers delivered that knowledge to their classes using a specific, direct method and then evaluated whether or not the students could
recall those lessons. Lectures on important ideas and issues and teacher-led
question and answer routines were intended to bring students up to accept-
160 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
able levels of academic achievement. Over the last few year, there has been
a group of vocal advocates for a “return to basics”, believing that education
as it was, was superior to education as it is. This back-to-basics movement
prompts the need for a re-examination of the instructional approaches used
in the traditional model and whether or not such a model can be effective in
improving the quality of students’ writing.
Writing across subject areas serves as a tool for learning in all areas of curriculum and life (Langer & Applebee, 1987). In a writing process instructional
approach, the roles of the teacher and student change significantly from what
they were in the traditional model. By being asked to respond in writing, students become much more involved in identifying ideas, determining issues,
and deciding how and what to write about. Students respond in writing to all
textual materials encountered. Their writings range from free writing in journals to the more formal creation of essays and newspaper-style articles and
editorials. Heuristics can provide a detailed organizational plan or guide for
students to follow while writing. This approach to writing instruction does
provide some very direct teacher-guided instruction but allows students to
generate their own ideas and develop the style within which they will present
those ideas.
Hillocks (1986) defines inquiry instruction as “presenting students with sets
of data and then initiating activities designed to help them develop skills or
strategies for dealing with the data in order to say or write something about
it” (p. 211). Hillocks’ concept of inquiry also places the student at the center
of the questioning and writing process. Students interact with the texts provided to develop their own set of important data. Then they dialogue and write
together, creating their own texts to reflect what they are learning. Barnes
(1995) also writes about the value of conversation in the classroom. When
students are encouraged and supported while participating in classroom conversations, they pick up on signals regarding what they should be learning. In
this instructional approach, both talking and questioning to explore ideas as
well as writing to learn are emphasized. As a result, students have a greater
voice and play a role in deciding what information is useful and how they can
work with it.
Initially, the study determined whether these instructional approaches are
capable of producing “good” quality written expression. Additionally, comparisons were made to identify differences in instructional effectiveness, as
measured by student performance on their writing tasks. These comparisons
suggested whether or not certain instructional approaches produced better
writing results than others.
The investigation explored the effects of three instructional approaches,
each taught for a period of three weeks. This meant that the question of what
instructional approach was most effective for helping students improve the
quality of their written responses was somewhat restricted. The time frame
also meant that the students were exposed to each of the instructional delivery methods for such a short period that time limitations may have reduced
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 161
the possibility of finding a significant effect in the students’ written performance. Both Burton (1973) and Wesdorp (1982), as cited in Hillocks (1986), identify that the short duration of a treatment in a study frequently results in no
significant effect, even if the experimental treatment(s) might be legitimate.
The variations in instructional approaches allow students with different
learning abilities to find an instructional delivery system with which they feel
comfortable. As students respond to different types of stimuli, these varied
learning opportunities will serve to create a greater learning experience for
them. The combination of three tightly planned thematically based units may
show positive results, simply by virtue of being three tightly planned units
that take students through a sequential, ordered and directed learning experience.
The Study
S UBJECTS
The subjects in this study were voluntary participants from two Senior Four
language arts classes at a rural high school in Manitoba. A total of 30 sets of
student data were used in this study. Students varied in age from 16 to 18
with 12 females and 18 males in two classes of 13 and 17 students respectively. Classes were heterogeneously mixed based on gender and their previous year’s performance in language arts. Students came from a variety of
ethnic, economic, educational and religious backgrounds.
M ETHODS
Three instructional approaches and sets of assignments were designed to
reflect different learning-delivery models. The first instructional approach was
entitled “Traditional.” In this method, the teacher directed the learning activities by providing prescribed material to read and specific questions and terms
for student learning. The teacher acted as the provider of knowledge and led
the students to that knowledge in the following assignments:
(a) Definition lists generated by the instructor which students completed
on their own before the instructor led the class in making corrections;
(b) Worksheets with questions regarding the readings. The questions
were instructor-generated and, once again, students were led as a
group in making corrections;
(c) Paragraph writing on instructor-identified topics related to the text.
The instructor carried out all the evaluation without previous peer
editing or collaborative writing; and (d) Expository essay writing on
the theme of one of the reading selections. The students were guided
through a detailed heuristic on writing an expository essay on a theme
identified by the instructor.
162 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
The second instructional approach was entitled “Process Writing.” In this
method, the students had much more control over the ideas with which they
worked. They were given time to write about their own ideas while journalling
and were highly interactive with opportunities for peer feedback and editing
for written work. The students engaged in the following types of assignments:
(a) Journalling on a daily basis. The students were given 10 minutes at
the start of class to write anything in response to the texts that they
were studying or about what was happening in the class. This writing served as the jumping-off point for other writing assignments
and as a study guide for tests;
(b) Students responded to other students’ writing. All student writing
was given to another student who responded with feedback;
(c) Heuristics were used to direct students in writing newspaper-style
articles and editorials; and
(d) Letters in varying forms (personal, to an editor, formal) and from
various perspectives (first person, observer, characters from the story)
were also an instructional focus.
The third instructional approach was entitled “Talking and Writing.” This third
method placed almost full control in the hands and minds of the students.
Students determined the scope and range of topics for discussion and led
both small group and whole class discussions on the ideas and issues that
they discovered. The teacher acted as facilitator, support person and initiator
by providing the initial assignment, which was in the form of a newspaper.
The class functioned as a newsroom. There was a revolving series of editorsin-chief (there were between three or four students assuming this responsibility each day) who met with the instructor in the morning and planned the
topics, issues and questions for discussion for that day. They dealt with each
of the texts, using the following techniques:
(a) Think/Talk-a-louds, think-pair-share, jigsaws, group brainstorming and
class discussions as collaborative methods used in responding to
the texts;
(b) Journalling to outline ideas, personal responses and reflect on the
texts and the class discussions;
(c) Peer editing all written work. A variety of formats were used for
editing with chosen classmates, randomly assigned classmates or
parents/siblings. All exchanges of materials and ideas required oral
and/or written feedback from a few sources; and
(d) Student-teacher conferencing was conducted before, during and after writing newspaper selections.
Students acting as editors led discussions with their classmates who then
functioned as a newsroom staff working on articles, editorials, letters, essays,
pictures, advertisements, stories, interviews and anything else that they could
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 163
plan and create for inclusion into their final-product newspaper. There was an
ongoing engagement in discussion, writing, peer editing, conferencing, more
talking, dialoguing and re-writing before the final product was put together.
I NSTRUCTIONAL D ELIVERY
Three thematic units (nature, stand up for your beliefs, death) were designed
for instructional use in the study. The instructional period for each thematic
unit was three weeks in duration. Each class received their thematic unit delivered by a different one of the designed instructional approaches. At the
completion of the unit of study, students in both classes wrote the same essay test.
Figure 1.
Sequence of themes and instructional approaches. (Four repeated measures by
two classes receiving the instructional approaches)
Pre-Test
a.m. class
(Group 1)
p.m. class
(Group 2)
Pre-Test
Pre-Test
Nature
process writing
traditional
Stand Up for Your Beliefs
Death
talking and writing
traditional
process writing
talking and
writing
M EASUREMENT I NSTRUMENTS AND E VALUATION
A pre-study expository essay test for comparison and three essay-test questions at the end of each instructional unit served as the data collection instruments for this study. Each of two classes received instruction in a thematic
unit, using the same texts. Each group, however, was taught using a different instructional approach. At the completion of the period of study, three
weeks, each group wrote an expository essay in response to the same question. Each of these essays had the quality of writing evaluated on a five-point
scale for content (ideas), organization (structure), style (word choice) and
mechanics (writing conventions). Blind markers who had all received evaluation training with the rubric preceding their involvement marked the exams.
The final measure was a series of investigator-designed questions for interviews with four randomly selected students at the completion of the delivery
of the three instructional units.
D ATA A NALYSIS
The data collected were the student scores for content, organization, style
and mechanics on each of the essay tests they wrote. The data were analyzed
in two ways. First, the data were analyzed employing a 4 x 2 Analysis of Variance on repeated measures (as indicated in Figure 1). The four levels of the
164 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
first variable (the repeated measure) were the pre-test, traditional, process
writing, and the talking-writing treatments. The second variable (between
subjects) was the two classes, each receiving one of two different instructional approaches (process writing or traditional, talking and writing or process writing, traditional or talking and writing). A priori planned comparisons
were carried out between each of the possible pairs of the repeated measure variable. The data analysis sought to explain what effect, if any, each separate instructional approach had on the classes’ achievement. By comparing
the results between each of the instructional approaches, conclusions were
drawn regarding the value of each approach for the purpose of improving the
quality of writing. Secondly, the interview data were reviewed. The interviews
with students at the end of the study provided their personal perspectives on
what forms of instruction they deemed effective and what forms of instruction they considered less valuable.
Data, Results and Explanations
C ONTENT
Before any intervention was used, the students wrote a pre-test essay. On
that pre-test, the students scored a mean of 3.07 out of a possible 5 with a
standard deviation of 0.64 for the content in their essays. Group one scored a
mean of 2.77 (SD = 0.73) and group two scored a mean of 3.29 (SD = 0.47).
Table 1.
Means and Standard Deviations for Content and Effect Size
when Compared to the Pre-Test
N
Mean
S/D
Effect
Size (g)
% ile rank
Pre-test
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
3.07
2.77
3.29
0.64
0.73
0.47
Traditional
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
3.30
2.92
3.59
0.53
0.28
0.51
0.3594
-0.2344
0.8125
64
41
79
Process Writing
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
2.97
2.85
3.06
0.56
0.55
0.56
-0.1563
-0.3438
-0.0156
44
37
49
Talking and Writing
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
3.43
3.15
3.65
0.68
0.80
0.49
0.5625
0.1250
0.9063
71
55
82
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 165
The students improved on their mean performance after the ‘traditional’
instruction by raising their content scores to 3.30 (SD = 0.53) with an effect
size of g = 0.36 (64th percentile) which was not significant (p = 0.088). Group
one earned a mean of 2.92 (SD = 0.28) with an effect size of g = -0.23 (41st
percentile), whereas group two earned a mean of 3.59 (SD = 0.51) with an
effect size of g = 0.81 (79th percentile). Under the process writing instructional
approach, the combined treatment groups scored a mean of 2.97 (SD = 0.56)
with an effect size of g = -0.16, placing their writing at the 44th percentile.
Group one scored a mean of 2.85 (SD = 0.55) with an effect size of g = -0.34
(37th percentile). Group two scored a mean of 3.06 (SD = 0.56) with an effect
size of g = -0.02 (49th percentile). In the final treatment, talking and writing,
the overall group scored a mean of 3.43 (SD = 0.68) with an effect size of g =
0.56 (71st percentile). Group one’s mean was 3.15 (SD = 0.80) with an effect
size of g = 0.13 (55th percentile) while group two’s mean was 3.65 (SD = 0.49)
with an effect size of g = 0.91 (82nd percentile).
The data on instructional approaches indicated that talking and writing
was the most effective instructional condition (F (3,84) = 1.242, p = 0.001). Content was the only measured category where there was a significant value
(p = 0.001) relative to the instructional approaches used. Not only was there
a significant main effect for the condition, there was also a significant main
effect for the group. There was a consistent difference between the performances of the two groups (See Table 1), a difference the ANOVA showed to be
significant (p = 0.002). Group two outscored group one in each of the treatment conditions. While the difference in performance between groups one
and two was significant, both groups responded to the instructional approaches in a similar manner, resulting in no significant interaction for condition by group (p = 0.311).
The mean performance of the students from the planned comparisons revealed an improvement in scores when comparing the pre-test to the posttest for the traditional intervention, a drop for process writing and a significant
improvement when comparing pre to post-test performance for talking and
writing (p = 0.006). While the talking and writing treatment was the only instructional approach that resulted in a significant improvement, the performance on the traditional treatment approached significance (p = 0.088). Students
in the traditional treatment did score significantly better than those in the process writing treatment (p = 0.003), making it the second most successful instructional approach. The talking and writing treatment was also significantly
better than the process writing treatment (p = 0.001). This suggests that the
talking and writing treatment was the most successful for improving the quality
of students’ written responses.
166 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
Table 2.
Condition Comparisons for Content
Mean
Significance
Difference
* Effect %ile rank
Size (g)
Pre-Test
Talking and Writing
-0.369
0.006
0.36
64
Traditional
Pro. Writing
0.303
0.003
-0.62
28
-.448
.001
0.68
75
Pro. Writing Talking and Writing
*Adjustment for multiple comparisons: Least Significant Difference (LSD)
E XPLANATION OF R ESULTS FOR C ONTENT
The condition comparisons showed the talking and writing to be the most
effective of the three treatments used in the study. Barnes (1995) spoke about
how talk contributed to the development of ideas and allowed students to
experiment with ideas verbally before committing them to paper. This appeared to have worked in the two treatment groups. By bouncing ideas around
a student discussion table on one or more occasions, students had the opportunity to identify ideas and issues raised by a text. In addition, they could
find and develop complementary and supporting ideas for their point of view.
By the time they were writing, students would have had a fair amount of time
to ingest, define and redefine the ideas about which they would write. While
the students wrote a lot in the talking and writing approach, their writing took
the form of letters, articles, and editorials, rather than an essay. Despite not
working with the evaluative instrument’s form, the students clearly developed
the ability to present ideas, regardless of the form in which they were writing. The mean performance of 3.43 (SD = 0.68) out of a possible 5, with an
effect size of g = 0.56, placed the students’ performance at the 71st percentile. Working at 21% above the pre-test mean makes talking and writing a
very credible and worthwhile approach for instructors to use in their attempts
to help develop students’ ability to express ideas in writing.
The traditional approach contained certain elements in its instructional approach that were of benefit as measured by the essay test. In the traditional
approach, a very directive, step-by-step expository essay heuristic was provided. The students were directed in pre-writing, writing and post-writing steps
that required the identification of ideas, extensive supportive evidence and
directives to redraft and revise, making certain that each component was completed thoroughly. This specific and detailed instruction clearly matched the
evaluative instrument, resulting in a very competent performance.
The process writing approach resulted in the lowest mean performance
(2.97, SD = 0.56). This approach required the students to do a lot of writing,
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 167
however, never in the same form as the evaluative instrument. At no point
was there any discussion between students about the ideas they were finding in the texts. With the absence of dialogue, the students clearly did not
develop their ideas to the same extent as experienced in either the traditional
or talk/write approach. The students did have the opportunity to engage in
peer editing for their written work; however, the responses always came back
in written form on their original work, not allowing for any discussion or additional dialogue surrounding the ideas presented.
The ANOVA also showed group performance to have a significant main
effect (p = 0.002). While both treatment groups followed the same pattern of
performance in response to the instructional approach, group two consistently
out-performed group one. Group one’s performances placed them at the 41st
percentile for traditional, the 37th for process writing and the 55th for the talk
and write instructional approaches. That compared to group two’s performances at the 79th, 49th and 82nd percentile rank for the same treatments. While
the two senior four groups were heterogeneously mixed, based on their senior three English marks at the start of the year, the students definitely developed at different levels in their senior four class. Group two scored ahead of
group one in 15 out of 16 possible categories in the evaluation instruments.
O RGANIZATION
The mean score for organization was 3.30 (SD = 0.53) on the pre-test. It
dropped to 3.23 (SD = 0.73) for the traditional treatment with an effect size
of g = -0.13 (45th percentile). It dropped again to 3.17 (SD = 0.79) for the process writing treatment with an effect size of g = -0.25 (40th percentile) before
rising to 3.47 (SD = 0.57) for the talking and writing treatment with an effect
size of g = 0.32 (63rd percentile). The talking and writing treatment resulted in
a significant rise in performance over both the traditional (p = 0.029) and process writing (p = 0.048) treatments. Group two again outscored group one for
each treatment with mean scores of 3.59 (SD = .51, 71st percentile) for traditional, 3.35 (SD = 0.70, 54th percentile) for process writing, and 3.53 (SD =
0.51, 67th percentile) for talking and writing. Group one scored 2.77 (SD = 0.73,
16th percentile) for traditional, 2.92 (SD = 0.86, 24th percentile) for process
writing and 3.38 (SD = 0.65, 56th percentile) for talking and writing.
The ANOVA indicated that there was no significance for organization
(F (3,84) = 0.592, p = 0.116). There was also no significant effect (p = 0.128) for
condition by group as both groups responded in a similar pattern to the instructional treatments. Once again, there was a significant main effect (p =
0.003) when comparing the group performance of group two to that of group
one. In each treatment condition, group two scored significantly higher than
group one.
168 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
Table 3.
Means and Standard Deviations for Organization and Effect Size
when compared to the Pre-Test
N
Mean
S/D
Effect
Size (g)
% ile rank
Pretest
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
3.30
3.00
3.53
0.53
0.41
0.51
Traditional
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
3.23
2.77
3.59
0.73
0.73
0.51
-0.1321
-1.0000
0.5472
45
16
71
Process Writing
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
3.17
2.92
3.35
0.79
0.86
0.70
-0.2453
-0.7170
0.0943
40
24
54
Talking and Writing
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
3.47
3.38
3.53
0.57
0.65
0.51
0.3208
0.1509
0.4340
63
56
67
While there was not a significant effect for condition on organization
(p = 0.116), there were two significant effects within the treatment conditions based on the planned comparisons. The talking and writing instructional
approach resulted in significantly better results for organization than either
the traditional approach (p = 0.029) or the process writing approach (p = 0.048).
The mean results for organization followed a peculiar pattern. After scoring
relatively well on the pre-test, performance began to drop. Scores went down
for the traditional approach, and down further for the process writing approach,
to instruction. Only when the talking and writing instructional approach was
used did the students raise their performance level.
Table 4.
Condition Comparisons for Organization
Mean
Significance
Difference
* Effect %ile rank
Size (g)
Traditional
Talk and Write
-0.278
0.029
0.33
63
Pro. Writing
Talk and Write
-0.319
0.048
0.38
65
*Adjustment for multiple comparisons: Least Significant Difference (LSD)
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 169
E XPLANATION OF R ESULTS FOR O RGANIZATION
With no significant main effect for organization (p = .116), it was interesting
to note that the talking and writing instructional approach still resulted in significantly better organization than either the traditional (p = .029) or process
writing (p = .048) approaches when the data were subjected to the planned
comparisons analysis. Barnes (1995) argued that “talking thus becomes a tool
of thought as well as communication” (p 2) and that talk is used to “achieve
new understandings, make new connections with what we already know, and
try out new ideas in other contexts…” (p 3). Wells (1992), as cited by Barnes
(1995), suggested that “talking helps to achieve literate thinking which trains
students to choose alternatives in problem-solving situations and take responsibility for selecting, defining and planning as well as performing” (p 4). Each
of these ideas included notions of development and planning relative to the
presentation of ideas. By talking about the ideas and issues that they discovered in the texts to which they were exposed, students could have developed
a mental construct for how they might present those ideas in writing. Through
their discussions they could also have planned what details were relevant to
their presentation and where most appropriately to fit them into their final essays. Neither of the traditional or process writing approaches offered the opportunity to practice the verbal planning as identified by Barnes (1995).
Once again, there was a significant main effect when comparing group
performance (p = .003). Group two out-performed group one under each instructional approach. Group two results placed them at the 71st, 54th and 67th
percentile ranks for the three treatments while group one ranked at the 16th,
30th and 56th percentiles in comparison. Group two demonstrated stronger
organizational skills than did group one regardless of the method of instruction.
S TYLE
The pre-test mean score for style was 3.23 (SD = 0.73) with group one scoring a mean of 3.00 (SD = 0.82) and group two scoring a mean of 3.41 (SD =
0.62). In the traditional instructional approach, the mean score rose slightly to
3.30 (SD = 0.75) with an effect size of g = 0.10 (54th percentile). Group one
scored a mean of 2.85 (SD = 0.69) with an effect size of g = -0.52 (30th percentile). Group two scored a mean of 3.65 (SD = 0.61) with an effect size of g
= 0.58 (72nd percentile). The mean score dropped to 3.17 (SD = 0.70) for the
process writing approach with an effect size of g = -0.08, indicating a drop in
performance to just below the 47th percentile. The performance for group one
was superior to that of group two for the first time with a mean of 3.23 (SD =
0.73) with an effect size of g = 0.0 (50th percentile) compared to a mean of
3.12 (SD = 0.70) and an effect size of g = -0.15 (44th percentile). In the talking
and writing approach, the collective score rose to a mean of 3.37 (SD = 0.61)
and an effect size of g = 0.19 (58th percentile). Group one’s mean was 3.00
170 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
(SD = 0.58) with an effect size of g = -0.32 (38th percentile), with group two’s
mean at 3.65 (SD = 0.49) and an effect size of g = 0.58 (72nd percentile).
The ANOVA for style indicated that not one of the instructional approaches
resulted in a significant effect (F (3,84) = 0.123, p = 0.702). The group presentation, however, continued to show a significant main effect (p = 0.020). In two
of the three instructional approaches, the mean performance of group two
surpassed that of group one with resultant percentile ranks considerably
higher. When comparing group performances, group two showed significant
performance gains in the traditional approach (p = 0.041), from the traditional
to the process writing approach (p = 0.015) and again from the writing to the
talking and writing (p = 0.003), while group one showed no significant gains
from any of the instructional approaches.
Table 5.
Means and Standard Deviations for Style and Effect Size when
Compared to the Pre-Test
N
Mean
S/D
Effect
Size (g)
% ile rank
Pretest
Group One
Group Two
3.23
3.00
0.62
0.73
0.82
17
30
13
3.41
Traditional
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
3.30
2.85
3.65
0.75
0.69
0.61
0.0959
-0.5205
0.5753
54
30
72
Process Writing
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
3.17
3.23
3.12
0.70
0.73
0.70
-0.0822
0.0
-0.1507
47
50
44
Talking and Writing
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
3.37
3.00
3.65
0.61
0.58
0.49
0.1918
-0.3151
0.5753
58
38
72
With the ANOVA there was also a significant main effect for condition by
group performance (p = 0.005). The students in the two treatment groups
responded in a very different way to the instructional approaches. While one
group made gains in performance on measures of style during the process
writing instructional approach, the performance of the other dropped. All a
priori comparisons between treatment conditions for style were not significant.
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 171
E XPLANATION OF R ESULTS FOR S TYLE
The explanation for achieving no significant effect for style (p = 0.702) seems
to be based on age and experience. The subjects in this study had already encountered eleven years of training in language use and expression. They studied under their senior four teacher for their senior three English Language Arts
class and had been pushed and trained in language use and expression. By
the time these students arrived in senior four, their vocabulary might well have
become habitual. They may have become accustomed to using certain words
to express themselves and may have learned to avoid other words and phrases.
For these reasons, the mean scores for style all clustered in a very small, nonsignificant range.
Group two continued to perform significantly better (p = 0.020) than group
one. Once again, they outscored group one significantly in two out of three of
their percentile rankings (72nd percentile for style compared to the 30th for the
traditional approach and the 72nd to the 38th for the talking and writing approach).
For the process writing approach, group one scored at the 50th percentile compared to group two’s 44th. This blip in performance might have been the result
of group one not feeling as comfortable expressing themselves in acceptable
classroom language in the other conditions and now feeling the freedom to let
everything loose in the unrestricted domain of free-writing. Group two on the
other hand had demonstrated their competence at meeting the demands of
the regular class program in every other writing element. Being that accustomed
to conforming to expectations, they might not have been willing to assume
any additional risks in freely expressing themselves. The end result came in
the form of a higher mean score for style in this condition.
M ECHANICS
The students scored a mean of 3.63 (SD = 0.76) on the pre-test for mechanics. Group one had a mean of 3.15 (SD = 0.69) while group two attained a mean
of 4.00 (SD = 0.61). The highest mean for mechanics was earned during the
traditional instructional approach with a score of 3.83 (SD = 0.83), which produced an effect size of g = 0.26 (60th percentile). The mean performance of
group one rose to 3.31 (SD = 0.85) with an effect size of g = -0.42 (34th percentile), while that of group two rose to 4.24 (SD = 0.56) with an effect size of
g = 0.82 (79th percentile). The process writing approach resulted in just a slightly
lower mean score of 3.70 (SD = 0.65) producing an effect size of g = 0.09 (54th
percentile). Group one scored a mean of 3.54 (SD = 0.66) producing an effect
size of g = -0.12 (45th percentile) with group two scoring a mean of 3.82
(SD = 0.64) producing an effect size of g = 0.25 (60th percentile). The performance of both groups again dropped slightly during the talking and writing approach with a mean score of 3.67 (SD = 0.92) and an effect size of g = 0.05
(52nd percentile). Group one’s mean was 3.15 (SD = 0.99) with an effect size of
g = 0.63 (26th percentile), while the mean for group two was 4.06 (SD = 0.66)
with an effect size of g = 0.57 (72nd percentile).
172 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
The data from the ANOVA indicated that none of the instructional approaches resulted in a significant effect for mechanics (F (3,84) = 0.222,
p = 0.500). There was also no significant main effect for the condition by group
performance (p = 0.068). Once again, the data indicated that there was a significant difference (p = 0.001) between the performances of the two treatment groups with group two out-performing (79, 60 and 72 percentile ranks)
group one (34, 45 and 26 percentile ranks).
Table 6.
Means and Standard Deviations for Mechanics when Compared to the Pre-Test
N
Mean
S/D
Effect
Size (g)
% ile rank
Pretest
Group One
Group Two
30
3.15
4.00
3.63
0.69
0.61
0.76
13
17
Traditional
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
3.83
3.31
4.24
0.83
0.85
0.56
0.2632
-0.4211
0.8158
60
34
79
Writing
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
3.70
3.54
3.82
0.65
0.66
0.64
0.0921
-0.1184
0.2500
54
45
60
Talking and Writing
Group One
Group Two
30
13
17
3.67
3.15
4.06
0.92
0.99
0.66
0.0526
-0.6316
0.5658
52
26
72
E XPLANATION OF R ESULTS FOR M ECHANICS
Students have read and written for years. They have rehearsed punctuation,
spelling checks, grammatical structures and have learned how to use mechanics in a relatively effective manner. Their age and experience with the conventions of language might have meant that there was not going to be a
significant effect (p = 0.500). While using a variety of forms of writing across
the three instructional approaches, each intervention required the use of the
same conventions in creating and developing writing. These conventions are
the same ones that they have used and been tested on for years, so students
may have developed such a level of familiarity that no instructional approach
was going to either shake them loose from using what they knew or inspire
them to try something else.
In the traditional approach students encountered a very directive heuristic
that guided them through a review of their early written drafts and asked
pointed questions about their use of punctuation, capitalization, grammar and
sentence structure and resulted in their highest mean 3.83 (60th percentile).
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 173
While not significant (p = 0.500), a 10 percentile rank improvement is worth
consideration for use in a language arts classroom.
Group two continued to demonstrate that their ability was significantly
better (p = 0.001) than that of group one. They performed, on average, at the
70th percentile, 35 percentile points above that of group one. By consistently
scoring ahead of group one, group two established that they were the stronger
group for the measures used. As with style, all a priori comparisons between
treatment conditions were not significant.
S EQUENCE OF I NSTRUCTIONAL A PPROACHES
The order in which the instructional approaches were used for the two groups
did not appear to make a difference in the students’ performance. Both groups
one and two achieved their highest scores in the content category while receiving instruction in the talking and writing approach, which they received at
different times. Group one also achieved their highest rating in the organization category while being instructed in the talking and writing approach. Group
two was almost equally successful in both the talking and writing and traditional approaches.
S TUDENT R ESPONSES TO THE S TUDY
Four students from the study were randomly selected and asked to give a
response to the instructional approaches, thematic units and any relevant ideas
regarding their writing during the study. All four students were unanimous in
identifying the process writing instructional approach as their favourite, and
as the one that they believed would help them the most in learning to write.
They selected process writing because it allowed them to write anything that
they wanted to. Two students stated that when it came to personal expression, they didn’t have to try and remember the texts, or what the teacher
wanted of them, they merely had to write out what they already knew and
thought. If they were drawn in personally or could respond personally they
would be more inclined to participate in the writing tasks required.
The students also identified the group discussion and interaction in the talking and writing approach as valuable. One student suggested that more ideas
could be generated when students discussed the materials together. This
placed a responsibility on all the students to participate for maximum benefit,
something not all were willing to do.
Students concurred that thematic topics were more important than the
instructional approach used. Three students mentioned that when the materials were true, or somehow connected to real-life experiences, they found
making connections between texts and assignments easier.
Student response to the study seemed to be at direct odds to the results.
The instructional approach that was the unanimous favourite produced the
least favourable outcome. While the traditional approach was deemed to be
boring and meaningless, students scored well under that system of instruc-
174 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
tion. The instructional approach that required the most work and interaction
from the students, talking and writing, was the least popular but resulted in
the best written product.
I MPLICATIONS FOR T EACHING
The move toward talking as part of collaboration between students and teachers has introduced many new learning elements, both for students and teachers (Hillocks, 1971; Applebee, 1996). This increased level of participation
provided students with a greater sense of ownership and control over their
learning, which, in turn, resulted in better student performance. Talking does
not imply students are free to converse about just anything, they do require
guidance from the instructor so that their discussions are meaningful for learning about ideas and issues and finding appropriate ways to express them.
The second implication is that there is room for direct instruction in order
to achieve specific learning objectives. Elements of the traditional/transmission did produce positive results. What is important is that teachers do not
usurp direct instruction in such a way as to remove students from the decision-making process, or from making choices about ideas and issues and
choosing forms to express them. Teachers need to be cognizant of the fact
that different students may learn ideas through different means of instruction, and that sometimes direct instruction is the best way to help them.
Teachers need to take specific assignments that work successfully and
incorporate them into an instructional approach that allows both the teacher
and students to be active participants in the learning process. Teachers need
to know when and how to offer direct instruction and when and how to tap
the resources, ideas and energy that students bring with them into the classroom.
R ECOMMENDATIONS FOR F URTHER R ESEARCH
Instructional Approaches
Adapting or modifying the design of the instructional approaches might make
students more successful. The literature review suggested that a writing process approach should improve the quality of writing more than was found in
this study. Redesigning assignments and the order in which they were given
may allow students to make greater gains through a predominantly process
writing approach.
Themes
The selected thematic topics may have had some effect on student interest.
Allowing students to choose topics might have given them a greater voice
and sense of ownership for the study, possibly encouraging them to participate more keenly. Additional research into student-selected themes might
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 175
reveal a difference in students’ subsequent engagement with assignments
and levels of performance.
Time Frame
The short time frame for each of the instructional approaches has been identified as a concern. Increasing the intervention period might provide opportunities for students to become more familiar with each method and its
underlying purpose, thereby creating the possibility of greater gains in writing quality. Increased time would also allow for more writing instruction and
practice, thereby potentially developing better writing.
C ONCLUSION
Research shows that talking and writing is an effective instructional approach
for improving the quality of students’ written response. This study’s results
support that body of research. Talking and writing is an instructional approach
that allows students to pursue their own interests, make decisions regarding
ideas and issues, take opportunities to develop their thinking skills and processes through discussion, and take ownership for their learning. It is a student-centered approach that allows students to develop their skills and learn
to express themselves more effectively by producing better quality writing.
R EFERENCES
Applebee, A. N. (1996). Curriculum as conversation: Transforming traditions of
teaching and learning. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Barnes, D. (1995). Talking and learning in classrooms: An introduction. Primary
Voices K – 6, 3(1), p 2 – 7.
Burton, D. (1973). In G. Hillocks, Jr. (1986) Research on written composition: New
directions for teaching. Urbana, Illinois: ERIC Clearinghouse & the National
Conference on Research in English.
Hillocks, Jr., G. (1986). Research on written composition: New directions for teaching. Urbana, Illinois: ERIC Clearinghouse & the National Conference on
Research in English.
Hillocks, Jr., G., McCabe, B. J., & McCampbell, J. F. (1971). The dynamics of
English instruction: Grades 7 - 12. New York: Random House.
Langer, J. & Applebee, A. (1987). How writing shapes thinking: A study of teaching and learning. Urbana, Illinois: National Council of Teachers of English.
Wells. (1992). In D. Barnes (1995) Talking and learning in classrooms: An introduction. Primary Voices K – 6, 3(1), p 2 – 7.
Wesdorp, H. (1982). In G. Hillocks, Jr. (1986) Research on written composition:
New directions for teaching. Urbana, Illinois: ERIC Clearinghouse & the
National Conference on Research in English.
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 177
Pedagogy of the Oppressed: Flights in the Field
Diane Driedger
Pedagogy of the Oppressed (Freire, 1970) had a big impact on me when I
read it eighteen years ago. At the time I was working with an international
self-help organization of disabled people, Disabled Peoples’ International. The
organization was starting leadership training programmes run by disabled
persons themselves. The model Freire (1970) proposed fitted in with the work
I was doing as a young Master’s student without a disability. I would be one
of those outsiders who would be going to communities to educate myself
about their concerns and then lead educational programmes. This guided me
through many projects. This paper describes Freire’s ideas as put forward in
Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1970), and then applies these ideas to two
projects that I worked on in Trinidad and Tobago. Finally, it will outline how I
envision using Freire’s ideas with Inuit learners in a creative writing course.
Conscientization
First, Freire’s well-known concept, so aptly explained in Pedagogy of the
Oppressed , is the notion that the oppressed must be conscientized
(conscientizao in Portuguese), (Freire, 1970). This means that teachers must
be sent, in this case to the Brazilian countryside, to help the oppressed, the
peasants, understand their own oppression. They will become
“conscientized”, they will realize their oppressive conditions. Freire points out
that these oppressive conditions are that the oppressors, the rich, keep them
in line, keep them from sharing in wealth and power. How do they do this?
They control education and wealth and they create the illusion that what they
have, everyone should want for themselves. The image of the oppressor permeates the minds of the oppressed. In the process, both oppressed and oppressors become dehumanized. (Freire, 1970).
Freire argues that this system does not really benefit anyone — even the
oppressors. In fact, the oppressors need to be freed from their role to fulfill
their roles as human beings, just as the oppressed need to be freed from oppression: “Dehumanization, which marks not only those whose humanity has
been stolen, but also (though in a different way) those who have stolen it, is a
178 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
distortion of the vocation of becoming more fully human.” (Freire, 1970, p.
28).
This then ushers in Freire’s contention that there is: “ …the great humanistic and historical task of the oppressed: to liberate themselves and their
oppressors as well.” (Freire, 1970,p.28).
Given that the oppression needs to end, according to Freire, a cadre of
educators must aid the oppressed in the countryside in freeing themselves
and the rest of society as well. How is this to be achieved? The teachers must
know that they cannot dictate to the oppressed, the peasants, what to do as
Freire (1970) states: “No pedagogy which is truly liberating can remain distant from the oppressed by treating them as unfortunates and by presenting
for their emulation models from among the oppressors. The oppressed must
be their own example in the struggle for their redemption.” (p. 39).
No Banking, Problem-solving Instead
Freire is against the banking concept of education (1970, p.66) as this does
not fit with truly liberating the oppressed. The oppressed must be involved in
problem-solving education, not being talked at and having knowledge “deposited” into their minds:
Those truly committed to liberation must reject the banking concept
in its entirety adopting instead a concept of men (sic) as conscious
beings, and consciousness as consciousness intent upon the world.
They must abandon the educational goal of deposit-making and replace it with the posing of the problems of men in their relations with
the world. (p. 66).
Moffett (1983) also concurs and in fact, “Besides being inefficient and irrelevant, exposition is inhumane. It is dull.” (p. 118). The banking method assumes that the teacher has all the knowledge and will deposit it in the student.
The student is just an object to be acted upon. (Freire, 1970). In problem-posing education the teacher works with the students on the issues that they
see as important.
The teachers do not know the situation of the oppressed, because that is
not their reality. Instead, the teachers must go to where the oppressed live
and talk with them in small groups, observe their way of life and learn about
their lives. The teachers will learn about the reality of the oppressed over time
and will thus be prepared to help the oppressed free themselves: “The correct method lies in dialogue. The conviction of the oppressed that they must
fight for their liberation is not a gift bestowed by the revolutionary leadership,
but the result of their own conscientizacao.” (Freire 1970, p.54). This means
that the teachers who will become the revolutionary leadership are not there
to tell the oppressed what their reality is. They are there to help “conscientize”
the peasants, that is, to help them see their reality with their own eyes. This
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 179
is related to “metacognition” (Marzano, 1991), that is, the learners continually assess what they are learning about their own learning, themselves, their
oppressors and their position in society and they discuss it in their groups of
learners with the teachers.
What then is the curriculum that these teachers will use? This has been a
criticism of Freire’s work, as Schugurensky (1998) reiterates:
a concern raised by many adult educators is that Freire does not provide them with concrete ideas to implement in the classroom. They
appreciate Freire’s epistemological, philosophical and social principles
to guide their practises, but regret that he did not present a specific
method for teaching adults to read and write, or practical suggestions
to use in the pedagogical process. (p. 25).
However, Freire’s intent was for educators to develop a curriculum as they
encountered their students, “…Freire systematically refused to write a ‘howto’ book, arguing that educators should reinvent his ideas and apply them creatively according to the context.” (Schugurensky, 1998, p.25). This is the way
that I have used Freire’s ideas about curriculum, as a process model of how
to do it, as I will elaborate in the next section on fieldwork using Freire’s book.
In the process of dialogue, the teachers will activate the “schema” (Bereiter
& Scardamalia, 1992) of the peasants so that they can relate the learning of
words to their own situation: “ ‘The process of understanding discourse,’ said
Rumelhart (1980, p. 47), ‘is the process of finding a configuration of schemata
that offers an adequate account of the passage in question.’ ” (in Bereiter &
Scardamalia, 1991, p. 521). In this process, the teacher is also allowing the
students to determine their own curriculum — what is it that they want to
discuss or to read about? Moffett (1983) agrees with this approach as well:
“The teacher’s role is the natural one he has by virtue of being more experienced in the craft; he talks freely at times like any other member but does
not feel obliged to pre-schedule what is to be talked about….He fosters crosseducation among the students and they focus on the tasks, not the teacher.”
(p. 98).
Both Freire and Moffett are proponents of having the students determine
the curriculum. And in fact, they imply that the teacher is on the same level
as the students (Freire, 1970; Moffett, 1983). Other educators have difficulty
with this idea, saying that the teacher is always in the position of power, he/
she knows the material better, can direct dialogue and also evaluates performance, the teacher is always the teacher and in a different position than the
student. As Professor Ellsworth claimed about her role in an anti-racist course
“… while I had the institutional power and authority in the classroom to enforce ‘reflective examination’ of the plurality of moral and political positions
before us in a way that supposedly gave my own assessments equal weight
with those of students, in fact my institutional role as professor would always
180 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
weight my statements differently from those of students.” (Ellsworth, 1989,
p.308). I agree with this critique to some extent, however, I think that any
theory which brings the teacher closer to the students, and establishes a more
level playing field benefits the education of students.
I do believe, as Ellsworth reiterates, that the teacher still holds the authority and it should be made clear that that is so. Why can there not be an inbetween? I do think that students will feel more comfortable to share in a
classroom which encourages discussion and in which the teacher is also sharing. The problem is, as Ellsworth also points out, the teacher in most classrooms does not end up sharing equally with students and thus, “I am similarly
suspicious of the desire by mostly White, middle class men who write the
literature on critical pedagogy to elicit ‘full expression’ of student voices. Such
a relation between teacher/student becomes voyeuristic when the voice of
the pedagogue himself goes unexamined.” (1998, p. 312).
Praxis Equals Reflection Plus Action
Another important idea is that of “praxis”. Freire describes this as reflection
and action put together. Praxis arises from knowing the “word”. Inherent in
speaking or writing a word is reflecting on its meaning and then acting: “Within
the word we find two dimensions, reflection and action in such radical intervention that if one is sacrificed — even in part — the other immediately suffers. There is no true word that is not at the same time a praxis. Thus, to speak
a true word is to transform the world.” (Freire, 1970, p. 75).
Two field studies in Trinidad and Tobago
In my own work as an adult educator I have used Freire’s concept of the importance of learning the words of the oppressor, of getting people to talk together, of the teacher teaching from where the learners are. I have also taken
Freire’s concept to mean that words in themselves can liberate a group of
persons who are marginalized or oppressed because the group can write their
story and thus tell it to the mainstream of society. I have worked with persons who are marginalized because they are disabled, because they are
women, because they are poor or because they are illiterate. I have believed
in the freeing power of speaking, of writing your own word and broadcasting
it to the world.
I will explain how I have used Freire’s concepts in the following two examples, both of which take place in Trinidad and Tobago in the Eastern Caribbean. Trinidad is a twin-island state that has had a long history of colonialism
under the Spanish, the French and finally the British. Trinidad and Tobago became independent in 1962. (Taylor, 1999, p. 14). Thus, when I started working in Trinidad in 1990, I knew that it had been colonized and that Freire’s
concept of colonization of the mind, internalizing the image of the oppressor,
would be a reality in my teaching. I needed to take into consideration the question: how do people tell their story with colonized minds?
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 181
In addition, I took Freire’s advice to teachers and learned about the culture, Creole language and overall social conditions of the persons that I would
eventually teach. I worked in Trinidad over a ten-year period and progressively
moved from advising local teachers how to do training with disabled persons,
to conducting the training myself as I learned more about the needs and wishes
of the people I was working with. I knew full well that I was a white, middleclass, educated woman going in to, in a sense, do some “missionary” work;
but how to get around that? This is the conundrum of community developers
from the North who go to Southern countries. Two local organizations in Trinidad and Tobago invited me to teach, so I took this as a validation that I should
do it. I did have my take on what and how I thought we should learn about
words and writing.
However, no curriculum is neutral, there is always a reason for why certain things are taught and why they are not. I knew that I have a social
reconstructionist orientation as an educator, as did Freire himself. Eisner states:
“This orientation is basically aimed at developing levels of critical consciousness among children and youth so that they become aware of the kinds of ills
that the society has and become motivated to learn how to alleviate them.”
(1979, p.63). Eisner does not, however, discuss the oppressed themselves
learning about their oppression and then working to do something about it. In
addition, Eisner is only addressing schools for children. In a later article, Eisner
(1992) discusses Freire under the curriculum ideology of “critical theory”. He
concludes that Freire’s methods were political and that, “In short, literacy was
an instrument for political education.” (p. 316).
Freire’s project with adults in Brazil was very successful in educating peasants to read and write — but the government closed it down because they
were threatened by the social implications of Freire’s methods. Perhaps the
peasants would revolt against the privileged.
An interesting dimension of the problem-posing model is its efficiency
in terms of learners’ achievement. In Brazil, peasants who participated
in the cultural circles not only acquired tools to unveil structures of
domination, but also acquired literacy skills in a record time of forty
days. Thus, the reason behind the cancellation of the literacy project,
and of Freire’s imprisonment and exile, was clearly not its inefficiency,
but rather the military government’s fear of potential political implications. (Schugurensky, 1998, p. 20).
Adult Literacy Tutors Association — Adult Learners Write
In 1999, I was recruited through the Canadian Executive Services Organization (CESO) to work with the Adult Literacy Tutors Association (ALTA) in Trinidad and Tobago. I believed that this would be a good teaching assignment for
me. I had experience with the culture of Trinidad and Tobago, and I had also
182 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
been teaching with a disabled women’s group off and on over ten years. I
had expertise in teaching creative writing, in writing poetry and prose and also
in editing anthologies of diverse works. I thought I had the background in the
field required by those who take Freire’s methods as their model of teaching.
I did know, however, that I was not an adult learner, nor a person of color. I
came from the background of being white, middle-class and having a disability.
I was asked to teach eight one-day creative writing workshops across the
country over a two-month period. Paula Lucie-Smith, Executive Director of
ALTA, wanted to publish an anthology of writings by adult learners as a text
for other learners and also as an educational tool to draw attention to the issue of adult illiteracy in Trinidad and Tobago. Indeed, most people in Trinidad
and Tobago were under the impression that the country had a 95% literacy
rate, but a University of West Indies study (in Driedger, 1999a) showed that
almost one in four people in Trinidad and Tobago were unable to read everyday labels, fill out forms, or read directions on a medicine bottle.
I was asked to plan and implement my own curriculum for the workshops.
The Executive Director and I agreed on the approach of encouraging people
to tell their own stories and then empowering those people through publishing their work in an anthology — clearly Freirean goals. I read the texts that
had been written by Trinidadians for their adult learners (Lucie-Smith, 1999). I
talked with some of the volunteer adult literacy tutors about how they saw
the situation of adult learners. I thought about what kinds of teaching methods would work best in the cultural context to motivate people to write. The
tutors were warning me that some of their students just could not get started
with writing. The students tended to worry about whether they were spelling every word right and this stopped the flow of their writing. I decided to
take the tack that the most important goal of the workshops was to write,
not spell. So, I told students to make up spellings and keep on writing. In addition, for those students who just could not do that, I had several tutors in
the room who helped students with spelling during writing exercises. I just
said, “Put your pen on that page and don’t stop writing until the half an hour
is up.” This may sound rather directive in a Canadian context; however, people have grown up in a very rigid British educational system in Trinidad and
Tobago. If you leave exercises too open, the students will not know where to
begin at all, in my experience. In a sense, I took into account the colonial voice
in the heads of the students, modified it — and fitted it into their schema
(Bereiter & Scardamalia, 1992) of what writing and school should be like.
In deciding what kinds of writing exercises to introduce, I took into account
both the goals of the published anthology and the cultural milieu I would be
teaching in. I needed to emphasize the importance of Trinidadian and
Tobagonian stories and the importance of them telling their own stories. The
narrative in their head has been one of British and North American literature
about daffodils and snow, that has little to do with their everyday lives — es-
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 183
pecially since most of the adult learners were in their forties and older and
grew up in British-run schools.
Since Trinidad and Tobago is building an indigenous literature and it is just
starting to be taught in the schools, I decided to read poems and excerpts of
short stories written by Trindiadians (Nichols, 1994; Gibbings, 1988) and by
other Caribbean authors (Breeze, 1992) as examples of the kinds of writing
that the students could do in the writing workshop. This worked and it activated the schema (Bereiter & Scardamalia, 1992) of the students. They all
knew about small towns, beaches, hot weather and their stories fit in too. I
asked them to write about a memory from their childhoods to get them writing.
I talked about the importance of having your own “voice”, of telling your
own story and of getting it into print. I read a poem of mine about discovering
my voice and writing to let it be heard. I discussed my own personal journey
as a poet and why it was important to tell your own story. I explained why we
wanted an anthology published from the writings in the workshops. Having
something published meant that when you were not there, someone could
hear your story by reading it in a book or article. This is an important concept,
as much of Trinidadian society is still rural and is based in orality. To think of
speaking when you are not there in person is important. This concept is aptly
explained by Goody (1968):
The importance of writing lies in its creating a new medium of communication between [people]. Its essential service is to objectify
speech, to provide language with a material correlative, a set of visible signs. In this material form, speech can be transmitted over space
and preserved over time; what people say and think can be rescued
from the transitoriness of oral communication (in Dyson and Freedman, 1991, pp. 1-2).
In addition, I explained that the anthology would be read by other adults
who may be illiterate, and the adult learners’ words would encourage others
to learn to read and write.
Finally, I decided to ask the learners to write in a form indigenous to their
culture — calypso. This is a rhyming song that originated in Trinidad and is
sung throughout the Eastern Caribbean. The calypso is written usually in the
Creole language, which is different than Standard English. It is a dialect of
English that is based on West African language grammar, and uses English,
Spanish, Hindi and African words. In other words, it is a potpourri of languages.
(ILEA, 1990, pp. 210-237), but it uses mostly English words. The philosophy
of the Adult Literacy Tutors Association (ALTA), the group I was teaching on
behalf of, is that Creole is the first language of people in Trinidad and Tobago,
and English is a second language. Thus, many adult learners will write their
first poems and essays in their first language, because these are the words
and the grammar that they know through oral speech. Adult illiteracy in Trini-
184 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
dad and Tobago was not just a case of adults not learning, it was that adults
had to learn a second language and learn to read and write when they had
not spoken Standard English in the home before coming to school.
Liverpool’s book, Culture and Education (1988), clearly sets out the benefits of teaching calypso in a secondary school setting: “Most pupils have got
to listen to very dull lessons from teachers… The calypso then could here
add life to their lessons” (1988, p. 76).
I proceeded with the teaching of writing calypsoes. This brought a lot of
chuckles as writing calypsoes was not part of their original traditional British
education. I read out loud a calypso written by an adult learner who had learned
to read and write through ALTA. This was an example of what they could do
as well. I then activated their schema (Bereiter & Scardamalia, 1992) around
rhyming by finding words that rhymed with the theme of the calypso that they
were going to write: “what it means to me to read and write”. We
brainstormed on the blackboard all the words that rhymed with “read” and
with “write”. This was to get them started writing.
After half an hour of writing, everyone was eager to share his or her calypso with the others. Many sang their calypsos while drumming on their desks
to the rhythm. They were humorous songs and everyone got into the swing
of it, beating their desks, singing along and laughing. Writing and then reading your work could actually be fun! In fact, one student handed me a piece
of paper at the end of her workshop that read, “I thought the workshop would
be boring, but it wasn’t!” The culture of Trinidad and Tobago is imbued with
having fun, with “liming” or hanging out with friends and having a good time
and of participating in Carnival before Lent every year. (Liverpool, 1988). I had
activated their cultural schema (Bereiter & Scardamalia, 1992) of having fun.
It should be noted that the dialogic tactics promoted by Freire are ideal for
West-Indian cultures. People like to speak, sing and perform for each other,
so sharing their writing becomes an extension of this public performance. The
book that was published, At Last! Adult Learners Write (Driedger, 1999a),
became a kind of public performance as well. A book launch was held with
the former First Lady present and some of the students read their work. The
book was also reviewed in two national daily newspapers, and this extended
the public performance even further (Jacob, 2000; Hilton, 2000).
Body Image, Self-Esteem and Writing Equals Empowerment
Writing and public performance became part of a course that I was teaching
on self-esteem and body image for women with disabilities at the Disabled
Women’s Network of Trinidad and Tobago (DAWN). I taught a course one afternoon a week over a six-month period. In this case, I suggested to DAWN
that I could volunteer to teach the course since I was coming to Trinidad to
live for the winter of 1997-98. The Board and Coordinator of DAWN thought
it was a good idea and asked me to come up with the curriculum and to teach
the course. I located myself as a white middle class, first world woman with
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 185
a disability. I felt that being a woman and having a disability would benefit me
in teaching the course, as I had some personal experience in the area of body
image and self-esteem and women with disabilities. I hoped that this would
offset the fact that I was not a woman of colour, or born in their developing
nation. I did, however, know a lot about the culture of the country.
I drew upon the writings of other disabled women and of women in the
Caribbean region (in Driedger, Feika & Giron Batres, 1996) and read poems
and stories to them about body image and disability. We used these writings
as jumping off points for discussion about issues around the role of women
in society, the role of disabled women in society and what the everyday realities were of the women participants themselves. I used Freire’s (1970)
dialogical method of teaching and focussed on problem-posing and problemsolving with the class.
Women shared stories of discrimination against them in public places. They
shared stories of family abuse towards them and other women they knew.
We used drama to act out these stories, and the DAWN Players Drama Troupe
was born. In future, the troupe would present skits about attitudes towards
people with disabilities in Trinidad and Tobago at public gatherings around the
country. One member of the group discovered that she was good actress and
that she loved it — this raised her self-esteem as a woman in her late 60s
with a visual impairment.
From the beginning, I suggested to the group that their writings be published in a booklet that I would edit. There was enthusiasm for this idea and
submissions were made. I worked together with the authors on editing their
work. The poems and essays submitted focused on their own lives of living
with disability and how society views them. From Hibernation to Liberation:
Women with Disabilities Speak Out (Driedger, 1999b) was published by DAWN
and launched at the prestigious Central Bank in Port of Spain, with three national cabinet members and the former First Lady present. Two major daily
newspapers reviewed the book (Jacob, 1999; Caliste, 1999). I suggested that
we have the book launch, send out the invitations to dignitaries and that I
pursue book reviewers at the papers. The idea was a Freirean one of getting
their views out into the public domain, to begin discussion in government and
the public about the situation of women with disabilities. DAWN saw this as
a public education campaign to bring about change in society, changes that
would improve attitudes towards women with disabilities, improve living conditions and improve the treatment of women with disabilities in public.
The books were sold out after three months and the women felt vindicated
to have their words in print. It was especially empowering for one woman
who became a neighborhood celebrity in her small village after her life story
appeared in the booklet. Her neighbors wanted to buy copies of the book and
they called her the “author in town”. She was a person who was glowing at
her success and recognition. Overall, in the two field studies I have presented,
186 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
I have seen people who are oppressed or marginalized in society name their
oppression and proclaim it publicly through writing.
A Writing Programme for Inuit: The Importance of Naming
In the future, as my PhD dissertation project, I am looking to construct and
teach a writing curriculum for Inuit people in the new territory of Nunavut. In
doing this paper, I have given thought to how I could employ Freire’s
Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1970) as a basis for teaching creative writing and
doing publishing with Inuit people. Currently I am constructing an educational
plan for a rehabilitation assistant and hearing worker course at Arctic College
in conjunction with the University of Manitoba in the Kivalliq region of Nunavut.
In the process of writing the proposal for this programme, I have learned about
the culture, history and land of the Inuit. By no means has this been exhaustive, as I have only visited twice for short periods, one or two weeks.
To successfully construct and teach writing in the region, I will need to be
more immersed in the culture and history of the place — that is, I will need to
go into the field and talk more with the people to find out their issues and
concerns, as Freire (1970) recommends. In addition, it has occurred to me
that in the previous two projects I have outlined here, I did not talk with the
actual people I would be teaching about what we should learn. I talked with
the people in charge — executive directors of organizations and the boards.
To be more true to Freire’s vision I will think of talking with groups of adult
learners who I will teach writing, about how we should approach writing exercises and what we should write about. Of course, this takes a lot more time
as Freire has been criticized for, but,
[Freire] recognized that many social activists — sectarians — were
unprepared to spend the time, and show the humility required to
establish real dialogue with oppressed people. On the other hand,
radicals were engaged in continuous inquiry and self-criticism, listening carefully to oppressed people in order to provoke questions within
their own thematic universe … when asked if the radical stance might
take too much time, Paulo responded irritably that time spent any
other way was essentially wasted (Martin, 1998, p. 119).
I will discuss traditional story telling devices, such as the pissiit, with the
group of learners. The pissiit is a type of storytelling poem (personal communication with Janet Onalik, Nunavut Literacy Council, July 9, 2001). I will look
for written examples of these poems.
I will also endeavor to involve Elders in telling their stories. While I was in
Rankin Inlet in 2001, I attended a Nunavut Day Celebration where an Elder
sang a song he had written about his visit to New York as an Inuit artist. He
met a homeless man there and told the story of his conversation with this
man living poor in a rich country. I do not know if this was a traditional pissiit
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 187
or another kind of story. I need to do more research on the pissiit and I have a
referral to a woman who has done research in this area (personal communication with Janet Onalik, July 9, 2001). The role of Elders was very important
in traditional Inuit society and now the Elders are continuing to teach traditional ways of survival, making of traditional tools and the spiritual teachings.
The traditional beliefs involve what is called Inuit Qaujimajatuqangit or “IQ”,
the understood underpinnings of Inuit society: “All knowledge is to be shared
and everyone is respected for what they are able to contribute to and share
in the learning process.” (Early Childhood, 2001). These concepts are being
integrated into all areas of Nunavut’s society, including new educational curriculum (Early Childhood, 2001) and the “Bathurst Mandate” a document that
outlines the political aims of a new Nunavut (Bathurst Mandate, 1999). These
ideas are at the very heart of Freire’s (1970) philosophy of small groups of the
oppressed working together and thus, Freire’s ideas should be useful to me
in developing a writing curriculum.
Overall, I will aim to help the group decide how to best disseminate their
writing. Should it be through a book, as books are starting to be published by
Arctic College with Elders’ stories (Stories, 1989) or should they write for the
bi-weekly newspaper that appears in both English and Inuktitiut? This course
will take place in English, the second language of the learners, since I am an
English speaker. I need to explore how the bilingual language policy of Nunavut
is being implemented and how I need to teach writing in English, which is
their second language. The implications of English and its role as a colonizer
need to be explored with the learners and with other adult education teachers. The role of white people in the lives of Inuit people needs to be explored,
as colonialism has played a role, especially in role confusion for Inuit youth.
They no longer know what the purpose of their lives is (Minor, 1992). This fits
in with Freire’s dialogical methods of looking at what are the causes of oppression, in this case, white colonization.
In a sense, this is “naming oppression” and naming plays an important
part in Inuit life. When people die, their names are passed on to a new baby
that is born. It is believed that names hold the power of the person who died
and of all people who have had that name in the past (Minor, 1992). Part of
the white colonization process has been that the Government of Canada decreed in the 1970s that Inuit needed to have two names. Previously they had
one name and were also identified by a plastic disc with a number. Then the
federal government asked Inuit to take another name. Thus, the people took
a Christian name such as John or Alice and tacked that on before their one
name. This is an issue of colonization and an Inuk recently won the right to go
back to his one name. In Alberta law, where David Ward was challenging the
legislation, one cannot have just one name (Inuk wins, 2001).
The results of white colonization, both through missionary activity and
through trade, will need to be explored. I will bring up these issues to the
188 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
learners and ask them to write about and discuss how these issues have impacted on their lives. Perhaps they have a “naming” story, or they have relatives that have intermarried with white people, or they wish to write about
their relationship to the churches that set up missions in Nunavut (Minor, 1992).
All of these factors have changed the traditional lives of the Inuit.
During and after the writing workshops are carried out, the class will continue to meet to discuss how the course is going and whether it is meeting
their needs and expectations. Issues that come up during the writing may
also be discussed. These will be jumping off points for discussion about their
own reality, naming their oppression through written words and then through
dialogue. This will also link the written expression to the traditional oral roots
of the culture.
Conclusion
Overall, Freirean theories have worked well in the work I have done in Trinidad and Tobago with adult learners and with women with disabilities. I foresee that I will also use many of Freire’s ideas in my work with Inuit adult
learners. Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1970) has served as a good
tool to motivate me, as an adult educator, to work with oppressed or
marginalized individuals in post-colonial societies.
R EFERENCES
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Handbook of research on curriculum. New York: Macmillan.
Breeze, J. B. (1992). Spring cleaning. London: Virago Press.
Caliste, G. (1999, April 25). Freedom from pain empowers women. Trinidad and
Tobago Sunday Guardian.
Driedger, D. (Ed.) (1999a) At last! Adult learners write. Port of Spain, Trinidad: ALTA.
Driedger, D. (Ed.) (1999b) From hibernation to liberation: Women with disabilities
speak out. Port of Spain, Trinidad: Disabled Women’s Network of Trinidad
and Tobago.
Driedger, D., Feika, I. & Giron Batres, E. (Eds.) (1996). Across borders: Women
with disabilities working together. Charlottetown, PEI: Gynergy Books.
Dyson, A. H., & Freedman, S. W. (1991). Writing. In J. Flood, J. M. Jensen, D.
Lapp, & J. R. Squire, Handbook of research on teaching the English language arts. New York: Macmillan.
Early Childhood and School Services Department of Education, Government of
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Eisner, E. W. (1992). Curriculum ideologies. In P. W. Jackson, Handbook of research
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Ellsworth, E. (1989). Why doesn’t this feel empowering? Working through the repressive myths of critical pedagogy. Harvard Educational Review. 59 (3).
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instruction: Ode to Voltaire. Unpublished manuscript, University of
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Freire, P. (1970). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York: The Seabury Press.
Gibbings, W. (1988) Cold bricks and warm eyes. Port of Spain, Trinidad: TTIWI.
Government of Nunavut. (1999, August). The Bathurst mandate: Pinasuaqtavut that which we’ve set out to do. Iqualuit: Government of Nunavut.
Hilton, A. (2000, April 17). At long last—reading and writing! Trinidad and Tobago
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Inuk wins the right to go back to using his one-word name. (2001, December 1).
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Jacob, D. (1999, April 20). Disabled women step boldly. Trinidad and Tobago
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Jacob, D. (2000, May 4). An inspiration to writers. Trinidad and Tobago Express.
Liverpool, H. (1988). Culture and education: Carnival in Trinidad and Tobago —
Implications for education in secondary schools. London: Karia Press.
Lucie-Smith, P. (Ed.) (1999). Tutor training course handbook. Port of Spain, Trinidad: Adult Literacy Tutors Association (ALTA).
Martin, D. (1998). Learning from the South. Convergence Tribute to Paulo Freire,
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Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 191
Dialogic Crossroads: A Bakhtinian Perspective on
Selected Theories of Reader Response
Karen A. Krasny
Dialogism, an epistemology formulated by Soviet thinker, Mikhail Mikhailovich
Bakhtin, foregrounds a social perspective of language and literacy learning.
Since the Western emergence of Bakhtin’s writings in the early 1980’s, literary scholars have begun to look toward dialogism as a way of articulating a
unified theory of composition and literature (Bizzell, 1986; Clark, 1990; LeFevre,
1987; Lodge, 1990). In this paper, I extend the principles of Bakhtin’s theory
to textual interpretation in order to acknowledge the active voice of both author and reader and to situate meaning in the dialogical relation between the
two.
Against a literary critical terrain divided by the “abstract objectivism” of
structuralism and the ”individual subjectivity” of poststructuralism, Bakhtin’s
pragmatically oriented theory of knowledge offers a dialogic alternative which
accounts for existence that is both unique and socially constituted. In this
paper, I will explicate various aspects of Bakhtin’s social theory of utterance
to establish meaning as the intimate connection between self and language
and determine the extent to which transactional theories of reader-response,
in particular, Louise Rosenblatt’s (1968) “lived through experience”, Wolfgang
Iser’s (1980) “virtual text” and Stanley Fish’s (1980) “interpretive communities” account for the internal and external dialogue implicit in the view that
reading is a social phenomenon.
Transactional theories of reader-response focus on describing the constant
interchange between reader and text and differ from traditional transmission
models of reading (Straw, 1990) whereby information is shunted from the
Sender (author) to an Addressee (reader) via the Message (text) (Eco, 1979).
In this paper, I will apply Bakhtinian dialogism to dispel the notion of the reader
as an essentially a passive player, whose main role is to decode the message
in the text as it was encoded by the author and demonstrate how dialogism
supports and extends the central purposes of transactional models of reading. Also, I will argue that a dialogic view of literary transaction can embrace
the author without compromising the active role of the reader.
192 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
In conclusion, I assert that dialogism in the curriculum moves teachers and
students beyond decoding and rote comprehension in their investigations into
literature. I describe a dialogic pedagogy, which values the multiple voices
within each individual student and fosters opportunities for the creation of,
and exchange between, interpretive communities of learners. Of particular
note is the potential of exploring Bakhtin’s notion of the “surplus of seeing”
within the intra- and extra-literary context to encourage students to adopt a
critical orientation toward reading.
The Self/Other Relations in Language
Mikhail Mikhailovich Bakhtin sought to describe language and the production
of meaning in terms of relationships rather than nominal signs. While
Saussure’s structural linguistics focused on the general rules that can be applied to all speakers of a particular language, Bakhtin sought to establish speech
as belonging to both the individual and society. Words, according to Bakhtin,
should be studied from the point of view of those who actually use them. If
you were to say to me “Pass me a cup, please!,” I would in all likelihood pass
you a ‘cup,’ that is, a vessel to drink from because there is agreement through
a “shared” or “social” orientation of consciousness. But Bakhtin’s social theory
of utterance also contends that meaning is never unitary and all utterances
are subject to the social forces which open them up to competing definitions.
Heteroglossia is the essence of Bakhtin’s social theory of utterance. It is the
locus where the centripetal or unifying and rule-governing forces collide with
the centrifugal or diversifying forces. In The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays
by M. M. Bakhtin, edited by Michael Holquist and Caryl Emerson, Holquist
(1981) defines heteroglossia as:
At any given time, in any given place, there will be a set of conditions—social historical, meteorological, physiological—that will insure
that a word uttered in that place and at that time will have a meaning
different than it would have under any other conditions; all utterances
are heteroglot in that they are functions of a matrix of forces practically impossible to recoup. (p. 428)
Bakhtin concentrated on the self-other aspects of language in order to formulate a dialogic epistemology. Like Vygotsky (1962; 1978), Bakhtin describes
a dialogic consciousness, in which thought is conceived of as dialogues with
imagined addressees from voices previously heard. The “word” as the basic
structural unit of the dialogic utterance is both given and created. There are
no words that are not “double-voiced” that is “…every word tastes of the
context or contexts in which it has lived its socially intense life” (Bakhtin, 1981,
p. 293). Kristeva (1980) defines Bakhtin’s “word” as “an intersection of textual surfaces rather than a point (a fixed meaning)” (p. 65). The word is
spatialized and functions simultaneously in three dimensions—subject-ad-
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 193
dressee-context (Kristeva, 1980). Given its temporal and spatial nature, the
dialogic word is relativized, de-privileged, and host to competing definitions
(Holquist, 1981, p. 427) Bakhtin writes:
The word in language is half someone else’s. It becomes “one’s own”
only when the speaker populates it with his own intentions, his own
accent, when he appropriates the word, adapting it to his own semantic and expressive intention. Prior to this moment of appropriation the word does not exist in a neutral and impersonal
language…but rather it exists in other people’s mouths, serving other
people’s intentions: it is from there that we must take the word and
make it one’s own. (Bakhtin, 1981, p. 293)
Bakhtin’s dialogism is rooted in the neo-Kantian project of bridging the gap
between the self and society. Dialogic consciousness depends on Otherness.
In other words, inner dialogue occurs because we have internalized an audience from human interactions. Meaning is a tripartite construction that consists of a speaking subject, an addressee and the relation between the two.
Bakhtin’s epistemology seeks to understand human behavior
“metalinguistically.” In dialogism, all utterances elicit a response, that is to
say, there is no utterance without a reply. We are perpetually bombarded with
a chaotic collection of potential messages as stimuli generated by the natural
and social environment. Our responsibility to either ignore certain stimuli, or
to respond to them linguistically in order to produce meaning is what Bakhtin
refers to as addressivity.
Transactional Theories of Reader-response
Transactional theories of reader-response examine the role of the reader and
define the central purposes for reading as being internal to and generated by
the reader (Straw & Bogdan, 1990, p. 3 emphasis in the original). In transactional terms, actualization (after Maslow, 1954) or the fulfillment of a set of
needs and desires becomes the primary goal of reading. Accordingly, readers read to extract from the text, the interpretation, concepts, or information
that actualizes their own particular needs and desires. However, despite the
emphasis on the reader, reader-response criticism includes a number of theoretical orientations that implicate among other things, the author’s perception
of audience, the text and its implied readers, the status of the reader within
the social context, and the linguistic structures that delineate the interpretative parameters.
Those who first began to investigate the inseparability of the literary work
and its effects include D. W. Harding and Louise Rosenblatt in the 1930’s.
But the reader-response movement actually took hold in the aftermath of interactive theories of reading comprehension (Chomsky, 1957) and structuralist criticism (Frye, 1957; Booth, 1961) in which reading was no longer
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conceptualized as a “one-way transmission of ideas from either author or text
to reader” (Straw, 1990, p. 59).
Reader-response theorists describe the active understanding of readers
engaged in the production of meaning through an interaction of their beliefs
and experiences with the literary text (Straw & Bogdan, 1990). Bakhtin’s (1981)
active understanding is both responsive and “one that participates in the formulation of discourse…one that discourse senses as resistance or support
enriching the discourse” (pp. 280-281). The hermeneutics of Bakhtin’s active
understanding is similar to Gadamer’s “fusion of horizons” in which interlocutors engage in an open-ended dialogic interchange “leading to mutual selfunderstanding…best effected through a free and uncoerced exchange of
perspectives and views” (Gardiner, 1992, p. 113). While texts do not actually
“talk” to readers, dialogism is never unitary. It depends on the active understanding of at least two, the self and other. Bakhtin affirms the active role of
the author in relation to the reader’s “ living, autonomous consciousness”
(cited in Mihailovic, 1997, p. 219 emphasis in the original).
How do theories of reader-response reflect the social construction of meaning? The literary text constitutes another field of answerability in which the
intimate connection between language and existence can be seen in the structure of self/other relations. The critical orientations we adopt in the classroom
are likely to be the approaches our students apply in the process of constructing meaning from literary texts. In a field where we purport that theory guides
our instructional practice, we are compelled to examine more closely the potential of particular critical orientations to either promote or inhibit dialogue.
The following analysis examines the extent to which Wolfgang Iser’s
(1974)”virtual text,” Louise Rosenblatt’s (1978)“lived-through experience” and
Stanley Fish’s (1980) “interpretive communities” account for a dialogic consciousness or, on the other hand, adhere to the centralizing forces which serve
to create the artificial unity of the monologic utterance.
Wolfgang Iser’s “Virtual Text”
Wolfgang Iser’s approach to understanding the role of the reader evolves from
Edmund Husserl’s phenomenological hermeneutics in which understanding
is achieved through an anticipatory movement. According to Husserl, the work
of phenomenology is the constitution of flux. Iser (1987) believes that the literary experience induces the reader to constitute the work’s intention by ordering the aesthetic effects of the text discursively. Iser (2000) contends that
interpretation is a form of translatability and therefore interpretation depends
on what gets translated. This is an important contention, which establishes
the role of the reader in the act of interpretation as being determined by the
salient features of the text.
While Iser (1980) uses the phenomenological theory of art to argue that
“in considering a literary work, one must take into account not only the actual text but also, and in equal measure, the actions involved in responding to
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that text” (p. 50), he describes the phenomenology of the reading process
only insofar as it is circumscribed by the parameters of the text itself. According
to Iser, reading demands that we bring to the text our own codes and conventions that are subject to frustrations of expectation or interruptions in the
flow creating a gestalt in the virtual dimension that opens up opportunities
for multiple realizations and interrogates our normative ways of seeing. Despite Iser’s (1980) belief that “the potential text is infinitely richer than any of
its individual realizations” (p. 55) it is so only as long as the reader’s actualization renders the text internally consistent (Eagleton, 1996).
Iser envisions the literary work to be translated as having two poles—the
artistic, which refers to the text written by the author and the esthetic, which
refers to the reader’s realization of the artistic text. The text dialogically claims
an addressee, what Iser termed the “implied reader” (1987). He claims that
the literary or “virtual” text is neither the text nor the realization of the text,
but lies halfway between the two. Situating meaning on this virtual plane recalls Bakhtin’s notion of the heterglot text and the tripartite construction of
meaning. However, further analysis of the “virtual text” and the “implied
reader” reveals a text that is privileged with greater authority in the dialogic
arrangement. In Iser’s (1987) estimation, textual interpretation relies on the
reader using a variety of schematized views offered by the text to “fill in gaps”
to create meaning.
The implied reader orients him/herself from a standpoint derived from the
convergence of the shifting textual perspectives that include “those of the
narrator, the characters, the plot and the fictitious reader” (p. 35), all of which
combine to project the author’s vision. The role of Iser’s reader is to “occupy
shifting vantage points…geared to a prestructured activity and to fit the diverse perspectives into a gradually evolving pattern” (p. 35). In other words,
the reader’s perspective contributes to the production of meaning only insofar as it coalesces with the various standpoints in the text. In this way, Iser
argues the relative indeterminacy of the text allows a spectrum of
actualizations granting the reader the right to fulfill the role of implied reader
in different ways as long as the text is rendered internally consistent. Iser
contends that his theory favors both text and reader, since the reader is granted
the experience to bring out “the ideal standard of objectivist theory as an inherent quality of the text” (p. 24). But to my mind dialogue is inhibited by the
ontological privilege of the text. The text becomes an authoritative voice that
grants, allows, induces, but is never answerable.
Iser’s virtual dimension operates on the premise that the preexisting text
conditions the interaction between reader and text. He (1987) states, “it is
clear that acts of comprehension are guided by the structures of the text” (p.
24). Iser explains that the virtual world presented by the text is made possible through what Ingarden (1968) refers to as intentional sentence correlatives.
“Sentences link up in different ways to form more complex units of meaning….” (cited in Iser, 1980, p. 52). In other words, a sentence does not con-
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sist solely of a statement but aims to say something beyond what it states
on an immediate level. Governed by the perspectives offered by the text, the
reader engages in a back and forth movement between anticipation and confirmation, constantly building up expectations of what is to come next, in order for the text to unfold itself.
Iser’s phenomenological approach claims, “Central to the reading of every
literary work is the interaction between its structure and its recipient” (p. 20).
Meaning is conceived of as something that “happens” (Iser, 1987, p. 22) rather
than constructed collaboratively. These basic tenets of Iser’s theory of readerresponse conjure images of the reader as “recipient” (p. 20) of this transcendental message and the text as the “source of production” (p. 27). The reading
process entails a reader actively contributing to reproducing the author’s text
rather than the collaborative production of meaning.
Elizabeth Freund (1987) has also cited problems with Iser’s
phenomenological approach to reading. His theory both assumes the reader
is actively engaging in the construction of meaning while simultaneously establishes the text as independent of the reader’s meaning-making. The attempts to fill in the indeterminacies of the text are aimed at creating a coherent
totality—the organic wholeness associated with New Criticism and depend
on reducing, or as Iser calls it, “normalizing” the polysemantic possibilities
within the framework of text conventions. Iser recognizes the significance of
the reader’s prior knowledge in the concretization of multiple realizations,
however his awareness of the social dimension of reading is eclipsed by his
concentration on the aesthetic aspects of the text (Eagleton, 1996, p.83). The
concretization (Ingarden, 1968) of the text arrived at through the schematized
views presented by the text itself appears antithetical to the “unfinalizability”
of Bakhtin’s dialogism.
In later writings, Iser (2000) acknowledges Bakhtin’s contribution to a
hermeneutics of suspicion, in which the individuality of sign usage comes
under scrutiny. In his own words, he credits Bakhtin for alerting us that “the
words of a language have traversed very many different contexts in their history, and what they have accumulated over time in terms of denotations and
connotations is never fully in the orbit of the language user” (Iser, 2000, p.
46). But, in defense of the textual parameters of interpretation, Iser looks to
Schleiermacher, to argue that regardless of the inexhaustibility of meaning,
the actual use of language is selective, and such selectivity is indicative of
the author’s attitude to the words concerned. The primary aim of
Schleirmacher’s hermeneutical method was “to understand an author better
than he understood himself”(cited in Iser, 2000, p. 46). In this dialogic arrangement between reader and text, Iser introduces the author as an authoritative
third voice. As a result, the text is never fully subjected to interrogation by
the reader who, in this situation, remains essentially text-bound.
In an educational context, students cast in the role of “implied readers”
are invited to fill in the gaps and regulate the indeterminacies of the text, as
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long as they do it “correctly.” Filling in the gaps to reenact essentially what
the author has composed already requires readers who possess the innate
knowledge of the underlying structures. Given that knowledge of these structures is not some transcendental gift, students learn quickly to reiterate the
analysis presented in class or get a hold of the commercially prepared Coles
notes to write the assigned essay. In undergraduate classes, more astute students learn to search the library stacks for collections of literary analyses that
hold the promise of providing the authoritative word of literary critics. Iser’s
“implied reader” finds him/herself in an interlocutory relationship in which the
text and the author presume to know where the conversation is headed.
Such an orientation to reading finds comfortable and easy ground in
an established canon since sheer repetition guarantees that teachers can confidently present what they have already confirmed counts in a particular text
while absolving themselves of the responsibility of evaluating the merit of any
other interpretation than the one reputed to have been prestructured by the
language in the text. The “unfinalizability” born of the heterglot text depends
on the reader’s sensitivity to ambiguity. According to Iser’s theory, the constitution of flux, albeit dynamic, negates any possibility of Bakhtinian ambivalence as the anticipatory movement of the virtual text purportedly guides the
reader toward the teleological possibility of definitive meaning.
Louise Rosenblatt: The “Lived Through Experience”
Louise Rosenblatt (1978) claims, “a text, once it leaves its author’s hands, is
simply paper and ink until a reader evokes from it a literary work—sometimes,
even, a literary work of art” (p. ix). Reading, according to Rosenblatt is a twoway process that involves a reader and a text at a particular time, under particular circumstances.
Rosenblatt (1978) distinguishes between the “text” and the “poem.” In
her transactional theory, the “text” is a series of printed signs interpretable
as linguistic symbols. By contrast, the “poem” assumes the active engagement of a reader with a text and comes to stand for all literary works of art
including novels, plays, poems and short stories. The poem signifies a “coming-together” (Rosenblatt, 1978, p. 12) of reader and text in which:
The words in their particular pattern stir up elements of memory,
activate areas of consciousness. The reader, bringing past experience
of language and of the world to the task, sets up tentative notions of
a subject, of some framework into which to fit the ideas as the words
unfurl.” (Rosenblatt, 1980, p. 6)
If through further reading, the reader discovers that the words do not fit
his/her tentative framework, then it is revised and is open to new possibilities. In other words, the “text” remains a self-identical object until it is transformed in transaction with the reader and becomes the “poem.”
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Relying on Dewey and Bentley’s transactional formulation, Rosenblatt
(1978) defines the abstract text in literary critical terms as an utterance or “a
set of words that meet all the syntactic requirements” (p. 19) that nevertheless “can mean different things in different contexts” (p. 19). In a departure
from Bakhtin, Rosenblatt distinguishes the ‘utterance’ from the ‘speech act’
or ‘poem,’ which depends on the existence of “a speaker and a listener sharing the same language and rules of communication in a particular context under
particular conditions” (p. 19). While there is an obvious shift from the structuralist focus on the analysis of the utterance to the transactional occupation
with the complex interactions that constitute the speech act, the unity in
meaning implied by the dependency on shared interpretive strategies and
social structures as a necessary condition for the evocation of the ‘poem’
defies the continual collision of centripetal and centrifugal forces of Bakhtin’s
heteroglossia.
According to Bakhtin, dialogism naturally inheres in the utterance itself, once
again recalling that words cannot be divorced from their particular speaker or
escape social saturation. Bakhtinian addressivity is grounded in the belief that
a speaker and an addressee are dialogically present in all utterances. In contrast to Rosenblatt’s articulation, Bakhtin maintains that the “speech act” and
the inherent tension and indeterminacy of multiple voices live in the dialogic
utterance as a preexisting condition. Moreover, the transformation of the abstract text into the “poem” is not necessarily the sole responsibility of the
reader. The text is no less a “poem” when it mediates the conversation between the author and an imagined audience or when the author engages in
dialogue with the characters s/he has created (Bakhtin, 1980). Rosenblatt
separates the author from her/his words and negates the author as a dialogic
participant in a “two-way process” that only recognizes the reader in transaction with the abstract text. Curtailing any possibility of writing as conversation (Clark, 1990), Rosenblatt (1978) asserts, “the reader ultimately has only
the text to guide him (sic)” (p. 76).
The “lived through experience” seems to imply the “unfinalizability” of
Bakhtin’s dialogue for “Experience,” writes Dewey (1910) “has to do with
production…. It deals with generation, becoming, not with finality, being” (p.
200). Consistent with Dewey’s generative notion of experience, the “lived
through experience” of transactional reading implies multiple interpretive
possibilities reflective of the collective experience of the individual reader and
the context in which the transaction takes place. Rosenblatt (1978) contends
that the act of reading “is the result of a complex social nexus” (p. 20)—a
convergence of the individual reader’s collective experience and the sociophysical context in which the reading takes place. The reader calls “forth from
memory of his (sic) world what the visual or auditory stimuli symbolize for
him (sic)” (Rosenblatt, 1978, p. 21). While I believe this transactional approach
accounts in part for the social constitution of the reader and what s/he senses
the words point to, it does not go far enough to exploit the reader’s member-
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ship in intersecting and often competing “interpretive communities” (Fish,
1980) or a text that intertexually engages other texts in dialogue.
The image of the solitary reader reaching deep within him/herself to connect with the text in self-actualizing ways to extend the reader’s experience
outwardly (Rosenblatt, 1978) does not adequately address dialogism’s project
of bridging the gap between the individual and society. Traversing one level
of consciousness to another in order to arrive at new social, cultural, and historical meanings through the dialogic spaces created by literary texts also
means stepping outside of oneself and attempting to read the text through
the eyes of the other, not in an attempt to fuse identities but to examine our
own incompleteness. In the process, we may acquire new critical perspectives, or in Bakhtinian terms, alien meanings, for authoring ourselves and our
world. Bakhtin writes:
After all, a person cannot actually see or make sense of even his own
exterior appearance as whole, no mirrors or photographs will help
him, only others can see and understand his authentic exterior thanks
to their spatial outsideness and thanks to the fact that they are
others…. In the realm of culture, outsideness is the most powerful
lever of understanding. (Bakhtin, 1970, cited in Emerson, 1996)
The full dialogic potential of the literary experience needs to encompass
the spatial outsideness that allows the reader to step in and out of the text. In
like fashion, Langer (2001) advocates “stepping into,” “moving through,” and
“stepping back” as textual orientations “to explore the horizons of possibilities for literary understanding” (pp. 7-9). This capacity to exteriorize the text
enables us to examine our values and attitudes against the perspectives of
others.
Rosenblatt purports that the reader’s stance along a continuum between
aesthetic and efferent reading is likely to direct the meaning constructed in
transaction with a given text. Efferent comes from the Latin word meaning
“to carry away” and as the etymology would suggest, efferent reading concerns itself with carrying away information, lexical meaning, ideas, or procedural knowledge. Aesthe comes from the Greek aesthetes, meaning “one
that perceives.” As Rosenblatt (1982) explains, the aesthetic stance allows a
“much broader range of elements to rise into consciousness; not simply the
abstract concepts that the words point to, but also what those objects or referents stir up of personal feelings, ideas and attitudes” (p. 7). Readers may
rely on the socio-physical setting or the words in the text alone to determine
their stance (Rosenblatt, 1978,p. 78). She suggests that no reading is completely efferent or aesthetic and readers may oscillate between the two
stances as the transaction with text often calls upon their “selective attention to the reading process” (p. 43) This selective attention is central to
Rosenblatt’s definition of the aesthetic experience and refers to the degree
to which the reader draws “selectively on the resources of his (sic) own fund
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of experience and sensibility to provide and organize the substance of his (sic)
response” (p. 43).
In aesthetic reading, this complex selective activity occurs within an “experiential matrix or stream of thought and feeling” (Rosenblatt, 1978, p. 43)
and Rosenblatt (1978) suggests that the formulation of the literary work and
the intrinsic recognition of the individual consciousness are not necessarily
the products of conscious choice. The recognition of the individual consciousness within the lived through experience of the reader is reminiscent of
Heidegger’s (1972) aletheia or “unconcealment”—an opening to Being and
thinking. While evoking an aesthetic response has the potential to provoke
an awakening of what lies beneath, I am not alone in warning of the danger
of the passive acceptance of an authentic self revealed through the “lived
through experience.” In “Beyond Actualization,” John Willinsky (1990) cautions that the openness associated with what becomes the authentic moment
of actualization “needs to be tempered…with an equal openness to how it
has been constructed through language” (p. 19).
The dialogic sphere of Rosenblatt’s “lived through experience” is delineated by a text that sets the “degrees of awareness accorded to the referential import and to the experiential process being lived through” (p. 43).
Accordingly, the text determines the stance the reader ultimately assumes.
Rosenblatt’s theory, like Iser’s does not invite interrogation by the reader and
therefore is not comprehensive enough to account for the possibility of reading as a social and political act. According to Emerson (1996), Bakhtin contends “human beings make use of signs, but are never constrained or defined
by them” (p. 4). Assuming a dialogic and often dialectical stance to reading
depends on our understanding that the inherent structures of a text, verbal
or otherwise, are historical constructions and are therefore subject to the same
temporal and spatial positioning characteristic of readers themselves. Moreover, a social perspective on reading suggests that the stance we assume and
our resulting interpretations are likely to evolve from the extent of our participation in various and intersecting interpretive communities (Fish, 1980). An
interlocutory relationship, rather than a transactional one, releases the reader
from abject acceptance of dominant textual structures and instead, offers the
reader the option of reading against the text.
For example, as an educator concerned about ecological sustainability, my
immediate aesthetic response to Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree is unquestionable concern for an earth, symbolized by the tree, constantly feeding the
consumable spirit of humankind, represented by the boy turned man in the
story. From a transactional point of view, reading the story is indeed a selfactualizing experience. Initially, I am, as Suleiman (1980) describes, experiencing the “positive hermeneutic” as reading becomes a self-confirming
experience. However, entering the transaction as a dialogic participant
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problematizes the self-actualizing potential of reading and introduces the possibility of reading against the authority of the text. As I assume the role of the
questioning other as described in Bakhtin’s Socratic dialogue, my identity as
a feminist kicks in and I am appalled that Silverstein’s tree is granted female
status through the third person pronoun “she” and throughout the story “she”
gives unselfishly to the male. At the point where the tree is left a mere stump
and has virtually nothing left to give, “he” still manages to take and “she”
still offers. It never ceases to surprise me that my immediate personal response rises out of a socially constructed female consciousness that cares,
nurtures, and enables without considering the genuine toll of servitude on
feminine identities and my complicity in reinscribing “patriarchal codifications
of desire” (Pinar, 1994). What permits me to assume a dialectic stance to this
text and makes me aware of the androcentricity embedded in language and
consequently the act of reading, is not my immediate aesthetic response but
the extended dialogic activity that organizes and make sense of the more visceral and emotional responses according to a particular social framework, in
this case, feminist poststructuralist theory which rejects an essentialist notion of a feminine identity. A Bakhtinian perspective on reading opens up the
selective attention of the reader, regardless of the stance, to social influences.
In The Reader, the Text, the Poem (1978), Rosenblatt explains that a valid
interpretation adheres to the text in two ways: “…the reader’s interpretation
[cannot] be contradicted by any element of the text, and that, nothing [can]
be projected for which there is no verbal basis” (p.115). The active role of the
reader in the construction of meaning through the “lived-through” experience
is contained insofar as it does not compromise the ontological privilege of the
text. This leads me to believe that reading according to Rosenblatt’s (1978)
theory is less of a social process and more of an individual act in which the
reader focuses his/her “attention on the precise responses generated by [the]
particular pattern of words” within “the limitations of the verbal cues” (p. 88).
Similar to Iser’s phenomenological approach, Rosenblatt maintains a romantic adherence to textual authority. While Iser’s implied readers are filling in
gaps, Rosenblatt’s (1978) readers are also relegated to satisfying textual
indeterminacies by dabbing paint from their personal palette of colors to fill in
the spaces of an open mesh. Meaning is illuminated in something of an impressionist painting. Rosenblatt insists that the weave of her canvas is open
enough to accommodate various degrees of constraint. And while I love the
imagery, Rosenblatt’s canvas lacks the multiple layers of meaning associated
with a matrix of polyvocalic, polyvalent, and multi-determinant utterances—
in painterly terms, the pentimenti of past lives. In contrast to Bakhtin’s assertion that meaning lies in the relation between interlocutors and is both
intersubjective and intertexual, Rosenblatt suggests the most actual readings
might lie within the range of flexibility and rigidity allowed by the textual weave.
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Stanley Fish’s “Interpretive Communities”
Both Rosenblatt and Iser developed their theory of reader-response based
on an autonomous reader in transaction with an essentially autonomous text.
The American critic, Stanley Fish challenges the individual integrity of both
reader and text with his theory of interpretive communities. In Fish’s view,
there can be no objective work of literature—the reader is the writer. In collection of his essays, Is There a Text in this Class?: The Authority of Interpretive Communities, Fish (1980) argues the case “for a method of analysis that
focuses on the reader rather than on the artifact” (p. 42). Unlike Rosenblatt
and Iser, whose theories of reader-response still rely on the reader’s transaction with an objective text, Fish believes, the text is a sequence of unfolding
events. In Bakhtinian style, Fish contends that literature is kinetic art, moving
line by line, page by page, constantly changing and inciting the reader to be
aware of her/himself changing accordingly.
To understand the interpretive community as the source of literary meaning, we have to accept that the activities of the reader are not regarded as
leading to meaning but as having meaning (Fish, 1980, p. 158). These activities include “the making and revising of assumptions, the rendering and regretting of judgments, the coming to and abandoning of conclusions, the giving
and withdrawing of approval of answers, the solving of puzzles” (p. 159). Interpretive communities account for groups of individuals who interpret particular texts in a similar fashion as a result of their assimilation of shared sign
systems. Fish posits that an individual’s interpretation is a function of the social constructs of the group to which s/he belongs. Readers develop interpretive strategies, habits of perception and constructed models for making sense
of the world specific to their social and historical positions. The shared set of
rules internalized by an interpretive community will promote a sense of uniform understanding among its members, constrain the production of meaning and control the range and the direction of response (Tompkins, 1980).
Certainly the idea of the text “unfolding itself” is consistent with Bakhtin’s
“alive and developing” (p. 272) language. Fish’s “interpretive communities”
also account for the social constitution of the reader’s identity and the shared
apperceptive background that represents the centripetal or rule-governed
forces that promote unity in meaning. The centrifugal or diversifying forces
that defy the concretization of the abstract text by a subjective reader can be
accounted for in Fish’s theory if we consider that an individual can belong to
any number of intersecting interpretive communities. Furthermore, even if
two individuals belonged to the same set of interpretive communities, their
perspectives would vary according to the degree of their participation.
According to Fish, authors too, are members of interpretive communities
and invite readers to apply a set of interpretive strategies. If the readers belong to the same interpretive community as the author they will possess the
particular strategies that will lead them to the author’s interpretation. Those
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readers outside of the authors interpretive community will likely make different meanings from the text reflective of their own set of interpretive tools.
Fish completely collapses the subject (reader)-object (text) model of
reality because in his view, literature is the act of reading. Fish (1980) defends
his theory against allegations of solipsism and relativism promulgated by such
critics as Abrams and Hirsch, who Fish presupposes are likely to argue that
without the existence of a determinate core of meanings, there would be no
normative way of construing what anyone says or writes. Individual interpretation would defy challenge or correction leading to total relativism (p. 317).
But Fish maintains that relativism does not pose a threat since the “possibilities and norms” are already encoded in language. Moreover, “the communication occurs within a situation and that to be in a situation is already to be in
possession of (or to be possessed by) a structure of assumptions, of practices understood to be relevant to purposes and goals that are already in
place…” (p. 318). Relativism and solipsism, in Fish’s estimation are not tenable since no one is indifferent to the norms and values contingent on communal (not idiosyncratic) beliefs that enable one’s consciousness (pp. 319-321).
While I have been suggesting that Fish’s interpretive communities hold
greater potential for actively promoting reading as a social act, the image of
the text as a function of the shared predispositions of a community of readers can bear a strange resemblance to the implied reader of more
phenomenological theories. The reader’s loosely defined “situationality”
(Shepard, 1989) within which the text unfolds runs the risk of recalling the
flexibility of Rosenblatt’s textual mesh. Iser’s and Rosenblatt’s readers must
reconcile their interpretation within textual structures through the constant
adjustment and realignment of their tentative frameworks until they get the
“right fit.” In a similar fashion, Fish’s elusive text surfaces only in the social
structures of its readers. The dialogic potential of interpretive communities is
revealed through their capacity for intersubjectivity, but likewise, there must
be an acknowledgement of the intertextual life of the words themselves.
Moreover, the “institutional embeddedness” (Fish, 1980, p. 320) of the interpretative community infers the presence of an authoritative third voice.
In literary transactions, constructive understanding does not come as
a result of total submission to either the authorial voice in the text (Iser, 2000;
Schleiermacher, 1977) or the shared social predispositions of readers (Fish,
1980). Situating meaning within the social structures of the interpretive community is not the same as locating meaning within a tripartite construction,
that is, in the dialogic relation between subject and addressee. Like Iser and
Rosenblatt, Fish cannot account for any possible conflict between reader and
text or the crisis arising from unresolvable tensions within the text or individual readers. There is something too convenient about the idea that as soon
as a reader brings discord to the interpretive community, difference is subsumed by the immediacy of a “structure of assumptions” (Fish, 1980, p. 318)
which purports that “meanings come already calculated” (Fish, 1980, p. 318).
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Fish seems satisfied with the existence of social structures to produce
counterarguments against those who would condemn his theory on the basis
of solipsism. An educative application of Bakhtin’s epistemology would be to
engage interpretive communities dialogically to radically deconstruct the “structure of norms” (Fish, 1980, p. 318) within which language is perceived.
The authority of the interpretive community can appear deceivingly consensual. But consensus usually implies compromise. As David Shepard (1989) notes
not all voices carry equal weight within the discourse community. Fish attributes
the authority of the interpretive community to persuasion. However, since Fish’s
examination of the interpretive community does not extend too far beyond the
realm of literary criticism, he does not consider a history replete with the grim
realities of the use of persuasion as a regulating force to establishing and maintaining authority. In “Discourse in the Novel” (1934-1935), a historically situated Bakhtin (1981), writing from Stalinist Russia, manages to offer dialogic
redemption to Fish’s notion of persuasion by elaborating on the difference between an “internally persuasive discourse as opposed to one that is externally
authoritative” (p. 345). More important, Bakhtin describes the internally persuasive word in the light of self/other relations and goes much further than Fish in
clearly suggesting the meaning making possibilities associated with intersections of competing discourse communities.
In the everyday rounds of our consciousness, the internally persuasive
word is half-ours and half-someone else’s. Its creativity and productiveness consist precisely in the fact that such a work awakens new
and independent words, that it organizes masses of our words from
within, and does not remain in an isolated and static condition. It is not
so much interpreted by us as it is further, that is freely, developed, applied to new material, new conditions; it enters into interanimating relationships with new contexts. More than that, it enters into an intense
interaction, a struggle with other internally persuasive discourses. (pp.
345-346)
Perhaps Fish’s (1980) reluctance to explore more fully, the tension-filled and
contradiction-ridden possibilities for the word that is “half-ours and half-someone else’s” stems from his conviction that while it is always possible to break
free from one’s own perspective, the beliefs and opinions of others will always
be seen as foreign. In contrast, Bakhtin merges the self and other in dialogicity.
As a consequence, the beliefs and opinions of others are linked to any possibility of authoring the self. Extending Fish’s theory to account for the various degrees to which individuals belong to multiple intersecting interpretive
communities introduces a disruptive force to the shared unity in meaning. To
my mind, it is the capacity of the individual to contribute to an interpretive community on the basis of shared meanings and to bring also with her/him, the tensions associated with meanings gleaned from other communities that has
significant potential for provoking dialectical encounters leading to social change.
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 205
Conclusion
Bakhtin’s dialogism can extend the central purposes of transactional reading
to encompass the possibility of reading as a social and political act. A dialogic
consciousness engages readers in the ethical practice of answerability, for
once we are awakened to new meanings, we are compelled to respond by
either taking action or choosing to ignore the significance of the utterance. A
dialogic perspective on the phenomenology of reading releases the implied
reader from the structural constraints of the text and instead of abject acceptance favors the opportunity to assume the various vantage points in the text,
namely, those of the narrator, the characters, and the plot, to enter “into
interanimating relationships with new contexts” (Bakhtin, 1981, p. 346). But,
in my opinion, the intersections of Fish’s interpretive communities hold the
greatest promise for moving reader-response from the atomistic act of the
individual to the interconnectedness of complex social networks. Bakhtin’s
emphasis on the “heterogeneity of social life” (Greene, 1995, p. 12) and the
heteroglossia of the utterance interrelate with the historical situation of readers in ways that potentially disrupt the structural assumptions of interpretive
communities to construct new and alien meanings.
From a socially critical standpoint, dialogism challenges the concept of the
“universality” of the reading experience (Schweichart, 1989; Showalter, 1989;
Suleiman, 1980; Straw, 1992) implied by most transactional theories of readerresponse and positively values the negative hermeneutic. Schweickart (1989)
presents the prospect of reading against the text to challenge the passivity
of the “implied reader” who is prevented from assuming a critical stance inconsistent with those exhibited by the vantage points in the text, including
that of the fictitious reader (Iser, 1987). It helps to remind one that Iser’s fictitious reader is a construct of the author and is not synonymous with the real
reader. Generally, transactional theories of reader-response subscribe to the
positive hermeneutic, which amounts to reading as a self-confirming experience through personal and psychological response. Such submission does
not adequately account for either literature as a social institution or reading
as a learned and therefore highly socialized activity (Schweickart, 1989). A
social perspective on reading compels us to examine how texts are constructed and how that construction contributes to the dialogic inclusion or
exclusion of particular communities of readers. A critical consciousness encompasses the possibility of applying, among others, perspectives rooted in
Marxism, feminism, cultural theory, queer theory, postcolonial theory, and
African-American studies to expose the hegemonic power structures inherent in reading and composition and elucidate the unwitting compliance of those
marginalized. In terms of classroom practice, teachers must ask themselves
whether students are expected to reconcile their identities with a “lived
through experience” prescribed by textual parameters.
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R EFERENCES
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Eco, U. (1979). The role of the reader: Explorations in the semiotics of texts.
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Emerson, C. (1999). Critical essays on Mikhail Bakhtin. New York: G. K. Hall & Co.
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Gardiner, M. (1992). The dialogics of critique: M. M. Bakhtin and the theory of
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Holquist, M. (1990). Dialogism: Bakhtin and his world. London: Routledge.
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Iser, W. (1980). The Reading Process: A Phenomenological Approach. In J.
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Kristeva, J. (1980). Desire in language (T. Gora, A Jardine & L. Roudiez, trans).
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LeFevre, K. B. (1987). Invention as a social act. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois
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Pinar, W. (1994). Autobiography, politics and sexuality. New York: Peter Lang
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Schweickart, P. (1989). Reading ourselves: Toward a feminist theory of reading.
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Bakhtin and cultural theory, (pp. 91-108). Manchester, UK: Manchester
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Showalter, E. (1989). Speaking of gender. New York, NY: Routledge.
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Voloshinov, V. (1929/1986). Marxism and the philosophy of language (L. Matejka
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Constructive reading, (pp. 15-29). Portsmouth NH: Boynton/Cook.
Part II
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 211
The Social Integration of Parents as
an Aspect of School Effectiveness
Iain T. Riffel
This study examined the degree to which parents think they are socially integrated into their children’s schools. In this article, the background, the purpose, the theoretical and the practical significance of the study are presented.
The theoretical framework and methodology in conducting the empirical investigation for the study are explained. Finally, some findings and the implications for theory, practice and future research are discussed.
B ACKGROUND
In the 1996-1997 school year, a directive called School-Based Planning: A
Continuous Process for Effective Education and Resource for Developing and
Implementing Annual School Plans (Manitoba Education and Training, 1996)
requested that all schools submit a detailed plan for improvement by May,
1998. Specific areas that required attention in the plan were goals, planned
actions to achieve the goals, and indicators of success. It was also expected
that the plan would be developed using a theoretical framework, such as
school effectiveness, and that data would be collected and analyzed within
such a framework. Furthermore, it was expected that educators and parents
would be involved in generating the instrument to collect data, in analyzing
the data, and, in general, having their involvement reflected in the plan.
This study focuses upon the strategy of one Winnipeg school division to
respond to this policy directive and these expectations. This school division
struck school-planning teams to review Lezotte’s (1988, 1991) model for effective schools. The school-planning teams included educators and parents
from ten of sixteen schools in the division. All educators, parents and students
in grades five through senior one were then surveyed by questionnaire, using an inquiry adapted from Lezotte’s (1988, 1991) framework. The data and
analysis, provided by a local Winnipeg research company, informed the schoolplanning teams about the priorities of educators, parents, and students across
each of a number of areas, and identified the areas each group thought the
school was doing well in, and the areas each group thought required more
attention.
212 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
P URPOSE
This study is an empirical investigation of the degree to which parents perceive they are socially integrated in the schools their children attend. The problems this study attempts to address are both theoretical and practical. Because
school effectiveness models are, for the most part, goal-oriented and are criticized on theoretical and methodological grounds, it was of theoretical interest to develop a model that examines schools and their effectiveness from a
social-systems point of view, where an aspect of school culture is specified
and compared between schools in an empirically legitimate way. This study
also attempts to remedy some of the limitations in the original survey conducted by the research company. Specifically, the original data are re-examined and given an explicit theoretical interpretation. In turn, the empirical
investigation, cast in this theoretical framework, compares four similar schools
from which specific findings are obtained, discussed, and recommendations
are proposed.
T HEORETICAL S IGNIFICANCE
This study is of theoretical interest because it offers an alternative to Lezotte’s
(1988, 1991) goal-oriented model for examining school effectiveness. Instead,
a social-systems model, as suggested by Hoy and Ferguson (1989), is developed and the data are analyzed in a novel way. The framework used to develop this model is derived from the sociological literature on alienation.
Dimensions of alienation, as proposed by Seeman (1959, 1972, 1983), are reconceptualized into dimensions of social integration. These dimensions are
then used to interpret the experiences of parents in their children’s classrooms
and schools.
There is general agreement among school effectiveness and school improvement theorists and researchers (Weber, 1971; Klitgaard & Hall, 1974;
Brookover, Beady, Flood, Schweitzer, & Wisenbaker, 1979; Edmonds, 1983;
Purkey & Smith, 1983; Rutter, 1983; Lezotte, 1988, 1991) that schools having higher student achievement and staff productivity share many traits. However, there is little direct evidence that indicates which specific improvements
will yield increases in student performance, that is, causal relationships are
very difficult to establish. According to Clark, Lotto, and Astuto (1989), “the
yield of school effects correlated with school outcomes from the traditional
school effectiveness studies has been modest” (p. 164). Such assertions are
often contested because they are either inferred or appear marginally evidentiary. According to Hoy and Ferguson (1989), “the work of Coleman, Brookover,
Rutter, and Edmonds is typical of educational studies on effective schools.
Much of the research has been criticized on measurement, statistical, methodological and theoretical grounds” (p. 259). Over time, these criticisms have
undermined the theory and research on school effectiveness because there
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 213
are few, if any, studies that rely on either comparative or longitudinal data that
could establish, sufficiently, cause-effect relationships.
This study is significant to the theory and research on school effectiveness
and school improvement, because it develops a social-systems model for
examining schools.
Time after time observers report that the organizational climate in successful school is obvious but hard to specify. Successful schools work
for all people in the building. They are not schools for students; nor
are they schools for teachers and administrators. They work for adults
and children and adolescents. ... Good schools are good places to
live and work, for everybody (Clark, Lotto, & Astuto, 1989, p. 183).
According to Owens (2001), some of the characteristics that have been
associated with effective schools are less crucial than “the sense of community, in which alienation is reduced and a sense of mutual sharing is strengthened” (p. 126).
Thus, the discussion on alienation is renewed and social integration is developed as a line of inquiry for examining the effectiveness of schools. Seeman
(1983) acknowledges the disenchantment on the part of theorists and researchers with alienation and its negative portrayal of current social conditions; a negativity that has probably contributed to decreasing interest in this
line of social inquiry. He offers social integration as an alternative because:
the negative word alienation, when seen in its positive side and in a
broad sense, signifies membership – meaning the variety of fundamental ways in which the individual is grounded in society: by way
of the sense of efficacy, inclusion, meaningfulness, engagement,
trust and value commitment (Seeman, 1983, p. 182).
The social-systems model for examining effectiveness in schools, is significant because the effective organization is equally concerned about incapacitating people and placing undue strain upon its members as it is with
student achievement and staff performance. “Why effective schools exist,
are sustained, fail to emerge, or fail over time is unclear. ... The key, however,
lies in the people who populate particular schools at particular times and their
interaction within these organizations” (Clark, Lotto, & Astuto, 1989, p. 168).
Hoy and Ferguson (1989) compare the goal-oriented and social-systems models, and state:
Both of the models seem to share a common assumption, namely,
that it is possible, and desirable, to arrive at the single set of evaluative criteria, and thus a single statement about organizational effectiveness. The goal model stresses the successful attainment of specific objectives, while the systems model is more concerned with
214 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
internal consistency, the ability to adapt and the optimization of resources. ... It is assumed that all formal organizations, such as schools,
attempt to achieve certain objectives and to develop group products
through the manipulation of material and human resources; hence
this study of effectiveness is concerned with both organizational
means and ends. ... Consequently, organizational effectiveness is
defined as the extent to which any organization as a social system,
given certain resources and means, fulfills its objectives without incapacitating its means and resources and without placing undue strain
upon its members (pp. 262-263).
When considering organizations, like schools, that depend on the manipulation of human resources (means), which are seeking to achieve increased
student achievement and staff performance (ends), attention to the alienation of individuals is especially relevant. For example, Seeman (1972) observes
that changes are underway in the sphere of work where the trend is toward
engagement and professionalization. This un-alienated state is seemingly related to notions of social integration that are explored in this study. For Seeman
(1972), social integration has
a striking parallel to the varieties of alienation: competence is the
obverse of powerlessness; understanding vs. meaninglessness; trust
and social regulation vs. normlessness; cultural commitment vs. value
isolation; intrinsic work orientation vs. self-estrangement; and
colleagueship vs. social isolation (pp. 520-521).
However, Seeman (1972) acknowledges the question of socialization also
remains one of the most neglected areas of work, much like alienation, by
virtue of the decreasing interest observed in the literature. In the sphere of
work, Seeman (1972) recommends that future research place greater emphasis on the solution theme, where engagement, not alienation, is the focus.
P RACTICAL S IGNIFICANCE
This study is of practical interest because it shows that there are similarities
and differences between schools in the social integration of parents. This study
assumes that schools can make a difference, that is, schools can have positive effects on student achievement, staff productivity, and parental engagement, when schools improve in certain aspects of their operation. Parental
involvement in schools is also widely considered a feature of effective schools
and is seen as having a positive impact on student achievement (Henderson,
1987; Tangri & Moles, 1987; Haynes, Corner, & Hamilton-Lee, 1989; Epstein,
1995; Deal & Peterson, 1999; Reynolds & Teddlie, 2000). Therefore, it is of
practical interest to examine what parents think about their connection with
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 215
and involvement in their children’s school, as an aspect of that school’s effectiveness. Thus, this study focuses on parents’ sense of engagement and efficacy in their children’s school, in light of their own experience, given the ways
that they are or are not involved, and, of course, their perceptions of their children’s experience in classrooms and schools. According to Epstein (1995):
If educators view children simply as students, they are likely to see
the family as separate from the school. If educators view students
as children, they are likely to see both the family and the community
as partners with the school in children’s education and development
(p. 701).
Thus, this study is relevant to practitioners because the secondary examination of existing data provides the basis for discussing the ways by which
system administrators, school principals and teachers might more effectively
promote the social integration of parents in their children’s schools. This study
offers a means for them to inform the development of policy and devise recommendations for school improvement because it also offers a framework
that attempts to relate the social integration of parents to matters of institutional effectiveness.
This study also attempts to address, in part, the inability of school-planning teams to identify achievable goals and to recommend plans for improving those things that will most likely make a difference in schools. The
criticisms of the research on effectiveness and school improvement are echoed in the difficulties the local school-planning teams experienced in analyzing
the original school effectiveness data provided the research company.
Firstly, what constituted a “high” or “low” score for a given area or for a
given item in the original questionnaire was left to local interpretation. Also,
the original report did not provide each school with any comparative data from
all schools in the division. Overall areas of strength from school to school were
not presented, nor were data on areas that required attention. The absence
of comparative data undermined the potential for school administrators to learn
from each other in meaningful ways.
Secondly, school-planning teams were left to facilitate the interpretation
of the data with their local staff and parent groups, this from their limited knowledge of the research on effective schools and school improvement. A limited
knowledge of this research literature and research methods undermined their
ability to affirm or contest findings in legitimate ways.
Thirdly, because school-planning teams were not able to examine the original data, the discovery and interpretation of other patterns that emerged in
the data could not be attempted. The desirability of regrouping items or categorizing questions under different frameworks was considered by some
school-planning teams but was not seen as being feasible.
216 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
T HEORETICAL F RAMEWORK
The original survey that this study relied upon for its data was inspired by the
work of Lezotte (1988, 1991), who identifies several areas that promote school
effectiveness. These areas include a safe and orderly environment, a clear
and focused mission, a climate of high expectations, opportunities to learn,
monitoring of student progress, and home-school partnerships. It is apparent
that throughout the literature on school effectiveness, and across each of
Lezotte’s (1988, 1991) areas for school improvement, a strong theme
emerges. Parents’ estimation of their children’s school’s effectiveness is related to the degree to which parents think they influence the school’s direction, influence decisions about their children, share values and goals with
others, agree with others in matters of behavior, participate in their children’s
education, and value the school experience of their children.
Just as in the original survey, parents’ impressions about their schools were
gathered to identify needs and suggest improvements using Lezotte’s (1988,
1991) school effectiveness framework, this study examines those same parents’ impressions using a different theoretical framework, that is, social integration. In light of Seeman’s (1959, 1972, 1983) dimensions of alienation, a
theoretical model for social integration is constructed for this study. Dimensions of powerfulness, meaningfulness, normfulness, inclusion, and satisfaction serve to describe the degree to which parents think they are socially
integrated into their children’s schools and classrooms.
Firstly, powerfulness is defined by the parents’ view of their ability to influence the decisions and direction of the school in ways that affect their children’s lives. Powerfulness is a function of parental involvement in developing
the mission, goals, plans for improving the school, and in making decisions
about their children.
The second dimension, meaningfulness, is defined by the parents’ sense
of connection to the values and goals of the school. Meaningfulness is a function of the positive experience of parents, and understanding with other parents and educators that classroom and school activities are important and have
purpose.
Thirdly, normfulness is defined by the parents’ view of the acceptability of
the behaviors of teachers and students in achieving their goals. Within the
classroom, normfulness is, in large part, a function of the parents’ view that
teachers display appropriate attitudes, work habits, and keep their students
interested and progressing. Within the school, in general, normfulness is a
function of the parents’ view that expectations for achievement and personal
behavior are clearly set and that expectations for relationships between participants in the school are defined and respected.
Fourthly, inclusion is defined by the parents’ involvement in their children’s
education. Within the classroom, inclusion is, in large part, a function of the
parents’ view that teachers communicate with them regularly to help them
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 217
understand the curriculum and inform them about their children’s progress.
In this context, feelings of trust and the realization that parents and teachers
share similar goals influences their perceptions of inclusion. Within the school,
inclusion is a function of the parents’ view that they are actively involved with
teachers and are working together. The belief that parents are welcome in
classrooms and schools influences their perceptions of inclusion.
Finally, satisfaction, as the fifth dimension of social integration, is defined
by the parents’ perception of the happiness and success experienced by their
children at school. From the perspective of parents, their perceptions of satisfaction are mostly a function of their observations of their children’s experiences. Within the classroom, satisfaction is, in large part, a function of the
parents’ view that teachers celebrate their children’s accomplishments and
highlight their progress. Within the school, in general, satisfaction is a function of the parents’ view that their children are happy to go to school. This
indicates to parents that their children are safe, connected to others, interested, and successful.
Thus, this study and the original survey are united in their recognition that
parents develop impressions about schools either from direct observation and
their own experience, or by reflecting upon the experience of their children.
However, in contrast, the framework of this study explores the degree to which
parents report their sense of social integration beyond the single category of
“home-school partnerships”. That is, the social integration of parents is examined across all areas of school effectiveness originally identified. Because
these perceptions relate to several aspects of a school’s operation - mission
and goals, climate, ethos, values, and relationships - the perceived social integration of parents can rightly be considered a broadly based measure of a
school’s effectiveness.
M ETHODOLOGY
Although ten schools participated in the original survey, only four schools,
comparable in program, size, and survey response rate, were selected for this
study. The schools, identified by pseudonyms, were Parkland, Westview,
Hillcrest, and Lakeside. At the time of the original survey, 165 families were
surveyed at Parkland, 178 at Westview, 253 at Hillcrest, and 339 families at
Lakeside. The response rates for the original survey were 51% at Parkland,
75% Hillcrest, 80% at Lakeside, and 82% at Westview. All four schools selected are Early-Middle Years schools; Westview and Hillcrest are similar because they are both dual-track schools, where English instruction and French
immersion programs are delivered; Parkland and Lakeside are both English
instruction schools.
Although there are five variables that measure the degree to which parents think they are socially integrated into schools, other than for the powerfulness variable, each of the other variables were examined in two ways. That
218 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
is, there are two meaningfulness variables, one related to school values and
the other related to school goals. For the remaining dimensions, normfulness,
inclusion, and satisfaction variables, each are considered in two contexts the classroom and the school. In fact then, nine variables are operationalized
and measured in the study.
Because this study relied upon existing parent data from the four schools,
as collected by the research company, original survey items were first
regrouped conceptually, then, justified empirically. That is, regrouped items
from the original survey were correlated in order to verify that they measured
related aspects. Then, descriptive statistics were produced for each variable
and scores were skewed to the right. Descriptive statistics were also produced for each of the items within each variable for each of the schools so
that trends observed in the perceptions of parents could be highlighted.
F INDINGS
In order to examine whether parents experience social integration differently
in different schools, the data were examined in several ways. For the purposes
of this article, however, only the mean score for each variable in each school
is presented as a percentage, and the percentage of parents who responded
“always” and “often” to all of the items in each of the variables are presented.
In each of the following tables, “P” represents the powerfulness variable,
“Mv” represents meaningfulness of school values, “Mg” represents meaningfulness of school goals, “Nc” represents normfulness in the classroom,
“Ns” represents normfulness in the school, “Ic” represents inclusion in the
classroom, “Is” represents inclusion in the school, “Sc” represents satisfaction in the classroom, and “Ss” represents satisfaction in the school. “PL”
represents Parkland, “WV” represents Westview, “HC” represents Hillcrest,
and “LS” represents Lakeside.
Table 1 presents the mean, as a percentage, for each variable for each
school. This table shows that two schools, Parkland and Hillcrest, have the
highest mean scores across all the variables. The two schools that show the
lowest mean scores across the variables are Westview and Lakeside. The
table also shows that there are few differences between the schools that are
5% or more. It is also noted that the two variables that show the highest mean
scores across the schools are satisfaction in the school (Ss) and meaningfulness of school values (Mv). The variable that shows the lowest mean score
across the schools is powerfulness (P). Moreover, the dimensions of social
integration experienced by parents in the context of the school (Ns, Is and
Ss) show higher mean scores than the same dimensions experienced by parents in the context of the classroom (Nc, Ic, and Sc).
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 219
Table 1
Mean Percentages for Each Variable in Each School
School Variables
P
Mv
Mg
Nc
Ns
Ic
Is
Sc
Ss
PL
78.8
93.4
89.9
88.9
91.5
87.7
88.9
89.0 96.5
WV
75.9
92.0
86.2
84.7
89.2
83.3
85.8
89.0 94.5
HC
77.4
91.1
87.6
88.4
91.1
87.5
89.2
88.4 95.5
LS
72.4
89.5
85.2
83.1
85.8
78.1
81.7
82.0 91.4
Table 2 presents the percentage of parents who responded “always” and
“often” to all of the items for each of the variables in each school. Again, this
table shows that two schools, Parkland and Hillcrest, have the highest percentage of parents who answered “always” and “often” to all items within
each of the variables. The two schools where the least percentage of parents
consistently answered the same are again, Westview and Lakeside. Notably,
the two variables that show the highest percentage of parents who answered
“always” and “often” to all of the items within each of the variables are satisfaction in the school (Ss) and meaningfulness of school goals (Mg). The variables that show the lowest percentage of parents who answered “always”
and “often” to all of the items within each of the variables are normfulness in
the classroom (Nc) and, powerfulness (P). Again, the dimensions of social integration experienced by parents in the context of the school (Ns, Is and Ss)
show higher mean scores than the same dimensions experienced by parents
in the context of the classroom (Nc, Ic, and Sc).
Table 2
Percentage of Parents Who Answered “Always” and “Often” to
All Items for Each Variable in Each School
School Variables
P
Mv
Mg
Nc
Ns
Ic
Is
Sc
Ss
PL
17.2
63.8
76.2
31.3
48.5
51.9
59.3
58.0 75.6
WV
10.6
59.4
63.0
24.5
29.6
41.3
44.1
58.2 68.9
HC
15.2
56.2
68.6
35.9
46.3
50.0
56.5
56.9 74.6
LS
12.5
51.2
61.5
21.5
32.5
29.8
40.4
37.1 57.6
220 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
These findings show that parents at some schools consistently experience
higher social integration than parents do at other schools. Parkland has the
highest mean in most variables (P, Nc, Ns, Ic, Sc and Ss), the second highest
mean in the Is variable, the highest percentage of parents who answered “always” and “often” to all of the items in most variables (P, Mv, Mg, Ns, Ic, Is,
and Ss), and the second highest percentage in the Sc variable. Hillcrest has
the highest mean in the Is variable, the second highest mean in three variables (Nc, Ns, and Ic), the highest percentage of parents who answered always” and “often” to all of the items in the Nc variable, and the second highest
percentage in four variables (Ns, Ic, Is, and Ss). Conversely, Lakeside has the
lowest mean in most variables (P, Nc, Ns, Ic, Is, Sc and Ss) and the lowest
percentages of parents who answered “always” and “often” to all the items
in most variables (Mv, Mg, Nc, Ns, Ic, Is, Sc and Ss). Westview has the second lowest mean in the Nc variable and the second lowest percentage of parents who answered “always” and “often” to all of the items in four variables
(Nc, Ns, Ic and Is). However, Westview also has the second highest mean
and the highest percentage of parents who answered “always” and “often”
to all the items in the Sc variable and a higher percentage of parents who answered “always” and “often” to all the items in the Ss variable.
It is also apparent that parents in the four schools consistently experience
some dimensions of social integration over others. Satisfaction in the school
(Ss), for all four schools, has the highest mean, and the highest percentage of
parents who answered “always” and “often” to all of the items. Conversely,
powerfulness (P), in the four schools, has the lowest mean, and the lowest
percentage of parents who answered “always” and “often”. Furthermore,
the means and the percentage of parents who answered “always” and “often” to all of the items are substantially higher for variables examined in the
context of the school (Ns, Is, and Ss) than the same variables examined in
the context of the classroom (Nc, Ic, and Sc). Although not reflected in the
data presented in this report, the item-by-item analysis in the study also shows,
in general, that the mean percentage of parents who answered “always” and
“often” to items that are associated with their children’s experience are generally lower than items related to the direct experience of the parents.
D ISCUSSION
It is clear, then, that the research model presented in this study is supported,
that is, the model offers an empirically legitimate way of obtaining important
data on an aspect of school effectiveness. The findings are consistent with
the theoretical framework of this study: parents’ perceptions of their social
integration into their children’s school may properly be considered an estimation by the parents of that school’s effectiveness.
Because the dimensions of social integration were observed in many of
Lezotte’s (1989, 1991) categories, planning for improvements in one dimension would likely have a positive effect on other areas of school effectiveness
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 221
areas positively. For example, where educators work to increase a sense of
powerfulness, the parents’ estimation of the school’s environment as “safe
and orderly”, its mission as “clear and focused” and its home-school relations as a “partnership” will likely be more positive. A safe and orderly environment focuses, in part, on parents’ perceptions related to their expectation
that undesirable behaviors are generally absent from the school. A clear and
focused mission relates, in part, to parents’ perceptions about their understanding of the school’s mission or goals representing all students and parents. Finally, home-school partnerships direct attention to parents’ perceptions
of their involvement in helping the school achieve its mission. In a similar way
then, where principals and teachers work to increase a sense of meaningfulness of school values, the parents’ belief that the climate supports “high expectations” will also be strengthened. Where educators work to increase a
sense of meaningfulness of school goals, the parents’ estimation of the mission as “clear and focused” will also likely increase. Where educators work
to increase a sense of normfulness in the classroom, the parents’ estimation
of the classroom as providing “opportunities to learn” and giving attention to
the “monitoring of student progress” will likely be more positive. Where educators work to increase a sense of normfulness in the school, the parents’
regard for the “safe and orderly environment”, the “climate of high expectations” and the “monitoring of student progress” will also likely increase.
Where educators work to increase a sense of inclusion in the classroom and
in the school, the parents’ estimation of the commitment to “home-school
partnerships” will also likely increase. Where educators work to increase a
sense of satisfaction in the classroom, the parents’ perceptions of the classroom’s climate, as one which favors “high expectations” and the “monitoring of student progress”, will likely be more positive. Finally, where educators
work to increase a sense of satisfaction in the school, the parents’ regard for
the “safe and orderly environment” and the view of the school providing “opportunities to learn” will also likely increase.
The findings are also relevant to the study of school effectiveness on methodological grounds. Without the comparison of similar schools, it would have
been difficult to determine what constituted a “high” or “low” score for each
dimension, given that all scales were generally skewed to the right. By means
of these comparisons, showing differences for each of the schools on each
of the variables, strengths and areas for improvement for each school can be
identified with more precision.
Generally, the literature on school effectiveness has shown that effective
schools show similar traits: high attendance, positive student attitudes, high
achievement scores, good behavior, and increased staff productivity. However, it has been argued that there is little evidence to suggest that by improving one area of school effectiveness, other areas will be positively affected
(Clark, et al., 1989). On the other hand, there is increasing evidence to sug-
222 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
gest that where schools focus on organizational culture, such indicators of
effectiveness improve.
A substantial and growing body of empirical evidence, derived from
vigorous research in schools and other educative organizations, indicates that the effectiveness of these organizations, in terms of student learning and development, is significantly influenced by the quality and characteristics of the organizational culture. Not surprisingly,
the research clearly suggests that schools that emphasize
supportiveness, open communication, collaboration, intellectuality,
and that reward achievement and success outperform (in terms of
achievement, attendance, dropout rate, frustration, and alienation)
those that emphasize competition, constraint and restrictiveness,
rules and standard operating procedures, and that reward conformity (Owens, 2001, p. 175).
These observations are relevant to school improvement initiatives as they
relate to matters of organizational effectiveness, probably because they reduce the alienation of those involved in schools, including parents.
The findings are consistent with the literature on alienation: alienation is a
multi-faceted phenomenon; however, it has relatively distinct dimensions, as
can be noted in Seeman’s (1959) model and the findings of this study. Thus,
measures of powerfulness, meaningfulness, and normfulness did not serve
as indicators of inclusion and satisfaction.
The finding that parents, in all four schools, experienced higher degrees of
social integration in the context of the school rather than in the classroom is
surprising because one might predict that parents would experience greater
social integration in the classroom, where their children work and play, and
where parents are most inclined and likely to speak and work with school staff.
However, this finding may result from the fact that this school division has
provided significant professional development for school administrators which
has focused on fostering greater participation from community members,
particularly parents. School administrators have focused on doing this, and
this may well be recognized by parents. Teachers, on the other hand, may
not have been socialized to the same extent as administrators. Perhaps parents do not view teachers as community builders to the same extent. Or perhaps, as Epstein’s (1995) observes:
Once people hear about such concepts as family-like schools, they
remember positive examples of schools, teachers, and places in the
community that were ‘like a family’ to them. They may remember
how a teacher paid individual attention to them, recognized their
uniqueness, or praised them for real progress, just as a parent might.
Or they might recall things at home that were ‘just like school’ and
supported their work as a student, or they might remember commu-
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 223
nity activities that made them feel smart or good about themselves
and their families. They will recall that parents, siblings, and other
family members engaged in and enjoyed educational activities and
took pride in the good schoolwork or homework that they did, just
as the teacher might (p. 703).
I MPLICATIONS
There are several implications of this study for school effectiveness theory
and research, and for this study and practice of social integration. These implications deserve the attention of school principals, their staffs, and system
administrators.
First, the social-systems model for considering school effectiveness, suggested by Hoy and Ferguson (1989) had only been suggested, not explored.
Like other goal-oriented theories, this model confirms that similarities and differences exist between schools, and that some schools are, in fact, better
than others at promoting the social integration of parents, that is, these schools
are more effective. However, the similarities and differences between schools
are more apparent using the model presented in this study than in other studies. How the schools ranked in relation to each other was more relevant than
what constituted a “high” or “low” score. Future school effectiveness research should be conducted so as to show similarities and differences between schools, across a range of very similar aspects, or should be conducted
to show trends and changes on such variables in one or more schools over
time, that is, longitudinal research. Both types of studies should be conducted
in different school systems, including public and private, if only to provide some
data which should be increasingly relevant to policy makers in an environment
of school choice.
Although the literature on alienation has been reviewed in this study, the
implications of this study are more related to theory development in regard
to social integration. This study develops and operationalizes a conceptual
model for considering social integration in institutions like schools, which,
again, had only been suggested in the research, not pursued. Furthermore,
the model that is used in this study has attempted to identify and operationalize
some important aspects of organizational culture, an increasingly important
orientation in the literature on organizations.
There are also some important implications of this study which are of practical interest to system administrators, the principals and the teachers of the
schools that were studied. It is reasonable to suggest that Parkland has little
to improve in socially integrating its parents whereas Lakeside could improve
the social integration of its parents by developing strategies that focus on all
dimensions in both the classroom and the school. Hillcrest, on the other hand,
could develop strategies that would improve the social integration of its parents by increasing their sense of powerfulness, their view of the meaningfulness of the school’s values and goals, and their satisfaction with the experience
224 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
their children receive in classrooms. In doing so, the parents’ estimation of
their school’s effectiveness would very probably increase in Lezotte’s (1988,
1991) areas of safe and orderly environment, clear and focused mission, climate for high expectations and success, and home-school partnerships.
Westview could develop strategies that would increase the social integration
of its parents by increasing their sense of powerfulness, their view of the
meaningfulness of the school’s values and goals, and their view of normfulness
and inclusion in both the context of the classroom and the school.
However, despite the findings of this study that parents experience different dimensions of social integration in different schools, it is clear that all
schools could improve their perceived effectiveness by focusing more attention on parents’ experience of powerfulness. Seeman (1972) asserts four
propositions about powerlessness that are relevant to fostering parents’ perceptions of powerfulness in schools. The first proposition emphasizes the importance of mediating between the needs of the parents and the requirements
imposed by the government (Manitoba Education and Training), and the school
division. The implication of practical import is that all educators, not solely
administrators, become more skilled at mediating competing needs in their
immediate community. Seeman (1972) states:
[First], membership and participation in control-relevant organizations
is associated with low alienation (powerlessness). A good deal has
been said in the mass-society literature concerning the need for organizations that can mediate between the individual and the state or
corporation. The implication is that such organizations provide the individual with an instrument for control over [his/her] affairs, hence
the prediction that participation will be associated with low alienation: i.e. with a relatively high sense of mastery. (p. 476)
Seeman’s (1972) second and third propositions emphasize the importance
of organized parental involvement in schools. In light of these propositions,
Parent Advisory Councils and the inclusion of parents on various school committees are very likely good ways of increasing their sense of powerfulness.
Their suggestions must, however, be taken seriously. At the time the original
study was conducted, Parent Advisory Councils and the expectation that parents would be involved in developing annual school plans had only been recently legislated by the Manitoba government. In an effort to mediate between
the needs of parents and the needs of the school, system administrators, principals and teachers must continue to explore ways to help organize parents
in meaningful and helpful ways. Again, Seeman (1972) may be helpful here:
[Second], the alienated (powerless) person is not likely to engage in
planned, instrumentally oriented action. (p. 478) [Third], the powerless are characterized by their readiness to participate in relatively
unplanned and/or short-term protest activities. (p. 482)
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 225
Seeman’s (1972) fourth proposition gives emphasis to a surprising finding
of this study. That is, in all four schools, the data suggest that the students’
views and perspectives could be more carefully considered. Says Seeman
(1972):
[Fourth], those who feel powerless tend to learn less of the controlrelevant information available in the environment. In a series of studies
in varied contexts, it has been demonstrated that poor learning and
high powerlessness are associated. The poor learning is not simply
a function of such variables as intelligence, test-taking skills, or status background, for the learning in question is differential: it does not
occur with any and all information, but occurs especially when the
information involved is potentially useful in the planning, management, and control of life outcomes (p. 486).
In some respects, this is supported by recent studies that have attempted
to show that students:
who are at risk are much more likely affected by the quality of instruction than are those who are not at risk. At-risk students - those who
feel depressed outside of school, invest almost no time in doing
homework, and hang out for many hours with friends - are the most
likely to be alienated from instruction when it is boring and non-relevant. However, when instruction is challenging, academically demanding, and relevant, these students are almost as attentive in class
as those who are not at risk. Under such conditions, students who
are at risk may even be more engaged than their less troubled peers.
Students who are at risk tend to reap greater benefits from every
improvement in the quality of instruction (Yair, 2000, p. 261).
In some respects the conceptual framework and empirical results of this
study warrant further exploration. Future studies could complement this inquiry by first, confirming the identification and operational definitions for each
of dimensions of social integration in a more rigorous way. Some of the dimensions identified in this study and their operational definitions were more
closely tied to the original survey items than were they the clear obverse of
Seeman’s dimensions of alienation.
Secondly, future studies could expand upon this line of inquiry by creating
an original survey instrument, where items are specifically devised to collect
data about social integration. Because the original survey was intended to
collect data about Lezotte’s (1989, 1991) perspective on school effectiveness,
it is reasonable to suggest that different findings may result from different
empirical items, depending on their validity as measures of social integration.
Thirdly, future studies could expand upon the results of this inquiry by correlating perceptions of parental social integration with students’ attitudes,
226 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
attendance, behavior, and achievement. Because many practitioners and especially the public view school effectiveness as a matter of heightened student achievement, examining social integration more broadly could provide
an indication to system administrators, school principals and teachers alike,
which areas require more attention in their schools to heighten concern for
student achievement.
Finally, it follows that future studies might also expand this line of inquiry
by examining and comparing the social integration of all school members,
which, of course, would include educators, clerical/custodial staff, and students themselves. Other inquiries that work more obviously to show the connection between what Owens (2001) has called “the quality and characteristics
of the organizational culture” and the effectiveness of schools may provide a
fuller understanding of the dimensions of parental social integration in schools.
R EFERENCES
Brookover, W. B., Beady, C., Flood, P., Schweitzer, J., & Wisenbaker, J. (1979).
School social systems and student achievement: Schools can make a difference. New York: Praeger.
Clark, D., Lotto, L., & Astuto, T. (1989). Effective schools and school improvement:
A comparative analysis of two lines of inquiry. In J. Burdwin (Ed.), School
Leadership (pp. 159-186). Newbury Park, California: Sage Publications.
Coleman, J., Campbell, E., Hobson, C., McPartland, J., Mood, A., Weinfield, F., &
York, R. (1966). Equality of educational opportunity. Washington DC: U.S.
Government Printing Office.
Deal, T. & Peterson, D. (1999). Shaping school culture: The heart of leadership.
San Francisco, California: Jossey-Bass.
Edmonds, R. (1983). Search for effective schools: The identification and analysis
of city schools that are instructionally effective for poor children. East
Lansing, Michigan: Michigan State University.
Epstein, J. (1995, May). School/family/community partnerships. Phi Delta Kappan,
701-712.
Haynes, N. M., Corner, J. P. & Hamilton-Lee, M. (1989). School climate enhancement through parental involvement. The Journal of School Psychology, 27,
87-90.
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 227
The Origins of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau
John Tooth
I NTRODUCTION
It is with irony that today, as with the past we know so little regarding something so obvious, namely school textbooks1. Perhaps it is because they are
so common and ever present that we take the school text for granted. The
study of school textbooks has multiple streams, including content, use, readerresponse, bibliographic, time/space and distribution. There is no scholarship
on the distribution of school textbooks in Manitoba taught by teachers and
used by students from 1871 to the present. Within this historiographical malaise one finds the towering presence of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau
(MTBB) which opened its doors in the summer of 1931 and continues to provide books to schools today. While teachers, school boards, parents and students, then as now, regularly used the Bureau, neither the staff of the Bureau
nor scholars have researched the origins and early operation of this government office.
This study will examine the 10-year period on either side of the opening of
the Bureau in the 1920s and 1930s. The main protagonists during these two
decades were the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association (MSTA) and the
Manitoba Department of Education, in the form of Dr. Robert Fletcher, Deputy
Minister of Education. MSTA spoke to the unavailability of textbooks, several
difficulties with the curriculum and textbooks, and to the lack of book publishing capability in Manitoba, all leading to the need for a book bureau to handle textbooks, and to government inaction on all of these problems and clear
solution. On the other hand, the education department, through its chief civil
servant, Robert Fletcher, resisted MSTA’s concerns for as long as possible
and only created the Manitoba Text Book Bureau when convinced it could
improve textbook service at no cost to government and further as a means
of reducing government spending during the Great Depression by operating
the Bureau with a small surplus and eliminating the three decades old Free
Texts service.
1
“School textbooks,” “authorized textbooks,” “prescribed textbooks” and “approved
textbooks” are used interchangeably in this study, and always refer to those books
that are legally authorized by the Department of Education for use by teachers with
students in all school classrooms in all publicly funded schools in the province.
228 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
This study is important because it not only represents the first scholarly
account of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau and a different untold chapter on
the history of education in Manitoba, but it also reveals problems in schooling, then as now.
Conceptual Framework and Research Method
The work of critical educator Michael Apple (1986) assisted in setting this
study’s conceptual framework, wherein he argues that inquiries in education
must be historically located so as to be able to discover underlying issues.
Apple cites Gerald Grace (1985), British sociologist of education, as stating:
“It has the advantage … of concretely exemplifying and making visible the
relations between educational structures and processes and wider structures
of power, economy and control in particular periods of social change” (1986,
p. 11). This study on the distribution of authorized textbooks to Manitoba
schools will explore the political and economic issues surrounding the creation of the Bureau within a framework of government control of education
and textbook authorization, rural school trustee agitation to convince the government to resolve textbook distribution problems, and of the province’s
economy.
The historical research method used in this study is postmodern. Since
historiographically there is no scholarly research on the topic, I will not be examining prevailing interpretations or its scholarly value. My postmodern historical approach facilitates an exploratory, open-ended, inductive examination
of the events leading to and following the opening of the Bureau in the summer of 1931. The primary sources to be used - advertisements in newspapers, journals and catalogues, reports from educational association meetings,
and the official discourse as found in government annual reports and other
official publications - all until now have remained silent on this topic.
Primary Sources on the MTBB
A thorough search for scholarly accounts on the Manitoba Text Book Bureau
revealed not a single item. And only with a few references in the existing educational and historical publishing to this significant agency of the provincial
government were present. However, primary sources, both direct and indirect, did provide insight on the Bureau. Newspapers - such as the weeklies
the Emerson Journal and Swan River’s The Star and Times, exhaustively examined for the periods 1929 through 1932 - did provide indirect evidence primarily through advertisements by merchants who were dealing in approved
textbooks. Similarly, the Manitoba Free Press/Winnipeg Free Press and The
Winnipeg Tribune, examined for the periods April and May as well as August
through October for the periods 1929-1932, while providing useful advertising information, also had no written accounts or stories or issues or concerns
raised by columnists or letters to the editor on the Bureau.
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 229
Even The Western School Journal, an education journal published in
Winnipeg, by and for teachers of Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta, and
serving in part as the Manitoba Department of Education’s official organ beginning in 1916, had no textbook focus in the professional education portion,
and but brief information on the MTBB by the Department in its portion of
the Journal, during the period reviewed between 1916 and 1935. Shanks and
Wilson (1976) substantiated this in their work The Western School Journal
1906-1938: Introduction and Index that had no entries under the MTBB or book
bureau. However, with the Manitoba Department of Education funding the
Journal for 20 years such that when the funding was withdrawn in 1936 the
Journal ceased publication the same year, it is easy to understand that this
funding would in all likelihood have determined the nature of the less than
critical professional portion of the Journal.
The primary official discourse of the period was found in the Manitoba
Department of Education’s Annual Reports that were examined for the period 1903 through 1941. Short and long reports appeared in the annual reports
on Free Texts, later on the MTBB itself, and financial statements for provincial education expenditures. School inspectors, civil servants who were the
education department’s official representatives in the field, described in their
section of the annual reports issues related to teachers, student attendance,
school buildings and grounds, field days and student progress. While occasionally critical of teachers’ reliance on textbooks, there was no reference to
problems related to student access to textbooks. Government education reports (Report of the Education Commission, 1924; Report of the Select Committee of the Legislative Assembly, 1935b) of the time addressed issues
related to the administration and financing of schools, including textbooks.
The main source of information on the MTBB was to be found in the
Reports/Proceedings of the annual, later bi-annual, meetings of the Manitoba
School Trustees’ Association. For the period 1914 through 1937, these proceedings provided a clear picture of concern by school trustees over the sorry
state of textbooks in Manitoba, expressed as procedural motions to the government, and the debate surrounding the motions, as well as questions asked
and answered at the general meetings. Often the Minister of Education spoke
at the opening of the conferences followed by Robert Fletcher, Deputy Minister of Education, who debated school book issues with the trustees. Since
these Proceedings were for the most part transcribed accounts of the events
after 1927, we see words directly spoken by impassioned school trustees
and defensive government officials.
MSTA Concerns with Textbooks
The Issue of Availability
Dr. Robert Fletcher, First Deputy Minister of Education, from 1908 through
1939, in his address to school trustees at the 1929 MSTA general meeting
230 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
indicated that there were five main textbook suppliers in Manitoba: E. L.
Christie’s in Brandon; and in Winnipeg, W. J. Gage and Co, Toronto, which
had a western office selling its books only; the T. Eaton Co.; the Hudson’s
Bay Co.; and Russell-Lang’s (MSTA, 1929, p. 21).
As early as 1901, the T. Eaton catalogues listed school textbooks available
for sale through the Mail Order Department (pp. 168-169). A full-page advertisement in the Western School Journal spoke to the “Eaton Service in Western Canada” with illustrations of the Mail Order Buildings in Winnipeg, Regina
and Saskatoon (Eaton Co., February 1927, p. 82). Public school textbooks were
for sale from the Hudson’s Bay Co. during the opening of school in September 1932 (September 1, 1932), one year after the opening of the MTBB. No
advertisements were found for Russell-Lang’s, either in any of the newspapers or Western School Journals examined. Advertisements in the Journal
for 1927 and 1929 spoke to W. J. Gage and Co. Ltd.’s books for schools (1927,
p. 360; 1929, p. 82). The Christie School Supply Company in Brandon also
sold textbooks authorized by the Department of Education, with postage, as
required, added to the price of each book (January 1928, p. 42). Henderson’s
Winnipeg Directories (1929, p. 1722; 1932, p. 1278) under “Booksellers and
Stationers” list 23 companies in 1929 and 28 in 1932. However, after reviewing the entries, only Russell-Lang and Co., 298 Portage, appeared to be a textbook seller.
It can be deduced, therefore, that for Winnipeg and Brandon and their surrounding areas, parents and/or school trustees found it relatively easily able
to purchase certain textbooks available from these booksellers. None of the
companies mentioned above, however, guaranteed the availability of the entire Province’s approved textbooks.
While there was no direct evidence to show that Christie’s in Brandon and
T. Eaton in Winnipeg sold textbooks to rural Manitoba, it is reasonable to assume that this was the case. To what degree rural school trustees or parents
took advantage of these two booksellers’ service of providing textbooks prepaid through the mail, cannot be determined at this time. There was, however, one other mechanism that brought authorized textbooks to rural
Manitoba.
Based on a reading of the newspapers published in Emerson and in Swan
River, Manitoba, for the period 1929 through 1932, short-term local booksellers were evident. The Emerson Journal published weekly in Emerson had a
news item on its front page entitled “School Books Needed for Grade Eleven,”
(Anonymous, August 23, 1929) which indicated that Emerson High School
was not providing free textbooks for its Grade 11 students at least in the subjects of Literature, French, and Latin. For example, the authorized textbook,
Treasury of Verse for Secondary Schools Book II, was to be brought to class
during the first week of school (Anonymous, August 23, 1929, p. 1). While
there were advertisements published in the Emerson Journal from department stores and drug stores in 1929 and 1930, none indicated that they sold
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 231
textbooks. For example, A. H. Quicke’s advertisement stated that it sold Sunrise School Supplies, including scribblers, pens and pencils (September 5,
1930). So, for at least these two years, parents had to order textbooks from
Brandon or Winnipeg, purchase from other parents and use hand-me-downs
from their older children. It was not until September 1931 by Quicke’s advertisement in the Emerson Journal do we know that it was sending orders to
the recently opened MTBB: “School TextBooks (for all grades) at the Department’s Price. Order early” (September 4, 1931, p. 2). Thus, once the parents
knew what authorized textbooks were required for their children, they placed
orders at A. H. Quicke’s that would, in turn, be ordered from the Bureau.
Similarly, W. J. Lamb, “The Valley Druggist” in Swan River, placed orders
for textbooks by parents earlier in 1929 as was indicated in their advertisement: “Leave your orders early for Text Books” found in the weekly The Star
and Times (September 5, 1929). These textbooks must have been ordered
from Winnipeg or Brandon through W. J. Lamb. Interestingly, in 1930 W. J.
Lamb did not state in its August 21 advertisement in The Star and Times that
textbooks could be ordered through their drug store. Then, in 1931, W. J. Lamb
made it very clear: “Notice! We do not carry Text Books” (August 28, 1931).
That same year, Porter’s Drug Store, also of Swan River, stated in its early
September school opening advertisement: “School Supplies! Orders Taken
for School Books” (September 10, 1931) and likewise in 1932 “Leave your
orders for School Text Books with us” (September 8, 1932). Thus, extrapolating from these two rural towns, other rural centers in Manitoba also used a
combination of ordering directly from stores in Brandon or Winnipeg, using
local town stores as temporary booksellers that placed orders to stores in
Winnipeg or Brandon, and also using the Manitoba Text Book Bureau.
But there remained the vast majority of schools in Manitoba. The stark reality of Manitoba’s unconsolidated school system was made clear wherein
the annual report for the Department in 1929-1930 stated that there were
2,222 school districts and 2,019 school houses, exclusive of intermediate
schools, high schools, collegiate departments, collegiate institutes and junior
high schools (p. 128). The vast majority of the schoolhouses were one-room
schools not located in Manitoba’s two cities and smaller towns, but rather on
the prairie and parklands. How parents and schools trustees secured textbooks
can only be conjectured as utilizing booksellers in Winnipeg and Brandon,
smaller “mom and pop” drug and merchandise stores in nearby rural towns,
and after the summer of 1931, the MTBB.
To summarize, the problem of the availability of textbooks authorized by
the Department increased as one moved from the cities and towns to the
rural farming areas of Manitoba, and its myriad of isolated one-room schools.
However, since none of the booksellers prior to the MTBB committed to carrying all texts and titles in good quantities, there remained an ongoing problem for all trustees and parents no matter where they lived.
232 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
The intertwining of the problem related to the availability of textbooks and
of a clear solution as seen in the creation of a book bureau became a constant theme running throughout the Reports/Proceedings of the annual meetings of the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. During the 14th annual
convention held at the Westminster Church in Winnipeg, February 24-26, 1920,
school trustees Mr. Seater, from Rivers, who was Vice-President of MSTA,
and Mr. Crealock proposed the following motion: “That the Department of
Education be asked to establish a bureau for obtaining and distributing text
books and school supplies to the schools” (MSTA, 1920, p. 9). While the motion was left over for later consideration and not raised again at the meeting,
it represented the initial pattern of trustee focus for a Departmentally run book
bureau - that of solving the problem of getting text books to the many rural
schools in Manitoba. The following year at the Board of Trade Building in Winnipeg another MSTA resolution shed a similar but different light on the problem of textbook availability. This resolution which passed at the 15th convention
read as follows:
In view of the fact that the current text books are changed so frequently, and so frequently have to be obtained from the publishers
direct as there appears to be no firm or firms who wish to take the
contract and become responsible for the collection and distribution
of the same; We, therefore, move that the Department of Education
should establish a bureau for the collection and distribution of school
text books from the different publishers…. (1921, p. 13)
The issue addressed in this resolution was the apparent unwillingness of
booksellers in Winnipeg to carry all textbooks, exacerbated by the constant
announcement of new textbooks from different publishers. A 1923 school
trustee resolution which passed the MSTA convention stated “that owing to
the delay of the publishers in providing the necessary text books, the Department of Education be asked to establish a bureau for obtaining and distributing text books and supplies for the schools of the Province” (MSTA, 1923, p.
14). The complaint laid in this resolution was the tardiness of southern Ontario publishers in providing textbooks ordered by schools in Manitoba. At the
1924 and 1925 MSTA Conventions resolutions with an identical clause were
passed (MSTA, 1924, p. 14; MSTA, 1925, p. 15). During the 1930 MSTA convention, after passing a resolution calling on the need for a book bureau (p.
35), an extensive discussion took place between trustees and Fletcher in which
trustees asked the Deputy why they could not get the books new or already
on the curriculum. The exchange below indicated the high level of frustration
with government in not addressing the problem of availability of books for
Grades IX and X:
Dr. Fletcher: These history books were both books that were already
in use; they are not new books.
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 233
Mr. North, Carman: They were not obtainable.
Dr. Fletcher: The book we are using in Grade X this year has been
on our Grade XI list for the last seven or eight years. It is an old book.
And the other history came on to the list in January a year ago.
Mr. North: Doctor, that probably may account for some of the dissatisfaction, because here are books which have been on the curriculum, and those books were not obtainable in Manitoba; that is,
to the number required, until after January of this year, and I know in
different schools the pupils did not get those books until January of
1930. There was great difficulty in getting them, and even now in
Manitoba there are some schools don’t have them because they cannot be got. (MSTA, p. 37)
Difficulties with the Curriculum and Textbooks
A 1918 MSTA resolution called on the three Prairie Provinces to develop a
common education program, utilize common textbooks and to have teacher
certification common across the prairies (MSTA, 1918, p. 22-23). Again, in
1922, came a complex MSTA resolution that tied together common curriculum, common textbooks and the book bureaus:
Resolved that from an Educational as well as from a National standpoint this Public School Trustees’ Association, while appreciative of
any efforts that have been made in this direction, deem it expedient
to urge upon the Department of Education of this province the advisability of approaching the Departments of Education in each of the
other provinces of our Dominion of Canada with a view to arriving at
a working arrangement whereby all the provinces will have a uniform
curriculum, and the same authorized text books, and that there be
established a central bureau for the publication or purchasing and distribution of all public school books and school supplies, and that
branch bureaus be established in each provincial Department of Education. (MSTA, 1922, p. 11)
This rather astonishing resolution had as its focus the rationalization of
education across the continent by sharing three core educational features curriculum, textbooks, and book bureaus for the publication, purchase and distribution of texts. In 1924 a similar resolution at MSTA passed which called
for a book bureau for obtaining and distributing textbooks for schools in
Manitoba and, in a second clause, that textbooks be standardized across
Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta (p. 14).
Trustees believed that if a common curriculum were adapted, it would be
easy to have common textbooks, and with a book bureau, schools would ac-
234 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
tually be able to secure the textbooks that the province authorized. School
trustees were also displeased with the Programme of studies released each
summer by the Manitoba Department of Education to provide school trustees and teachers with a brief outline of the curriculum for each subject and
for each grade, as well as provide a list of approved textbooks. A 1923 MSTA
resolution stated, in its first part, that there should be a book bureau but the
second part identified a problem with the programme of studies, stating: “that
when the programme of studies is once decided upon and issued no changes
be made in same during the school year, and that this program be strictly adhered to, and that no text book be included therein which is not available at
the commencement of the school year” (MSTA, p. 14). Again, the exasperation of school trustees trying to order textbooks during the school year with
or without a local textbook supplier was evident.
A resolution that passed at the 1930 MSTA convention, while framed differently, had the same meaning:
Owing to the difficulty of obtaining text-books at the beginning of the
school term and the resultant handicap to school work, be it resolved
that the Department of Education be again requested to consider the
establishment of text-book bureau, and to have the programme of
studies sent out early in order to facilitate the placing in the hands of
pupils and teachers the necessary textbooks before school opening.
(pp. 34-35)
The late arrival in schools of the programme of studies automatically meant
the late ordering of textbooks. “Dr. Fletcher, I take exception to your statement that the programme of studies is always sent out early in August,” stated
a delegate during the debate over this 1930 motion, “because I know our
school has on one occasion not received the programme of studies for a month
after the school opened” (MSTA, 1930, p. 36). In other words, school trustees told the government that it was already difficult enough acquiring textbooks, but if the programme of studies did not arrive earlier, or at least on
time, the problems were significantly increased in terms of textbook acquisition at the local level.
School trustees further expressed concern regarding the frequency upon
which textbooks changed and resulted in increased costs to parents. While
the first MSTA resolution condemning this practice of changing textbooks
passed in 1921 (p. 13), it was not until the period 1929-1931 that this became
a rallying call. The essential point the trustees tried to make to the Department of Education was that these new books were even more difficult to acquire from the many publishers and were very costly to parents who had to
find the cash to purchase them. During the question and answer period of
the 1929 MSTA annual convention in Brandon, a school trustee asked “why
is it necessary to change text books annually, causing excessive costs to families unable to bear it?” (p. 66). While Robert Fletcher provided a detailed an-
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 235
swer explaining they were not, he also undertook to do further research, resulting in the MSTA President receiving a letter from the Minister of Education a few days after the convention which illustrated the infrequency of
changes (Hoey, March 4, 1929, in MSTA Proceedings, p. 150). However, during the resolutions’ portion of the 1929 convention, the Carman-Dufferin Local Association proposed and passed the following:
Whereas, the purchase of text books is an item of very considerable
expense to the average family; and whereas, the frequent change in
said text books tends largely to increase this expense and in many
cases creates real hardship; and whereas these continued changes
are in our opinion unwarranted and unnecessary; now therefore be
it resolved that in the opinion of this convention greater permanency
should be allowed in the use of texts and changes should only be
made after the fullest investigations have shown the necessity for
such changes. (MSTA, p. 119)
Clearly, Fletcher had not convinced the school trustees regarding the infrequency of textbook changes. The point was, of course, that he was correct in that there had been few changes since 1890 but, as a result of the revisions of the elementary and secondary program (Manitoba, 1926; Manitoba,
1927) there were now a large number of textbook changes happening.
No Local Textbook Publishing
Manitoba school trustees proposed many options to the Education Department to solve the problem of textbook supply. If textbooks were unavailable,
and even if the Department were to create a book bureau, this may still not
be sufficient to ensure that textbooks from the many publishers were always
in stock and available for distribution. Taking the solution one step further was
a 1921 MAST convention resolution that included a book bureau plus clause:
“…or if necessary, enter the publishing business themselves, in order that
the present very unsatisfactory condition of affairs may be improved” (MSTA,
1921, p. 13).
This motion told the Department to get into the publishing business. This
was so because the publishing business in Manitoba was small then, as now,
and during the 1920s, was in no way capable of publishing textbooks. The
center for publishing in Canada was Toronto and to a lesser extent Montreal.
Very often books chosen by the Department of Education in Ontario were ultimately used elsewhere in Canada, including Manitoba (Broten & Birdsall,
1980, p. 39). Certainly, the Manitoba Department of Education did not have
an editorial department or a publishing department, had a relatively small volume of textbook requirements (even though these could not be met) and appeared to have had a lack of interest in undertaking local publishing. Thus,
the domination of textbook publishing in central Canada and the underdevelopment in Manitoba lead to the problem and the solution described in the
236 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
1921 MAST resolution. Writer Val Werier in a 1950 newspaper article about
the operation of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau offered confirmation of the
dominance of central Canada in book publishing: “Practically all the books
come from Toronto. Only 2 out of 2000 titles (including library books) stocked
originate in Winnipeg” (Winnipeg Tribune, September 2). Trustees saw that
there was a close association between the creation of a book bureau and the
creation of a local textbook publishing in Manitoba.
Government Response to Manitoba School Trustees’ Concerns
Thus, the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association presented the Education
Department with a barrage of resolutions each year starting in 1920, focussing
on textbook unavailability, curriculum difficulties related to texts and lack of
local publishing capability as reasons for the creation of a book bureau. The
Education Department’s response to these problems and recommended solution could only be described as muted. The prevailing government attitude
during the 1920s and 1930s seemed to be one of educational standoffishness.
While the critical function of textbook authorizations was never doubted or
questioned to ensure the province’s curriculum was taught, there was little,
if any, government interest in how textbooks actually got into the hands of
students or of the cost or inconvenience to parents.
This was evidenced by the 1924 Report of the Educational Commission
that had been formed on June 13, 1923 by the government to investigate “the
needs of the more recently settled and less developed districts of the Province for better Educational Facilities” and “the better adaptation of the Elementary and Secondary schools to the needs of the communities they serve” (p.
3). The so-called Murray Report, named after its chair, presented in its introduction a brief summary of some presentations by the Independent Labor
Party, the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association, the Manitoba Teachers’
Federation and so on. In these report outlines, only once was there information given related to the problems with textbooks. Mr. Henry Woodcock of
Clanwilliam, representing the school trustees of Crocus Hill, Westmount,
Lakelet and Clanwilliam, “…advocated less frequent change of text books and
the advisability of the maintenance by the Department of Education of a book
depository from which books could be secured without delay” (p. 11). No further reference was given to textbooks until the Recommendations section of
the Report where it stated:
Your Commission, impressed by the evidence of the vexatious delays in the organization of school work at the beginning of each term
caused by inability to secure a sufficient supply of prescribed text
books, recommend that the Department of education make provision for a central depository for prescribed text books from which
adequate supplies may be obtained promptly by dealers, schools,
pupils and parents as they may require them. (Manitoba, 1924, p. 122)
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 237
Since the MTTB was not operational until the summer of 1931, some seven
years after the Murray Report, it is difficult to conclude that there was any
connection between the MTBB and the Murray Report. One of the other recommendations of the Murray Commission was a total review of the province’s
curriculum, which in part lead to the formation of program review committees in the Department of Education- one to examine elementary and one for
secondary (Manitoba, 1926; Manitoba, 1927). The Report of the Committee
on the Review of the Programme of Studies (1926) for elementary schools
was particularly critical of textbooks describing them as “… in some respects
unsuitable for use in the schools…” (p. 44) and that “text books should be
revised” (p. 46). The impact of changing textbooks began to be seen in MSTA
resolutions beginning in 1927.
In Robert Fletcher’s address to the 1929 MSTA convention, as identified
in the opening of the first part of this study, he indicated that not only were
there the five main textbook suppliers in Manitoba, but he added: “I think the
facilities for securing books are fairly good” (p. 21). Clearly the MSTA resolutions regarding the numerous problems with textbooks and book bureau solution had still not registered with Fletcher and perhaps the education
department itself.
After a visit to the newly created Alberta book bureau, Grandview school
trustee W. J. Swain moved the following informative resolution at the 1928
MSTA convention:
Whereas there is at the present time, no uniform system for the handling of text books used in the public and high schools in our province, much to the inconvenience and monetary loss to parents and
guardians of students; and whereas, the Province of Alberta has in
operation a government system whereby all text books used in their
schools are handled by a branch of the government; and whereas,
such a system is working very satisfactorily both from point of service and finance; and whereas, the Provincial Trustees’ Association at
its meeting one year ago did pass a resolution urging our government
in Manitoba to put into operation such a system by unanimous vote;
and whereas, a delegation from the Provincial Trustees Association
did wait upon the then Honorable Minister of Education and laid the
plan before him; and whereas, the then Minister did look upon the
scheme with much favor and promised serious consideration; and
whereas, the present Minister has been approached in the matter
and has expressed himself as being favorably inclined towards putting
in force such a plan; therefore, this Municipal Trustees Association
do memorialize the Provincial Trustees’ Association to instruct their
executive to bring this matter again to the attention of the government, urging them to put into operation such a system with the least
possible delay. (MSTA, 1928, pp. 134-135)
238 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
Swain indicated after several meetings with Mr. Hoey, Minister of Education, that his favourable response was clouded only by the lack of space to
operate the bureau (MSTA, 1928, p. 136). Then, in 1929, Fletcher’s address
to the trustees’ convention indicated that the government was favourably inclined but the problem was still trying to find a suitable location in Winnipeg.
If this were not to be found, then the costs of operation would offset savings
in bulk purchasing. Fletcher indicated that the previous summer he went to
investigate the Alberta book bureau on his way back from a vacation on the
coast. Now the main issue was a building because Manitoba cannot replicate
either the excellent facility or its low operating costs of the one used in Edmonton (MSTA, 1929, p. 20). He concluded his discussion regarding a book
bureau in Manitoba by reminding everyone that there are five “fairly good”
book suppliers in Manitoba (p. 21).
The 1930 address by Honourable Robert Hoey, Minister of Education, to
the MSTA convention at the Royal Alexandra Hotel revealed further government thinking on the bureau. Hoey revealed what appeared to be a logical
and economical reorganization of his small Department, stating that additional
space was being sought to move a sub-department whose function it was to
distribute free texts. Thus, the physical move of the long-standing free texts
service from the Legislative Buildings “… with its directors, staff, and its officials” to the new book bureau would result in “… one complete and unified
organization for text book purchase and text book distribution” (p. 17). It also
permitted the integration and removal of the Free Text service but Hoey made
no reference to this plan, if there were one. The Free Text service and the
origins of the MTBB will be discussed later in this study.
The following year when Minister Hoey addressed the trustees at their 1931
annual convention he announced that after three or four years of resolutions
by the conventions for a book bureau that “… I have given it to you. The book
bureau is in existence today on one of the finest locations in Winnipeg, practically adjoining the Bank of Montreal on the corner of Portage and Main [loud
applause]” (p. 23). Hoey made no mention of solving what trustees have said
was a major educational problem in the province; he stated, rather, it was what
you asked for, and now we have given it to you. He went on to describe the
importance of making it a success by having trustees work with the Department to provide the service (MSTA, 1931, p. 23). Robert Fletcher addressed
the convention later and spent considerable time elaborating on the Text Book
Bureau. He revealed that the Department has purchased the Canadian General Electric building on Notre Dame East where the bureau would be sent
up, opening its doors in good time for school opening in 1931 (MSTA, 1931,
p. 106).
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 239
Early Years of Operation
B ACKGROUND
An Act to amend “The Education Department Act” was assented to March
28th, 1930, thus legislatively creating the Manitoba Text Book Bureau. The
amendment’s opening clause permitted the minister “to purchase school
books, books for school library purposes and school supplies, and to sell the
same to school districts or teachers or other persons” (Manitoba, Legislative
Assembly, 1930a, Chapter 8, clause h, i, p. 13). From the province’s consolidated revenue account, funds could be drawn upon up to $150,000.00 to pay
for “… the printing and publishing or purchase of such books and for the purchase of such school supplies” (clause h, ii, p. 13). Monies received from the
sale of these items, sold for cash only, were to be deposited against the reduction of advances (clause h, iii, p. 13). Further, however, schools could draw
directly from their school grant payments for textbooks and supplies, such
amounts were again to be deposited against advances (clause h, iii, p. 13). A
specific clause described how the value of an item was to be determined:
“… the Minister may take into account the cost of handling, storage, transportation, insurance, distribution and other costs, charges and expenses, including office assistance …” (clause h, iv, p. 13). While a statement of profit
and loss was to be printed each year in the Public Accounts, “any profit arising from the operations of the year, as shown by the said statements, shall
form part of the Consolidated Revenue Fund of the Province” (clause h, v, p.
14). If there were a loss, this would be charged against the profit of a succeeding year or years (clause h, vi, p. 14).
This legislation was very clear in that the government was not directly funding a Manitoba book bureau, but rather loaning it money that was to be paid
back; the bureau could basically purchase textbooks, library books or supplies,
as long as it did not lose money; that all costs associated with the acquisition
and sale of an item were to be included in the selling price; and should the
bureau actually make a profit, these funds were to be incorporated into the
province’s Consolidated Revenue.
Comparing this Manitoba legislative amendment to the one that created
the Alberta book bureau on April 8, 1926 (Alberta, The Act to Amend), there
was a startling similarity. In fact, the Manitoba and Alberta legislative clauses
were either exactly the same or provide the same intent.
It was not until the February 1931 MSTA Convention that the Minister and
the Deputy were able to indicate that a location for the bureau had been secured at 148 Notre Dame Avenue East. Fletcher spent a good amount of time
discussing how the bureau was to operate when its doors were opened for
the wholesale distribution of textbooks for the school year 1931-1932. He indicated that the books were already on order and that stock was to be available for July (MSTA, 1931, p. 106). But Fletcher added: “No one in this province
240 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
will be able to buy these text books except through the book bureau. The
publishers will not be permitted to sell the text books to anyone except the
book bureau” (p. 106). Fletcher explained the need for this monopoly so that
text books would be delivered at considerable savings and so that the book
bureau could be made self-supporting. To make sure that the trustees understood things: “… and let me tell you frankly, the book bureau will have to pay
its way. We are not going into this in any philanthropic spirit” (p. 106). Losses
in the first couple of years, Fletcher stated, will be offset by profits later on.
“We do not plan to operate the bureau with the idea of making a profit other
than sufficient to pay expenses. We want to break even” (p. 107).
In terms of pricing, Fletcher indicated that Manitoba was to follow the Alberta model such that there was to be a 15% discount from the retail list prices
for school boards and retailers; in other words, a book listed at one dollar was
to be delivered for 85 cents (p. 107). Payment was in cash but school boards
had the option of debiting their legislative grant. Retailers, he indicated, were
able to mark the price up a maximum of 15% and if they were to charge more,
they would not receive books from the bureau in the future. Retailers were
also able to return stock to the bureau for a credit (p. 107).
Mr. W. J. Swain, Grandview, asked Fletcher if he were going to permit individual orders. Fletcher indicated that the parent or guardian was to pay the
list price, that is, with no discount. He was hopeful that the majority of the
orders were to be from retail dealers and school boards, and that these were
to be large and therefore would receive the discount, but, if necessary, individual requests were to be honoured (p. 107). “School boards may buy books
for resale to the pupils if this is found desirable, but in such cases the books
must be sold to the students at cost. The school board will not be able to deal
in text-books with a view to making profit” (Manitoba, June 1931, p. 208).
First Ten Years of Operation
The official opening of the doors of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau at 146148 Notre Dame East occurred on May 1, 1931 (MSTA, 1933, p. 5), but the
very first textbook purchase order was dated July 16, 1931, where two books
were sold to Miss Annie Fraser of Wroxeter, Ontario, at no discount.
Two unusual occurrences took place during the first year of operation of
the Bureau. In the Emerson Journal, there appeared an article dealing with
textbooks in Saskatchewan, at the same time with no mention of the creation of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau. The article described a cooperative
venture between the Saskatchewan Department of Education and the Saskatchewan Teachers’ Alliance to collect used textbooks and make them available to families in need, especially those in the “dried-out” areas of the
province (Anonymous, October 1931). The following month in the Departmental Bulletin portion of the Western School Journal there was a similar short
piece indicating that:
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 241
many families in the Province are unable to supply their children with
the authorized text books this term for reasons which the teachers
of the Province will readily understand. It occurs to the Department
that many homes must contain copies of some of the text books now
authorized in the elementary grades which are not likely to be required
again in these homes. These families may be willing to pass these
books along for the use of some children who otherwise will not have
any books to aid them in their work this year. (Manitoba, November
1931, p. 334)
Teachers were requested to make inquiries and pass along textbooks donated. These two news items were the first indication of the impact of the
Great Depression on school textbooks in the two provinces. For the Manitoba Department of Education it was theoretically taking business away from
the just-opened Manitoba Text Book Bureau. In the annual report for the Department of Education for 1931-1932, it stated that the Bureau did have a successful first year of operation although “its bulk sales for the year were not
as large as anticipated, due to the decreased earnings of the people generally but they were sufficient to enable the Bureau to make a small net profit
out of its narrow trading margin” (p. 9).
The success of the Bureau in addressing trustee complaints regarding textbooks, beyond its profitability, first came in February 1933, at the now bi-annual MSTA convention held at the Royal Alexandra Hotel in Winnipeg. Mr. A.
T. Hainsworth, MSTA President, thanked Mr. Swain of Grandview for his work
in bringing a book bureau to Manitoba. Hainsworth then introduced Mr. A. W.
Brown who was the manager of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau. Brown stated
that the Bureau was shipping books in mid-August 1931 and by mid-September had worked out the glitches associated with book distribution. During the
fiscal year May 1, 1931 to May 1, 1932, the Bureau sold $118,563.16 worth
of textbooks, handling some 5,188 orders (MSTA, 1933, p. 5). A small profit
was made. The Bureau also handled the Free Texts service. He indicated that
for the 1932-1933 year, while total sales would likely be down $25,000.00,
the number of orders was probably double. Its policy of shipping orders the
day they were received continued. Books were in stock throughout the year
(p. 7).
Sales for 1933-1934 were $90,389.36, with a cumulative profit of
$12,157.18 after three years of operation (Manitoba, 1934a, last page). MSTA’s
Proceedings were subsequently quiet on issues related to textbooks and the
Manitoba Text Book Bureau. This silence strongly suggested trustee approval
with the operation of the Bureau and the easy availability of textbooks at a
lower cost.
In 1934-1935, gross sales were $112,995.94, a 25% increase over the previous year (Manitoba, 1935a, p. 21). On April 6th, 1934, the Manitoba Legislative Assembly set up a special committee to examine and report on the
242 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
administration and financing of the public school system. Its report, dated
February 25, 1935, had a section on textbooks, stating that the cost of textbooks was a combination of editorial work and printing (Manitoba, 1935b, p.
11). Text Book Manager Arthur Brown reported, at the request of the Legislative Committee, on the estimated cost of printing and binding most school
texts used in Manitoba, indicating that the work could be done in Winnipeg
and at a reduced cost. The 1935 Report of the Select Committee of the Legislative Assembly read: “In other words, the price of school texts would be
reduced if the Government is prepared to set up an Editorial Branch and to
absorb some of the capital cost which must be incurred in preparing a text, or
to give subventions to publishers” (p. 12). Its recommendation to the Legislative Assembly was that the Department’s Advisory Board should pursue cost
reductions in textbooks by standardizing texts in the Western provinces, reduce frequent changes and investigate the publication of textbooks in Manitoba or Western Canada (Manitoba, 1935b, pp. 12-13). These were issues
raised at one time or another by the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association.
There was no indication that the government acted upon any of these textbook recommendations. Certainly, creating an Editorial Department and providing capital to publish/underwrite larger texts would have cost the
government additional ongoing salary and other operating funds. This further
expenditure was for the purpose of saving parents money. This was at a time
when the economy of the province was weak, revenues were declining sharply
and when government was looking for ways to reduce costs.
However, it is interesting to note that the Manitoba Text Book Bureau was
already publishing small textbooks, as was made possible in its founding legislation. The Programme of Studies for 1930-1931 (Manitoba, 1930b) stated
that Black and Davis’ New Practical Physics was the prescribed book for Grade
XI and XII Physics. A year later in the 1931-1932 Programme of Studies (Manitoba, 1931) it listed Black and Davis’ physics text again but this time also identified another accompanying, approved text, the Outline of Experimental Work
in Practical Physics, Grade XI, for sale for 10 cents. The earliest existing MTBB
catalogue was from 1937-1938, and Books for Manitoba (Manitoba, 1937a,
p. 68) listed both books as authorized for Grade XI and XII Physics. A book
located in the Rare Books Room at the Manitoba Education Library, entitled
Practical Physics: An Outline of Experimental Work for Third Year, Secondary
Schools, revised by Erwin Knapp, sold for 10 cents, had no publication date
and had as its publisher the Manitoba Text Book Bureau, a Branch of the Department of Education. A search of the National Library of Canada’s AMICUS
database, containing the bibliographic records of the majority of Canadian
publishing, revealed two other titles published by the Manitoba Text Book
Bureau that were authorized for use in schools in Manitoba: Tennyson’s Idylls
of the King: Including the Holy Grail, Gareth and Lynette, Geraint and Enid,
the Passing of Arthur (1936) and Pincock’s The Manitoba Arithmetic for Elementary Grades: Grade Five, Book Two (1931). Perhaps not in a large fash-
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 243
ion, but the Bureau was publishing textbooks as was requested by school
trustees and as was permitted by its legislation.
The final year to be examined in this study is 1941, in which the tenth year
of operation of the Bureau was celebrated. Sales amounted to $105,571.91,
a 7% increase over last year. Under the header of “Ten Years of Service,”
Arthur Brown spent considerable time addressing the cost of textbooks, stating: “Parents, with children at school, often complain of unwarranted outlay
for text books, claiming this to be due to frequent changes in authorization.
That some injustice is done by this criticism is clearly shown in the Bureau’s
records” (Manitoba, 1941, p. 98). Brown indicated that in the first Bureau catalogue, dated August 1931, there were 132 textbooks listed, 54 of which were
still authorized in 1941. While student enrolments had increased, sales of these
books had decreased, indicating that books were passed from student to student saving parents considerable amounts of money (p. 98). In terms of prices,
he stated that these had been kept under control through the use of the new
Government Text Book Subsidy that helped to offset rising prices. Of the cost
of these textbooks, Brown further stated: “Of the fifty-four books, forty are
now lower than in 1931; ten are the same and four slightly higher” (Manitoba, 1941, p. 98). In his analysis of sales for 1940-1941, Brown indicated that
there were 144 dealers selling textbooks, accounting for 51.97% of total sales
(p. 99). The final comment in his report was that the Bureau was likely to be
confronted with many problems in the future, and without mentioning the
war, stated that some books were simply not going to be available and that
others were only to be published with delay as a result of government controls (p. 100).
Thus, with the first ten years of operation with sales in and about $100,000
each year to dealers, school boards and parents, with small profits being made
each year, and with textbooks made easily available and the cost of textbooks
kept low, along with the cessation of resolutions from the Manitoba School
Trustees’ Association, it can be concluded that the Bureau was meeting its
mandate as requested by MSTA and stipulated by the government that it was
to be run like a business, costing the government itself nothing. There was,
however, a dark side to the origin and early years of the MTBB.
Free Texts Service
The annual report for the Department ending in December 31, 1903 indicated
that in April the free text system was inaugurated, whereby each school district was given a list of textbooks that were to be provided free of charge by
the government, upon completion of the necessary forms by the school district. These books all had a plate/stamp inside indicating that the books were
the property of school district. In 1903, 10,116 volumes of Victoria Reader
Primer, 8,208 volumes of the First Readers, 8,748 volumes of the Second
Readers, 1,281 volumes of the Bi-lingual French-English Readers and 8,042
volumes of Our Home and Its Surrounding were distributed prepaid by the
244 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
Free Texts service to schools at the request of the school districts (Manitoba,
1903, p. 51). The cost to the government during this first year of operation for
books, staff, printing and postage was $16,223.04 (p. 10). “The work of the
teacher has been greatly facilitated, since each child now has a text book,
where formerly many could not possess one” read the annual report. “This
wise action on the part of the Government is highly commended by all parties, and the Government is to be congratulated on the initial success of the
experiment” (Manitoba, 1903, p. 52).
During the second year of operation, the same titles were also made available, in smaller quantities, plus Morang’s Arithmetic Book, of which some
12,676 were distributed without charge (Manitoba, 1904, p. 48). The Royal
Atlas was added in 1905 (Manitoba, 1906, p. 14). The Free Texts program continued during the 1910s and 1920s. By the end of June 1929, the service was
providing “readers” and “arithmetics” only, but in huge quantities. In total,
74,446 copies of these books were distributed free (Manitoba, 1929, p. 67).
The year ending June 30, 1931, 90,856 texts of the four “readers” and three
“arithmetics” were distributed at a total cost of $28,017.52 (Manitoba, 1931,
p. 78 and 125). Similarly at the end of 1932, 96,466 copies of the four Canadian Readers and three Manitoba Elementary Arithmetic books were dispensed at a cost of $30,307.13 (Manitoba, 1932, p. 35, p. 58). Beginning in
1915, the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association began to try to encourage
the government to expand the Free Texts service to include all textbooks for
elementary schooling. In March 1915, at the Industrial Bureau in Winnipeg,
MSTA passed a resolution “that free text books should be provided for all the
grades of the public school course” (MSTA, 1915, p. 21). Similarly, at the MSTA
conventions in 1916 (p. 6), 1917 (p. 8) and 1919 (p. 12) school trustees called
on the government to expand the Free Texts program.
The Free Texts program disappeared during the summer of 1932. Fletcher
indicated that the staff had been integrated into the MTBB operation such
that, during 1931-1932, the first year of operation of the MTBB, the text book
bureau sales program and free text program operated from the same location. Beginning with the 1932 school year, the Free Texts service ended,
though there was nothing in any Departmental publication to indicate such.
A selected history of expenditures by the Department of Education from
1903 through 1940 for the Free Texts service, books for school libraries, payments to schools and total expenditures is illustrated in Table 1. Clearly, the
Great Depression was having an impact on provincial expenditures, as the
Free Texts service and Books for School Libraries grant, were eliminated in
1932 and 1933 respectively, while payments to schools, largely for teacher
salaries, dropped significantly beginning in 1932. In 1935, Department of Education expenditures were only slightly higher than 1920 (see Table 1). The Free
Texts service in its last year of operation in 1931-1932 accounted for approximately 1.3% of the Department of Education’s spending; therefore, the termination of the service resulted in a considerable ongoing saving for the
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 245
Department. However, the Free Texts service books were still at the Bureau,
except now for purchase. It is not a stretch to argue that the MTBB facilitated
the closure of an expensive program by offering the same service for a fee.
Table 1
Selected Legislative Grant Expenditures for the
Manitoba Department of Education 1903-1940
Year
Free Text
Books*
Books for
School Libraries
Payments
to Schools
Total
Expenditures
1903
$16,223.04
—
$254,615.11
$260,715.11
1904
$2,479.37
—
$240,969.42
$247,231.9
1905
$11,186.57
—
$239,141.53
$368,533.08
1910
$9,755.74
—
$309,427.54
$454,608.19
1920
$13,988.54
$6,956.41
$853,177.19
$1,550,340.62
1927
$32,385.64
$1,704.85
$1,175,249.55
$2,101,110.58
1928
$23,263.91
$1,851.47
$1,176,025.10
$2,146,416.03
1929
$31,742.56
$2,016.60
$1,280,228.80
$2,322,857.80
1930
$33,107.70
$1,792.23
$1,294,323.29
$2,396,325.69
1931
$28,017.52
$1,888.94
$1,343,444.52
$2,439,572.48
1932
$30,307.13
$1,887.90
$1,325,152.70
$2,360,688.77
1933
$647.79
$1,602.48
$1,234,425.45
$2,076,794.66
1934
$1,200.97
—
$1,190,063.81
$1,929,484.66
1935
—
—
$1,014,410.87
$1,694,442.26
1936
—
—
$1,046,141.63
$1,734,123.12
1937
—
—
$1,068,662.52
$1,731,263.04
1938
—
—
$1,123,501.95
$1,792,667.42
1939
—
—
$1,181,850.58
$1,965,907.97
1940
—
—
$1,218,725.71
$2,089,145.91
* Includes the costs of school text books, salaries of Free Text Books staff, printing and
stationery, as well as postage, freight and express.
Source: Department of Education Annual Reports 1903-1940.
Oddly, there was no reaction to the termination of the Free Texts service
from the MSTA at its 1933 convention, but MSTA did laud government for
246 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
opening the MTBB. It was not until the 1935 do we see school trustee displeasure with the cancellation of the Free Texts service. Mrs. Edward Manns,
a trustee from Edrans, moved a resolution, with a long forward, asking that
the “… Department of Education arrange to provide Text Books free to the
Grades from One to Six in our Public schools. We earnestly ask for your consideration and your support of this resolution looking to the solution of our
Education Problems” (MSTA, 1935, p. 48). The forward to her motion stated
“… for perhaps three years, free text books have not been provided in the
public schools. When the Manitoba Text Book Bureau was started, the Department of Education decided to discontinue supplying free text books in
the lower grades just at a time when parents found it most difficult to provide
them” (p. 47). Mrs. Mann addressed the importance of an equal opportunity
for education, regardless of whether the child was rich or poor. “If it were at
all possible for them to do so, parents would provide these text books, but it
is a fact, through no fault of their own, hundreds today are simply not able to
supply their children with textbooks” (p. 47). The Resolutions chair indicated
that he spoke earlier with Fletcher regarding this resolution, indicating that
the Deputy thought the Department has a better chance of securing the funding if it were to read 50% of the cost (p. 46). Mrs. Mann refused to alter her
resolution. Mrs. Gloria Queen Hughes then stated “… don’t forget that if you
don’t ask for free text-books you won’t get them” (p. 49). The resolution was
passed “overwhelmingly” by the convention.
Thus, 1935 was the last time in the 1930s that the MSTA proposed motions related to textbooks. Their victory in creating the Bureau was offset by
the loss of the Free Texts service. Whether the government specifically created the MTBB so that it could eliminate the Free Texts service remains speculative, but the coincidence of events is certainly compelling.
C ONCLUSION
Concluding this study was not an easy task. Throughout the paper, only a preliminary study has been undertaken in an attempt to present the first global
examination of the events leading to the birth of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau and its first decade of operation. The initial research suggested a 10-year
struggle by school trustees to get the Manitoba Department of Education to
go beyond just approving textbooks to one where the Department played a
critical role in facilitating availability and keeping costs down. The Department’s
non-philanthropic response was to create a replica of the Alberta book bureau where the Manitoba Text Book Bureau was a self-sustaining agency,
absorbing and then passing along all costs related to textbook acquisition and
distribution, but at the same time vastly improving the quality of service to
parents, school boards and dealers. MSTA requests for a common curriculum with common textbooks, less frequent changes in textbooks and for a
strong local publishing of textbooks, all designed to keep costs down, met
with far less success.
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 247
The dark side of the origins of the Bureau, a fully functional facility by the
end of the end of September 1931, related to the government’s termination
of the long standing elementary schools’ Free Texts service in June 1932 at
the beginning of the Great Depression, exactly when most needed by parents. Instead, the government, through the Bureau, offered the easy acquisition of these same textbooks for sale.
It is worth observing that while the origins of the MTBB had to do with the
MSTA and government discussions regarding the unavailability of textbooks,
issues of curriculum and textbooks, the lack of local publishing capability and
reductions in government spending with the Great Depression, there was
nothing of the political and publishing industry controversy which surrounded
the birth and two decade operation of the Ontario Educational Depository, as
described by Henley (1980, pp. 1-23).
In fact, Henley’s unpublished manuscript on the 19th century Ontario
Educational Depository appeared to be the only article dealing with any of the
book depositories and later book bureaus that developed in the provinces
across Canada in the 20th century. A clearer picture of the nature of each of
these government book depositories and bureaus will help us to understand
better the important role that textbooks played in schooling throughout
Canada, then as now.
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Christie School Supply Co. (February 1928). Send your orders to the Christie School
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Gage (W. J.) & Co. (February 1929). New books for Manitoba Schools. Advertisement in Western School Journal, 24(2), 82.
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Hoey, R. A. (March 4, 1929). Letter to H. N. Macneill, President, MSTA. In MSTA
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1932.
Knapp, E. (1931?). Practical physics: An outline of experimental work for third year,
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Manitoba. (1926). Report of the Committee on the review of the Programme of
Studies. Winnipeg: the Department of Education.
Manitoba. (1927). Report of the Committee on the review of the Programme of
Studies (Grade VII to XI). Winnipeg: King’s Printer.
Manitoba. (1903). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending
December 31, 1903. Winnipeg: The Printer.
Manitoba. (1904). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending
December 31, 1904. Winnipeg: The Printer.
Manitoba. (1906). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending
December 31, 1906. Winnipeg: The Printer.
Manitoba. (1929). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending June
30, 1929. Winnipeg: King’s Printer.
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 249
Manitoba. (1930c). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending June
30th, 1930. Winnipeg: King’s Printer.
Manitoba. (1932). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending June
30th, 1932. Winnipeg: King’s Printer.
Manitoba. (1934b). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending
June 30th,1934. Winnipeg: King’s Printer.
Manitoba. (1935a). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending June
30th,1935. Winnipeg: King’s Printer.
Manitoba. (1936). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending June
30th, 1936. Winnipeg: King’s Printer.
Manitoba. (1941). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending June
30th, 1941. Winnipeg: King’s Printer.
Manitoba. (1924). Report of the educational commission.
Manitoba. (1935b). Report of the select committee of the Legislative Assembly
appointed to enquire into and report upon the administration and financing of the public educational system of the province. Winnipeg:
Legislative Assembly.
Manitoba Education Association. (1915). Proceedings of the Ninth Annual
Convention of the School Trustees’ Branch of the Manitoba Educational
Association. Winnipeg: The Association.
Manitoba School Trustee’s Association. (1916). Report of the Manitoba School
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Manitoba School Trustee’s Association. (1917). Report of the Manitoba School
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Manitoba School Trustee’s Association. (1918). Report of the Manitoba School
Trustees’ Association Twelfth Annual Convention. Winnipeg: The
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Manitoba School Trustee’s Association. (1919). Report of the Manitoba School
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Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1920). Report of the Manitoba School
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Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1921). Report of the Manitoba School
Trustees’ Association Fifteenth Annual Convention. Winnipeg: The
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Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1922). Report of the Manitoba School
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Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1924). Report of the Manitoba School
Trustees’ Association Eighteenth Annual Convention. Winnipeg: The
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Trustees’ Association Twenty-Second Annual Convention. Winnipeg: The
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Winnipeg: The Association.
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Annual Convention of the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association.
Winnipeg: The Association.
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Winnipeg: The Association
Pincock, J. C. (1931). The Manitoba arithmetic for elementary grades: grade five,
book two. Winnipeg: Manitoba Text Book Bureau.
Porter’s Drug Store. (September 10, 1931). School supplies! Advertisement in The
Star and Times, 31(40).
Porter’s Drug Store. (September 8, 1932). Leave your orders for school text books
with us. The Star and Times, 32.
Quicke’s (A. H.). (September 5, 1930). Sunrise School Supplies. Advertisement in
Emerson Journal, 36.
Quicke’s (A. H.). (September 4, 1931). School textbooks (for all grades) at the
Department’s Price. Advertisement in Emerson Journal, 37, 2.
Shanks, D., & Wilson, K. (1976). The Western School Journal 1906-1938:
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Council.
Tennyson, A. T., and Crossland, J. R. (1936). Idylls of the king: Including the Holy
Grail, Gareth and Lynette, Geraint and Enid, The passing of Arthur.
Winnipeg: Manitoba Text Book Bureau.
Werier, V. (1950). Textbooks. Winnipeg Tribune, Roll 136, 6447, September 2, in
Winnipeg Tribune Clippings Files. Department of Archives and Special
Collections, University of Manitoba Libraries.
Part III
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 253
Students’ Perspectives Toward Disruptive
Behaviour Problems in Elementary School
Barbara L. Myron
University of Manitoba
A BSTRACT
Students who exhibit problem behaviours in school are a growing concern
for educators, and Canadians in general. There are an alarming number of
children who confront their teachers, schools, and parents with persistent
disruptive and threatening behaviours. Many of these students have been labelled as: behaviourally disordered, emotionally disturbed, socially maladjusted, mentally ill, or as having conduct disorder, or oppositional defiant
disorder. Professionals are not in agreement with respect to a definition for
problem behaviour, its identifying characteristics, the theoretical orientations
that should be adopted, assessment techniques, therapeutic interventions,
or educational approaches. Many educators do agree that a defensible and
widely accepted definition of behaviour disorders would assist in identifying
characteristics, estimating prevalence, designing assessment instruments,
devising treatment and educational approaches and in conducting, comparing and replicating research. A review of the literature reveals a lack of information about students’ perspectives regarding their disruptive or problematic
behaviour. In this study, I explore student behaviour problems from the perspectives of elementary school students. The study is based on interviews
with nine students in grades 5 and 6 who have been identified by their teachers as having behaviour problems. I document and discuss students’ perceptions of themselves as behaviour problems. The discussion includes the effect
of the student-teacher relationship on student behaviour, the disciplinary practices which influence behaviour, the value of outside interventions, and the
role of parents.
I NTRODUCTION
The prevalence of school-aged children who exhibit behaviour problems has
long been a challenge to teachers and other professionals (Szatmari, Boyle &
Offord, 1993; Thomas, Byrne, Offord & Boyle, 1991; Loeber, 1990). As well,
254 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
students with behaviour disorders continue to be among the most neglected
and underserved populations in our educational system (Rosenberg, Wilson,
Maheady & Sindelar, 1997). These children are often unpredictable and impulsive, abusive and destructive. They can defy authority and lash out with
hostility and aggression or, conversely, can be withdrawn and isolated, frequently rejected by their peers (Shatz, 1994).
The perceived increase in the prevalence and incidence of problem behaviours in public schools has been a growing concern among teachers, school
board members, and provincial officials. It is also becoming a major concern
of Canadians in general. Although many children and adolescents occasionally exhibit aggressive and sometimes antisocial behaviours in the course of
development (Rutherford & Nelson, 1995), an alarming number of children
confront their teachers, schools and parents with persistent disruptive and
threatening behaviours (Feil & Becker, 1993; Sinclair, Del’Homme & Gonzalez,
1993). These are children who are troubled, cause trouble, disrupt routines,
and often make life difficult for themselves, for their parents, for other children and for their teachers. The high rates of school-related behaviour problems have been accompanied by a high risk for poor academic performance,
poor peer relations, and high school attrition (Loeber, 1990). Predictions are
that half of the youths who experience behaviour problems in school will continue to have problems into adulthood (Kazdin, Mazurick & Bass, 1993). In
Canada, as well as elsewhere, these problems represent an increasing financial and social burden as a significant percentage of youth develop problems
of adult criminality, drug abuse, or psychiatric illness (Offord & Bennett, 1994).
D EFINING B EHAVIOUR D ISORDERS
The concept of “behaviour disorders” is complex, multifaceted and difficult
to define (Goldberg, 1995; Rosenberg, Wilson, Maheady & Sindelar, 1997;
Ruehl, 1998). Although numerous definitions of behavioural disorders appear
throughout the literature, currently there is not one that is universally accepted.
Designing guidelines that will facilitate decisions about who is or is not behaviourally disordered has proven to be a difficult task. Behaviour disorders
comprise many types, some of which may have overlapping characteristics
and others which may bear little resemblance to one another. Differences in
world views or conceptual models are one factor contributing to the problem
of defining behaviour disorders, as this may influence which term is used. In
addition, problems created by differences in the purposes of social agencies
responsible for working with these children, problems in measuring emotions
and behaviour, the range and variability of normal and deviant behaviour, the
confusing relationships among disorders, the transience of many problems
during human development, and the disadvantages inherent in labelling deviance all factor into the problem of constructing a definition (Kauffman, 1997).
Although subject to criticism, the United States, under the Individuals with
Disabilities Act (IDEA), has adopted a definition for behavioural disorders us-
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 255
ing the term “seriously emotionally disturbed” (Schwean, Saklofske, Schatz
& Falk, 1996). In Canada, provincial/territorial jurisdiction of education has led
to a diversity of policies and guidelines.
Ruehl (1998) asserts that overwhelming evidence shows many children
who display emotional and behavioural problems have more than one disorder and that there is considerable overlap, or comorbidity between emotional
disturbance and social maladjustment. Many researchers have concluded that
there are no assessment devices proven to be technically adequate for distinguishing social maladjustment from other conditions (Council for Children
with Behavioural Disorders, 1990; Kauffman, 1997). What constitutes a behaviour disorder becomes problematic and confusing when definitions are not
clear and the language used to describe them is vague and contradictory.
The variation and inconsistency evident with terminology are a reflection
of the confusion found within the field of education for this population of children. “Bad” behaviour may fall under any of the following categories: mental
illness, emotional disorder, externalizing disorder, conduct problem, conduct
disorder, oppositional defiant disorder, and social maladjustment. Some professionals use these terms precisely to distinguish subtle differences in the
nature and severity of the problem, while others use them interchangeably
(Tremblay & Pagani-Kurtz, 1995; Walker, Colvin & Ramsey, 1995). The variation in terminology does not necessarily suggest a variety of distinct disorders. It does, however, imply a wide range of problematic behaviour patterns
and reflects both the extreme variation in the types of behaviour included under
the general rubric “disturbed” or “disordered” and the conceptual confusion
about such problems (Kauffman & Kneedler, 1981).The disruptive behaviours
typically reported by school personnel include an array of behaviours such as
stealing, lying, truancy, extreme non-compliance, and overt aggression (Vitaro,
DeCivita, & Pagani, 1995).
It is not surprising, then, that discrepancies and disagreement arise as professionals construct their own meanings for behaviour disorders from sources
such as the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth
edition (DSM-IV) (APA, 1994), school division guidelines, and their own experiences. Shatz’ (1994) cross-Canada survey of programs for children with behavioural disorders in 117 school districts found that 56% of Canadian school
districts had adopted a written definition of behavioural disorders. Approximately 47% of these school districts indicated they used definitions identical
to the provincial definition, while 53% used locally developed definitions. There
was great diversity in the definitions that were provided by respondents.
Many special educators agree that a defensible and widely accepted definition of behaviour disorders would be desirable to clarify criteria for research
and service purposes (Goldberg, 1995; Rosenberg, Wilson, Maheady &
Sindelar, 1997; Ruehl, 1998). In addition, a definition can be useful to reflect a
particular theoretical position or to structure public and professional discourse.
The definition accepted will reflect how the problem of disordered behaviour
256 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
is conceptualized and, therefore, will determine what intervention strategies
are considered appropriate. Several definitions share some common elements
of agreement in the research, these terms may all be subsumed under the
heading of behaviour disorders. The terms, “behaviour disorder” or “behaviour problems,” are used interchangeably in this study to mean broadly: conduct disorder, oppositional defiant disorder, antisocial behaviour, and
aggressive behaviour.
E DUCATIONAL I MPLICATIONS
When responding to students who exhibit disordered behaviour, educators
very often adopt a problem-focused perspective based on a reactive crisis
management model which treats the student as the source of the problem
(Ogilvy, 1994). Typically, in response to escalating misbehaviour there is an
escalating scale of disciplinary sanctions administered by the classroom
teacher (e.g., verbal reprimands, extra work, writing lines, and punishment
exercises) or other school personnel (e.g. administrator, counsellor). From this
point on, the “problem child” is referred to external personnel. Typically a referral is made to those professionals (e.g., therapists, counsellors, physicians,
social workers, psychologists, or other clinicians) who “fix” children’s problems. If these attempts fail, the last resort is to suspend or exclude the child
from the school or to refer him or her to an off-site program with a view to
reintegration after assessment and treatment.
Although the problem-focused approach to behavioural difficulties has not
been demonstrably successful, it is still the one very often used by many classroom teachers (Ogilvy, 1994). Most strategies lack clear educational objectives and have had little success in producing any long-term changes in pupil
behaviour. They do, however, serve a practical function by providing teachers
with a response to dealing with perceived problem children. As such, the availability of special programs or special schools offers educators a way out when
previous disciplinary sanctions have failed. A problem here is the fact that the
provision of external resources that enable schools to dispose of their most
difficult children merely reinforces the schools’ tendency to do so.
The causation debate focuses educators towards a single cause for disruptive behaviour, which results in the blame being switched from the child,
to the home, to the school (Ogilvy, 1994). A linear explanation of the ‘cause’
of the problem is not helpful in terms of understanding children’s behaviour.
A single cause looks for a simplified solution and does not take into account
the interaction of process dysfunctions, experiential defects, and experiential deficits (including inadequate teaching). While a child may be predisposed
by personal or social factors to be ‘difficult’ in school, the way he or she is
handled there and the nature of the demands made on him/her will determine
the outcome. From this perspective, problem behaviour is not perceived as
the result of specific deficits in the child or the school; it is seen as an interactive, dynamic process. One cannot solely blame the teacher, the child, the
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 257
family, the curriculum, or school provisions. The solution, then, is to be found
within an interactional or systems perspective which takes a holistic rather
than a reductionist view of human behaviour (Frederickson, 1990). This point
is illustrated by the variability of most student behaviour according to the context. Within schools, many students are disruptive only with certain teachers
and cannot be divided easily into ‘the good’ and ‘the disruptive’. Rather, student behaviour consists of a continuum, ranging from extremely cooperative
to totally unacceptable, depending on the circumstances. Few children consistently occupy the same point on the continuum as their behaviour changes
as their teachers, their age and their family circumstances change (Ogilvy,
1994). The interactionist perspective views misbehaviour as arising within a
specific context out of the mutual interactions between the student and
teacher and school support systems (Frederickson, 1990).
Within individual schools, different perspectives as to the causes of and
solutions to challenging behaviours are often at work. These may be in conflict with each other. Confusion occurs when there is no clear agreement about
the cause for behaviours. This ambiguity hinders the process of developing
clear effective interventions to address them. In addition, specific interventions, themselves, may be limited, only working in certain settings and not in
others. The reasons for their success or failure may not be evident. This competition between the different perspectives results in schools using a ‘mishmash’ of interventions. Educators tend to use a given intervention until they
deem it no longer works, without regard to actual, documented efficacy, or
until they are satisfied they have tried long enough. Further, interventions may
not be applied properly or used in the same way as research conditions, thus
impeding their effectiveness.
F RAMING THE R ESEARCH P ROBLEM
There has been a large amount of research on the types of behaviour problems children display in school and the interventions suggested for reducing
them (Cheney & Harvey, 1994; Mann-Feder, 1995; Nelson, 1996; Quinn &
McDougall, 1998; Sommers-Flanagan & Sommers-Flanagan, 1998). In an attempt to understand why children engage in challenging behaviour, researchers have established compelling evidence that parents and community
contribute to the development of problem behaviour by failing to provide the
necessary prerequisite social skills and by modelling inappropriate social interactions (Dishion & Andrews, 1995). Given that children may come to school
with a learning history that sets them up for further behavioural problems,
schools must respond proactively and consistently. Unfortunately, there is
evidence to suggest that current school discipline practices further exacerbate and contribute to children’s patterns of challenging behaviour (Lewis,
Sugai, & Colvin, 1998). High rates of problem behaviour in schools are associated with punitive discipline strategies, lack of clarity about rules, expectations, and consequences, lack of staff support, and failure to consider and
258 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
accommodate individual differences (Mayer, 1995). The outcome of combined
risk factors is an increase in problem behaviour within the school (Lewis, Sugai,
& Colvin, 1998). Although the types of behaviour observed at the elementary
level are less dramatic than severe forms of antisocial behaviour observed in
adolescence, they are, nonetheless, disruptive to both teaching and learning.
Ogilvy (1994) notes that pupils who are a “perpetual nuisance” through, for
example, continual “attention seeking” behaviour, do, in fact, constitute a
major group of referrals to alternative placements. Therefore, the consequences of persistent trivial behaviour may be considerable, presumably as
punishments escalate in line with teachers’ inability to deal with these behaviours effectively. As well, research indicates that, unless the challenging
behaviour is addressed at an early age, the pattern is likely to continue and
possibly escalate (Rutherford & Nelson, 1995).
Although an understanding of the interconnections between students’
school experiences and their emotions and behaviours is of importance, it has
received relatively little attention in the literature (Okey & Cusick, 1995). There
is a lack of information about students’ perceptions of school circumstances
and of themselves as students. A review of the literature reveals that most
of the research on discipline has focused on the attitudes of teachers or, less
frequently, on the attitude of students, and, even less frequently, on the attitude of parents toward behavioural problems (Romi & Freund, 1999). In order to fully understand the dynamics of student behaviour within the school
environment, it is important to construct this understanding from all relevant
perspectives. Too often, the viewpoint of the student remains unheard. By
obtaining a better understanding of why students misbehave, teachers may
build on the strengths that exist within the interventions used for students
with behaviour problems and may identify aspects of the strategies that actually impede these students’ abilities to engage in school in a positive manner.
D ESIGN OF THE S TUDY
Students have been studied, tested, and acted upon without any acknowledgment of their own experiences and ideas. Procedural decisions are based
upon the conceptual frameworks of adults who may have had very different
school experiences from those of the students they are analyzing. As well,
the adults and students may hold very different perspectives amongst themselves. When two groups hold different perspectives, it makes it difficult to
determine if one knows what the other is talking about. This difference may
cause misperceptions, misunderstandings, misplacement, and sometimes
even mistreatment. Therefore, when such a gap exists, asking the students
about their perceptions of a common experience may be valuable. The attempt
to look at an experience through another’s eyes enables the researcher to
achieve an awareness of different ways of thinking and acting and to identify
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 259
new possibilities. In this study I attempt to elicit the views of one group of
people who are often neglected in the research literature. Through semi-structured interviews, students were asked to share their perspectives of their
school experiences, in particular their views about themselves and the types
of behaviour they display.
From the 16 letters that were sent home, nine were returned with parental permission to take part in the study. Nine students participated, 8 boys
and 1 girl. Parents expressed interest but had reservations about their children participating in the study. Parents were mainly concerned about how their
child was identified as being a behaviour problem and questioned if this would
be a label that would stay with their child.
D ATA C OLLECTION
The data in this study were collected primarily through a series of semi-structured interviews using an interview guide. Open-ended questions and a flexible format were chosen to avoid forcing students into predetermined
response categories and to encourage them to express their own feelings
and opinions (Brantlinger, 1991).
The children were interviewed in their own school, either in the resource
room or the nurse’s room. The student interviews were conducted during the
regular school day. The students were taken from the regular classroom and
brought to an interview room. The approximately thirty minute sessions were
tape-recorded and fully transcribed later. The intent of the interviewer was to
speak to each student twice. However, three of the students did not want to
participate in a second interview and two of the students were not accessible due to field trips and other year-end school activities.
Once the child gave verbal assent and seemed comfortable with the situation, the interview began. Each interview started with the same question –
Do you sometimes get in trouble at school? (If yes) Tell me about it.
D ATA A NALYSIS
For the purpose of this study, the goal of the analysis was to provide a clear
description of one group’s perspective on their experiences specific to being
considered a behaviour problem.
All of the interview transcripts, field-notes and their accompanying “observer’s comments” were transcribed soon after the interviews were completed. The first task in the data analysis was to read and reread the notes to
look for emerging themes and patterns and to write notes to summarize what
was thought to be emerging. The most meaningful parts of the collected data
were organized, managed, and retrieved. This job was done by assigning segments of data into analyzable units by creating categories with, and from, the
data. This process allowed time to reflect on the issues raised and to develop
links between the observer’s comments.
260 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
L IMITATIONS
There were certain barriers that needed to be overcome at the earliest stages
of the study in respect to gaining access to schools and students. The administrators approached were very resistant to having this type of research take
place in their schools. They contended that teachers would feel they were
“stigmatizing” those students selected by identifying them as having behaviour problems, even though existing identification was a criterion for selection. They also felt parents would be unhappy with their children being
selected. This position, held by the majority of the school administrators contacted, led to the research being conducted in only one school. This did not
allow for a comparison between schools in respect to the effect different discipline policies might have on student behaviour.
Although the researcher was known to the school community where the
study took place, many parents were initially concerned about or resistant to
their children participating. That the researcher was acquainted with many of
these parents allowed parents to freely ask questions and feel more comfortable in allowing their children to participate.
The researcher being known to the students also created a mixed situation during the interview process. On the one hand, a relationship already
existed between the researcher and students, which may have taken several
more interviews to establish with students who were unknown to the researcher. On the other hand, the fact that students were familiar with the researcher may have caused them to be less forthcoming. In this study the
students’ initial shyness soon gave way to open answers which provided good
data.
R ELEVANCE OF THE S TUDY
Little is known about the nature of students’ perspectives on their own behavioural problems or those of their peers. This study arose from a belief in
the inherent value of the views of students and recognition that these views
are often absent from consideration. A search of the literature revealed only
a handful of studies on students’ perspectives about their behaviour problems
in school, and all of them only examined the views of secondary and high
school students. The semi-structured interviews allowed a rich, detailed account of the students’ personal experiences to be collected. Their words and
their stories provide a basis upon which to glean an understanding of differing perspectives for explaining their behaviour and indicate a possible source
for the emergence of student disruptive behaviour problems.
S TUDENT R ESPONSES
Each of the student interviews began with the question, “Do you sometimes
get in trouble at school?” The importance of this question and the student
response cannot be underestimated as they set the context for the line of
questioning to follow. Had any of the students simply replied “no” the prob-
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 261
ing questions might have turned in another direction such as, “Why do you
think your teacher feels you get into trouble?” Asking the question based on
the teacher’s point of view would take the emphasis off the student perspective or may have closed the questioning down altogether, if the students insisted that they did not get into trouble at school. However, all of the students
answered “yes” to the initial question, readily acknowledging they did get
into trouble at school. The students then provided answers which described
the kinds of trouble they got into and why they believed problems occurred.
The types of behaviour that the students identified which got them into
trouble were generally either being off-task in class, and/or getting into fights.
Several other factors influenced how the students interpreted these events.
Students viewed how a fight started, who was responsible for the problem,
and the teacher response to the behaviour as salient features of their experience and the outcome.
R ESULTS
The nine students in this study readily acknowledged that they got into trouble at school. Generally, these students had clear ideas about what went on
in their classroom or on the playground. Students recognized several types
of misbehaviour from not too serious (e.g., not listening) to more severe (e.g.
fighting). However, although they were all quite willing to describe the trouble they got into, and some even admitted to being “really bad” or “out of
control”, the students did not always recognize their role in the behaviour or
take responsibility for their actions. The common belief was, “Yeah, I did
wrong, but ... or because ...”. As well, the students reported that peers influenced student misbehaviour, particularly among groups who were friends. If
the group misbehaved, members of the group would more likely do the same.
The students revealed a range of self-perceptions and constructions with regard to school, schoolwork and student behaviour.
The students perceive their teachers as holding the majority of the power
within the school. This perception works for and against students, depending on whether they understand their relationship with their teacher to be
positive or negative. The students expressed a desire for teachers to speak
to them “respectfully” and “kindly” and generally to recognize their ability to
interact in a mature way. They felt those teachers who had certain characteristics, like being fair, and having a sense of humour, as being those with whom
they could get along. It is important to the students that they feel cared for
and supported. Repeatedly, the students mentioned certain teachers who
knew them, who would talk to and explain things to them, and who would
listen. Knowing students in this way implies that the teachers have an ability
and willingness to consider the individual student’s perspective.
Many of the children also felt teachers could resolve student behaviour issues by phoning the parents of those who misbehaved. The students were
concerned that their parents would be angry with them and that additional
262 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
consequences would occur at home. That parental support is important to
the students further demonstrates their need for external support to control
their behaviour.
Teachers who do not show an understanding of the student perspective
serve to escalate certain behaviours in students, rather than help diffuse them.
Not surprisingly, the school experiences of many of these students have been
predominantly negative. In part, the students are saying that the teacher-student relationship is problematic. Students would welcome changing the
teacher behaviour they view as disrespectful and antagonistic and increasing
the amount of teacher behaviour seen as caring and helpful. Students also
experience difficulty when they feel teachers do not afford them enough attention. A consistent and common grievance is that teachers do not listen to
students. Teachers “not listening” is deemed inappropriate in two ways. The
first is the students’ sense that their point of view is not valued enough to be
heard. The second is when it is interpreted as teachers failing to meet students’ social and emotional needs. These actions were often perceived to
communicate a message to the students that they were not valued as students and, often, that they are not liked as individuals.
A recurring statement from students was that, when misbehaviour did
occur, the students involved needed a period of time to “calm down” before
the problem was dealt with. Failure to be given this time was regarded as a
major factor that escalated students’ behaviour into more severe anger and/
or aggression. The period of time given the students to cool off served to slow
things down for them so that their ability to problem solve and be involved in
a mediation process was more likely to be successful. Writing lines and serving time-outs were two consequences applied for misbehaviour that students
mentioned helped them because they could “calm down” and “not get mad.”
And, as one student put it, “It helped the teacher too.” The students also
implied by their comments that they were better able to talk things out and
control themselves when given a period of time to cool off.
In many of these cases, the teacher is described as recognizing a state of
volatility for the student. This recognition suggests that there are certain circumstances that can lead to a predictable pattern of interactions resulting in
the student “getting into trouble.” Given that the pattern is predictable, the
skill required by the teacher is to recognize the pattern at its preliminary stages
and intervene appropriately. The intervention, itself, does not always reflect
what we often think of as disciplinary action. Providing students with alternative activities to allow them to cool off and divert them from potential conflicts with peers requires the teachers both to know the students on a personal
basis and to care about them.
Surprisingly, while a number of intervention strategies were in place for
most of the students interviewed, the students rarely mentioned them. Clearly,
these interventions were not seen as making a difference. The only exception was one boy who talked about the reward system set-up by the class-
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 263
room teacher to help monitor his behaviour, a procedure which his mother
also used at home. Given that much time and money is spent on programs to
assist students with behaviour disorders, it may be that we are putting our
efforts in the wrong place. To increase teacher competency in dealing with
behaviour problems, written guidelines need to be further developed for behavioural programs in the area of behavioural skills, social skills, communication skills, and self-help skills. As well, successful programs are often attributed
to the quality of staff, their training, knowledge, commitment, and attitude.
Studying the teacher’s role from reviewing university training to program evaluation and in-services would also be beneficial.
I MPLICATIONS FOR F URTHER R ESEARCH
This study involved interviewing a group of students from one school during
one or two sessions. Replicating this study with fewer students over a longer
period would establish a baseline of the students’ behaviours early on, which
could then be examined in the school context over the course of time.
A further study could elicit other perspectives regarding student problem
behaviour, such as perspectives of teachers, of students whose behaviour is
not problematic, and of younger children. These results could provide a comparative study among the different groups.
A further comparative study could involve different interviewers selected
from various disciplines from within and outside of the school. These people
may include a psychologist, social worker, classroom teacher, or medical doctor. These results could further our understanding of the dynamics in the relationship between students and the adults in their microsystems.
The role of a school wide management system was not addressed in this
study. An approach for further study may be to select best practices to be
used in a whole school model and then test the strategies for their efficacy.
Looking at the effects of best practices on behaviour problems would add
another dimension to the discussion on what might help students with behaviour problems be successful in school.
C ONCLUSION
Despite the controversies inherent in the field of education for students with
behaviour disorders, the lack of a universally accepted definition, the variation in terminology, the diverse conceptual models and educational approaches, the lack of research, and despite the challenges that these students
present to educators, teachers will continue to educate this population of students within the school system. The detailed accounts of students’ perspectives provide a basis upon which to construct a picture of the child’s view on
the structural and interpersonal features of school life affecting their behaviour. The students’ comments provide a unique understanding of school and
school processes that contributes an essential perspective to understanding
their educational experience.
264 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
The students’ responses suggest that they underestimate the seriousness
of their behaviours which teachers find problematic. Students felt certain behaviours were serious, such as fighting, stealing and talking back to the teacher.
Other behaviours, such as not doing their work and talking during class, were
not considered “as serious” by students. Perhaps the students were not clear
about the rules and expectations set by teachers, or maybe they understood
the rules and expectations, but did not agree with them. However, whatever
the case, students must learn to accept responsibility for their behaviour when
they break the rules.
Students talked about their behaviour in some situations as being “out of
control.” Although they were aware their behaviour was not appropriate, students lacked the self-management strategies to respond in an acceptable way.
The teacher may need to directly instruct students on how to recognize early
their own anger signals, and provide students with strategies for managing
and reducing their anger.
The need for student self-management strategies is confirmed by students’
comments suggesting that teachers need to create “calm down” time, and
provide mediation processes to help students solve their problems. Teachers should provide students with the “space” to cool down before talking
through the problem. Again, teachers may need to directly teach the vocabulary and skills in order that students may actively participate in the problem
resolution process.
Teachers’ typical responses to student behaviour served to escalate the
problem behaviours rather than reduce or stop them. The teachers were perceived by students as using yelling, teasing, put-downs, sarcasm, and rudeness in dealing with student misbehaviour. Student reaction to these kinds
of teacher responses was more severe misbehaviour, which resulted in the
student being sent out into the hall and/or to the office. The students’ perception is that students need to be dealt with more fairly by teachers when
applying consequences for problem behaviour.
Teachers’ style of behaviour management strategy tended to be reactive
and equated to negative reinforcement or punishment. Consequences were
handed out to the students, in the students’ opinion, in reaction to, and relation to, the seriousness of the behaviour. Often, the teacher deflected the
problem by sending the student to the principal’s office rather than dealing
with the student themselves.
The lack of adult supervision and lack of teachers’ control over teasing, blaming, put-downs and unfairness, elicited problematic behaviours from students.
Students are less likely to engage in teasing and bullying behaviour when
teachers monitor the class and address misbehaviour. Failure to hold students
accountable means those students may engage in class tasks only to the extent of their own interest.
The students’ comments about why they misbehaved in school were most
closely aligned with the perspective known as the “sick school” typology.
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 265
Students put the “blame” for their misbehaviour almost entirely on the teacher,
and, in some cases, on the school. Students spoke of teachers not listening
to them and treating them unfairly and unkindly. Students mentioned schoolwork being boring and repetitive from the year before. Sometimes, they said,
they did not understand the work. They felt more supervision of students was
required, especially on the playground. The behaviour management strategies students identified teachers using suggested an escalating scale of punishment administered by the teacher (yelling, writing lines, extra work, and
losing privileges) or the principal (reprimands and suspension). The students
did not believe any of these practices helped them manage or change their
problem behaviour.
The interaction between student and teacher was an important factor in
the students’ opinion on how they were able to manage their own behaviour.
Students provided concrete examples of both good and bad teacher practices
and, in doing so, highlighted the effects those practices had on the students’
behaviour. What the students want of teachers is positive attention; they want
to be talked and listened to; they want teachers to help them achieve and be
successful in school. Students also raised the importance of the links between
the home and school. As Bronfenbrenner (1979) suggested, the stronger and
richer the links between microsystem elements, the better the situation for
children at the center of those systems.
Teachers should encourage students to identify those factors that develop
supportive and positive classroom environments. This knowledge would also
serve as a foundation for promoting communication between students and
their teachers and foster more positive learning environments.
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Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 269
The Prevalence of Problem and Pathological
Gambling in a Canadian University Student
Population
William Roy Smitheringale III
A BSTRACT
This study examines the prevalence rates of problem and pathological gambling in 483 students from the Faculty of Education and The Department of
Psychology at The University of Manitoba using the South Oaks Gambling
Screen. Findings include problem gambling prevalence rates of 5.4% and
pathological gambling prevalence rates of 5.0% for a combined prevalence
rate of 10.4 %. Problem and pathological gambling prevalence rates were significantly higher among males (6.8% and 9.7% respectively) than among females (4.0% and 0.3% respectively). Correlations were also found between
problem gambling and the following: drug and alcohol problems, depression,
having experienced emotional and verbal abuse, and parental gambling problems. Results suggest that a significant number of university students may
be experiencing problems with gambling and that those who are experiencing gambling problems are more likely to also be experiencing other problems.
I NTRODUCTION
I took my life tonight because of VLT. Please get Government
to take them out. I lost in two years over $125,000 because of them.
They cost my life - and will destroy my family. They are crooked
and give no body a chance.
Dennis Wynant (committed suicide November 8, 1997)
The inception of this study is rooted in the experiences of the thousands
of Manitobans whose lives have been, and continue to be, adversely affected
by problem gambling. The specific focus, problem gambling among university students, was chosen for two reasons. Firstly, there have been relatively
few studies which have measured problem gambling prevalence rates within
Canadian university populations. Secondly, the high problem gambling prevalence rates that have been reported across Canada among young adults seem
to warrant some concern and attention.
270 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
While determining the prevalence of problem gambling in our local universities is important, there is also a need to look deeper and explore what factors may put students at risk for developing gambling problems. Some of the
key areas of focus in this study include investigating possible correlations
between:
- problem gambling and socio-demographic factors,
- problem gambling and alcohol and drug use problems,
- problem gambling and depression, abuse or suicidal ideation,
- problem gambling and parental gambling habits, and
- correlations between problem gambling and early experiences with
gambling.
My hope is that the findings of this study will help to provide the impetus
for the implementation of more effective prevention and education strategies
aimed at addressing problem gambling in universities. Current efforts to educate students about gambling, and the inherent risks involved, may be inadequate given the potential magnitude of the problem. In any event, knowing
to what extent the problem exists is the first step toward creating a solution.
Gambling in Our Society: Defining the Problem
Legalized gambling has become increasingly prominent in Canadian society.
Gross gambling revenues in Canada increased more than threefold between
1992 and 2000 ($ 2.7 billion and $ 9.0 billion respectively) (Azmier, 2001). Never
before has gambling been such a ubiquitous part of our day-to-day lives
(Rosecrance, 1988). Unfortunately, this widespread access and promotion of
legalized gambling has also contributed to higher rates of problem gambling
(Shaffer, Hall, & Bilt, 1997).
Research shows that approximately 5.5 % of North Americans have a problem with gambling (Shaffer et al., 1997). In Manitoba, a general population
study completed by the Addictions Foundation of Manitoba (AFM) using the
South Oaks Gambling Screen (SOGS) identified 3.8% of participants as problem gamblers and a further 2.3% as probable pathological gamblers (AFM,
2002). This combined prevalence rate of 6.1 % was the highest provincial problem gambling prevalence rate reported in Canada at that time. Researchers
have identified an overall trend of increasing problem gambling prevalence
rates over the past two decades in conjunction with the expansion of legal
gambling across North America (Shaffer et al., 1997).
Consequences of Problem Gambling
There is no doubt that excessive gambling can cause serious problems for
individuals, families, and possibly our society as a whole. Clients admitted to
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 271
gambling rehabilitation programs typically report problems with their families,
being in debt, feeling depressed and often suicidal. On a societal level, problem gambling contributes to elevated levels of bankruptcy and crime
(Blaszczynski, McConaghy and Frankova (1989).
Given these serious consequences, it would seem prudent for our society
to closely monitor the prevalence of problem gambling and its effects on our
communities so as to ensure that the financial benefits accrued from widespread legalized gambling are not overshadowed by the very real social costs.
Understanding Pathological Gambling
Pathological gambling was first categorized as a mental disorder in 1980 when
it was included in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual – Third Edition (DSMIII). It is now generally accepted that pathological gambling is an addictive illness (Lesieur and Blume, 1993). Most of the major psychological schools of
thought have put forth theories on the nature or dynamics of problem gambling.
Physiological theories. These theories suggest that problem gamblers
may have a physiological and/or biological condition that results in a response
to gambling that is somehow different from a normal response, one that predisposes them to gamble heavily (Lesieur and Rosenthal, 1991; Jacobs, 1986).
Research in this area has focused mainly on three areas: EEG waves, plasma
endorphin levels, and other brain chemical imbalances (Lesieur and Rosenthal,
1991).
Psychological theories. These theories suggest that gamblers develop
problems as a result of some factor related to their psyche (Rosenthal, 1992)
whether it is an unresolved emotional wound (psychodynamic theories) or
certain personality traits that predispose someone to have problems with
gambling (personality and trait theories) (Corless and Dickerson, 1989).
Sociological theories. These theories suggest that observational learning and vicarious reinforcement from watching family or friends gamble explains how gamblers first become involved in gambling (Dickerson, 1984;
Rosecrance, 1986; Walker, 1992; Griffiths, 1990). Once introduced to gambling, people learn that gambling can provide social rewards, belonging to a
sub-culture that provides an identity and contact with like-minded peers or an
escape from the complexities of the world outside the gambling context
(Walters, 1994). The cognitive-behavioural model, one of the more accepted
social learning theories, suggests that problem gambling behaviours are acquired through operant and classical conditioning and are reinforced on a variable ratio reinforcement schedule through a combination of financial rewards
and heightened physiological arousal levels (Bandura, 1997).
It seems unlikely that any one theory can fully explain persistent gambling (Murray, 1993). Probably the best conceptual models of problem gambling are inclusive in that they take behavioural, cognitive, and emotional factors
272 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
into account. Pathological gambling should be approached with an eclectic
perspective, one that acknowledges that sociological, psychological, and biological processes are likely all involved an interactive and complex fashion
(Lesiur, 1988).
Common Co-Morbidities
In an effort to better understand problem gambling, researchers have looked
at how often other disorders co-occur with problem gambling. One of the more
important findings is a link between problem gambling and depression.
McCormick (1984) found significant rates of major depressive disorder among
problem gamblers. Over ninety percent (90.8%) of the problem gamblers who
called the AFM Problem Gambling HelpLine between March 1994 and April
1995 reported being depressed (AFM, 1996).
While the link between problem gambling and depression has been clearly
established, it is not clear whether the depression precedes or follows difficulties with gambling (Roy, Custer, Lorenz & Linnoila, 1988). In some cases
clinical depression may be the primary problem and the gambler may be using gambling in an attempt to self-medicate; however, other research suggests that a large part of the distress pathological gamblers experience often
stems from the gambling itself (Roy et al., 1988). The feelings of guilt and
shame that most problem gamblers experience can lead to periods of depression, and in extreme cases, suicidal thoughts and attempts (Sullivan, 1994).
Research has also shown that problem gamblers are much more likely than
the general population to have drug or alcohol addictions (Murray, 1993).
Lesieur (1988) reported findings that more than half of those who have problems with gambling also have problems with alcohol or drug abuse. Similarly,
higher rates of problem gambling exist among substance abusers than in the
general population. Other affective disorders that are common among problem gamblers include hypo-manic disorders, obsessive-compulsiveness, antisocial personality disorders, panic disorders and schizo-affective disorders
(Blaszczynski and McConaghy, 1989a; McCormick, 1984).
H YPOTHESES
This study will address the following hypotheses:
a)
participants in this study (university students) are more likely to be
problem gamblers than people in the general population;
b)
males are more likely to be problem gamblers than females;
c)
participants identified as problem gamblers are more likely than nonproblem gamblers to report having drug and/or alcohol use problems;
d)
participants who report having a parent who gambled too much are
more to be problem gamblers than those who did not.
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 273
M ETHODS
Recruiting Study Participants
Participants were recruited from the student population in the Faculty of Education and the Department of Psychology at the University of Manitoba. Participants were assured of their anonymity and that individual test results would
be kept completely confidential. All subjects were treated according to Canadian Psychology Association and American Psychology Association ethical
guidelines (1992).
Screening Instruments Used
The South Oaks Gambling Screen is a 20-item questionnaire based on the
DSM-III criteria for pathological gambling developed in 1987 by Lesieur and
Blume. Commonly used to screen clinical and general populations for problem and pathological gambling, the SOGS has been shown to be a valid and
reliable screening instrument (Lesieur and Blume, 1987).
R ESULTS
Socio-demographical Profile of Participants
All study participants (N = 483) were asked to provide certain socio-demographic information including gender, age, marital status, years at university
and parental income. The gender distribution for study participants may seem
skewed (female, 62.9%, n = 304; male, 37.1%, n = 179), however it is actually a fairly close representation of the students in the Faculty of Education
and the Department of Psychology. An overall socio-demographic profile of
study participants is as follows:
a)
never married
(86 % of participants)
b)
age 18 to 26
(88 % of participants)
c)
university < 5 years
(83 % of participants)
d)
parental income > $25,000 (89 % of participants).
Gambling Habits
A vast majority (86 %) of participants said they had gambled in the last year.
The most frequently reported form of gambling was playing VLTs/slots (63%),
followed closely by lotteries (62%) and break-opens/scratch tickets (54%).
When participants reported how often they gambled at various games, the
forms of gambled that were most often played on a weekly basis were lotteries (6%) and VLTs/slots (4%) (see Table 1).
274 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
Table 1
Percentage of Participant Involvement In Various Forms of Gambling at
Different Frequencies
Gambling Type
Weekly
Frequency
Monthly
<Monthly
Never
VLT’s/Slots
4.0%
20.0%
39.0%
37.0%
Lotteries
6.0%
16.0%
41.0%
38.0%
Break-opens/Scratch Tickets
3.0%
11.0%
40.0%
46.0%
Cards for Money
2.0%
4.0%
27.0%
67.0%
Bingo
0.0%
2.0%
25.0%
73.0%
Table Games
2.0%
4.0%
20.0%
75.0%
Sports Betting
2.0%
5.0%
15.0%
78.0%
Horses
0.0%
1.0%
10.0%
89.0%
Other
1.0%
1.0%
6.0%
91.0%
Prevalence of Problem and Probable Pathological Gambling
A total of 6.8% of all male participants were identified as problem gamblers
and an additional 9.7% as probable pathological gamblers, for a combined
prevalence rate of 16.5%. Among the female participants, 4.0% were identified as problem gamblers and an additional 0.3% as probable pathological
gamblers for a combined prevalence rate of 4.3%.
Determining an overall prevalence rate for the study requires gender weighting as significantly more females (n=304) than males (n=179) took part in the
study. The gender weighted prevalence rates for the study (an average of the
rates for males and females) are 5.4% problem gamblers and 5.0% probable
pathological gamblers for a combined prevalence rate of 10.4 % (see Table
2).
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 275
Table 2
Prevalence of Problem and Probable Pathological Gambling Among Males,
Females and Overall Within the Study Population
Problem
Gambling Category
Probable
Total
Pathological
Males
6.8 %
9.7 %
16.5 %
Females
4.0 %
0.3 %
4.3 %
Gender Weighted Average
5.4 %
5.0 %
10.4 %
Correlations Between Problem Gambling and Other Variables
Problem Gambling and Gender
The prevalence of problem and probable pathological gambling was significantly higher (χ2 = 28.892, df = 2, p < 0.001) among male participants than
among female participants. In fact, the combined prevalence rate for male
participants (16.5%) was more than four times the combined prevalence rate
for female participants (4.0%).
Problem Gambling and Age/Marital Status/Years at University/Parental Income
There was no statistically significant relationship between the prevalence of
problem gambling and any of these variables. The limited ranges of these
variables within this study likely weighed against finding significant results in
these areas.
Problem Gambling and Parental Gambling Problems
There was a significant relationship between problem gambling and having
had a parent who “gambles/gambled too much” (χ 2 = 31.471, df = 2,
p <0.001). Participants who reported having had a parent who “gambles/gambled too much” were almost 5 times more likely to have a gambling problem
themselves (see Table 3).
276 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
Table 3
Percentages of Participants Who Reported Having or Not Having a Parent Who
Gambled Too Much By Gambling Category
Gambling Category
Problem
Probable
Pathological
Total
4%
3%
7%
12 %
21 %
33 %
Parental Influence
Neither Parent Had a Gambling Problem
At Least One Parent Had a Gambling Problem
Problem Gambling and Age of First Gambling Experience
While there was no significant relationship between problem gambling and
the age at which participants first gambled, it was interesting to note that none
of the 49 participants who first gambled at age 18 or older reported having a
gambling problem.
Gambling Categories and CAGE Scores
There was a significant relationship between problem gambling and substance
abuse problems (χ2 = 32.613, df = 8, p < 0.001). Participants who had gambling problems were also more likely to have experienced drug or alcohol use
problems.
Problem Gambling and Depression
There was also a significant relationship between problem gambling and “having felt depressed” (χ2 = 6.227, df = 2, p < 0.05) as well as between problem
gambling and “having felt depressed” as a result of gambling (χ2 = 146.622,
df = 2, p < 0.001).
Problem Gambling and Suicidal Ideation/Suicide Attempts
There was no statistically significant relationship between problem gambling
and either thoughts of suicide or suicide attempts; however, two participants
did report that they had considered suicide as a result of gambling problems
and one participant reported having attempted suicide as a result of gambling
problems.
Problem Gambling and Physical/Sexual/Emotional/Verbal Abuse
There was no statistically significant relationship between problem gambling
and a history of either physical or sexual abuse. There was, however, a significant relationship between problem gambling and a history of both emotional abuse
(χ2 = 6.939, df = 2, p < 0.05) and verbal abuse (χ2 = 6.638, df =2, p < 0.05).
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 277
D ISCUSSION
Socio-Demographic Results
The study population (N = 483) seems to be a fairly typical same of undergraduate students in most respects including age, marital status, years at
university and parental income. The overrepresentation of females among the
study population (63% female, 37% male) was expected given that the majority of in both the Faculty of Education and the Department of Psychology
are female.
Gambling Related Results
The popularity of gambling among participants, over 86% of study participants
had been involved in at least one form of gambling in the past year, was also
not surprising. These figures are comparable to gambling involvement numbers for the general population. The types of gambling students are involved
in, primarily VLTs, lottery tickets, and break-open or scratch tickets, were also
expected and again closely mirrored gambling involvement among the general public.
The problem gambling prevalence rates (5.4% problem; 5.0% probable
pathological; 10.4% combined) are considerably higher than prevalence rates
for the general population; however, this too was expected in that most other
studies have found elevated problem gambling prevalence rates among college and university students. In their meta-analysis of problem gambling prevalence studies Shaffer, Hall, and Bilt (1997) reported average problem gambling
prevalence rates for college students as follows: 9.3% problem; 4.7% probable pathological; 14.0% combined).
Table 4
Problem and Probable Pathological Gambling Prevalence
Rates Based on the SOGS
Gambling Category
Problem
Parental Influence
Probable Combined
Pathological Prevalence
Meta-analysis: University and College
9.3 %
4.7 %
14.0 %
University of Manitoba (2004)
5.4 %
5.0 %
10.4 %3 %
278 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
Correlations Between Gambling Related Results and Other Variables
It was expected that male study participants would have significantly higher
combined problem gambling prevalence rates than females (16.5% and 4.3
% respectively); however, the four fold magnitude of the difference was somewhat surprising. Also surprising was the fact that the probable pathological
gambling rate among males (9.7%) was actually higher than the rate for problem gambling (6.8%). This is somewhat unusual in that in most other studies, pathological gambling rates are slightly lower than probable pathological
gambling rates. While possibly an anomaly related to the relatively small sample size, this result does suggest that male students have much more of a
tendency to become involved in gambling to excessive levels.
By contrast, the female probable pathological gambling prevalence rate
(0.3%) is a fraction of the female problem gambling rate (4.0%), indicating
that while some females may be experiencing some minor negative effects
from gambling, they are not involved in gambling to the extent that would
result in serious harms. Comparing the male and female rates of probable
pathological gambling rates (9.7 % and 0.3% respectively) helps illustrate the
marked differences in male and female gambling habits, especially at a more
extreme level of involvement. Possible explanations for this difference include:
(a) males may be more likely in general to engage in risk-taking behaviors (b)
males may be socialized to be more competitive, aggressive, or “winning”
oriented and may find it harder to walk away from a gambling activity having
lost money; and (c) it is still more socially acceptable for males to gamble,
though this, like so many other social inequities, is shifting.
The finding that there was no significant relationship between problem
gambling and marital status, years at university, or parental income was not
unexpected. In regards to age, many other studies have found statistically
higher problem gambling prevalence rates among those between the ages
of 18 to 25. This was not evident in this study; however, it should be noted
that 88% of participants were age 18 to 26 meaning that the sample size for
those over age 26 was relatively small (n=58). The high problem gambling
prevalence rates found in this study are consistent with other studies of similar age groups.
The significant influence of parental gambling habits was an expected finding but the strength of that influence was somewhat surprising. The combined prevalence rate (33%) for participants who had at least one parent who
“gambles/gambled too much” was nearly 5 times that of participants who
did not have a parent who gambles/gambled too much (7%).
The relationship between gambling problems and alcohol or drug use problems was anticipated as was the relationship between depression and problem gambling. While it is a fairly well established fact that patterns of addictions
and depression are often convergent, the nature of the relationship, in terms
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 279
of which is cause and which is effect, has yet to be clearly established. It
seems likely that it is actually a complex relationship in which sometimes
depression leads to problem gambling and sometimes problem gambling leads
to depression. Clearly, each can have an exacerbating effect on the other, regardless of which occurred first.
The absence of a correlation between gambling problems and suicidal ideation in this study may be related to the fact that suicidal ideation and attempts
usually manifest in the later stages of gambling addiction. It may be that even
though a significant number of participants had experienced problems related
to their gambling, many may not have reached the later desperation and giving up phases when suicidal thoughts most often occur. Also, most participants in this study did not have families, jobs, and homes to lose and often it
is these negative consequences that lead a problem gambler to consider suicide.
There was no significant relationship between having a gambling problem
and having experienced physical or sexual abuse however there was a correlation between gambling problems and both emotional and verbal abuse. Similar to substance abuse and depression, experiences with abuse often correlate
with gambling problems. It was slightly surprising that there was a relationship between gambling problems and only two of these four types of abuse.
The explanation may lie in the fact that physical and sexual abuse victims are
typically much more likely to be female while it is the males that are much
more likely to problem gamblers.
L IMITATIONS
While it appears that the study population is a fairly representative one, generalizing the study results to groups outside the study population is problematic. Study participants were not chosen randomly in that the self-selected
themselves by volunteering. It is very difficult to know what effect this had
on the make-up of the study population and how it may or may not have biased it in any way. It also should be noted that the study included multiple
comparisons, increasing the possibility of a false correlation occurring due to
chance. Finally, the use of self-report questionnaires in this study also introduces the potential for a self-report bias. Self-report bias could result in participants minimizing the behaviours because of guilt or shame. Conversely,
study participants could over-report their gambling involvement in an effort
to please the researcher.
Having said this, results are fairly consistent with studies looking at similar
populations. Other than the self-selection of study participants, there does
not appear to be any compelling reasons to doubt that the findings are likely
representative of the range of gambling activities and the problems being
experienced by the overall university student population.
280 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
I MPLICATIONS AND F URTHER R ESEARCH
While the problem gambling prevalence rates found in this study were basically in line with expectations, the fact that approximately 1 in 10 university
students surveyed had a problem with gambling is still significant. University
students are often in an experimental phase of their lives in which they are
seeking out new experiences, including gambling. In fact, risk taking in general is more common among young adults who are testing their limitations
and sometimes living under a false sense of invulnerability. This among other
social factors puts university students at risk for gambling problems.
Gambling has never before been such a pervasive and accepted part of
society. For many youth, gambling has become a new rite of passage and
students may experience peer pressure to gamble. University students often spend more time in close proximity to VLTs in bars and lounges, increasing the likelihood of their gambling involvement. Additional risk factors may
include experiencing times of high stress, feelings of isolation as a result of
living away from home for the first time, and new found access to large sums
of money through student loans and credit cards.
No discussion of problem gambling would be complete without acknowledging the effect of the new electronic forms of gambling such as VLTs and
electronic slot machines. These fast paced games may be particularly appealing to young adults who have grown up playing video games and may view
VLTs as simply a form of adult video game.
While university years are often a time when people experiment, they are
also important years where success or failure at university can have a lasting
life impact. With a problem of this magnitude, it would seem prudent to have
some kind of active prevention and education program in place to help raise
student awareness about the risks involved with gambling, to alert them to
potential early signs and symptoms of problem gambling, and to inform them
of the resources that are available if they are experiencing gambling problems.
Programs aimed at educating students about safe and responsible gambling
strategies would also seem advisable. More research needs to be done to
determine what the most effective ways of delivering these messages.
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 281
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A new instrument for the identification of pathological gamblers.
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Lesieur, H. R., & Blume, S. B. (1993). Pathological gambling, eating disorders, and
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McCormick. R. A. (1984). Dr. McCormick replies. American Journal of Psychiatry,
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Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 283
The Nature of the Conceptual Changes that
Students Undergo as They Become Aware
of Their Own Growth in Mathematical
Problem Solving
Hanhsong Vuong
A BSTRACT
The purpose of this paper is to describe a research study in problem-solving
activities. I am an action researcher who studied 8th grade students. The study
investigated the students’ awareness of the conceptual changes in solving
the Balance problems. Over a two-year period, students’ Balance work has
caused them to revisit their thinking processes, and these documents can
trigger students to recognize their learning growth.
My View on Education
Whenever I look into a mirror, the reflection of myself as a teacher shows me
that I am an individual who takes learning to heart. Being a teacher during the
day, and a master’s student at night has broadened my view on education. I
used to think that one of teachers’ main roles was to give a test at the end of
each unit, and the test was supposed to measure students’ learning. Learning is more than that. Learning cannot be treated as an end product, but learning is a continuous process where there is no beginning or end. Each stepping
stone, major or minor is considered significant, because the step can supplement previous steps allowing students to have a better understanding of their
ontological and epistemological world. Being able to understand students’
own personal learning style helps them become aware of their roles in the
classroom.
My teaching assignments include grades 6 to 8 mathematics, and grades
7 and 8 English Language Arts. In some ways, I think that I am a fortunate
teacher who teaches the same group of students for three consecutive years.
Within these three years, students develop socially and mentally.
My programs are designed to embrace learning and growth. Learning can
be compared to a flower. The blooming process takes time. Snapshots of the
284 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
flower must be taken every few minutes in order to see the growth. Otherwise, the growth is too little to be noticeable.
Applying this analogy to learning growth, I believe that students go through
a similar process as blooming flowers. The changes in the students’ progress
often seems little and insignificant. When the progress is examined after a
certain period of time, I am then able to notice the growth in students’ learning. The nature of changes that students undergo is important to me as a
teacher. I believe, however, that students should become aware of their own
progress as well. To see the learning growth, students are required to document their thinking processes, as they engage in problem-solving activities
on a regular basis. These documents contain students’ work samples representing snapshots of their learning. Students and I can, then, revisit the documents whenever needed. The written documents provide feedback for
students to see the changes in their thinking processes. As the students go
through the process, they become aware of their capabilities in solving mathematical problems. As a result, students are able to personalize their goals,
develop their own strategic plans, execute the plans, and constantly monitor
their own learning. The learning circle encourages students to become active
participants.
We seldom discuss how we accomplish our achievements. Things take
their course, and we move on to our next destinations. If we could take a few
moments each day to explicate one skill out of many which we would like to
learn or observe in the course of a day, we would be able to notice changes,
little by little. Recognizing and appreciating these little changes is significant
because when we recognize changes, we can strive for betterment, steering
and accelerating our learning rather than just allowing it to take place.
There should be no difference in mathematics classrooms. During any given
period, students are engaged in changing their knowledge about mathematical ideas. If students are to intentionally become better at their mathematical
learning, they will need to set goals, develop plans, and execute those plans.
However, they must first notice and then put into words their own learning
processes.
In How to Solve It, George Polya, (1957) outlines the progression from a
learner noticing his/her cognition, gaining confidence as a result, and becoming more intentional as a learner:
The best is, however, to help the students naturally. The teacher
should put himself in the student’s place, he should see the student’s
case, he should try to understand what is going on in the student’s
mind, and ask a question or indicate a step that could have occurred
to the student himself. (p. 1).
If the student has really conceived a plan, the teacher has now a
relatively peaceful time. The main danger is that the student forgets
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 285
his plan. This may easily happen if the student received his plan from
outside, and accepted it on the authority of the teacher; but if he
worked for it himself, even with some help, and conceived the final
idea with satisfaction, he will not lose this idea easily. Yet the teacher
must insist that the student should check each step. (p. 13, original
italic text)
One of the first and foremost duties of the teacher is not to give
his students the impression that mathematical problems have little
connection with each other, and no connection at all with anything
else. We have a natural opportunity to investigate the connections
of a problem when looking back at its solution. The students will find
looking back at its solution really interesting if they have made an
honest effort, and have the consciousness of having done well. Then
they are eager to see what else they could accomplish with that effort, and how they could do equally well another time…(p. 15)
Polya’s ideas suggest that mathematics classrooms should be constructed
in a manner that facilitate intentional learning. Learning is to be structured by
the learners themselves. Mathematics instruction needs to provide opportunities for each learner to adapt learning opportunities to their individual needs.
Generating and establishing personal learning goals needs to be followed by
reflection on and celebrating success as those goals are attained. Success
can be motivating, and success can provide learners with an opportunity to
become aware of the incidences that led to their success, and this can enable them to strive consciously for similar results.
Students’ roles in mathematics classrooms become more complex when
students are expected to become active participants in adapting their behaviors
to achieve goals. Students take charge of their own learning when they take
action to fulfill their personal learning needs. Students must be encouraged
to develop and execute plans, which can enable them to meet their needs,
and they must be encouraged to reflect on and celebrate their accomplishments along the way. Students need to be taught to analyze their learning
and ultimately, make internal the processes of becoming better at learning.
This is what Polya intends when he describes helping students naturally to
become better at learning.
When students in mathematics classrooms must construct their own
meanings of mathematics, the teacher’s roles become challenging to establish, but less central to the learning processes of the students. To establish a
learning environment, the mathematics teacher must try to understand the
learning capability of each student. Richard Skemp (1987) explains, “So the
teacher of mathematics has a triple task: to fit the mathematical material to
the state of development of the learners’ mathematical schemas; to also fit
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the manner of presentation to the modes of thinking … of which the learners
are capable; and, finally, to increase gradually the learners’ abilities to [be independent of the teacher]” (p. 45). As the teacher becomes more familiar
with the learners, the teacher is better able to decide how to adjust instruction to help students fulfill their responsibilities. As the appropriate learning
environment develops, the teacher’s roles are simplified. Learning processes
are directed and completed more by the students than by the teacher. The
teacher facilitates by monitoring and guiding, and encourages students to apply
their acquired knowledge to solving mathematical problems.
This research study took place within a sequence of problem-solving activities for my grade 6, 7, and 8 students. In the activities, students solved a
specific problem and recorded their solution and their solution processes. The
students then used a rubric intended to lead them toward noticing and expressing their strategies, and celebrating their progress. In this study, I focused on the students’ awareness of their progress in solving problems. The
research question was:
What is the nature of the conceptual changes that students undergo
as they become aware of their own growth in mathematical
problem solving?
In the Balance Series
The specific problem-solving sequence of activities used in this study, is called
“The Balance Series”. (See Figure I). Each puzzle contains a diagram of a mobile. The mobile shows a two-armed balance suspended at its midpoint. Geometric forms suspended from each arm represent masses. Students must
determine numerical values for the mass of each form, so that the mobile
will balance. To assist students, each problem has one or more mathematical
statements. The balances allow students to use informal algebra, and trigger
them to develop their intuitive knowledge of algebraic concepts.
Each diagram of a mobile is a representation of an algebraic equation.
Problem Solving: The Balances
The Assessment Rubric
4 - Expert Response:
• the explanation is very clear and complete
• each step shows logical thinking
• the correct answer
and must satisfy one of the below criteria
• show and explain a strategy when verifying the answer
• show another or more possible solutions to the problem
• relate the problem to something in daily life
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 287
3 - Practitioner Response:
• the explanation is clear
• each step shows logical thinking
• the correct answer
2-
Apprentice Response:
• show a little or no explanation
• the correct answer
•
•
OR
the explanation shows clear/right thinking
the answer contains a few minor errors
1 - Novice Response:
• try the problem
• show difficulties in understanding the problem
Note: 1/2 mark will be deducted from the response level for a minor computation error.
The fulcrum (balancing point) can represent the equals sign in the equation; each geometric form can be seen as a variable; each arm with geometric forms symbolizes terms on each side of the equation that must be balanced.
When the students determine the value for each geometric form, so that the
mobile will be balanced, the geometric forms are seen as specific numerical
values. The series of problems offers one context for engaging with the concepts involved in an algebraic equation. The complexity of each balance problem in the series increases, with balances suspended from balances, more
literal symbols, and more complex mathematical statements as clues.
As the students solve the balance problems, they are thinking about algebraic ideas informally. Throughout the problem-solving process, students must
be conscious of maintaining the balance of both sides; this is a contextual
example of the algebra concept of equality. Students learn that one geometric form can have different values in different contexts, but in each context,
each geometric form can have only one value even when it is used more than
once. This is how variables operate in formal algebra. The supplementary clues,
in the form of mathematical statements using literal symbols, bring the forms
of algebra into the problem-solving context. Students can think about algebra
statements as ways of expressing their understandings about the mobiles
and the problems they are solving.
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Instructional Program
One problem from The Balance Series is done each week. Each time, the students will work for one period of forty-five minutes on one problem, describing their solution and their process on the problem sheet. Sometimes, more
class time is provided, and usually they are able to take the problem home to
complete their solution if necessary. Later in the week, the teacher will lead
a whole-class lesson, discussing students’ solutions and their representations
of their problem-solving processes. Often, this is done with transparencies
of students’ written work. After the discussion, students are asked to do selfassessment based on the four-level problem-solving rubric. (See Problem
Solving: The Balances; p. 294). On their balance sheets, they must indicate
their level, along with their own explanations of why they know that they are
working at that level. The teacher collects these sheets for formal assessment of their mathematical reasoning and their self-assessment. The teacher
writes comments only when the student’s self-assessment indicates that the
student is not using the rubric appropriately in the self-assessment. Because
the intention for this program is to consider the progress of each student as
an individual, there are no comparisons made between students.
Students store their Balance Series sheets in a duo-tang. The intentions
for the students’ collection of their work are to provide opportunities for them
to revisit their work and recognize that they are making progress: solving more
difficult problems and expressing their thinking processes more richly.
When middle-years students express their mathematical thinking processes, they are writing algebraic steps informally. The students must show
their understandings and the process that brings them to the solution. When
they determine a numerical value for a geometric form (a single variable) and
use it to determine other forms suspended on the balance, they have developed their own algebraic procedures. Each time the students solve a mobile
suspended from another mobile, they are solving one-step or more first
degree equations.
Literature Review—Research Method
For my research study, I am using my own teaching situation as a site for
research, with my students as research participants. Simultaneously maintaining the dual roles of teacher/researcher must be undertaken with care.
David Wong (1995) perceives an inherent conflict in this dual role. He defines
a teacher’s role as being concerned with the sphere of process or change in
human characteristics, and a researcher’s role as being concerned with knowing or understanding these characteristics. Furthermore, a teacher’s primary
goal is to choose and take appropriate actions to cause the change. A researcher’s primary goal, however, is to carefully observe, reflect and inquire to understand the situation. Wong (1995) emphasizes his struggles to come to
terms with his teacher’s role in the classroom, while negotiating his researcher’s roles. He believes that teacher’s roles are to act responsibly and with com-
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 289
passion and respect. The researcher’s roles are merely responsible for interrogating subjects, and asking probing questions until he/she knows and understands his/her subjects’ perspectives. Wong (1995) explicates that these
two roles are distinct, and there should not be any crossovers. The teacher/
researcher can merely play one role, either the teacher or the researcher, and
not both simultaneously.
As a researcher, I was greatly interested in students’ conceptions of
the natural world and their ways of interpreting and explaining them.
I felt that any assistance from me would adversely influence the expression of their tenuous understanding. On the other hand, as a
teacher I felt obligated to instruct, to change Toni’s notions or her way
of thinking (p. 25).
In contrast, Suzanne Wilson (1995) claims that the teacher’s role and the
researcher’s role can be unified. The teacher/researcher’s primary roles are
to produce knowledge; researchers produce knowledge through writing and
publishing papers and textbooks, giving presentations, generating theories,
whereas teachers produce knowledge through teaching and exploring ideas.
Wilson (1995) believes that if the teacher/researcher is too conscious of separating one role from another, then he/she is constrained to interact with his/
her epistemology. Instead, she considers it to be the role of teachers and researchers alike to find out how to clarify any student confusion, and to examine the situation at hand closely. Wong (1995), on the other hand, claims that
it is without doubt that the action of teacher/researcher can interfere and
change the intention of the research to a certain degree, but many teacher/
researchers are incorporating such interventions as opportunities to examine
the change.
I agree with Wilson (1995):
…teacher must teach. But teaching, for me, entails everything I
must do to help my students learn, including asking questions. In his
portrait of both teaching and research, Wong focuses on questioning as a tool of research and ignores the fact that it is equally a tool
of teaching. Questions help teachers, as Dewey (1904,1964) reminds
us, study pupils’ minds. Furthermore, from Socrates on, many educators have used questions as a powerful pedagogical tool (cf.,
Haroutunian-Gordon, 1991). (p. 20) original italic text).
The first aspect of my research is to investigate students’ work samples
from the 2000-2001 school year. My task as action researcher is to analyze
the students’ work to see progress in their learning to explicate their cognition through writing. Obviously, this task assists me, a researcher, in knowing and understanding how students demonstrate their learning progress, and
in determining and defining what their learning progress is. At the same time,
as a teacher it is valuable to see and be part of students’ learning progress so
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I can apply what I learn in my research analysis in the planning of my instruction. Evidently, there is no need for negotiating between the two roles because essentially both roles are striving for the same agenda – that is the
knowledge of students becoming aware of their problem-solving processes
and their understanding of Balance concepts. This example illustrates what
Wilson (1995) meant by the compatibility of the two roles.
As a teacher/researcher, I have to acknowledge that the teacher and the
researcher at the fundamental level, are two distinct professional roles. As
Wong (1995) points out, “… reducing our conceptions of teaching and research
to their common denominator eliminates much of what make each a disciplined, professional practice” (p. 23). Being the teacher is to teach and explore mathematical ideas with the students, and being the researcher is to
observe and understand such actions. These two roles, however, do not have
to operate independently of each other. Instead, both roles can be viewed as
knowledge producers. The acquired knowledge, then, can bring two kinds of
learning processes – 1) the researcher’s learning and understanding the sphere
of process or change in participants’ characteristics, and 2) the teacher’s learning of his own practice. In my belief, I have the need to interact with the students in my classroom in order to become aware of my pedagogy. In other
words, the more I understand the situation at hand, the more I will become
acquainted with my own practice, and as a result, I am able to gain success
with students, and encourage their learning growth.
My duties as teacher include ensuring that every student is treated equally
and fairly. Although the students cannot opt out of instruction, it is within a
students’ discretion, in this case along with their legal guardians, to either participate or not in my research activity. I must ensure that the choice to participate or not to participate in my research activity will not affect the students’
course marks. My role as researcher includes defining clearly the parameters
for my data collection, and being ethical in fulfilling my responsibilities to be
discreet and respect the confidentiality of participants. I may need to separate research interactions from classroom interactions, and collect data equitably from every student who chooses to participate in the research. I am,
however, entitled to select and use all or only parts of the collected data in
the research report. These considerations will help to resolve the ethical complications of the teacher/researcher duality.
The Complementary Accounts Methodology
My research design will be an adaptation of the qualitative approach that David
Clarke (1997) named complementary accounts methodology. With this
method, a teacher/researcher seeks to understand the learning that occurs
in complex settings such as classrooms, recognizing that the learning must
reflect and accommodate that complexity. The focus of the methodology is
to study the interactions between teacher/students and among students (social context) in a classroom. This social activity is experienced as personal
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 291
meaning, and any theory of learning must accommodate this constructed self.
This accommodation can occur through a data-collection process that generates an appropriately rich data set, and then the research employs analytical
techniques sensitive to the multifaceted and multiple connected nature of data.
In complementary accounts methodology, the research team utilizes available technology to combine videotape data with participants’ reconstructions
of classroom events. Clarke (1997) states that complementary accounts methodology is distinguished from other approaches to classroom research by:
1.
the nature of the data collection procedures, leading to the construction of “integrated data sets” combining videotape and interview
data;
2.
the inclusion of the reflective voice of participant students in the
data set; and
3.
an analytical approach that utilizes a research team with complementary but diverse areas of expertise to carry out a multifaceted
analysis of a common body of classroom data (p. 98).
The challenge for this type of classroom research is to portray the learning
process of individuals that occurs in a highly complex social context. The learning process is taken to be an integration of the obvious social events that are
captured on the videotape and the constructions of individual’s construal of
those events, and the memories invoked that take place during the interview.
Central to this research procedure is the use of videotaped classroom lessons and video-stimulated recall techniques within an interview protocol that
seek to obtain the following:
1.
Students’ perceptions of their own constructed meanings in the
course of the lesson and the associated memories and existing meanings employed in the constructive process;
2.
Students’ sources of conviction for the construction of their mathematical meanings; and
3.
The individuals, experiences, arguments, or actions in which students believed mathematical (academic content) authority to reside
(p. 100).
Although I will not be using the same technologies, I will be using a similar
approach to collecting students’ perceptions, sources of convictions, and
views on their learning experiences with the Balance Series.
The Rationale for Complementary Accounts Research
The focus of the research was to seek an understanding of learning growth
that integrates the students’ learning process in problem-solving activities and
their reflection on their role as problem solvers. The research method is similar to complementary accounts methodology (Clarke, 1997). The data-collection processes are the same, but the instruments used are different. The first
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set of data is obtained from the activities that occur in the mathematics classroom. The collected data, then, are to be analyzed and interpreted by the researcher. The researcher generates field notes and collates the notes to the
corresponding documents in the students’ collections. The researcher sets
up for the interviews with the students, making direct reference to the collections. The conversations during these interviews were recorded on audio
cassettes for analysis later.
There is one clear distinction in method between this design and Clarke’s
(1997). Instead of videotaping classroom events and using Cvideo software
to collate field notes to the corresponding events in the video recorder, this
research utilized students’ collections of past written work in solving the Balance problems. I generated field notes on the word processor and manually
collated the notes to the corresponding documents in the collections. These
collections of writing provided an in-depth look at students’ thinking process,
and their problem-solving strategies used in the Balance problems.
Since the focus of the research was on the context of learning growth and
descriptions of the students’ interpretations and coming to terms with their
learning growth in problem solving, the methods were qualitative.
R ESEARCH P ROCEDURE
The 8th-grade students, in an urban school division in Western Canada, served
as the setting for this research. The selected school was that of nursery to
grade 8, and only offers French Immersion programs. Most of the students
acquired the French language as early as nursery. Almost all the subject areas are taught in French, except for English language arts, and a few special
health mini-programs such as Family Life, Lions Quest, The Real Game, are
taught in the English language.
The nature of the research was to have collections of sufficient amounts
of previously written student samples in solving the Balance problems. The
8th-grade students were the most suitable candidates because they have been
actively engaged in solving the Balance problems in my mathematics class
since 6th-grade. The collections used in the research were accumulations of
two school-years’ work.
Prior to conducting the first set of interviews, I analyzed the participants’
work collections. The key elements were focused on three areas: 1) problem-solving skills, 2) strategic plans, and 3) written thought processes. The
first key element was to identify the students’ struggles, and successes in
solving the Balance problems. The importance of noticing and recognizing the
changes necessary to become successful problem solvers helped the students and myself see the gradual changes in adapting and fine-tuning their
problem-solving skills to fit novel situations. The second key element was to
concentrate on the problem-solving strategies that the students used in the
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 293
activities. The importance was for the students and myself to see and recognize the distinction between successful and unsuccessful strategies, and how
students made necessary changes to their strategic plans to meet their learning goals. The third key element was to focus on their written thought processes. Writing in mathematics is already a difficult process for most students,
making writing about their thinking processes even more difficult. The importance of noticing and recognizing the changes in the way they expressed their
thought processes helped the students and myself in identifying and correcting any misconceptions that might play a major role in the students’ thoughts
about the Balance problems.
The participants took part in an initial 30-minute audio-taped interview, in
the school library during lunch hour. Each interview involved 3 participants.
To conduct the first interviews, I shared my analysis of key elements with
the participants, and made direct reference to their written work in their collections. This interview process is called “document-stimulated” (Clarke, 1997,
p. 100). The students’ work collections triggered their memories and helped
them in constructing their own meanings and understandings of the Balance
problems. The participants were asked to confirm on or react to my statements. I attempted to provide a conversational quality to the interview by engaging in personal commentary and by encouraging the participants to lead
the conversation within the context of their own mathematical knowledge.
Since each interview involved 3 students, the participants were invited and
encouraged to interpret or give comments on each other’s responses where
applicable. During the interviews, I intentionally made a comparison between
the participants’ work. I wanted to introduce two terms: working hard and
working smart. Working hard is considered as seeing and depending on numerical values to solve a problem, while working smart is considered as making
generalization about the relationships between geometric shapes on a mobile before applying numerical values to obtain solutions.
All three sets of the first interviews were transcribed. These transcripts
had focused on the highlighted elements. Key elements/statements from the
first set of data were illuminated, and I was ready to schedule for the second
sets of interviews with all 9 participants.
In the second interviews, I provided the participants with an overview of
the participants’ previous highlighted elements/statements. The interviews
were partly “document-stimulated” (Clark, 1997). I prepared at least one key
statement for each participant, and once again the tone of the conversation
was pursued through the active and interactive participation of the interviewees. For the remaining time of the interview, I had asked the participants to
work cooperatively on solving Puzzle 17 by showing only the mobile. The given
values were removed. My intention was to emphasize to the participants to
exercise the “working smart” concept.
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F IGURE I
At this moment I have finished transcribing the second three sets of interviews. The next step for me is to analyze and interpret for topics, demonstrating the potential student growth, and students’ perception and conception of
their growth in problem solving.
R ESEARCH T IMELINE
Proposal Defense: Friday, September 28, 2001 at 4 p.m.
Proposal to Ethics Committee: September – October 2001
Data Collection and Interviews: November 2001
Data Analysis: January – February 2002
Thesis Defence: June/July 2002
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 295
C ONCLUSION
Thus far in the research process, I feel that I have learned a lot about myself.
The process has taught me to be patient, but the most important thing that I
learned about myself was my philosophy of education.
I believe that learning takes time. Students need to be patient so not to
give up during the learning process, and teachers need to encourage and foster learning that is taking place. The collaboration between the students and
the teacher is important. My role is to help students see their own growth in
solving mathematical problems, and sometimes I have to intentionally cause
the students to see their growth through direct teaching. I believe direct teaching is an important tool and can be used to stimulate and challenge students
to see what they normally would not see.
Learning involves dedication. Students must personalize their sense of direction for learning. Students’ learning direction can be determined based on
their previous work. The previous work serves as a learning foundation for
the students to build on. Otherwise, the sense of direction will become too
vague for them to identify. The teacher needs to observe and guide students
in seeing their progress, which in turn will assist students in setting up their
own goals. The process of involving students in their learning creates an environment that enhances personal growth, and personal responsibility. Students will commit and apply their effort, to successfully attaining their goals.
Learning involves risks. As soon as the students are out of their comfort
zone, they must take risks. This situation, however, teaches students to become aware of their learning and their progress. Risks stimulate students to
think critically. Critical thinking stimulates students to make informed decisions. The students will analyse each step taken leading them to their goals.
I will not say that I have no knowledge of these types of learning, but by
going through the thesis processes, I have learned to value these ideas. The
thesis route gives me the flexibility to investigate areas that are most interesting to me. I am glad that I have chosen the thesis route, because I have a
chance to follow and do an extensive study of how students become aware
of their learning growth. Because learning is not an end product, learning is a
continuous process. The research data provide an in-depth look at these 9
students as learners in a mathematics class. Understanding their self-awareness helps my classroom instructions, and the most important thing for me
is to use what I learned as a teacher and a researcher to help and understand
students. The study has inspired me as a teacher and a researcher who takes
learning to heart.
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R EFERENCES
Barnes, M. (2000). Magical’ moments in mathematics: Insights into the process
of coming to know, For the Learning of Mathematics, 33–43.
Beyer, B. K. (1997). Improving student thinking: A comprehensive approach.
Needham Heights, MA: Allyn & Bacon.
Boaler, J. (1998). Open and closed mathematics: Student experiences and
understandings, Journal for Research in Mathematics Education, 41-62.
Brown, J. L. (1995). Observing dimensions of learning in classrooms and schools.
Alexandria, Virginia: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development.
Burton, L. & Morgan, C. (2000). Mathematicians writing, Journal for Research in
Mathematics Education, 429-453.
Clarke, D. J. (1997). Studying the Classroom negotiation of meaning: Complementary accounts methodology, Journal for Research in Mathematics Education Monograph No. 9, 98-111.
Day, R. & Jones, G. A. (1997). Building bridges to algebraic thinking, Mathematics
Teaching in the Middle School, 209-212.
Fouche, K. (1997). Algebra for everyone: start early, Mathematics Teaching in the
Middle School, 226-229.
Fraivillig, J. L., Murphy, L. A. & Fuson, K. C. (1999). Advancing children’s mathematical thinking in everyday mathematics classrooms, Journal for
Research in Mathematics Education, 148-170.
Kroner, L. (1997). In the Balance – Algebra logic puzzle. Mountain View, CA: Creative Publications.
Manitoba Education and Training (1997). Grade 5 to 8 mathematics: A foundation
for implementation. Winnipeg, Manitoba: Author.
National Council of Teachers of Mathematics (1995). National council of teachers
of mathematics assessment standards.
Polya, G. (1957). How to solve it. Princeton University Press.
Skemp, R. R. (1987). The Psychology of learning mathematics. London: Erlbaum.
Stacey, K. & MacGregor, M. (1997). Building foundations for algebra, Mathematics Teaching in the Middle School, 253-260.
Swafford, J. O. & Langrall, C. W. (2000). Grade 6 students’ pre-instructional use
of equations to describe the represent problem situations, Journal for Research in Mathematics Education, 98-111.
Wilson, S. M. (1995). Not tension but intention: A response to Wong’s analysis of
the researcher/teacher, Educational Researcher, 19–22.
Wong, E. D. (1995A). Challenges confronting the researcher/teacher: Conflicts of
purpose and conduct, Educational Researcher, 22–28.
Wong, E. D. (1995B). Challenges confronting the researcher/teacher: A rejoinder
to Wilson, Educational Researcher, 22–23.
Woodbury, S. (2000). Teaching toward the big ideas of algebra, Mathematics Teaching in the Middle School, 226-231.
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 297
Unifying Theory and Practice in
Implementing Change
Jaclyn Koskie
Literature on implementing change in education includes abundant material
on strategies and professional development activities (Blair, 2000; Gainey &
Webb, 1998; Murray, 1988). However, there continues to be debate on how
to have educators adopt a variety of ‘best practices’ in the areas of educational curricular content and program planning and implementation for students
with special needs. A better understanding of these issues may be possible
if the prevailing theories and paradigms that shape them are examined (Skrtic,
1995).
A paradigm is a general guide to perception. It is a shared pattern of basic
beliefs and assumptions about the nature of the world and how it works (Kuhn,
1970). Applied to special education, a paradigm is a system of beliefs about
cause-effect relationships and standards of practice and behavior (Skrtic, 1995).
Thus, each mode of theorizing produces a fundamentally different way of
understanding curricular content and the programming process, because each
is premised on a different set of metatheoretical presuppositions about the
nature of special education (Burrell & Morgan, 1979; Morgan, 1983). In general, an educator’s theoretical perspective will influence the practices he or
she chooses to use, as well as how about instilling change occurs.
In this paper, I will describe and discuss two theoretical perspectives: the
human pathology theory and the systemic pathology theory. I intend to
deconstruct these theories in terms of the assumptions, models and practices they support in educational content, as well as in program planning and
implementation for students receiving special education services. I will then
discuss the implications of these perspectives for educators. Finally, I will
examine how change would be implemented based on the educator’s theoretical perspective.
Deconstructing these theories permits me to reveal that implementing
change is best attained by having knowledge of the theory that underlies best
practices and educators’ programming practices. For instance, if a ‘best practice’ is in conflict with an educator’s theoretical perspective, then he or she is
unlikely to view it as a best practice or to implement it. A change may only
occur if the educator experiences a paradigm shift. In fact, I believe that try-
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ing to implement change without acknowledging these theoretical perspectives, inherent contradictions and conflict will be encountered. This is because
an inquiry that analyzes the nature and effects of special education practices
without questioning the assumptions, theories and metatheories in which they
are grounded would reproduce rather than resolve problems with implementing change. Skrtic (1995) refers to this as naïve pragmatism. Therefore, in order to avoid naïve pragmatism and achieve successful change in education, it
is important to examine the theories that may guide an educator’s programming and implementation practices.
Human Pathology Theory
Traditionally, the organization and provision of special education services has
relied explicitly or implicitly on the functionalist worldview to ground their
knowledge, practices and discourse (Skrtic, 1995). Functionalism assumes
that social reality is objective, inherently orderly and rational, and thus that
human and social problems are pathological (Ritzier, 1990). According to Skrtic
(1995), special education’s grounding in functionalism means that the guiding assumptions behind its professional models, practices, and tools are based
on the theory of human pathology. This theory assumes that special education practices are based on two assumptions. The first assumption is that student disability is a pathological condition. Educators with this theoretical
perspective believe that the root cause of a disability is within the person and
no consideration is given to causal factors that lie in social and political processes external to the individual. This directs attention away from the social,
economic, political and systemic aspects (Csapo, 1989). The second assumption is that differential diagnosis (i.e., homogeneous classification by ability
or need) is an objective and useful practice. Given these assumptions, progress
in special education is conceptualized in terms of using rational-technical
means to improve and extend its diagnostic and instructional models, practices and tools (Skrtic, 1995).
Medical and Behavioral Model
An educator whose beliefs are based on the human pathology perspective
will use an approach to program planning and implementation that is premised on the medical and behavioral model. These two models are derived from
the fields of medicine and psychology. Skrtic (1995) states that the medical
model is bipolar and evaluative. It defines typical behavior according to the
presence or absence of observable biological processes. Those that interfere
with life are “bad” (i.e., pathology) and those that enhance it are “good” (i.e.,
health). It provides medical knowledge of the disability, and diagnostic-prescriptive practices are used as the basis for designing remedial intervention
programs (Campbell, 1987). The behavioral model defines typical behavior in
terms of a positive human reaction to the environmental contingencies. Both
models are used to define disability (Sleeter, 1995). Thus, the medical model
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 299
is used for assessing biological symptoms and the behavioral model describes
disability. Remediation is directed at specific behaviors whose presence/absence denote the disability (Poplin et al., 1996).
These models continue to support the belief that a disability is a problem
inherent in the child. It is viewed as an impairment of individual ability, explained in terms of physical causes such as disease, trauma, malnutrition or
genetics (Freeze, 1996). Consequently, practices focus on attempting to
change the individual to fit the demands of the educational system by reducing the impact of the impairment (e.g., therapy, medication) and compensating for the effects of the impairment (e.g., adaptive technology). (Sleeter, 1995;
Freeze, 1996). Thus, educational practices based on the human pathology
theory would be diagnostic and prescriptive in nature and mimic a medical
model of intervention.
Practices
An educator with a human pathology perspective would use program planning and implementation practices grounded in this theory. This may include
practices such as classifying children, standardized testing, using a standardized or developmentally sequenced curriculum, direct intervention, segregation, and a multidisciplinary teaming approach.
One practice of the human pathology perspective is that children are given
labels in an attempt to describe their impairments (e.g., learning disabled,
emotionally disturbed, blind, Cerebral Palsy, Down’s Syndrome). Some educators will use this categorical approach to guide program planning and implementation. They assume that knowing the name of a child’s condition
focuses diagnostic assessment, as well as indicating prescriptive treatment
programs and general strategies. This can create a program that is not individualized for the student.
This theoretical perspective also influences how educators evaluate a student in order to plan for his or her program. Assessment practices reflect the
medical model conception of disabilities and seek to discover deficits within
the student (Reschly, 1996). Tools such as systematic protocols, standardized tests and various forms of quantitative data analysis are used (Skrtic,
1995). Team members use these assessment tools to make a diagnosis and
guide instruction. Whatever has been determined to be wrong, whether it be
memory functions, academic skills or cognitive strategies, then become the
target for instruction (Poplin et al., 1996).
An educator with a human pathology perspective may view program planning as a matter of fitting the student with special needs into the existing standard curriculum of the school or in the case of a student with a complex disability,
using a developmentally sequenced curriculum. They view the program’s curriculum content as a matter of codifying knowledge in the form of a rationalized or task-analyzed hierarchy of lower and higher order facts and skills that
are divided into sections (Cherryholmes, 1988). For example, a
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developmentally sequenced curriculum’s content would be based on developmental sequences in fine and gross motor, receptive and expressive language, social, sensorimotor, cognitive, and self-help curricular areas. Once the
educator has determined the student’s developmental level, he or she selects
skills for instruction that would represent the next logical developmental milestone in each of the areas (Nietupski & Hamre-Nietupski, 1987). This planning orientation, in turn, influences the systematic education and training of
skills within identified content domains. For example, self-help training is often conducted separately from communication training, which is conducted
separately from leisure skill training, and so forth (Guess & Helmstetter, 1986).
Implementation practices based on this theory would involve the direct
treatment of what are seen as learning problems. This is referred to as direct
intervention and involves specific objectives, task analysis, behavioral principles, and communication analyses (Bogdan & Knowll, 1988; Heshusius, 1995;
Skrtic, 1986, Tarver, 1996). Instructional goals are selected from the curricula
and task analyzed into subskills, which are taught using a systematic application of behavioral procedures for skill acquisition (Skrtic, 1995). This breaking
down of skills is done outside the student and then delivered to the student
in a logically ordered sequence (Poplin et al., 1996). Direct instruction is also
deficit-driven. The majority of students’ time in school tends to be focused
on tasks that are difficult for them to do. Very little time may be devoted to
locating or supporting activities in which the student has talent (Poplin et al.,
1996).
Educators with a human pathology perspective may utilize the practice of
segregation when planning and implementing a student’s program. According to this perspective, dispensing services in segregated settings is necessary in order to accommodate students whose needs do not fit into the existing
program or educational environment (Stainback, Stainback & Ayres, 1996). This
is accomplished by formally identifying students with needs, assigning them
to one of several categorical special needs programs and removing them from
the system, for all or part of the school day. The student is taken to the service or support, rather than the service or support being taken to the student.
The human pathology theoretical perspective also impacts the team structure. It involves a multidisciplinary team approach in planning and implementing a student’s program. This practice consists of team members from different
disciplines working independently with students and being responsible for a
particular segment of the student’s program (Woodruff & Hanson, 1987). This
perspective involves separate assessments by each discipline, followed by
programming that is completed in isolation based on their own personal and
clinical judgments (Campbell, 1987). This team approach also entails expert
consultation which involves each professional sharing his or her expert knowledge with other team members. In effect, each professional has expert knowledge in a particular discipline and provides insight to other team members on
matters they are not expert in themselves (Friend & Cook, 1992). This team
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 301
approach, combined with the above practices have several implications for
educators.
Implication of human pathology perspective for educators
The human pathology theoretical perspective has a great impact on educators. Not only does it guide their programming practices, but it also shapes
their roles and responsibilities, perspectives on students, collaboration efforts,
allocation of time and their choice of best practices. First, given the human
pathology perspective on curriculum content and programming, the role and
responsibilities of the educator are affected. The educator is conceptualized
as a technician who organizes the knowledge for efficient presentation and
arranges the environmental contingencies to reinforce desirable or punish
undesirable responses (Skrtic, 1995). It is the educator’s primary responsibility to use this approach to remediate the student’s functional deficits to the
maximum extent possible. That is, educators attempt to fix or improve the
students who are being unsuccessful by providing them with the skills to be
able to succeed in a mainstreamed educational environment that may not be
adapted to meet their particular needs, interests, or capabilities (Stainback et
al., 1996).
Secondly, the human pathology perspective on curriculum and programming also influences how educators may perceive the learner. Since it is the
educator’s role to deliver instruction and the student’s job to receive it, the
educator may view the learner as a passive receiver of factual material and
skill training (Heshusius, 1986). Thus, learning is viewed as an accumulation
of pieces of knowledge and skills that are placed in the learners’ head through
practice and appropriate rewards (Resnick & Klopfer, 1989). This perspective
and its practices may influence the teacher in having lowered expectations
of, and condescending attitudes towards, the student (Ysseldyke & Algozzine,
1982).
Educators with this perspective also assume that a child’s failure in school
is attributed to some lack or flaw inherent within the child, rather than some
insufficiency or deficit on the part of the school. This would lead educators to
believe that there is nothing wrong with the school, only with the child. Thus,
it is the child rather than the educator’s attitudes and practices that are targeted for change (Csapo, 1989; Freeze, 1996). If the student cannot be “fixed”
then he or she may be relegated to special, separate learning settings.
Thirdly, the multidisciplinary team approach also has implications for educators. It affects how the educational team works together in planning and
implementing a student’s program. For instance, the participation of educators in the student’s program may be minimal. This occurs because teachers
often feel intimidated by the technical jargon and the unrealistic expectations
of those who work individually with the students in other professions (Koskie
& Freeze, 2000). This creates a situation in which the priorities, needs, and
resources of the educators involved with the child on a daily basis are not ac-
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knowledged fully (Yolanda, Fenton, Maxwell & Kaufmann, 1979; Giangreco,
1996).
Fourthly, the human pathology perspective influences how educators spend
their time planning a program. For instance, educators may embark on a search
for a label rather than contribute to the development of an individualized program of instruction. This may lead to educator frustration, because the label
does not assist with programming nor address variables that the educator can
control (Howell & Morehead, 1987).
Finally, an educator’s philosophy on special education not only provides a
structure for how student programming is approached, but also influences
what he or she considers ‘best practices’. Thus, the human pathology perspective would influence an educator’s adoption and implementation of ‘best
practices’. An educator with this perspective is likely to use programming practices such as categorization, standardized assessment, standardized or
developmentally sequenced curriculum, direct instruction, segregation, and
a multidisciplinary teaming approach. Of these practices, very few are considered to be ‘best practices’ because they are viewed as problematic by the
majority of researchers. Below is a summary of some of these difficulties.
The practice of categorization is problematic. Labeling a student and viewing him or her as a member of a categorical group, may replace an educator’s
consideration of the whole child and his or her specific needs, interests and
capabilities. As well, using this practice to plan a child’s program neglects to
examine other possibilities for why a child might be having difficulty (e.g., poor
instruction, linguistic differences, lack of motivation, family difficulties, etc.)
(Freeze, 1996).
The practice of using standardized tests for making educational decisions
also has encountered a wide range of criticism. Many standardized tests fail
to meet minimal standards of psychometric adequacy, making interpretation
of results difficult (Buros, 1961; Salvia & Ysseldyke, 1985). Even when certain psychometric criteria are met, administration of tests to individuals outside the population (e.g., students with severe disabilities) on which their
reliability and validity were determined can be inappropriate (Duncan,
Sbardellati, Maheady, & Sainato, 1981). Thus, students with severe disabilities are particularly susceptible to discriminatory assessment practices that
involve standardized tools. In general, the practice of using standardized, normreferenced tests is technically inadequate for making educational decisions
affecting students with severe disabilities and limits the degree to which other
possible contributions to the problem can be taken into consideration
(Campbell, 1987; Sigafoos, Cole & McQuarter, 1987).
The use of standardized or developmentally-sequenced curriculum for programming is also problematic. Programs are not individualized to meet the
various needs of the student and they are less likely to focus on teaching functional skills within a natural context (Nietupski & Hamre-Nietupski, 1987;
Stainback et al., 1996). Many research findings have provided evidence to the
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 303
ineffectiveness of this approach in terms of skill acquisition and generalization for students with special needs (Freagon & Rotatori, 1982; Horner & Budd,
1985; Horner & McDonald, 1982; Oliver & Halle, 1982; Sprague & Horner,
1984).
There are also numerous difficulties with multidisciplinary teaming practices. For example, the use of independent, discipline-specific recommendations and objectives result in intervention methods that are poorly integrated
and recommendations that have little relationship to assessments or recommendations by other team members. This practice may also create a situation in which there is a lack of parity and trust, causing professionals to
compete for authority, resources or territory. Research has also shown that
the real life priorities, needs and resources of the student, parents and educators involved with the child on a daily basis many not be fully acknowledged
(Brown et al, 1979; Freagon, Wheeler, McDannel, Bronkin & Costello, 1983;
Koskie & Freeze, 2000; Sailor & Guess, 1983; Snell, 1987). These problems
influence the interactions between educators and make the implementation
of the student’s program difficult to achieve (Koskie & Freeze, 2000).
Although many of the programming practices grounded in the human pathology theory are problematic, direct instruction is one approach that can be
considered a ‘best practice’. Research has revealed that it is an effective approach for teaching academic and basic skills as well as strategies (Chall,
Jacobs & Baldwin, 1990; Elliot & Shapiro, 1990; Gersten, Woodward & Darch
1986; Kinder & Carnine, 1991; Tarver, 1996). For example, Nietupski and
Hamre-Nietupski (1987) consider task analysis an essential component in planning and implementing educational programs that are individualized and successful. Thus, an educator whose views are guided by this theory, would likely
acknowledge and implement this best practice, because it is consistent with
his or her assumptions and basic beliefs about special education.
The practice of planning and implementing a student’s program can be
based on the medical model and a set of guiding assumptions derived from
the human pathology theory. Skrtic (1995) notes that special education practices have been grounded almost exclusively in this functionalist paradigm.
However, many of the practices based on this perspective appear to be inadequate for developing and implementing successful educational programs for
students with special needs. They are focused on ‘deficient’ skills and teaching these skills in isolation. These practices have limited success because individuals with special needs tend to generalize information poorly and forget
skills not reinforced by the environment (Brown et al., 1983, Peterson, 1980
as cited in Rainforth & York, 1987). On the other hand, the planning and implementation process can also be based on an ecological model that is guided
by assumptions derived from the systemic pathology theory. Practices
grounded in this model appear to have greater potential for preparing students
to live and work more independently in their environments.
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Systemic Pathology Theory
Another worldview approach that may impact on an educator’s perspective
is the radical structuralist paradigm. This paradigm takes a macroscopic, objective and realist view of the social world. Radical structuralists share an objective view of social science with the functionalists, but their frame of
reference is the sociology of radical change. They use this perspective to critique the material structures of society (e.g., language, technology, bureaucracy) and to advocate change. In general, they view the social world as
dominated by conflict (Skrtic, 1995).
Some theorists hypothesize that in special education there can be a “system conflict” which involves parts of the system in continued conflict with
each other. The system may be characterized by interprofessional conflicts,
resource conflicts, parental-professional conflicts, legal conflicts or any other
conflict within the educational system. (Tomlinson, 1996). This hypothesis is
referred to as the systemic pathology theory (R. Freeze, class discussion,
February, 1998). The theory assumes that special education practices are
based on two assumptions from the radical structural paradigm. The first assumption is that problems lie within the system. Thus, the principal difficulties of students with disabilities is not with the student, but rather with the
organization of the general educational environment (Skrtic, 1995). School
failure is seen as the result of such things as educational programs, settings,
and criteria for performance not meeting the diverse needs of the students
(Stainback et al., 1996). The second assumption is that social reality determines individual behavior. Thus, the context will determine what is a disability (Skrtic, 1995). Given these assumptions, environmental determinants play
an important role in the model, practices and tools used by educators who
hold this perspective. They would believe that schooling should fit the child
and his or her needs rather than that the child should fit the school (Gilhool,
1976). Thus, it is the educational system and the systems outside the schools,
that one should attempt to fix and not the child (Leitch & Sodhi, 1989).
Ecological Model
An educator with a systemic pathology theoretical perspective will use an
approach to program planning and implementation that is based on the ecological model. In the ecological model, students are perceived as interacting
with a variety of factors that may hinder or facilitate learning. Thus, a disability is understood as an interaction between a student and his or her learning
environment. This means that teaching-learning problems are seen as a failure to match student characteristics and variables in the student’s environment (Freeze, Brave & Rampaul, 1989).
Program planning and implementation based on this model would consider
ecological factors that interact with the student’s life. This would include such
factors as the physical environment, social climate, peer attitudes, curriculum, teaching methods, instructional materials, classroom management, evalu-
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 305
ative methods, educators’ skills and attitudes, support service policies and
procedures, parental attitude and involvement, as well as students’ characteristics (Freeze, 1996). For instance, educators need to consider the physical environment of students with severe disabilities and ensure that
appropriate education occurs in the community, as well as in classrooms and
other school settings. Team members are challenged to develop and implement a program that targets the student’s goals in all of these educational
environments in order to achieve maximum learner participation (Rainforth &
York, 1987). Educators who adopt a more ecological approach to the planning
and implementation process would utilize educational practices that take into
account the above variables.
Practices
An educator with a systemic pathology theoretical perspective would use program planning and implementation practices grounded in the ecological model.
This would include practices such as a non-categorical approach to understanding children, ecological assessment, ecological curricula, adaptive instruction,
integrated therapy, skill cluster instruction, inclusion, and a transdisciplinary
team approach.
One practice grounded in this theory is a non-categorical approach to service delivery. This approach rejects the notion that there is such a thing as a
student defined by his or her categorical disability. Impairment, disabilities,
and developmental differences do not need to be considered by educators.
Rather, the whole student with all of his or her unique interests and abilities,
as well as all the variables in the teaching-learning process are the focus of
the planning and implementation process. This includes the student, the
teacher, everything that happens inside the classroom, and the societal and
familial contexts. From this perspective, neither the student nor the teacher
own the problem. The problem is seen as one of teaching and learning in a
particular context or system (Freeze et al., 1989).
Another practice based on the systemic pathology perspective would be
an ecological assessment or inventory (Freeze et al., 1989; Rainforth & York,
1987). This involves using a holistic, integrated approach to understanding the
student. The student is understood in relation to teachers, peers, family, and
the ecological context in which he or she lives (Koskie & Freeze, 2000). Information would be gathered on variables such as: (a) the natural environments
where the student lives, works, and uses leisure time, (b) the student’s learning
strengths and preferences, (c) activities that occur in the student’s environments, (d) specific motor, communication, social, or other skills required to
engage in those activities, (e) teaching and behavior management methods,
(f) instructional materials, (g) success and error patterns in the student’s work,
(h) evaluative and feedback methods, (i) peer attitudes and relationships, and
(j) discrepancies between the student’s current and desired performance in
critical skills, activities, and environments (Brown et al., 1979; Freeze et al.,
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1989). Assessment information would be gathered from a variety of contexts
(e.g., recess, classroom, home) using various methods (e.g., video-taping,
interviews, observations, work sample analysis) (Koskie & Freeze, 2000). This
practice encourages educators to develop a program that reflects the interrelated nature of the student and his or her environment (Linder, 1990).
Program planning would utilize the above assessment information to form
the foundation for an ecological curriculum. This curriculum involves “systematic instruction on community-referenced, individually determined, chronologically age-appropriate, functional curricular content” (Nietupski &
Hamre-Nietupski, 1987). Developing an ecological curriculum involves using
the assessment information gathered to prioritize activities and select IEP goals
through team consensus. Next, activities are task analyzed into component
skills and adaptations are considered. Finally, instructional programs that teach
functional, age-appropriate skills in naturally occurring environments are developed (Nietupski & Hamre-Nietupski, 1987). The objective is to integrate
functional, age-appropriate goals and strategies into an inclusive curriculum
(Guess & Helmstetter, 1986; Linder, 1990; Nietupski & Hamre-Nietupski,
1987).
One general implementation practice grounded in this theory is adaptive
instruction. This practice entails the curriculum being adapted, when necessary, to meet the needs of any students with less complex disabilities, for
whom the standard curriculum is inappropriate or who could be better served
through adaptation (Stainback et al., 1996). While school curriculum guidelines would remain the foundation for programming for students with less
complex disabilities, educators would diversify their instruction and modify
the educational environment in order to meet the various needs of students
in their classroom. This would include such approaches as differentiated instruction, cooperative learning, buddy systems and multilevel programming
in the regular classroom (Freeze, 1996). This approach does not make the student the focus of the intervention and allows the program to be implemented
in the classroom.
Additional implementation practices that would be used in an ecological
curriculum are integrated therapy and skill cluster instruction. Integrated
therapy is a strategy to deliver related services in situations in which skills
will be functional, and performance meaningful, for a student with a complex
disability (Sternat, Messina, Nietupski, Lyon, & Brown, 1977). For instance,
educators might teach the choice making skill using symbols, when the student needs to communicate (e.g., during recess, lunch, art and at other times
each day), rather than teaching symbol use in the isolated speech therapy
room. Skill cluster instruction is a practice that is used to teach interrelated
skills (e.g., fine motor, language, pragmatics) concurrently within a functional
sequence (Guess & Helmstetter, 1986). This practice emphasizes that motor, communication, social, and other skills are components of most functional
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 307
routines, and that these routines provide excellent opportunities to integrate
priorities and methods from a variety of disciplines (Rainforth & York, 1987).
Inclusion is another programming practice grounded in this theory. This
involves developing educational programs that ensure that all students, regardless of any individual differences they might have, are fully included in
the mainstream of school and community life. Therefore, integration is coupled with a restructuring of the student’s environment. It also entails the delivery of specialized services and supports. If a student is experiencing difficulty
or needs specialized services (e.g., instructional modifications, special tools
or techniques) to succeed educationally or socially, the educator determines
a way to get those services and supports to the student where he or she is
naturally placed with his or her peers or in the community. The student is not
taken to the support or service, rather the support or service is taken to the
student. The focus is on determining ways (e.g., adaptive instruction, modification of the environment) students can get their educational and related needs
met within the existing, natural environment (Stainback et al., 1996).
Finally, the ecological, integrated approach to understanding the student
can also be applied to the teaming process. This involves a transdisciplinary
team approach in which the team members collaborate and share their respective knowledge with other team members (Linder, 1990). In order to understand the whole child in his or her environment, there is a ‘role transition’
among team members. This entails sharing information, knowledge, and skills
across traditional disciplinary boundaries. Team members assume each other’s roles and responsibilities, while allowing for the needs of the student and
family to dictate the team’s goals (Briggs, 1988; Koskie & Freeze, 2000). For
instance, each team member trains others to use methods traditionally performed primarily by one discipline. Also, this teaming approach supports program planning and implementation decisions that are not made by isolated
professionals, but by the consensus of all informed team members, with the
student and student’s parents accorded a status of equality with other team
members. This transdisciplinary approach guides and supports collaborative
teaming which allows team members to combine experience and skills in order to meet the diverse needs of students with special needs (Koskie & Freeze,
2000).
Implication of Systemic Pathology Theory for Educators
The assumptions and practices of the systemic pathology perspective have
several implications for educators. Firstly, an educator with a systemic pathology perspective would believe that the ownership of problems that students
with disabilities encounter is not with the individual, but rather with the system. This perspective may assign ownership to the educator to change the
system (Csapo, 1989). He or she would be responsible for organizing and arranging experiences within the student’s grasp, while the learner regulates
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the learning (Poplin et al., 1996). Thus, preservice and inservice preparation
would need to equip educators with skills necessary to adapt learning situations.
Secondly, this perspective would influence all team members’ roles. Since
the practices grounded in this theory give rise to an educational team that is
more interdependent, educators would need to commit themselves to teaching, learning and working across disciplinary boundaries. This transition of roles
involves several processes: (a) developing a general understanding of other
disciplines, (b) offering observations in areas other than that of their specialization, (c) implementing techniques from other disciplines, and (d) continuously supporting other team members through assistance and feedback
(Koskie & Freeze, 2000).
Third, a systemic pathology belief system would affect how educators collaborate. Not only would they need to commit themselves to assist and support one another, since more interdependence is required, but they would also
need to ensure that there is greater family involvement and increased parity
in the collaboration process. This would require time, energy and strong interpersonal skills from the educators. They would also need to give up the
‘heady delights’ of being seen as experts (Koskie & Freeze, 2000).
Fourthly, this perspective shapes how educators perceive students. Not
only is diversity valued and seen as a strength in the classroom, but students
are viewed as individuals, rather than as members of categorical groups. This
makes it much more likely that educators will concentrate on the specific
needs, interests, and capabilities of the students (Stainback et al., 1996).
Fifthly, the systemic pathology theory also changes the focus of the educators. Their focus is on how to organize classrooms and schools as supportive communities that include and meet the needs of everyone, rather than
how to help a particular category of student fit into the mainstream (SaponShevin, 1992). Educators with this focus would purposefully foster community. Thus, there would be an emphasis on students, as well as staff caring
about and accepting responsibility for each other (Stainback et al., 1996).
Sixthly, a natural or normal proportion of students with disabilities in schools
would result from this perspective’s non-categorical approach. The use of
“centers” or “cluster sites” for any category of student is avoided. This is
important to educators, since placement of a disproportionately large number
of students with disabilities into a classroom reduces the diversity in the class
and can result in segregated subsets of students within the class, thus negating many of the benefits inherent in inclusive classrooms (e.g. gains in social
competence and communication, acquisition of IEP objectives, preparation
of students for integrated community living). This diversity creates a learning
environment that increases the learning, without additional effort from the
educator (Stainback & Stainback, 1990).
Finally, the systemic pathology perspective influences what educators
perceive as ‘best practices’. The practices that they use, such as a non-cat-
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 309
egorical approach to understanding children, an ecological assessment and
curriculum, adaptive instruction, integrated therapy, skill cluster instruction,
inclusion, and a transdisciplinary team approach, all contain features of what
researchers and knowledgeable professionals consider to be ‘most promising practices’ in educational programs for students with special needs (Meyer,
Eichinger, Park-Lee, 1987). Educators with a systemic pathology theoretical
perspective would easily adopt these ‘best practices’ because they are consistent with their basic beliefs. Below is a summary of why these practices
are considered most promising for students with special needs.
The ecological approach to assessment contains several principles that are
considered to be ‘best practices’. For example, the assessment helps educators to focus on (a) a comprehensive assessment of affective, behavioral, and
cognitive domains rather than a disabilities diagnosis, (b) mastered skills and
strengths, as well as error patterns and weaknesses, (c) teaching and learning difficulties in the context in which they occur, and (d) special education as
an essential part of regular education. Since these are variables that an educator can control, he or she may be more likely to experience job satisfaction
compared to an educator working from the human pathology perspective
(Bravi, 1984).
A growing body of research demonstrates that ecological curricula and instruction are effective practices to teach students with disabilities. Not only
do they help students acquire, maintain, and generalize useful skills (HamreNietupski, Nietupski, Sandvig, Sandvig, & Ayres, 1984; Storey, Bates &
Hanson, 1984; cited in Rainforth & York, 1987), but teaching relevant tasks in
applied settings may also have long-term benefits in terms of community integration and participation by persons with severe disabilities (Brown et al.,
1986). Research also indicates that instruction in natural environments is more
effective than instruction using only classroom simulations (Nietupski, HamreNietupski, Clancy, & Veerhusen, 1986). Overall, these practices provide a
framework within which students with the most severe disabilities can receive frequent instruction on functional groups of skills in meaningful contexts
(Rainforth & York, 1987).
Inclusive practices are regarded to be among those approaches considered
to be ‘most promising’ for student with special needs (Mayer, 1985). Benefits of inclusive practices include gains in social competence and communication, as well as the acquisition of IEP objectives. They also prepare students
for integrated community living (Stainback & Stainback, 1990).
Finally, a transdisciplinary teaming approach to the programming process
is considered a ‘best practice’ because it encourages team members to make
a commitment to teach, learn, and work together in order to implement a
unified educational plan (Koskie & Freeze, 2000). The practice also has numerous strengths including the following: (a) increased agreement among
educators as to the acceptability of decisions (Cooper & Wood, 1974), (b) opportunities for members to learn from one another (Wolery & Dyk, 1984), (c)
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decreased fragmentation of services, (d) continuity and consistency of services for the student (Sears, 1981), and (e) greater family involvement which
improves problem-solving, follow-through, and support (Linder, 1990).
Educators who hold the systemic pathology theory believe that the principal difficulties of students with disabilities is not with the student, but rather
with the organization of the general education environment. Thus, it is the
educational organization or environment that needs to be modified in order
to address the diverse needs of all students (Stainback et al., 1996). Based
on this perspective, environmental determinants play a significant role in the
model and practices (e.g., ecological assessment and curricula development,
adaptive instruction) used by educators who hold this perspective. Unlike the
practices grounded in the human pathology theory, many of the practices of
the systemic pathology theory are considered ‘best practices’ by researchers. Trying to encourage all educators, who have different values and beliefs
about special education, to adopt these exemplary practices, involves more
than education and support. The educators’ belief system must also be considered when implementing change.
Implementing Change
A challenge that has been widely acknowledged is changing educators’ practices to include best practices (Williams, Fox, Thousand & Fox, 1990; Ayres,
Meyer, Erevelles & Park-Lee, 1994). Research has revealed that this change
may require one or more of the following variables: (a) a systemic change
within schools and school divisions, (b) changing of job roles, (c) training, (d)
support from education staff and administrators, (e) more time, (f) increased
resources, (g) pressure through interactions with peers and administrative
leaders, and (h) learning new skills through practice and feedback (Ayres et
al., 1994; Fullan, 1985; Wang & Zollers, 1990; Williams et al., 1990).
Although these may be important variables for implementing change, it is
necessary to understand the theoretical perspectives and interactions among
educators before deciding which of the above variables are most effective.
Without an understanding of the educators’ theoretical perspectives and the
theories that ground the ‘best practices’, we would encounter naïve pragmatism and continue to reproduce, rather than resolve, the problems with implementing change. The change process would continue to be problematic
because it would criticize the educators’ current practices, but treat their
grounding assumptions and theories as unproblematic. (Skrtic, 1995).
In order to address the problem of naïve pragmatism and increase the possibility of change occurring, one needs to ensure that the ‘best practices’ that
are being suggested are consistent with the educators’ theoretical perspective. If they are not consistent, then the educators will need a paradigm shift
in order to alter their ways of thinking and doing, so that the educators’ beliefs become compatible with the best practices (Fullan, 1982; Marris, 1975).
There needs to be a unification of theory and practice.
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 311
Encouraging educators with a human pathology perspective to implement
‘best practices’ such as adaptive instruction, collaboration, parent participation and inclusion would be problematic. This is because the values that guide
the educators’ practices contradict the ‘best practice’s’ assumptions (e.g., “a
student’s disability is a pathological condition” versus “the problem lies within
the system”). These ‘best practices’ require educators to become problemsolving individuals who collaborate to create individualized, inclusive programs.
This contradicts the human pathology perspective which involves the practice of expert-decision making and professionals working independently with
students.
An example of this contradiction is encouraging educators, who have a
human pathology perspective, to adopt a best practice that involves working
collaboratively to implement an IEP in an integrated manner. This practice
contradicts the logic of specialization and expert decision-making that is inherent in the human pathology perspective. The contradiction in values may
actually lead to resistance that undermines the goal of collaboration and an
increase in ritualized activity that intensifies the problem of professionalization
and expert decision-making (Skrtic, 1995). Thus, trying to change an educators’ practice to include collaboration would be very difficult if their perspective on student disability was based on the human pathology theory.
Skrtic (1995) discusses two methods for instituting change. The first
method involves fine-tuning the existing system and creating a more efficient
organization. This method is based on the functionalist world-view and human pathology theory. It involves procedures that are similar to the ones used
in changing industrial machine bureaucracies. The assumption is that school
organizations are like machines that can be fine-tuned through the following
rational-technical approaches: (a) increased standardization of work processes
and outcomes, (b) standardization of learning activities, (c) further specification of professional roles and student classifications, (d) revision and extension of existing rules and regulations, and (e) closer supervision of personnel
and students (Elmore & McLaughlin, 1982; Heshusius, 1996; House, 1979;
Wise, 1979). Changing the system in more fundamental ways or replacing it
altogether is not considered. This method puts more pressure on educators
to satisfy the standards instead of serving the students, thus reducing educator problem-solving and discretion to create effective services for students
with special needs (Skrtic, 1995). In general, this method of change reduces
an educator’s ability to individualize students’ programs and makes a permanent change in educator’s practices less likely. Educators with the human
pathology perspective may need to experience a paradigm shift in order to
permanently adopt the ‘best practices’ that are grounded in the systemic pathology theory.
The second method for implementing change involves creating a fundamental change among educators and the educational system. In order for this
fundamental change to occur, educators need to realize that there is some-
312 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
thing amiss with their paradigm and instructional practices. This insight occurs when an anomaly is encountered (Skrtic, 1995). There are several ways
in which an anomaly can be introduced. One way to introduce an anomaly is
when values and preferences change in society. In this case, the paradigm
falls into crisis because the social theory underlying it changes. The new social values are inconsistent with the prevailing theory and a change occurs to
eliminate the crisis. However, in many cases there tends to be an increase in
ritualized practices, which acts to reaffirm the paradigm that has been called
into question (Lipsky, 1976; Perrow, 1978; Zucker, 1977).
Another way that an anomaly may be introduced is through the availability
of technical information that the current paradigm is not working (Rounds,
1981, cited in Skrtic, 1995). For instance, educators may initially take action
to correct a recognized flaw in what otherwise is assumed to be a viable system. “The corrective measure exposes other flaws, which, when addressed,
expose more flaws until enough of the system is called into question to prepare the way for a radical reconceptualization of the entire organization” (Skrtic,
1995). What initially was a conservative attempt to protect the system, undermines it and ultimately ushers in a new paradigm (Rounds, 1981, cited in
Skrtic, 1995).
According to Weick (1985) a paradigm shift can occur when individuals who
resolve an important, enduring anomaly for themselves and others, implant a
new set of values in the organization (i.e., school or school team). Their beliefs and values affect the organization and what it can become. Weick (1985)
believes that confident, forceful, persistent people, with their presumptions,
expectations and commitments can create this shift.
Unfortunately, Skrtic (1995) reports that practices grounded in the human
pathology theory persist because anomalies are distorted to preserve its validity. The principal distortion is the practice of removing students from the
general education system, thereby preventing the educators from recognizing anomalies in their conventional practices. Without anomalies, there is no
way for educators to see that there is something wrong with their worldview
and associated practices. This reduces professional thought and thus the degree to which educators can personalize their practices. This in turn forces
more students into the special education system and further reinforces the
educator’s belief in both the validity of his or her conventional practices and
the notion that school failure is a human pathology (Skrtic, 1995).
To prevent the distortion of anomalies, it appears Huberman’s (1981) insight into implementing change may be useful. Huberman believes that
changes in attitudes, beliefs, and understanding tend to follow, rather than
precede changes in practice. For example, if practices such as removing students from the general education system were discontinued, then anomalies would occur because the educator’s standard practices would be
insufficient to teach all students. As discussed previously, these anomalies
Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications 313
would encourage a paradigm shift and create fundamental changes in an educator’s human pathology based practices.
On the other hand, changing the practices of educators who believe in the
systemic pathology perspective may not involve a fundamental change in
beliefs since many of the ‘best practices’ are grounded in this theory. There
is no contradiction between the values the educators hold and the practices’
assumptions. Thus, variables such as changing of job roles, training, support
from education staff and administrators, increased time, more resources and
practice, and feedback, may be what is needed in order to implement change
(Ayres et al., 1994; Fullan, 1985; Wang & Zollers, 1990; Williams et al., 1990).
While there is abundant information regarding program planning and implementation practices, there is a tremendous discrepancy between what
typically occurs for most students with disabilities in school and what the literature says should be occurring as exemplary practices (Meyer, 1991). Literature discusses that this discrepancy in adopting best practices is due to
such variables as lack of time, training and resources (Ayres et al., 1994;
Williams et al., 1990). Although these variables may be important for implementing change, it is also essential to examine the theoretical perspectives
of the educators and the assumptions that guide the ‘best practices’.
In this paper, I have described and critiqued two opposing perspectives on
educational programming. The human pathology theory uses planning and
implementation practices that are grounded in the assumption that student
disability is pathological. Traditionally, programming practices of educators have
relied explicitly on the knowledge and practices grounded in this theoretical
perspective. However, many of the practices based on this perspective appear to be inadequate for developing and implementing successful educational
programs for students with special needs.
On the other end of the continuum, the systemic pathology theory is guided
by the assumption that the principal difficulties of a student with disabilities
are the result of the educational system. This perspective guides many of the
‘best practices’ recommended by researchers and knowledgeable professionals. In order to get educators to adopt these exemplary practices, one needs
to ensure that the assumptions that guide the ‘best practices’ are consistent
with the educator’s theoretical perspective. If they are not consistent, then
the educator needs to experience a paradigm shift in order to fundamentally
alter their ways of thinking so that their beliefs become compatible with the
‘best practice’s’ assumptions. Clearly, the implementation of ‘best practices’
by educators involves a great deal more than expecting them to simply apply
what is considered an exemplary practice to their real world settings.
314 2 0 0 2 G R A D U A T E S T U D E N T S S Y M P O S I U M
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