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iContents

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

i i 1 9 9 9 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

Copyright © Faculty of Education, The University of Manitoba 2005

All rights reserved.

Cover and Text Design: Karen ArmstrongPrinted 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 intothe mosaic : Research, curriculum and pedagogy: exploring appli-cations :

proceedingsof 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, KarenElaine, 1955-

III. University of Manitoba. Faculty of Education IV. Graduate StudentsSymposium

(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 EducationThe University of ManitobaWinnipeg, Manitoba R3T 2N2Canada

Telephone: 1 (204) 474-9000

Acknowledgements

We would like to thank the Dean of Education, graduate students, andmembers of the organizing committee for their co-operation. We alsothank members of our support staff who helped to make the 2000 and2002 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


Editors: Zana M. Lutfiyya, Karen E. Smith, and Stan B. Straw

Table of Contents

. INTRODUCTION

PART I: BREAKING BOUNDARIES

“You know what? You always use yourself!” 15The Influence of Teachers’ Personal Reading andWriting on their Teaching PracticeLaura Atkinson

Kindergarten Children’s Gender Schematicity and 31Its Relationship to Sibling and Parental VariablesLaura Sokal

Student Dialogue in the Computer Room: 45An Exploration of Research MethodologyKaren E. Smith

PART II: “ISSUES ON THE EDGE”

From Desperation to Hope: The Stories of Three 65Aboriginal WomenChris Loewen

Intellectual Disability and Aboriginal People 79Cheryl Martens

PART III: “CHALLENGE OF A NEW PRAXIS”

Some Assembly Required? Representations of 97Teacher in Popular FilmChris Higgins

Should We Remove Section 43 from the Criminal Code? 103Zhide Li

The Garden as a Metaphor for Curriculum and for 123Curriculum InquiryKaren Wilson Baptiste

Toward a Reconsideration of Biography as an Instrument 135for Studying Leadership in Educational AdministrationJohn V. Brandon

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xiContents

Introduction

The Faculty of Education at the University of Manitoba held its second Gradu-ate Student Symposium on March 17th and 18th, 2000. M.Ed. and Ph.D.students embraced the opportunity to share their work and findings at thissecond gathering because the first symposium, held in 1999, had been sowell received. Graduate students in both M.Ed. and Ph.D. programs presentedtheir research at the 2000 Symposium. Their work is a mosaic of researchconducted throughout their graduate programs, both on the way to their the-sis and dissertation topics and as a result of that work.

This second symposium drew a slightly larger crowd of applicants andaudience than the first, demonstrating a growing local interest in graduatework. The organizing committee, made up of Dr. Rosa Bruno-Jofré, ChrisHiggins, Zhidi Li, Jana Jilek, Karen Smith, Laura Sokal, and Carol FournierDicks (Organizing Assistant) worked hard to pull the event together, arrang-ing the program, discussants, and refreshments.

The program was grouped by topics matching the title phrase, Movinginto the Mosaic, which depicts a changing, evolving landscape of graduateresearch. The title followed from the work in the first symposium entitled,An Educational Mosaic. Section I, Breaking Boundaries, is a collection of pa-pers that take aim at current practices and depict educational innovation.Section II, Issues on the Edge, is a collection of papers examining specificpopulations that challenge mainstream thinking. Section III, Challenge of aNew Praxis, is a collection of papers examining research issues in new ways.The proceedings from Moving into the Mosaic follow the same groupings asthe original program which has been included in this volume.

There were three sessions held over the two days of the 2000 Sympo-sium. One session was held on the Friday evening and the other two ses-sions were held the next morning. Questions and discussion followed eachof the program sessions. At the conclusion of each session, audience mem-bers presented questions to the presenters and a lively debate of topics en-sued. Ample refreshments and informal discussion also added to theatmosphere of this important graduate student event. A growing interest ingraduate work is ensured through the success of the 2000 Symposium.

Karen E. Smith

Part I: Breaking Boundaries

15Breaking Boundaries

“You know what? You always use yourself!”The Influence of Teachers’ Personal Reading and Writingon their Teaching Practice

Laura Atkinson

This article originally formed part of a larger study of teacher change in instruc-tional practices in response to changes in theory and practice in reading andwriting. The original study involved 13 teachers of grades 3 to 6 in two el-ementary schools. In a structured interview, the teachers were asked abouttheir teaching histories and their thoughts and ideas about the changes theyhad seen over their careers in the theory and practice of teaching reading andwriting (Atkinson, 2000). One of the questions in the interview was about theteachers’ personal practices in reading and writing in their private lives, theirself-concept as a reader and as a writer, and the influence of these practicesand self-concepts on their teaching of reading and writing

In the analysis of this data the influence of the teachers’ practices and self-concepts on their teaching practice was obvious but this influence was gen-erally not articulated by the teachers in the interviews. The relationship wasclear from their accounts of their experiences and their accounts of their teach-ing practices but was not obvious to the teachers. Their personal experiencesin reading and writing were largely unexamined and therefore the effects werenot mediated in any way in their impact on teaching. The teachers also as-sumed that any influence from experience to practice was a positive one.

Nearly all of the teachers said that they were avid readers and that theyhad also read a lot as children. They felt that this had had an influence on theirteaching. Most of the teachers talked exclusively about the reading of fictionfor pleasure. A few included in their discussion their non-fiction reading, theirreading for information, and/or their reading of more literary works. A few oth-ers distinguished between reading for pleasure and the reading that they hadbeen required to do in school or the reading that they might now do for pro-fessional purposes. Generally the teachers seemed to consider the latter twokinds of reading (required reading and/or professional reading) to be of lessinterest and reason for comment than reading for pleasure.

The concept or model of reading that underlay their comments seemedderived directly from their reading experience as children and adolescents.When adult experience was evoked, it did not yield a more sophisticated con-cept 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’ con-cepts of reading are in line with the earliest construct of reading as transla-tion. In this conceptualization, reading is solely the acquisition of the meaningsthat are resident in the text. More current models of reading are: an interac-tion model which assumes an active (but individual) reader and a construc-tion 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 oftheir writing abilities and yet most felt that this lack of skill or confidence hadlittle effect on their teaching of writing. Despite this, their comments abouttheir personal experience of writing clearly did show a pattern of influence ontheir teaching although this was not something they had thought about. Fiveof the thirteen teachers found in the course of the interview and, on reflec-tion, that their personal difficulties or lack of confidence in their own writingwhen they were in school, or more recently in adult experience, had influ-enced them to teach writing in a particular way. Three teachers also specifi-cally mentioned a reverse effect. They felt that their writing skills andconfidence in their writing had improved as a result of teaching writing or otheracademic activities more recently in their careers.

In most of their answers to questions about their personal reading andwriting, the teachers drew on experiences in childhood and in school, in addi-tion to talking about current experience. With regard to reading, almost alltalked about current habits and practices. They all seemed to assume thatthe topic was “reading for pleasure” and they nearly all do presently read forpleasure. In contrast, when talking about writing, they were much more likelyto talk about past experiences. In this case they nearly all assumed that thetopic was academic or literary writing. Very few of them do that kind of writ-ing. In addition, writing for pleasure was an unaccustomed idea for all but avery few.

The teachers also seemed to treat their early school experiences along-side of their adult experiences as if they were parallel in time. They did notdifferentiate in importance between experiences that they had as a child andthose they had as an adult, as if their perceptions and learning in the two cir-cumstances were equally valid. This is probably an effect of unexamined ex-perience but it suggests that teachers consider all of their experiences as awell of accumulated material to draw on in formulating teaching plans. Teach-ers have not generally had the opportunity to consider their own experiencesand the effect that their experiences might have on their teaching. There ispotentially a powerful vehicle here for teachers to develop their thinking andtheir practice of teaching in reading and writing that has not been generallydeveloped in teacher education or professional development programs.


“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 allsaid that they loved to read and read a lot for personal pleasure. They all felteither as a matter of customary thinking or on reflection that these personalhabits 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. Shedescribed herself as an avid reader, one for whom reading was a major partof life. She concluded that her biggest goal with her students was to inducethem to love reading as well.

That’s my hobby. That’s what I enjoy to do. I like the fantasy of read-ing. I like the realistic reading. I mean, if I’m hungry, I’ll read any-thing that anybody has. It doesn’t matter. You know, if someone hasa book I’ll read it. I mean, I happen to love it. And I like the excite-ment. I can’t imagine a child having a life without a book. So that’smy 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 . . . Theylove 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 assumethat reading a great deal would be a major benefit to their students and theymake a simple connection between their own recreational reading and theirpromotion 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 asteaching 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 twoor 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 Ihad read every book. I was a reader. That’s all there was to say. (Donnapp. 5-6)

When asked what effect her reading history had had on her teaching, shedistinguished between just reading and being a “reader” and talked aboutthe impact of that difference on students’ reading. If the teacher doesn’t lovereading, the students won’t either. A teacher who is not a reader will cover


what is required but won’t give the students enough time to read on theirown. If a teacher is uncomfortable or feels inadequate with something, thatsomething 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 bepassed to the children in the care of the lucky sufferer. This idea coincidesthough with the ideas of the other teachers who thought that inducing chil-dren to read a lot through stimulating their interest would solve the problemof 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 anotherelement. Even when discussing her own reading interests she displays a closeidentification between her own problems finding a book to read and her stu-dents’ situation

I have trouble finding a good book. When you were younger—I lookat the kids and I’m so envious because we have a class library andthere’s books beyond books, and books and books, and they can readforever, and when you’re an adult, it just doesn’t seem that you havethat type of selection. The books are out there but . . . I find, I needto hear first that the book is unbelievable and I should try it, or if some-one recommends it to me and that I’ve heard about it . . . (Suzannep. 8)

Her classroom reading program is designed to have the students do a lotof reading. In another instance of her identification with her students, Suzannekeeps some books in the room, a type that other teachers disapprove of, be-cause she does not want to affect her students’ love of reading by restrictingthe choices available to them.

I don’t keep a lot of the “smutty” books in my classes—some teach-ers call them—the Sweet Valley High, but I do have some because Iwant the kids reading . . . You know, you learn things from every book. . . I just remember so many books, mostly in junior high, that wehad to read that I was just, you know, I couldn’t get through. Therewere other books I can’t put them down and I’m up all night readingthem, and that’s a great feeling. I love reading and enjoying a booklike 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 haveno problems dealing with or understanding what they are reading.

“I do it [oral reading] religiously no matter what grade I teach.”


Sarah’s approach to reading, particularly in her oral reading program, seesit primarily as a performance that reproduces the text as it is written. Com-prehension is assumed to be immediate in the transfer of meaning from thepage to the reader. The process by which the student builds an understand-ing of the meaning of the passage rather than the simple reproduction of thetext orally is now the central concern of reading programs. A current approachto 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 forteaching about literature as part of an elementary reading program. She hasdecided, on the basis of her own experiences, to teach the study of literaturein a very traditional fashion, either a traditional historical method in interpret-ing poetry or the tracing of character, plot, and setting in the analysis of nov-els. Her experiences with poetry in high school and her later training inuniversity have convinced her that there is one correct way to interpret po-etry, that the correct answers can be arrived at through study, and that she isable to provide her students with the correct answers.

I remember very well, when it came to grade . . . ten—everything was sightprose. There was no background on the author or the poet. You had to take alook at the poem and interpret and answer questions and I have a very vividimagination. I answered as I thought it should be answered and I was alwayswrong . . . But I’ve learned a lot over the years . . . it was really my universityEnglish that brought out more of the . . . ability to interpret works. And I thinkI’m fairly good at it now . . . when you take poetry . . . a lot of them are writtenbecause 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 whenyou read the words you can more instinctively and actually educationally . . .build an understanding. And not guess at it because there’s no guessworkinvolved. You should be able to see, with studying, clearly, what that mes-sage was . . .

Anything I teach . . . we read about the author first . . . the novelsthat I choose to teach . . . We talk about theme, we talk about set-ting—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, guesswhere it took place, and what do you think they’re going through? . .. I take literature in its ultimate form very seriously. And for anyoneto appreciate, especially the classics, and even modern literature, youstill need to know and appreciate why the author built such a story(Sarah p. 7-8).

“Reading is like breathing.”


Doris finds a lot of pleasure in reading and this is what she wouldlike to communicate to her students. Reading doesn’t have to be hardwork if you can find the pleasure in it, and see it as a “movie in thehand.” Even when a student tells her that he doesn’t like the storieshe is given to read, she assumes that the real reason is that he findsreading hard and she goes about convincing him that he can havefun with it.

I sort of go off on something and I will read that for a while becauseI just want to grab it all . . . [I] try to do some professional reading asthat 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 readingor thought [of] reading as work. So I guess that’s how I present it aswell. In fact I told one of the little ones this morning when he said tome that he doesn’t like reading . . . I said, “Do you not like readingbecause reading is hard or that you don’t like the stories you’re read-ing?” . . . Of course his answer was reading is hard. [But] He said,“Sometimes I don’t like the story.” So I told him about . . . my sonwho told me . . . as I grounded him from TV . . . “Well, I’ll just readmy book and I have a movie in my hand.” And that’s how I guess Ialways saw reading, that reading wasn’t work, it was just pleasurebecause where you sort of withdraw . . . And this is what I told thislittle 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 shedoesn’t see it as that and so she promotes a pleasure of another kind withher students. Her comments about creating pictures in the mind and so on,suggest “reading as construction” but she is unaware of the implications ofthis. Of course, awareness would not necessarily give her another way to teachbut it has the potential to show another way. Like one of her students, Dorissays, “How can anyone not like reading?” Based on her own experience andthat 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 fromreading. 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 thekids 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, Iread a book . . . (Nora pp. 5-6)


She recalls her experience and decides that reading led to academic suc-cess because it gave her information not because it was intellectual exerciseand language practice. When asked how her love of reading has affected herteaching, she answered that she was able to motivate her students to lovereading. She also mentions making sure that her students know that you canfind out anything you want to know in a book but most of her time and en-ergy is directed at motivating the students to read for an experience that isexciting and pleasurable.

I’m sure that everybody says this, but I feel that if I could teach kidsto love reading . . . then I’ll feel I’ve been successful . . . and when Isee that I’ve turned a kid on to an author and they’re buying everybook 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 offerbecause I myself love books . . . and I consider myself a very enthu-siastic person and I can get excited and I can get the kids excitedand I guess I feel that one of my strengths as a teacher is I can takesomething 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 tem-plate 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 notentertained the possibility that other approaches may be necessary as well.

What exactly is the pleasure of reading? It is always assumed that the readercontinues to read because of the interest and enjoyment of the story. An al-ternative explanation is that the complex interplay and use of the intellect iswhat is enjoyable in reading. To come to this conclusion requires an under-standing of a model of reading beyond the translation model—an understand-ing of the interaction model of reading. Furthermore to understand how thesocial influence of the classroom community of readers influences childrento be enthusiastic about reading, requires a further progression in models ofreading towards the construction model of reading in which the experienceof reading is socially constructed (Straw, 1990). Nora is, in some ways, actingon 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 hasbeen an avid reader but she works with her students to understand what theycan get out of reading—she teaches her students critical or analytical read-ing. What she actually describes is that she is able to help students to under-


stand the process of insight into literature, to recognize that all genuine in-sight 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 stillfor 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. Sometimesthey bring plays into the school, and they’re very basic plays . . . Iprepare them for the play. I tell them that there are other issues whichare 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 TheBeast or whatever. And they see something. There’s different thingsthat they can pick out . . . So I think they’ve sort of—they’ve devel-oped that. I think they’re developing that, which is great . . . (Barbarapp. 6-7)

For Barbara too, the reading and the pleasure to be found in reading werenot ends in themselves. She talks about the reading that students do in con-nection with what they are going to write or think further about. The readingis purposeful. It provides insight, ideas, and information and allows the stu-dents to make or construct something further.

Most of the teachers feel that their love of reading is something that theycan somehow transfer to their students. If only students could be induced toread enough, all of the purposes for reading would somehow be met. Veryfew of the teachers even mention the importance of the motivation of read-ing for information, even though this can be, for some students, as strong amotivator as reading narrative (Pappas, 1991). In addition, none of the teach-ers talk about teaching self-monitoring strategies or other conscious strate-gies for aiding comprehension of written information. If students have anydifficulty at all reading they think that it is interest that is lacking and that pleas-ure would be the greatest aid to learning. This was the interpretation of theirexperience for almost all of these teachers themselves. For most of their stu-dents it has seemed to be an adequate approach. They have not seen thenecessity for any other route in teaching reading. Personal experience, espe-cially if it is unexamined, and reflection only on action are good guides onlyfor dealing with people who are very similar to yourself, people with similarabilities, similar experiences, and tastes, similar responses to things, and simi-lar purposes for reading.


“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 ofthese 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, inordi-nate effort required, insecurities, and anxiety. Some marveled that they haddone well in school in spite of their lack of ability in writing. What they weremost lacking was a realistic sense of what they were capable of doing. Nancywas 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 pleas-ure 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 writepoetry . . . 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 writingtheir stories . . . They also like to look at a book and do research skillsand 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 youmade the diagrams and the preposition went here and the predicatewent 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 crea-tive writing. (Kim pp. 8-9)

Kim realizes that her skills were not well developed because writing wasnever really taught when she was in school. This realization certainly reinforcesher dedication to a strongly literacy-based program in her class. In this senseshe is inspired by her own experience and difficulties to teach the way shedoes.

“I feel that I am learning with them.”

Suzanne also feels that she is an inadequate writer. Continuing with heridentification of her own needs with her students’ work, she mentally worksthrough her own assignments to the students, assuming that if she can han-dle them that she is on the right track.

I’ve never thought of myself as a very good writer. Yet I would dowell in my essays . . . I am a factual person and a science person, sowhen I would write, if I wrote about something factual . . . I was ableto express myself better. I don’t think I’m a very good creative writer


. . . I value creative writing. I wish I was a better creative writer andthat’s what’s really important for me and . . . I want to observe someother teachers and learn more about the writing process, because Iwant to help my kids to become the better writers that I wish I couldhave been. But because I don’t feel I am that writer, I feel that I amgoing to have trouble helping them to get that . . . (Suzanne pp. 11-12)

Inspired by her own difficulties, she is attempting, in effect, to be a partici-pant with her students in their learning.

I love writing letters . . . more so than a story or essay. It’s not some-thing I ever enjoyed doing . . . I try not to let that come through in theclassroom. I try to learn from my students and watch them . . . Forexample, I gave them the topic of “winter.”. . . they could take win-ter 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 aboutsomething you don’t want to write about. I think, “Where would I gowith this?” . . . “What would I do with this?” Then I’d think, “Well, Ican write as good a story as theirs . . .” (Suzanne pp. 12-13)

Suzanne does not offer her students any direct instruction on how to dothe writing assignment, no structures to help them put together their “story.”In fact her directions to them are deliberately wide-open. She seems to thinkthat the “ideas” for stories, along with the necessary structures, are withinthe 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 shecan learn creative writing herself by doing the task, at least in her mind, andcomparing her performance to theirs.

Something like this may be at the root of a great deal of practice in theteaching of writing. Suzanne’s her thinking about writing are similar to theexpressivist theory of writing instruction (Elbow, 1973) in which the naturalexpression of the students is the single most important guide to the writingteacher. More current theories of writing would also include explicit teachingof 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 waythey write.”

Nora has a lot of doubts about her own writing based on comparisons withher siblings who seem to her to write with no effort. In spite of doing well inschool she has never felt confident about her writing ability.


I’m a terrible writer! . . . it takes me a very long time to write some-thing that I consider really good. As I say, I did very well in universityand I wrote some really good papers and I look now and I can’t be-lieve that I wrote it! . . . I guess I’m hard on myself because I look atmy brothers—it’s sibling rivalry, I guess! And I look at what they canwrite and I don’t feel that I can write. I mean I did very well in univer-sity. I worked hard. But it didn’t come easily to me . . . But . . . I wouldsay no, I’m not a particularly good writer. (Nora pp. 6-7)

Nora realizes on reflection that she has always made a particular effort tohelp her students feel good about their writing because she has always hadsuch doubts about her own. It goes beyond just writing though. She wantsthem 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 combinedwith a lack of confidence in the ideas. Students are often reluctant to havetheir writing judged because writing so nakedly shows one’s ideas. Nora rea-sons that feeling good about your writing gives you confidence and that whenchildren feel confident about their ideas they will work hard to perfect the pieceof writing that contains and conveys them.

I go out of my way to make the kids feel very good about themselvesbecause I don’t feel particularly good about the way I write. So I’mvery big on praise . . . “You go for it. Good, you’re doing well. Takeit!”. . . I probably overcompensate because of my own insecuritiesabout writing . . . I’d want them to feel . . . that they have a good ideaand that their idea isn’t any worse than the next person’s and theirinterpretation of something isn’t any more right or wrong than some-one else’s . . . It’s a confidence issue (Nora p. 7)

Her basic method is to treat the children and their ideas with respect andhelp them to feel good about their work and their ideas. It’s a good exampleof how a teacher’s own difficulties with writing can inspire her to develop ef-fective teaching methods.

In a sense the teachers’ reactions to their personal experience have beenthe opposite of what they could have been. If they could have imagined a loveof writing, they might have figured out ways to encourage it in their students.If they could have imagined difficulties with reading, they might have beenmore able to teach strategies to deal with that. In a sense both approachesare needed in teaching both reading and writing—the love of it to encouragethe doing and the learning and the strategies to deal with the problems. Mostof the teachers seem to be inspired by their experience to provide only oneaspect. They love reading so they want to encourage it. They have problemswith writing and want to provide help with it for their students.


“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 ownexperience in school where she felt that she was not given the encourage-ment that she needed to develop her writing skills. Thinking about her ownexperience, makes her feel even better about her students who have beengiven the chance to develop writing skills. She is particularly pleased by theirconfidence 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 hadbeen taught that way when she was in school.

I was never a good writer, never . . . I don’t think I was ever made tofeel comfortable about my writing. I think I was always criticized. Ithink when I went to school people were always—Some people findwriting 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 evenwhen I first started teaching, they swung too much the other way. Ifeel I’ve got an even balance for what I’m doing. I’m not tearing themdown. As a final job they can’t hand in garbage. So, personally, I feelthat’s what I would have liked to have been at, at that point. (Barbarap. 8)

She wants a balance between the freedom and encouragement that attimes may border on license and the kind of harsh requirements that may sti-fle the initiative that is essential to confident writing.

Barbara’s experiences in school have had an influence on her teaching butthere is also an influence that has worked the other way. The experience ofworking with students on their ideas and their writing has had an effect onher attitudes toward her own writing and to learning situations in general. Insituations where she is evaluating information or having to display her abilityand understanding in any way, she is much more comfortable and confident.

Because I am trying to preach to the kids how important it is . . . Irealize there is so much . . . depth in things, that I try to read differ-ent materials . . . I don’t do much writing . . . But . . . if I do have towrite, I write with more confidence . . . the key thing is confidenceand knowing someone is not going to shoot you down. Like no oneis going to shoot me down now. I can write whatever I want. I think Iwent through an era where everything was red circled and everythingwas torn apart in literature, and that’s awful . . . it’s so hard to rebuildthat confidence . . . If I have to write a report, I don’t shake. I don’tshake anymore. I think that’s a result, too, of . . . imparting this to the


kids at school. I am beginning to believe what I am teaching . . . Iwish somebody had said to me there’s not an exact answer for eve-rything. 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 thansomeone else, I would think that I was wrong. But you don’t have tobe wrong. There’s different ways. (Barbara pp. 24-25)

Barbara has been emboldened to think for herself, to put forward an opin-ion, and to spend time reading and thinking. Her teaching and her work withher students have had a profound effect on her level of confidence in her ownthinking 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 towrite for pleasure and that she wrote professionally. She also was the onlyone who considered the two kinds of writing together when asked about herpersonal writing practices and immediately talked about the influence of herown writing on her teaching of writing in the classroom.

I write also personally . . . since I was a teenager I’ve really been intopoetry 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 ofthat is with my class when I’m going through the writing process withthem, 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 tothem as writers and they can relate to me . . . Because I tell themabout how frustrated I get or how when I write it the first time I don’tcare about the spelling . . . (Nancy pp. 7-8)

She talks about having done this since she was a teenager but Nancy isalso one of the teachers who learned innovative methods of teaching veryearly in her teaching career—including instruction in teaching the writing proc-ess. It seems likely that she put these methods to use in her own writingvery early in her teaching and that her experiences and teaching practices havecontinued to influence each other over the years.

In conclusion, it does seem that experience, and reflection on that experi-ence, become part of every teacher’s repertoire. Each of the teachers drewheavily on her own experiences when constructing her teaching practice. Thisis not necessarily a good single basis for teacher knowledge and practice be-cause experience is necessarily individual and it is subjective. There werespecific ways that the teachers’ reading practices tended to limit their teach-ing practice. They assumed that the best method for getting students to reada great deal was to engage their interest in narrative. Their implied theory ofreading comprehension was that a child who reads a great deal of fiction will


learn to get information from text in general, in the course of doing the read-ing and some activities such as answering questions on stories or chaptersin a novel. The teachers seemed to believe that reading practices learned inreading fiction, will serve the student equally well for reading non-fiction orinformational text of various kinds. They seem unaware of the specific strat-egies that are needed to read effectively for information. It may well be thatthe best way to begin to teach reading is to get the students interested inlistening to and reading stories. However, this idea by itself is not a sufficienttheory about the nature of reading and what is going on when students arelearning to read and learning to read for meaning and/or information. It doesnot offer any remedial approaches, no theories of reading comprehension,no repertoire of reading strategies to give the teacher alternative ideas or ap-proaches.

Many teachers think that they are avoiding the old way of teaching read-ing based on a decoding theory of reading in which students are simply as-signed texts and skill practice. They have not embraced, however, a newmethod of supported response to reading based on a meaning-making defi-nition of reading. They have often given their students more freedom to chooseand less direct guidance for skill development.

A few of the teachers did mention specifically reading for information andreading with a purpose. Even so, none of them acknowledged that reluctantreaders are often motivated and able to read text that is difficult for them whenthe text contains information that they consider essential to know. There wasonly one teacher who based her teaching of reading on encouraging her stu-dents to construct their own meaning from a text. She explored with themhow people get meaning from text in different ways at different levels andencouraged 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 evenmore obvious and problematic than the influence of their experiences withreading. When asked to talk about themselves as writers and their experi-ences as writers, the theme that emerged most clearly was that the majorityhad problems. Eleven of the teachers were critical and/or unsure of their ownwriting ability. Only one of the teachers said that she loved to write. She andone other described themselves as good writers. All of the others said theydid 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 ofthis they had done alright in school and university. Some seemed to suggestthat they had worked very hard to attain success, others that their standardsfor themselves were higher than their teachers’. Many comments implied areluctance to write because of the fear of being evaluated negatively. Severalmentioned the fear of not being sufficiently creative to meet expectations.

Almost all of the comment about writing focused on writing that had beendone for school. There was an unspoken assumption that the topic was school


writing or academic writing. Writing for pleasure—activities such as journalingor letter writing—were mentioned by a few of the teachers but discountedas if this kind of activity was not the topic of the discussion. Most of theirdescriptions of school writing were necessarily from the past. Despite thisthere was an immediacy to their descriptions of writing anxieties and difficul-ties, as if they had only to think back to experience them fully again, with allof the attendant feelings.

Those who had difficulties with writing nevertheless believed that therewas little effect of this on their teaching. Only on reflection did some find someconnections between their own negative experiences and the practices thatthey used for teaching writing. Moreover, the majority of these practices areless than perfect and even the best of them cannot stand alone as a singleapproach to teaching writing. An effective writing instruction program wouldinclude: instruction in and use of the elements of the writing process (pre-writing, drafting, and revising), peer editing, self publishing, attention to rhe-torical concerns of purpose, audience, and occasion, and awareness of genreissues. It has been suggested that while reading is certainly important, a goodprocess writing curriculum is the essential element in a literacy program(Applebee, 1991; Raphael & Hiebert, 1996) to ensure that students developand maintain confidence in their skills. In addition, Au and Scheu (1996) havefound that only partial use of the elements of an effective program reducesthe realization of the potential positive effect on the literacy development ofstudents. A few good practices will not result in a program that makes differ-ences for students.

Despite the clear links between experience and practice, for these teach-ers, their practice of teaching reading and writing was largely unexamined.The difficulties that the teachers had all had with writing were largelyunexamined, even after years of experience as teachers of writing, workingwith students to develop writing skills. In several cases their difficulties couldclearly be seen as barriers to effective work with students. When methodsare formed as a reaction to experience and not based on a full understandingof the discipline, there are bound to be inconsistencies, overemphasis, andlack of coverage.

A teacher would have a better basis for teaching reading and writing if shehad spent some time analyzing her own experiences. She could first exam-ine her memories and organize them into the theories of instruction that werecurrent at the time that she was in school. She could then compare her memo-ries with those of others to find out if her experiences were typical for hertime. Then she could compare her reactions to them to see what part per-sonality played in the sense she has made of her experiences and whetherother reactions to them were also possible. It seems that it is inevitable thatpersonal experience of schooling will have an effect on teachers’ practices. Itmakes sense that this process should be examined and become more con-scious.


REFERENCES

Applebee, A. N. (1991).Environments for language teaching and learning: Contem-porary issues and future directions. In J. Flood, J. M. Jensen, D. Lapp, &J. R. Squire (Eds.), Handbook of research on teaching the English languagearts (pp. 549-556). NY: Macmillan.

Atkinson, L. E. (2000). “What I’m doing is really working in the language arts withthe kids:”Teacher knowledge, teacher change and the construction ofteaching practice for reading and writing. Winnipeg, MB: Doctoral Disser-tation, University of Manitoba.

Au, K. H. & Scheu, J. A. (1996). Journey toward holistic instruction. The ReadingTeacher, 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 theteaching of writing. College Composition and Communication, 33(1), 76-88.

Pappas, C. C. (1991). Fostering full access to literacy by including informationbooks. 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 literacyinstruction. Fort Worth, TX: Harcourt Brace.

Straw, S. B. (1990). Challenging communication: Readers reading for actualiza-tion. In D. Bogdan & S. B. Straw (Eds.), Beyond communication: Readingcomprehension and criticism. (pp. 67-90). Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/CookHeinemann.

Straw, S. B. & Sadowy, P. (1990). Dynamics of communication: Transmission, trans-lation, 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.


Kindergarten Children’s Gender Schematicity andIts Relationship to Sibling and Parental Variables

Laura Sokal

This research was supported by a graduate fellowship from the University ofManitoba and by a graduate fellowship from the Social Sciences and Humani-ties Research Council of Canada. The author would like to acknowledge thesupport of the students, parents, teachers, and principals of the Fort GarrySchool Division. Correspondence should be addressed to the author at theBachelor of Education Program, University of Winnipeg, 515 Portage Avenue,Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada R3B 2E9. Phone: (204) 786-9915; FAX: (204) 772-7980. Electronic mail may be sent to [email protected]

ABSTRACT

Gender schematicity was studied in 88 kindergarten children and their par-ents. Children were administered a computerized measure to determine theirgender schematicity levels. Parents were administered the Bem Sex RoleInventory. Regression analysis revealed positive relationships between childgender schematicty and parental gender typing. Group differences in genderschematicity were found through univariate analysis of variance between kin-dergarten boys and kindergarten girls, and between child with and withoutolder same-sex and other-sex siblings. Results are discussed in the contextof understanding children’s gender schematic development by examiningmultiple environmental and within-child variables.

INTRODUCTION

According to most classical and contemporary theories of gender develop-ment, socializing forces are key to children’s gender development. To varyingdegrees in social learning theory (Bussey & Bandura, 1999), psycho-analytictheory (Freud, 1925), cognitive-developmental theory (Kohlberg, 1966), andgender schema theory (Bem, 1981a; Martin & Halverson, 1981), parents areviewed as important influences. Notwithstanding the importance of parentsas socialization agents, ninety percent of children are raised within familialenvironments that also include siblings (Katz, 1987). However, the effects offamilial influences other than parents have received little attention in the re-search literature. When sibling influences have been considered, they have


been studied in isolation, rather than within a family context. It is reasonableto predict that siblings may influence also children’s gender development (Katz,1987; Katz & Ksansnak, 1994). The current project explored one aspect ofchildren’s gender development, namely gender schematicity, and its relation-ship to parental gender-typing, sibling constellation, and sex. Set within gen-der schema theory, the goal was to explore children’s gender schematicitywithin the family context, rather than exploring parental and sibling influencesin isolation.

An Overview of Gender Schema TheoryWhile once viewed as a bi-polar, uni-dimensional construct with masculinityand femininity as contrasting endpoints, gender schema theories (Bem, 1981,Martin & Halverson, 1981) propose that gender role development is insteadmulti-dimensional (Martin, 1993), and includes gender knowledge, gender flex-ibility, gender preferences and gender schematicity. Studies of gender roledevelopment have illuminated its multi-dimensional nature as well as the in-congruence between dimensions, supporting the notion that gender studiesmust be respectful these distinctions. Interestingly, few studies have lookedat gender role development in elementary school children (see Serbin,Powlishta, & Gulko, 1993 for an exception), instead focusing on gender ac-quisition during the preschool years (Martin, 1993). As such, gender develop-ment trajectories within elementary school children are less clear than thosewithin the pre-school age group.

Although most children develop extensive knowledge of society’s genderstereotypes, they vary in their degree of gender flexibility and gender prefer-ences. According to gender schema theories (Bem, 1981; Martin & Haverson,1981), the underpinning to these differences is found within children’s gen-der schemata. “The basic idea is that stereotypes are ‘schemata’ or naïvetheories that are relevant to self, and function to organize and structure expe-rience by telling the perceiver the kinds of information to look for in the envi-ronment and how to interpret such information” (Martin & Halverson, 1983,p. 563). Children vary in their degrees of gender schematicity- their inclina-tion to use gender as a salient schema for processing social information (Levy& Carter, 1989). Psychological research has shown that preschool boys aremore gender schematic than girls (Carter & Levy, 1988; Sokal, 2001) and per-ceive greater restraints on their social behaviour than do girls (Ragg, 1999).High gender schematic children, particularly boys, tend to self-select out ofactivities that they perceive as gender inappropriate (Bauer, 1992; Huston,1983). This is unremarkable since boys are viewed more negatively than girlsfor cross-gender behaviours (Bussey & Perry, 1982; Levy, Taylor, & Gelman,1995; Martin, 1990; Sandnabba & Ahlberg, 1999) and are more likely than girlsto receive negative consequences (Fagot, 1977, 1989, 1995; Zucker, Wilson-Smith, Kurita, & Stern, 1995), including parental punishment (Heilbrun, Wydra,


& Friedburg, 1989), for cross-gendered behaviours. Levy, Taylor and Gelman(1995) demonstrated that boy’s violations of gender roles were viewed as simi-lar to moral violations, while girls’ violations were viewed as less serious vio-lations of social conventions.

The developmental trajectory of gender schematicity is not well understood.Until recently there have been no consistent instruments for measuring gen-der schematicity in children throughout their school years. Recently, Lobel,Bar-David, Gruber, Lau, and Bar-Tal (2000) developed a computer program thatuses response latencies to measure gender schematicity in elementary schoolchildren. They found that gender schematicity level and age were related toChinese elementary school children’s judgments of others’ behaviours. Fourcomputer programs (Sokal, Carter, & Levy, 1999; 2001) have been developedthat extend the use response latencies to infer children’s level of genderschematicity from kindergarten to grade twelve in Canadian children. Thesemeasures were developed based on interviews with Canadian children andincorporate their perspectives on age-appropriate masculine, feminine andgender-neutral activities. They are sensitive to cultural and temporal issues inchildren’s perceptions of the gender-typing of toys, therefore addressing aconcern expressed regarding the validity of some instruments (Sokal, 2001).It is now possible to study the trajectory of gender schematicity throughoutthe span of the school years in ways that allow meaningful comparisons withother developmental and individual characteristics such as family composi-tion.

Differential Treatment of Boys and Girls by Mothers and FathersAlthough initial findings regarding this issue were obscured because parentalsocializing behaviours were combined for statistical analyses in many stud-ies (Bradley & Gobbart, 1989), subsequent research that considered moth-ers and fathers separately has done little to clarify the situation. Adding tothe debate of differential parental treatment was the proposal that mothersand fathers might treat each sex differently and therefore require separateexamination 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 stillconsiderable controversy over the strength of parental differences in thesocialization of the sexes” (p. 5).

Evidence of differences in treatment focus on parental reactions to chil-dren’s behaviors. Fathers demonstrate greater concern with gender role con-formity in sons, and selectively reinforce behaviours deemed appropriate whilepunishing cross gender-typed behaviours (Heilbrun, Wydra, & Friedburg, 1989).Whereas mothers treat daughters and sons in similar ways, fathers treat themdifferentially by sex, therefore exerting stronger influence (Block, 1976).Women in general have been shown to be more accepting of cross-genderbehaviours than men (Leve & Fagot, 1997; Martin, 1990).


Bradley and Gobbart (1989) and Jacklin, DiPietro, and Maccoby (1984) con-cluded that fathers may be primarily responsible for the emergence of gen-der-typed play by their children, a conclusion that suggests the importance ofexamining maternal and paternal influences separately. In addition to the stud-ies previously mentioned, others who have investigated differential treatmentof children have highlighted the behaviour of fathers (Fagot & Leinbach, 1989;Katz & Ksansnak, 1994; Serbin, Powlishta, & Gulko, 1993). Siegal (1987) re-viewed 39 studies that looked at maternal and paternal behaviour toward chil-dren. In half of the studies, differences were found in how fathers treatedsons and daughters. Differential treatment by mothers was rarely found. Someof the studies revealed that fathers engage in more rough and tumble playwith sons than daughters (Jacklin, DiPietro, & Maccoby, 1984; Power,McGrath, Hughes, & Manire, 1994). Fathers also tended to show more sym-pathy for dependence in their daughters than in their sons (Russell & Russell,1987). Fathers reacted more negatively to their sons engaging in cross gen-der-typed play than did mothers (Langlois & Downs, 1980).

In contrast to the previous findings, Fagot (1995) suggested that while somedifferential treatment by fathers has been reported, the differences relatedmainly to attitudes rather than behaviours, were contradictory across stud-ies, and were relatively small. Lytton and Romney (1991) completed a reviewand uncovered only one consistent area of differential treatment—play asmeasured by rough and tumble play and toy selection in both mothers andfathers. From this observation, it might be argued that parents treat childrenthe same, regardless of child sex. However, fathers differed more in how theytreated boys and girls than did mothers. Furthermore, the two special casesof differential treatment, namely rough and tumble play and toy selection, maybe related. Leaper & Gleason (1996) found that the type of toys selectedmediated the types of play that followed. When the parents selected activetoys, more active types of play ensued. The father-son dyad was by far themost active dyad.

In light of the lack of conclusive findings, current research must be sensi-tive to both the sex of the parents and the sex of the children in examiningthe parent/child relationship in terms of gender development in children.

Sibling Effects on Gender DevelopmentAccording to Bem (1983), gender schematic environments are created by acombination of forces. The investigation of home environmental influenceson children’s gender development has focused on the influence of parents,and occasionally on the influence of television viewing, while extensively ig-noring the influence of siblings. Koch (1955) and Brim (1958) found that hav-ing an other-sexed sibling was associated with less gender-typed behaviourin the target child. These research reports, however, pre-date the proposal ofgender schema theories and were therefore not examined from this theo-retical perspective. With the exception of the work of Katz (Katz, 1987; Katz


& Boswell, 1984), little subsequent research was done in this area. Katz andBoswell (1984) found that girls without siblings exhibited less gender-typedbehaviours than those girls with siblings and that children with other-sex sib-lings were more flexible than those with same-sex siblings. The latter findingruns counter to the work of Gendler (1984), who found that girls with onlysisters and no brothers were less stereotyped than boys with only brothersand no sisters.

A recent resurgence in the investigation on sibling effects on genderdevelopment has yielded interesting findings. Rust, Golomblok, Hines,Johnston, and Golding (2000) found that both preschool boys and girls with asame-sex older sibling were more gender-typed than boys and girls withoutsiblings. Furthermore, children without siblings were more gender-typed thanchildren with other-sexed older siblings. McHale, Updegraff, Helms-Erikson,and Crouter (2001) looked at sibling effects in adolescence and found thatyounger siblings gender role qualities were more strongly linked to those ofother siblings than to those of parents, while older siblings gender role quali-ties were more strongly related to those of their parents. They interpret theirfindings from a social learning theory perspective and suggest that older chil-dren are more salient models for younger siblings. This interpretation is sup-ported by other work on empathy in children (Tucker, Updegraff, McHale, &Crouter, 1999) that demonstrated the uni-directional influence of older sib-lings on younger siblings.

Given the previous research findings, several hypotheses were predicted:

1. Children with highly gender-typed mothers will demonstrate higherlevels of gender schematicity.

2. Children with highly gender-typed fathers will demonstrate higherlevels of gender schematicity.

3. Children with a same-sex older sibling would be more gender sche-matic than those without an older same-sex sibling.

4. Children with an other-sex older sibling would be less gender sche-matic than those without an older other-sex sibling.

METHOD

Participants

The sample studied included 88 kindergarten children (46 girls and 42 boys)drawn from seven elementary schools in a central Canadian city, their moth-ers (N = 88), and their fathers (N = 88). The sample averaged 5 years 5 monthsof age (SD = 4.42 months, range 4 years 10 months to 6 years 3 months). Allchildren lived in homes with both their biological parents. In 93.82% of chil-dren’s homes, English was the primary language spoken. Annual family in-come before taxes as reported by parental survey placed most families at anupper middle to high level of socio-economic status.


PROCEDURE

Data was collected from a random sample of children by using two instru-ments.

Bem Sex Role Inventory

The first of two instruments used in the study was the Bem Sex Role Inven-tory Short Test (Bem, 1981b), the most widely used test of androgyny (Myers& Gonda, 1982). This test includes 30 items comprised of adjectives. Partici-pants were asked to indicate the degree to which they thought each adjec-tive applied to themselves on a seven-point scale. Ten of the adjectives aremasculine traits, 10 items are feminine traits, 5 adjectives are socially desir-able gender-neutral traits, and 5 items are socially undesirable gender-neutraltraits.

Test re-test reliability for the femininity, and masculinity scores was reportedranging from .76 to .91 for males and females using the Bem Sex Role Inven-tory Short Form (Bem, 1981b). Internal consistency was computed usingcoefficient alpha for males and females. The resulting coefficient alphas rangedfrom .84 to .90, indicating the internal consistency was high.

Completion of the BSRI results in two raw scores: the masculinity scoreand the femininity score. In order to create a score indicative of the level ofgender typing that is sensitive to the relationship between the masculine andfeminine scores, each parent’s femininity score is subtracted from his or hermasculinity score. The resulting difference is standardized and made abso-lute in order to calculate the parent gender-typing score. In this way, a highgender-typing score represents a person who very strongly exhibits mascu-line or feminine characteristics. A low score represents a person who exhib-its 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) genderschematic processing measure. This test has been shown to distinguish highgender schematic children from children with low gender schematicity (Levy,1989). The basis of Carter and Levy’s measure is that highly gender schematicindividuals will be able to process social information more quickly when theycan utilize their gender schema. Individuals with low gender schematicity willnot process social information more quickly when they can utilize their gen-der schema. This claim is based on the gender schema tenet that highly gen-der schematic individuals have more ready access to their gender schemathan do people with low gender schematicity (Bem, 1981b).

The original test was comprised of 24 line drawings of children’s toys. Theblack and white drawings were 10 cm X 10 cm and depicted masculine, femi-nine, and neutral toys. Gender-typed and neutral toys were selected basedon previous research (Carter & Maclosky, 1984; Levy, 1989). For the currentproject, the line drawings were incorporated into a computer program called


the Child Gender Schematicity Measure (Sokal, Carter, & Levy, 1999). The il-lustrations were presented in pairs on a lap top computer screen. The pairsconsisted of nine masculine-feminine pairs, three masculine-neutral pairs,three feminine-neutral pairs, three neutral-neutral toys, three pairs of mascu-line toys, and three pairs of feminine toys. Masculine and feminine toys ap-peared equally on the right and the left side of the computer screen. Thechildren indicated their preference for the toy on the right or left by pressingthe corresponding key. The computer registered both the child’s choice andtheir 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 responselatencies children demonstrated in choosing preferred toys in the masculine-feminine pairs related to their average latencies for all types of pairs. The sec-ond score, the schema inhibited score, was derived from the mean of thelatency times children demonstrate in choosing between two same gendertoys related to their average latencies for all types of pairs. As directed byLevy in the original measure, “in both cases, the child’s mean response la-tency was subtracted from his or her response latencies to the relevant pair-ings and then divided by the standard deviation of the child’s responselatencies” (Levy, 1989). Children’s latencies in pairings where neutral itemsappeared were used in computing each child’s overall latency, but did not enterinto the two schema latency scores. In this way, children with low facilitatedscores were more gender schematic than those with high facilitated scores,because the shorter latency suggested that gender schema was being usedto 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 stimulido not facilitate an easy choice when gender schema is being used as thebasis of selection. In order to decrease confusion, the facilitated scores arepresented by multiplying each score by a negative one. In this way, high fa-cilitated scores now represent high gender schematicity, as do high inhibitedscores. Internal reliability scores for facilitated and inhibited scores (Cronbachalpha= .73 and .78, respectively) exceed those of the manual measure.

RESULTS

As expected and demonstrated in past research (Carter & Levy, 1988; Levy,1989; Levy, Sadovsky & Sokal, 2001), a child’s facilitated and inhibited scoreswere significantly related (r =.34, p<.01) . However, since prior research sug-gests that these two scores differ in their relationship to other variables (Levy& Carter, 1989), they were therefore examined separately in the analyses. Dueto some variables being orthogonal while others were continuous in nature,two types of analyses were used. Independent orthogonal variables includedchild sex, the presence of an older same-sexed sibling, and the presence ofan older other-sexed sibling. Independent continuous variables included mothers’


gender-typing scores and fathers’ gender-typing scores. Dependent variableswere continuous in nature and included children’s gender facilitated and genderinhibited scores. Alpha was set a .05 for all analyses.

Simple correlations indicated a significant correlation between moth-ers’ 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 in-hibited scores (r = .24, p <.05). This indicated that high levels of maternal andpaternal gender typing were related to high levels of child gender schematicity.There was no significant relation between parental gender-typing and children’sgender facilitated scores.

In order to capture the ordinal variables, a series of univariate analysisof variance were conducted. In the first model, a 2 (Child sex) X 2 (Presenceof an older same-sexed sibling) X 2 (Presence of an older other-sexed sibling)ANOVA was conducted with children’s facilitated scores as the dependantvariable. There were no significant interactions, and the only significant maineffect was that of child sex, F (1,87) = 5.85, p = .02. Examination of the meansindicated that boys (M =.18) exhibited higher gender facilitated scores, andtherefore 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 chil-dren’s gender inhibited scores as the dependant variable. Although no signifi-cant 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 oldersister (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 anolder sister (M = -.22). The presence of having an older same-sex sibling in-teracted with child sex, F (1, 87) = 5.80, p = .02. Examination of the meansindicated that girls with older sisters (M = -.08) were more schematic thanboys with an older brother (M = -.12), than boys without an older brother(M = -.14) and than girls without older sisters (M = -.21)

DISCUSSION

Overall, the concept of examining children within a family context includingboth parents and siblings was supported. The parental-child relationships,however, are much more straightforward than those of siblings. Sibling rela-tionships are affected by both birth order and by the sex of the target childand the sibling.

Relationships between Parental Gender Typing andChild Gender SchematicityGender-typed parents had children with higher levels of gender schematicity.These findings were expected and consistent with most theoretical accountsof socialization. Major classic theories of gender development- psychoana-


lytic theory, social learning theory, and cognitive developmental theory- all positthat parents are important in children’s gender development. Gender schematheory also holds that parents are important socializing agents, but proposesthat parents are just one agent among many affecting children’s gender de-velopment.

A recent reformulation of social learning theory, now called social cogni-tive theory, has reduced its stress on children’s identification with their same-sex parents (Bussey & Bandura, 1999). These theorists do not abandon theirclaims of parental influence all together. In fact, they criticize Lytton andRomney (1991) for their selective literature review that failed to support theinfluence of parents in children’s gender development. However, the oncestrong claims of same-sex parent modeling effects are conspicuously absentfrom the latest theoretical development. Furthermore, Bussey and Banduracontend that the blurring of traditional gender roles within the parenting rolesmakes the direct modeling of gender stereotypes less likely. As such, atten-tion must be paid not only to the sex of the parents but also to their genderroles, a distinction also made in the current research. Interestingly, althoughsome fundamental differences still exist between gender schema theoriesand the reformulated social cognitive theory, the common ground betweenthese theories has increased.

Gender Differences in Gender SchematicityThe finding that boys were more gender schematic than girls was predictedand consistent with existing gender schema theory and social learning theory.Research suggests that very limited gender roles are socially acceptable forboys, and an awareness of these very rigid limitations therefore seems adap-tive to being raised as a son (Pollack, 1998; Sadker & Sadker, 1994). Girls, incontrast, are free to cross gender barriers with less fear of punishment andrejection. In this way, girls can utilize other schemata for selection of activi-ties and behaviours. When a fear of negative consequences is not present, itis much more unlikely that children will attach salience to gendered choices.

These findings have implications on the opportunities children exercise atschool. Previous research has demonstrated that gender-typed children self-select out of school activities that they view as inappropriate to their gender(Laskin & O’Neil, 1992; Baily, 1993). Girls, for example, may have traditionallytrailed behind boys in math and sciences partly because of this self-selection.These subjects became the focus of many interventions aimed at increasinggirls’ school outcomes. Recent national Canadian tests have indicated thatgirls have caught up with, and in some cases surpassed boys in these sub-ject areas (Council of Ministers in Education, Canada, 1999). Less well known,however, is that boys have consistently trailed one and a half years behindgirls in Language Arts (Hoff Sommer, 2000). Whether the specificity of aca-demic skill development in boys is related to gender schematicity deservesfurther investigation.


Sibling Constellation and Child Gender SchematicityThe most interesting findings regarding the relationship between children’sgender schematicity and their sibling constellation are the lack of main effectsand the occurrence of interaction effects. These finding suggest that siblingrelationships are complex and that researchers must explore the subtletiesof the relationships in order to understand them. Analogously, Block (1973)found that boys and girls responded differentially to the various combinationsof parent gender typing and socialization. This finding, though dated, is basedon a very persuasive forty-year longitudinal study and supports the possibilitythat boys and girls exposed to the same environments develop their genderdifferentially. Such may also be the case with sibling effects within the envi-ronment.

The current research has clear implications for studying gender develop-ment in children. When children’s socialization environments are examined,siblings as agents of socialization must be considered alongside parents inorder to understand the relationships associated with children’s gender de-velopment. Speculation that socializing influences impact differentially on boysand girls also needs further exploration. Through understanding the links be-tween gender development in boys, girls, and their environments, we canbetter focus interventions on the most salient socializing agents. The currentresearch suggests that some of these agents are parents and siblings, but itmarks only the beginning of new understandings in the socialization of gen-der.

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Student Dialogue in the Computer Room:An Exploration of Research Methodology

Karen E. Smith

ABSTRACT

This study was an exploration of research methods that could be used to ex-amine the dialogical environment in computer rooms for a better understand-ing of how to teach English Language Arts in the presence of technology. Asample 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 ex-ploring conversations in the presence of technology. The hypothesis of thestudy was that M.A.K. Halliday’s functions of language would provide a rea-sonable tool for analyzing language in the computer room. Six pairs of stu-dents participated in the study, three each from two classes of grade ninestudents. Their conversations were transcribed from video tapes and then latercategorized and given numbers for the type of conversational move that wasmade. A conversational move was defined as a phrase or phrase/gesture com-bination that clearly indicated a category of M.A.K. Halliday’s functions of lan-guage. Rater reliability was further validated through a second rater.

The results of the study suggest that M.A.K. Halliday’s functions of lan-guage facilitate an analysis of teaching using technology and that student-to-student dialogue in the computer room improves learning and encouragesstudents to not be afraid of the problems they can encounter using technol-ogy. Recommendations for teachers include providing students with a highdegree of self-regulatory background knowledge in order to successfully stayon task using the Internet as a research tool. Self-regulatory knowledge mustinclude Web search skills, broad knowledge of web site resources, and broadand narrow concepts of content knowledge.

Student Dialogue in the Computer RoomThe purpose of this study was to examine student conversations in a compu-ter room in order to see how classroom dialogue could most profitably be re-searched. A dissertation about classroom dialogic relations in the presenceof technology will follow, based on the recommendations from this study. Theeventual dissertation will address the question: Are there changes to the lan-guage used in teaching and learning that occur in the presence of technol-ogy, and if so, what implications do these changes have for literacy teaching


and learning? Therefore, in this exploratory study, actual conversations in ahigh school computer room were gathered and transcribed to see first, if theycould be categorized for analysis; and secondly, to assess how they could becategorized. It was determined that M.A.K. Halliday’s functions of languagewould provide a terrain for language analysis. Additionally, it was determinedthat recommendations for further research could be predicted from catego-rizing the conversations and reflecting on the data collected.

The Study. The hypothesis of this exploratory study was that a reasonabletool could be devised for analyzing language in the computer room usingM.A.K. Halliday’s functions of language. Originally I examined Joan Tough’scategories of language, however, after seeing the transcripts and attemptingto use each system to categorize the conversations, I settled on usingHalliday’s work because the distribution of Halliday’s functions seemed moreappropriate for the high school setting than Tough’s categories. PerhapsTough’s categories would work better in a second sampling of conversations.I also considered using emerging themes and repeated language moves thatwould rise from the data, but the review of the literature suggested that therewas already a great deal of linguistic analysis done on student dialogue. There-fore, testing the use of linguistic analysis that had already been connected toregular instruction became an important part of the quest to create a reason-able tool from this pilot study.

OVERVIEW OF THE STUDY

The study took place in an urban public high school that has a reputation forhigh standards of academic achievement. The school has an enrolment of 1034students in grades 9 through 12. Located in a middle class district with openboundaries, the school draws students both locally and from other parts ofthe city where it is situated. Students are mostly Caucasian of mixed nation-ality.

Two senior high English Language Arts teachers participated in the study.Both teachers, a male and a female, have experience beyond 20 years in sec-ondary Language Arts. Each teacher invited three pairs of students from theirclasses to volunteer for the study. Altogether twelve students in dyads par-ticipated, three dyads from each class. In the male teacher’s class, the stu-dents were writing mysteries using a word processing program called ClarisWorks. In the second class, the students were researching The Tempest us-ing Netscape.

A daily routine was established in both classes. Each day the students re-ceived instructions from their teachers at the beginning of each class and thenproceeded to the computer room to complete their tasks. The students inboth classes were video taped as they worked on their tasks for approximatelyone hour a day for three consecutive classes. Students came into the com-puter room and completed their tasks without teacher assistance. They re-turned to their regular classroom toward the end of the school day period.


The video tapes were later transcribed, divided into individual conversa-tional moves, and then each move (see Definition of Terms) was categorizedaccording to M.A.K. Halliday’s functions of language. A second rater verifiedthe categories assigned by the researcher. Observations and categorizationwere considered in the final analysis.

DEFINITION OF TERMS

Conversational move - A student statement that could be separated from an-other student statement based on its ability to stand alone as one separatelanguage function. For instance, if two identical functions followed one an-other, they could still be counted as separate based on punctuation that sepa-rated the sentences or based on the intention of the statement.

Functions of language - M.A.K. Halliday found that students used languagefor seven basic functions namely: instrumental, regulatory, personal,interactional, imaginative, heuristic, and representational. In this study thefunctions were numbered for identity (non-hierarchically) and defined as fol-lows:

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 ofself, pride)

4. Interactional: “Me and you.” (getting along with others, establish-ing relative status and separateness: “Me against you”)

5. Imaginative: “Let’s pretend.” (creating new worlds, making upstories, poems)

6. Heuristic: “Tell me why?” (seeking and testing knowledge)

7. Representational: “I’ve got something to tell you.” (communicat-ing information, descriptions, expressing propositions)

8. Other - Language was inaudible or the function of the languagewas 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 andtechnology especially literacy and the Internet. This chapter is devoted to adiscussion about the selection of research method and design for a study aboutthe 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 au-thority in the face of technology (Garner & Gillingham, 1999; Neilsen, 1998;


and Stensaas, 1999). They suggest that different types of teacher-to-student(s)and student-to-student(s) relationships exist when technology becomes partof the classroom tasks. The shifts occur for a variety of reasons. In some casesit is because teachers are not always viewed as the techno authorities in theclassroom. In other cases it is because the students are learning in and throughauthorities outside the classroom such as in e-mailing experts. Whatever thereason, transmission oriented teaching appears to be less used in the pres-ence of technology. Since language is an important part of teaching and learn-ing, it seems reasonable to predict that shifts in language could occur whentechnology becomes a main part of literacy learning. What is different in aclassroom when technology is introduced and how could that effect language?Which research methods could be used to examine conversations in the com-puter room?

THE PRESENCE OF TECHNOLOGY

There is a perception that students will become technologically literate by plac-ing computers in their classrooms. The vision for technology in the classroomis notably different than the actual implementation of it in the classroom. Firstof all, there is a disparity in the amount of money that districts and schoolsprovide for implementing technology, so there is an inequality in the technol-ogy in each classroom. Secondly, schools do not buy the same types of soft-ware and hardware, so the types of technology learning done in one classvary widely from that done in another. Thirdly, teacher skills vary according toindividual expertise and interest in technology since many teachers are learn-ing what they know about computers through their own pursuit of knowledgein this area, not necessarily through teacher training programs (Garner &Gillingham, 1998). Suffice it to say, there is a range of complexity in the im-plementation of technology both across school districts and from teacher toteacher (Wresch, 1996).

In this Information Age, the competition to be most technologically ad-vanced is highly present in schools. Districts appear convinced that havingtechnology will produce technologically literate students. This type of vision/illusion could be a deterrent to research about computer use in that it couldcause bias. For example, no school district would want to report that theirstudents 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 labeledbad news. Literacy levels, for example, are often given bad press (Robertson,1998). Technology implementation without measure receives good press andliteracy with research measure receives bad press. With these conflictingpolitical issues in mind and the sensitivity of school divisions to media pres-sure concerning technology, literacy and technology research needs to beskillfully conducted with a consciousness for these issues. Issues that effect


technology and literacy are interwoven with school politics, financial concerns,emotional drive to keep current in technology, and expanded definitions ofliteracy. Researchers should be aware of these meta forces that could bias astudy but at the same time also provide powerful insight into solutions andproblems.

Mosenthal (1993) suggests that the agenda for reading research could bemore effectively administered if three agendas that frame problems and goalswere simultaneously considered. These agendas are: (1) administrative effi-ciency, (2) client-satisfaction, and (3) emancipatory perspective. Administra-tive efficiency has to do with the way goals are set centrally and the wayproblems are dealt with from a systems point of view. Client-satisfactionframes problems and goals from an individual’s point of view and addressesthe needs of the individual in the organization. The emancipatory perspectivehas to do with the greater frame of how education socializes individuals andempowers them to create change and growth in society. Technology and lit-eracy research could possibly have a broader impact if these agendas wereconsidered. However, an understanding of the technology and literacy requiresa different kind of lens than literacy researchers are accustomed to becausetechnology and literacy together are new territory for researchers (Kamil &Lane, 1998; McKenna, 1999). What are some of the attributes of literacy inthe presence of technology?

Kamil and Lane (1998) state that research must also be interwoven withthe developments of technology in the work place. Without a precursor as tothe future of technological innovation, there is little hope that the researchdone today will be valuable or even relevant to the future. For instance, stud-ies done on CAI (Computer Assisted Instruction) in the 60’s bear little resem-blance to the CAI instruction done in schools today because the growth ofInternet use is factored into the equation (Wresch, 1996). The constants toresearch must be sought or the research will not be relevant to either prac-tice or further research.

Another important aspect of technology and literacy research to consideris 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., scientificliteracy, computer literacy, visual literacy) have stretched the concept of lit-eracy. Researchers also note that computer text is different than book text(McKenna, 1999; Reinking 1997) so altered reading and writing skills maychange 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 envi-ronments). Garner and Gillingham (1998) found through their research thatthree major changes occur: (1) “Materials and methods in each teacher’s rep-ertoire”, (2) “Reinvigorating teacher reflection on practice”, and (3) Movement


away from transmission-oriented pedagogy” (p. 225). The complex nature ofliteracy pedagogy and the new skills that need to be engendered are centralissues in technology and literacy research.

Another topic complicated by many opposing issues is whether past re-search has anything to say about technology improving literacy skills. The mostrecent NAEP report (Donahue, Voelkl, Campbell, & Mazzeo, 1999) indicatesthat technology aids in literacy learning. However, a research extractionsite 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 technol-ogy. Bangert-Drowns (1993) reports that technology improves literacy whenstudents word-process. However, Gillingham (1993) reports that technologyhas disadvantages for reading, especially where multi-media interferes withreading comprehension. Another issue is that common use of email conflictswith the administrative agenda of teaching students formal-style writing (Kamil& Lane, 1998, p. 333). Still another conflict is that students mostly encounterwebsites with high expository writing whereas teachers mostly expose stu-dents to narrative style (Kamil & Lane, 1998, p. 332). Naming these conflictsonly touches on the many conflicts in literacy and technology research, butthey also suggest a need for a comprehensive agenda in literacy research.Based on the nature of the presence of technology in classrooms, what is agood question for researchers to ask, and how should that question be an-swered through research?

THE QUESTION

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 broughtinto step with technological innovation. Together, they suggest an urgent needto research technological innovation and literacy. But what is technologicalinnovation in literacy learning and how should it be measured? Leu, Hillinger,Loseby, Balcom, Dinkin, Eckels, Johnson, Mathews, & Raegler (1998) statethat the integration of new technology into classroom practice is a “centralparadox” (p. 204) of technology in education. They mention that the presenceof technology does not guarantee that it will be used, or provide any indica-tors about how it will be used by teachers. The question of innovations di-recting 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 usingthe computer, or, are there some problems in that process that are bothinstructionally related and student related? A study by Bangert-Drowns andPyke (1999) provides some insight into the connection between literacy andtechnology as an indicator of the transfer that is required by literate individu-als who then try a new tool such as the computer. Bangert-Drowns and Pyke


identified seven levels of non-literate to literate behavior for children who wereobserved as they used computers in class. This study puts forward the ideathat transfer of literacy skills from books to computers is not necessarily au-tomatic 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 frommultiple and personally meaningful perspectives. Student manipulates soft-ware features to explore different perspectives and develop different inter-pretations as an opportunity to reflect on personal values or experiences.

Critical Engagement. Student attempts to identify operational and con-tent-related limitations of the software. Student manipulates software fea-ture, keenly observes the effects of the manipulation, and integrates theresults in future interactions to test personal understandings or limitations ofthe software presentation. Software structure becomes an object of criticalreflections and a stimulus for perspective-taking.

Self-Regulated. Student creates personal goals within the software tomake the software as personally interesting as possible. Student adjusts soft-ware features to sustain deeply involved, interesting, or challenging interac-tions. Student creatively uses software for personally defined purposes.

Structure-Dependent. Student is sensitive to and competent with soft-ware operation and navigation. Student pursues goals communicated by thesoftware. Student may not yet display full mastery of software feature, butresponds to operation, navigational, or content organization. Students dem-onstrate patterns of interaction that make competent use of software struc-ture.

Frustrated Engagement. Student possesses clear goals when workingwith the software but is unsuccessful in accomplishing them. Student triedto interact effectively with the software, but is unsuccessful. Student knowswhat the software can do, but cannot accomplish it. Student may manifeststress or frustration in negative comments, confusion, aggression, erraticbehavior, agitation, distress, or anxiety. Students are aware of the goals struc-ture of the software.

Unsystematic Engagement. Student has unclear goals when workingwith the software. Student moves from one incomplete activity to anotherwithout apparent reason. Student successfully completes simple tasks withinthe software but does not link tasks for high-order goals. Students remainengaged with software.

Disengagement. Student avoids working with the software or discontin-ues use prematurely. Student resists or stops interacting with the softwareStudent may sit and tinker with the software in a seemingly purposeless or


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 readand write has implications for the types of software that are used, the wayteachers and students will engage in the software, the motivation of thelearner, and the manner that teachers will use to direct the teaching of literacyactivities. These are all important considerations in the decision to researchhow to teach literacy using technology.

THE QUESTION AND SELECTING MEASURES

Are there changes to the language used in teaching and learning that occur inthe presence of technology, and if so, what implications do these changeshave for literacy teaching and learning? The decision to use one method ofresearch or another is complicated by the diverse use of computers in Lan-guage Arts. Yet there remains one common factor, teachers and students inthe classroom (This factor could be extended to include teachers and studentsin cyberspace). It seems that if teachers knew how to foster better dialogicalenvironments in the face of technology that they could retain a type of au-thority in the classroom but at the same time dispense with the need for theteacher as a consistently central focus for transmitting knowledge (or certainkinds of knowledge). Researchers must examine the dialogical environmentof the computer room to address this question. To do this, researchers needto go out into the field and observe teachers and students as they use tech-nology.

SINGLE SUBJECT AND QUALITATIVE MEASURES

Hammeter, Doyle, Collins, and Ault (1996) state that “the success of researchinvestigation cannot be solely ensured through (a) previously positive researchexperiences, (b) the careful selection of direct service providers, or (c) theappropriate selection of both research question and design. Rather, it may bethe combination of these and other factors that make a successful researchexperience” (p. 344). They suggest that a combination of discussion withteachers and single-subject intervention be used when doing field research.In this way, teachers can ask questions and researchers can provide independ-ent variables where none exist. Due to the unique nature of literacy and tech-nology in diverse classrooms, this research advice could provide insight intotechnology innovations in combination with literacy dialogue.

Further to this, Bisesi and Raphael (1995) have suggestions for combiningsingle-subject and qualitative research in literacy research. They suggest thatthe combination of research methods provides improved validity for a studybased 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 thesocial context is reported like a case-study combined with the quantitativeanalysis of the intervention. The case-study information could add to the in-


tegrity of the study based on researchers’ ability to replicate the situation sincethey would then know the context of the study.

Single subject research comes from the behaviouralists who needed toexamine students that had unique problems and disabilities. Behaviouralistswere interested in behavior change that could be produced through interven-tion. Traditional parametric statistical measures did not work with these sub-jects because there was no established base line in many situations (e.g.autistic children) and the subjects were so unique that no comparison couldbe made except when the subject was treated by an independent variableand compared to the subject’s changed behavior after intervention. With sin-gle-subject research, a baseline could be established measuring the singlesubject’s own behavior with and without the intervention over time. Single-subject research was therefore found to be more valid than parametric sta-tistical research in the study of unique subjects in unique situations.McCormick (1995) states that single-subject research is particularly useful forproviding data about students in resource programs. It could also be useful intechnology and literacy research because classrooms use technology in di-verse ways with diverse learners.

Alone, however, single-subject research could become subjective or evenappear to be manipulative especially if the student or teacher desires a par-ticular reaction using a certain computer program. Researcher, teacher, and/or student could merely act in a serendipitous manner or lose their spontane-ity in the course of the research.

Single-subject research is usually analyzed visually using a graph that dis-plays data for visual inspection (Kratochwill, 1992). Wampold (1992) recom-mends the procedures used in single-subject research for the intensiveexamination of social interactions (p. 93) because they can be applied to uniquesettings and replicated. He states that because social interaction is “bi-direc-tional in that an individual’s behavior is both a response to another’s previousbehavior as well as a stimulus for the other’s behavior” (p. 93) that social in-teractions cannot be considered single cases, but by using the same proce-dures it can be predicted if one behavior follows another and to what level ofprobability. He states that coding and reliability of the coding are importantconsiderations in this type of adaptation of single-subject research. The domi-nance of one pattern of speech, power relationships, and the patterns withina cluster of phrases can be examined using this method. Single-subject re-search in combination with a rich description of the context would appear tobe a most valuable method of analyzing dialogue in the presence of technol-ogy. Wampold (1992) recommends the use of single-subject measures, cit-ing several examples where this method has provided exceptional data thatcould not be found using any other measure.

It is recommended through this study that a combination of single-subjectand case-study research methods be adapted and used to examine the so-cial interaction of Language Arts classrooms in the presence of technology.


These procedures should follow the recommendations for studying social in-teraction as set forth by Wampold (1992), the combination of single-subjectand qualitative research as described by Bisesi and Raphael (1995), and thereading research agendas as recommended by Mosenthal (1993).

RESULTS AND DISCUSSION

The study that follows took place in two grade nine classes. Twelve studentsand two teachers participated. The students in both classes were given a brieflecture at the beginning of each class. The lectures were about what theywere expected to do, how they were to perform their work, and what dead-lines they would be expected to meet. The male teacher who was workingwith his students on mystery writing had all of his students work independ-ently at the computer, as would be their normal procedure. However, for thesake of the study, he instructed the three pairs in his room to talk together asthey were writing. The students were compliant but the tapes show that al-most all of their talk was contrived and done for the camera. They did notwork in pairs naturally unless they were doing the same task.

Mrs. Sheffield’s (pseudonym) dyads did an Internet research project. Shedid 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 re-wrote drafts of their work, and still others were working on another undis-closed project. For the sake of the study, Mrs. Sheffield had her six studentswork in dyads in the Language Arts computer room telling them that theywould be responsible for finding research that both she and students coulduse in their eventual writing projects about The Tempest. Although this de-scription of the task may appear to be contrived because Mrs. Sheffield onlyused the six subjects in the research gathering, there is no doubt that havingstudents work together in pairs, having students work on different projectsthan their classmates, and having students contribute to the classroom com-munity rather than just their own work is supported by the teacher and is com-mon practice for Mrs. Sheffield.

After viewing the tapes from both classes, it was decided that the studentsworking on the Internet would be the only class that would be transcribed.Two of the dyads in Mr. Fishman’s (pseudonym) class worked at separatecomputers contriving their dialogue to appear as if they were supporting oneanother during the video taping. The third dyad worked on one person’s mys-tery and then on the other person’s mystery. Although this last dyad had in-teresting dialogue that was naturally occurring to the task at hand, there wasno other group to compare it to. At a later time this set of tapes could be tran-scribed but for the purpose of this study, the dyads in Mrs. Sheffield’s classappeared to generate more naturally occurring information about dialogue.

The student dyads were designated by team names: Team 1, 2, and 3 ineach class. Each student was given a pseudonym and a limited amount ofdescription of each team member was provided in the transcription of the


video tapes. In a future study it is recommended that a full thick descriptionbe made of each team member. Mr. Fishman’s class had one team of boysand 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 teach-ers. The lab is controlled by the male teacher, Mr. Fishman, who has an ad-joining regular classroom. The lab is cared for and maintained by a school basedcomputer technician. It is common practice for English Language Arts stu-dents to go to the lab during classes to do Internet research and word-proc-ess. The lab is usually full all day. A chart on the wall assists teachers in bookingthe room although students frequently come to the room to work on assign-ments without teacher supervision.

Students were recorded for approximately one hour each day for threeconsecutive days. Later the video tapes were transcribed and the transcrip-tion notes were divided up into conversational moves. Each move was num-bered page by page. For example, on page 1 there were 11 moves and onpage 2 there were 12 moves. Each move is numbered this way, Team 1, April12, page 2.12. If an error was detected in numbering moves and a or b wasplaced beside the change so that errors could be reviewed. All moves werenumbered according to their language function.

No controls were applied. The Language Arts activity proceeded as nor-mally as possible with the students noticing that they were being taped.

INTERRATER RELIABILITY

After scoring the conversational moves of all three teams that were tran-scribed, the first rater then trained a second rater. The second rater was se-lected based on her experience in language arts curriculum and teaching. Theprocedure for training the second rater was to explain M.A.K.’s seven func-tions of language and have the rater use a guide sheet that contained infor-mation about what a typical function/move might be along with a definitionof the function. Both raters used identical guide sheets (see Appendix). Thefirst rater demonstrated the rating to the second rater as they practiced rat-ing the first four pages of Team 1’s first day together. A trial of ten pages forinterrater reliability resulted in a very low rate of reliability of .58216. Consid-ering this to be too low, the first rater then retrained the second rater, findingthat there was a difference in how each rater viewed conversation as eitheran interactional function or as functions within student conversations. Theresearcher (first rater) determined that student conversations were less valu-able to the functions of discourse because they depended on an administra-tive function (the speed of the network). So, they were clustered asconversation off-task, but still rated individually as conversational moves. Inthis way, private conversations could be separated from actual on-task con-versations. Following this discussion between raters and practice of anothersix pages of transcribing, the interrater reliability improved to .89655. It was


evident that further practice would nearly ensure a hundred percent interraterreliability. This should be noted as important for the approximate time neededto train a second rater.

CONVERSATION ANALYSIS

Conversations were analyzed by plotting them on a table containing numberof functions as follows:

OBSERVATIONS AND RESULTS

It was concluded that M.A.K. Halliday’s functions of language could be usedto gather and code speech patterns but it was not determined how these func-tions of language might be used in the final analysis of classroom languagepatterns. Certain patterns appear to emerge from this brief study. For instance,the students appeared to be most engaged in the task and most productivewhen interactive functions were highest. Team 3 as an example was highlyproductive and engaged until their computer did not work on the third day.Their interactions fell sharply on that day. Team 1 had low interaction func-tions on the first day when they had low productivity due to a computer prob-lem. In contrast, Team 2 was not productive on any of the three days andgradually became disengaged on the third day when interaction functions rosesharply.

It was interesting to note that imaginative functions hardly ever appearedand when they did it appeared to be mostly due to boredom.

An inaudible language move (#8) probably would have been an interactionalfunction of language since the students purposely made their voices softerso they could not be heard by the microphone on the camera.

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 11 5 4 4 12 7 16 80

regulatory 4 18 6 2 4 5 8 9 7 63

personal 22 64 49 22 7 27 50 47 34 322

interaction 17 76 67 20 37 60 77 71 30 455

imaginative 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 2

heuristic 4 23 13 10 6 13 37 24 20 150

representation 18 81 46 12 14 19 48 32 20 290

Other 7 13 10 10 7 12 9 7 5 80

total 88 291 202 81 79 141 241 197 122 1442


The computer processed approximately 30% of the time that the studentsworked on their research. This was interesting because when students wereusing time on-task most productively, either the computer was downloadingor the printer was processing, their personal and conversational functions rosein number. If the computer was perceived to functioning improperly but stillprocessing, personal and conversational functions dropped and regulatoryfunctions increased.

Very little of the labor was divided up. Outside of one student picking upthe printouts, only two times did one student look at notes while the otherchose sites. Roles were very clearly defined in the most efficient teams. Forexample, Team 3 appeared to be most efficient and the roles were most spe-cifically defined. One person used the mouse and the other coached. Like-wise, Team 1 only changed roles when they experienced trouble. Team 2,the least efficient team changed roles constantly. Team 3 appeared to be theleast frustrated when the computer did not work the way they wanted, yeton the third day when the system was down, they had the highest level offrustration with the computer.

All students, even those not involved in the study, appeared to stay on-task when using computers and do not seem to need outside prodding froma teacher to stay engaged. Occasionally Team members would prod each otherto stay on task and not drift off into interesting Internet sites. They were quiteannoyed at and suspicious of the amount of advertising on the Internet.

Descriptions in combination with counting the functions appeared to gohand-in-hand for making observations. It is predicted that together they wouldprovide rich data for follow-up study.

QUESTIONS FOR FURTHER RESEARCH

• Is there a correlation between high technology literacy levels andlanguage functions?

• Which functions of language are most effective in on-task computerassisted behavior?

• What types of social relations should be encouraged in the face oftechnology?

• Noting that the machine was processing approximately 30% of thetime that students worked on the research task: What types of workbehaviors should be encouraged during the times that the machineis 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 whenusing computers They do not seem to need prompting from a teacherto stay engaged. Why is this?


• What kinds of on-task functions move the work ahead?

• How much time on-task is there in comparison to conversation timeusing the Internet?

• What is it in the nature of conversation clusters that helps studentsto solve technology literacy problems?

• In keeping with Mosenthal’s agenda for reading research: What physi-cal structures to the computer room could be improved? What dostudents desire to help them work more effectively in the computerroom? What kinds of information, preparation, and input could teach-ers provide to improve the dialogical environment of the classroomin 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 sitesit is apparent that some students may have a predisposition to spa-tial ability or visual ability. Can these abilities be tested so the sub-jects are better understood in terms of the special nature of the textthey will be engaging in?

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS

This study was limited by the number and type of subjects. There were fartoo few subjects in this study to represent any type of pervasive behavioralanalysis that could be replicated in another setting. A broader range of sub-jects and consideration for gender should be part of future research. For ex-ample, 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 weremade. Moves should be clustered to see if there is a pattern.

An instructional dilemma that needs to be addressed is how to keep thestudy more natural. In the three days, although students settled into normaldialogue, they were still performing the study for their teacher and consciousthat the camera was picking up their usual intimate conversations.

It was originally planned that these students would be the only class in thecomputer room but customary behavior took precedence over the activity ofthe study. The researcher did not interfere with this activity by asking otherstudents to leave. Instead, grade 12 students came into the room and workedalongside the grade nine students. It was interesting to note that studentsonly compared their behavior with students from their own grade level, notwith those from the other grade level. Very little talking went on between


senior students and the grade nines. In fact, the only real situation in a periodof three days that occurred was when grade nines mentioned that the gradetwelves were back again. A second incident was when grade nine girls no-ticed the grade twelve boys sitting next to them. However, even in thesecases, very little conversation went on between the two groups. Noticeably,grade nine students experiencing difficulty getting the server to start or, as inTeam 2 where they were experiencing slow download speed. That was whenteam members looked at the other teams to compare how they themselveswere doing. They appeared to compare their behavior to the other teams tojudge their own success on the network.

MEDIA SUGGESTIONS

Video 8 cameras (a professional quality camera) were used in the video tap-ing and transcribing. This quality is superior to regular home video format whichis often used in home recording situations. The superior quality allowed thetranscriber to hear conversation specific to the teams in a very busy room fullof students who did not keep their conversational level in check. It is recom-mended that Video 8 production be used in further research due to its highaudio and visual quality.

The position of the cameras could be altered very easily because they wereon tripods. From the many perspectives that were used, none worked betterthan the camera on the side of a dyad. Students appeared to forget the cam-era was there after only a few minutes. This can be judged by the amount oftimes that “private” conversations were recorded that would not usually besaid 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 thisangle. Any position no less than three feet appeared to work well as far asstudents forgetting about performing for the camera. However, greater thansix feet away, the camera microphones picked up other students’ speakingand movement in the class.

Cameras could tape what was on the screen but the information was diffi-cult to see due to the waving screen. Video cameras see the screen differ-ently than do human eyes and therefore pick up a monitor with waving screenrather than a steady image. It was more valuable to see the students’ expres-sions and have them print out their information than to see what was on thescreen. Perhaps, with research about the Internet, it would beneficial to ex-plore what a spy-type program (software that shows where a user has goneon the World Wide Web) could do, to track what the students are actuallylooked at on the screen.

A final suggestion for media is to use a timer to examine the length of timeon and off task in relationship to the functions of language. The flow of activi-ties appears to be a result of interaction with the computers so there are somepossibilities for examining correlations between these two sets of data.


SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS

The scope of this exploratory study was limited in that it did not necessarilymeasure the ideal technology class nor the most innovative technology teach-ers. Examining that type of teacher may satisfy the administrative researchagenda but it does not balance with those agendas that involve the technophobicnor the technologically underprivileged. Their needs stem from the client-satis-faction and emancipatory agendas. The individuals that are addressed in theseagendas may need to hear from research that has a different scope, a broaderlens, and a more ethnographic dimension.

The recommendations from this study suggest that the study of literacy andtechnology should involve a close link between the reality of the classroom andthe vision that is presented. In this way, schools can choose better equipmentand make more efficient use of student time. They can avoid the pitfalls oftechnophobia and provide more meaningful daily experiences for students. Itmay not be the total responsibility of the teacher to provide skills and knowl-edge that make learning experiences valuable in the face of technology. Perhapsthe mission that is set for students needs to be changed and their self monitor-ing, 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, nowthat it is over, it makes sense to have an ethnographic research using single-subject measures. This would be most likely to provide a blend of Mosenthal’sagendas for reading research. The question reshaped could be: What functionsof language purposely enhance or detract from on-task literacy behavior?

REFERENCES

Bangert-Drowns, R. L. (1993). The word-processor as an instructional tool: A meta-analysis of word processing in writing instruction. Review of EducationalResearch, 63, 69-93.

Bangert-Drowns, R. L. & Pyke, C. (1999). Technology in schools: Can we make itwork? English Update, Winter, 2-3.

Bisesi, J. L. & Raphael, T. E. (1995). Combining single-subject experimental designswith qualitative research. In S. B. Neuman and S. McCormick (Eds.) Single-Subject Experimental Research: Applications for Literacy, (pp. 104-119).Newark, DE: International Reading Association.

Donahue, P. L., Voelkl, K. E., Campbell, J. R., & Mazzeo, J. (1999) NAEP 1998Reading Report Card for the Nation and the States. Available online January30, 2000 at http://nces.ed.gov/nationsreportcard/pubs/main1998.shtml

Edwards, J. B. & Malicky , G. (1996). Constructing meaning: Integrating elementarylanguage arts. Scarborough, ON: International Thomson.

Garner, R. & Gillingham, M. G. (1998). The internet in the classroom: Is it the end oftransmission-oriented pedagogy? In D. Reinking, M. C. McKenna, L. D. Labbo,and R. D. Kieffer (Eds.) Handbook of Literacy and Technology: Transforma-tions in a Post-Typographic World, (pp. 221-233). Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum.


Gillingham, M. (1993). Effects of question complexity and reader strategies onadults’ hypertext comprehension. Journal of Research on Computing inEducation, 26, 1-15.

Hammeter, M., Doyle, P., Colins, B., & Ault, M. (1996). Checklist for successfulimplementation of field-based research. Teacher Education and SpecialEducation, 19,(4), 342-354.

Kratochwill, T. R. (1992). Single-case research design and analysis: An overview.In R.R. Kratochwill and J.R. Levin (Eds.) Single-Case Research Design andAnalysis: New Directions for Psychology and Education, (pp. 1-14).Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

Leu, D. J., Hillinger, M., Loseby, P. H., Balcom, M.L., Dinkin, J., Eckels, M.L.,Johnson, J., Mathews, K., & Raegler, R. (1998). Grounding the design ofnew technologies for literacy and learning in teachers’ instructional needs.In D. Reinking, M. C. McKenna, L. D. Labbo, and R. D. Kieffer (Eds.) Hand-book of Literacy and Technology: Transformations in a Post-TypographicWorld, (pp. 203-220). Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum.

Levin, J. R. (1992). Single-case research design and analysis: Comments and con-cerns. In R.R. Kratochwill and J.R. Levin (Eds.) Single-Case Research De-sign and Analysis: New Directions for Psychology and Education. (pp.213-224). Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

McCormick, S. (1995). What is single-subject experimental research? In S. B.Neuman and S. McCormick (Eds.) Single-Subject Experimental Research:Applications for Literacy. (pp. 1-31). Newark, DE: International Reading As-sociation.

McKenna, M. C. (1998). Afterword to 20th-century literacy: Prospects at the mil-lennium. Peabody Journal of Education, 73(3&4), 376-386.

Mosenthal, P. (1993). Understanding agenda setting in reading research. In A.P.Sweet & I. Anderson (Eds.), Reading Research into the Year 2000 (pp. 115-128). Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

Neilsen, L. (1998). Coding the light: Rethinking generational authority in a rural highschool telecommunications project. In D. Reinking, M. C. McKenna, L. D.Labbo, and R. D. Kieffer (Eds.) Handbook of Literacy and Technology: Trans-formations in a Post-Typographic World, (pp. 129-144). Mahwah, NJ:Erlbaum.

Robertson, H. (1998). No more teachers, no more books. Toronto, ON: McClelland& Stewart.

Stensaas, S. (1999).Technology and classroom authority. Radical Pedagogy: 1,1.[iuicode: 2.1.1.2] Available online January 30, 2000 at stensaas.html.

Wampold, B. D. (1992). The intensive examination of social interaction. In R. R.Kratochwill and J. R. Levin (Eds.) Single-Case Research Design and Analy-sis: New Directions for Psychology and Education, (pp. 93-132). Hillsdale,NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

Wresch, W. (1996). Disconnected: Haves and the have-nots in the information age.New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press.

Part II: Issues on the Edge

65Issues on the Edge

From Desperation to Hope:The Stories of Three Aboriginal Women

Chris Loewen

ABSTRACT

The colonization of Aboriginal People in Canada has been the underlying ma-laise for a host of problems currently facing many Aboriginal communities. Theresults of governmental policies aimed at the assimilation of “Indian” people,coupled with the forced implementation of residential schools, have taken theirtoll. Three Aboriginal women who have experienced the full impact of coloni-zation share their stories of desperation and, ultimately, hope. A woman whodrank throughout her three pregnancies, her mother – a residential school sur-vivor – and her daughter talk candidly about their lives. The three life stagesexamined for each woman are their disconnection, their epiphanies, and ulti-mately their reconnection to their respective lives.

From Desperation to HopeYou can see them make their way from their reserve to the nearest town witha 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 Childand Family Services (CFS) Office in the afternoon, I often pick them up anddrop them off at their homes. By this time they are invariably thoroughly intoxi-cated. They will get up the following morning only to repeat the cycle.

I started working for an Aboriginal Child Welfare Agency six years ago. Thesnapshot of what I saw only served to further entrench the negative stere-otypes I had in my mind of life on a Manitoba reserve. I saw high rates of alco-holism, 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 re-serve, I needed to see things in a broader context. I needed not just a snap-shot of the reserve, but rather a moving picture that went back to the time ofAboriginal contact with the Europeans. And so I decided to go back to univer-sity. I took several courses in Native Studies and Aboriginal History. I decidedto enroll in the Interdisciplinary Masters Program, as it allowed me the broadercontext in which I felt I needed to work.


About this time, my agency was looking for someone to specialize in thearea of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (see Note 1) and Fetal Alcohol Effects (seeNote 2)– an affliction affecting children whose birth mothers (see Note 3) con-sumed alcohol while pregnant. I was sent to a number of conferences andworkshops that were related to this topic. I also wrote a number of universitypapers that focussed on FAS and its relationship to Aboriginal people.

Several months prior to my employment with CFS, a study had been con-ducted on the aforementioned reserve revealing FAS rates to be between 30and 100 times the worldwide average (Kowlessar, 1997). I decided to explorethe precipitating factors that led to this community’s high rate of FAS/E, all thewhile hoping to attain a level of understanding, perspective, and context thatwould allow me to be a more empathic and effective worker.

As I continued my studies at university, I discovered that little or no atten-tion had been paid to examining the socio-epidemiological factors of FAS/E inthe Aboriginal community. As time passed and trust grew between myself andthe community, residents started to share more and more about their past, pro-viding me with more pieces of the contextual puzzle. In time, one Aboriginalwoman from the community, who had heard about my studies, agreed to shareher story. Susan (see Note 4) had drunk throughout her three pregnancies. Shewanted her story to be told so that others might learn and not go through thesame torture she endured. As I was looking for the intergenerational effects ofdrinking, I asked Susan if her mother and daughter would be willing to sharetheir stories as well; they were.

Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and Fetal Alcohol Effects (FAS/E) and their relation-ship to Aboriginal (see Note 5) peoples is a topic attracting much attention.Studies over the past three decades have conclusively proven that the devel-opment of the fetus is harmed if the mother drinks alcohol during the preg-nancy. They also indicate a higher prevalence of FAS/E among certainAboriginal populations. These findings have helped focus the blame for chil-dren affected by alcohol on the birth mother, especially the Aboriginal birthmother. In order to better understand this issue, it is crucial that the Aboriginalbirth 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 birthmother to drink throughout her pregnancies. To this end I will explore the fol-lowing critical issues: FAS/E and its relationship to the Aboriginal birth motherand the historical association between alcohol and Aboriginal people. An ex-amination of FAS/E and related issues is dealt with first as it provides the nec-essary perspective to the historical overview. The historical synopsis isfollowed by the stories of the three women, an overview of the qualitative re-search methods I employed in my research, and the conclusions I havereached.

When we first think about a woman who gives birth to a child affected byFAS, we think “bad woman, bad mother. Who on earth would drink while preg-nant? Obviously that woman doesn’t care about, let alone love, her child.” The


forward in the latest edition of “The Broken Chord” (Dorris, 1989), a book aboutan Indian who adopts a baby from his home reserve, advocates the use of pris-ons 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 us-ing drugs and alcohol while pregnant. CFS continues to apprehend children atbirth in cases where the mother was drinking. Two years ago, CFS appre-hended the eleventh child affected by alcohol borne by the same mother.

Poor white women who are birth mothers are seen as “white trash.” Abo-riginal birth mothers are often seen in an even worse light. In fact, FAS is oftenseen as strictly an Aboriginal disease. At a recent workshop I gave on FAS, oneof the participants asked if white people could even get FAS as he understoodonly Aboriginal people could. A few years ago one of my Aboriginal colleagueswas asked to attend a meeting at her son’s school. Her teenage son was hav-ing a hard time concentrating in school. They thought he might have an atten-tion deficit. The usual group was in attendance: Child Guidance Clinic (CGC)worker, principal, vice-principal, teacher, counsellor, etc. The first question theCGC worker asked my colleague was, “Did you drink while you were pregnantwith your son?” My colleague asked if the worker would have asked the samequestion to a mother with lighter skin.

Interestingly, white middle class, upper middle class and upper classwomen seldom have children diagnosed with FAS. As one CGC worker admit-ted to me, they don’t like to stigmatize the white mothers with a diagnosis ofFAS, so their children are often diagnosed with ADD or ADHD, a much moreacceptable diagnosis. May (1994) argues that Native children are more likely tohave the diagnosis of FAS on their birth records than others and are more likelyto be diagnosed with FAS if the child shows any signs of cognitive and/or be-havioural problems in school. Some researchers argue that there is a race/classbias to the diagnostic process and that physicians are more reluctant to askabout prenatal alcohol use or to enter FAS diagnosis in the official medicalrecord, 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 inthese specific groups (Sparks, 1993). At times, “a child is labelled with Atten-tion Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADHD) or some other disorder, because thephysician avoided asking a mother about her alcohol use, and in effect, pre-vented ‘blaming the mother’ for her behaviours” (Nanson & Hiscock, 1990;Shaywitz et al., 1980, as cited in Jones, 1997, p. 8).

METHODS

My research question was: Why would an Aboriginal woman drink throughouther pregnancy? My research combines an overview of the available literatureon FAS/E and an historical analysis of the relationship between alcohol andAboriginals with a case study of an Aboriginal birth mother who drank through-out her three pregnancies.


As it was one of my goals to determine the factors that contributed to eachof the informants’ life experiences (see Note 6), three main areas were ex-plored with each informant. The first area focused on the informant’s personalhistory. In this phase, a family tree was established, as well as events the in-formants identified as significant. Information gathered during this “oral his-tory” phase was used to help formulate the second set of questions. Theseincluded questions about other family members and/or friends relevant to thestudy. The purpose here was to determine how family members were affectedand what effect friends and family had on the informants. The third set of ques-tions dealt specifically with the informants’ experience with and attitude to-ward alcohol, their feelings regarding pregnancy, and their thoughts on FAS/Ein particular. To collect my data, I used qualitative research methods.

QUALITATIVE RESEARCH

The two major theoretical perspectives that dominate the social sciences arepositivism and phenomenology. Whereas the positivist “seeks the facts orcauses of social phenomena apart from the subjective states of individuals,”the phenomenologist “is committed to understanding social phenomena fromthe actor’s own perspective” (Taylor & Bogdan, 1984, pp.1-2). Thephenomenologist uses qualitative methods such as participant observation andin-depth interviews that produce descriptive data. These descriptive data arecomprised of people’s own written or spoken words and observable behav-iour.

Identifying Informants

Through my work as an FAS/E consultant for an Aboriginal Child & Family Serv-ices agency, I was able to make contact with a number of individuals interestedin my proposed study. There was one particular Aboriginal birth mother whomI met several years ago and had spoken with about my proposed study whoagreed to be interviewed. I interviewed this birth mother, her daughter, andher mother, offering an intergenerational perspective to this study. Whilefocussing on only one woman and her family may result in a study with lessbreadth than one including many informants, it provides greater depth. No onewas contacted until both my thesis proposal and ethics proposal were ac-cepted.

In-Depth Interviews

In-depth interviews, which are unstructured, open-ended, flexible, and dy-namic, were utilized as the primary data collection tool. This required face-to-face encounters between the researcher and informants. An interview guidewas 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 in-terviews. I followed the guidelines of the Faculty of Education Research andEthics Committee’s Department on Human Subjects.


A birth mother, her mother, and her daughter were interviewed in the courseof this study. I interviewed the birth mother four times and her mother anddaughter each once. The interviews lasted between _ an hour and 1 _ hoursyielding roughly 8 hours of interviews. All of the interviews were taped andtranscribed. Field notes and observer’s comments were written up as soonafter the interviews as possible.

Reliability

The transcriptions, notes and comments were submitted on a regular basis tomy advisor to allow feedback and to guide my subsequent interviews. The in-terviews produced 225 pages of prose text. A “member check” was done withthe birth mother after each interview to allow her to read the transcript. Thiswas done in case she felt she had said something that she did not want pub-lished. Nothing was removed from the original prose text.

DATA ANALYSIS

I initially read over the transcripts of the interviews several times. I then startedreading in search of themes. I was looking for the common elements thatlinked 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 col-oured each portion of each interview as it related to that theme. I “cut” eachtheme from the transcript and “pasted” it into the appropriate file. This left mewith 17 sub-theme files. Several more readings allowed me to pare down the17 sub-themes into 3 main themes. These were i) Disconnection; ii) Epiphany;and iii) (Re)Connection. All three women went through these stages in oneform or another.

Disconnection

Individuals may become disconnected in many ways: physically, socially, emo-tionally, psychologically, and, as is the case with these women, historically. Onemay either disconnect from society (the community) or from oneself. In thecase of these three women, it is impossible to determine whether the discon-nection that occurred for each of them was a result of symptoms such as theabuse, alcoholism, and violence they suffered, or whether these symptomsoccurred as a result of their disconnection. In all likelihood, the two occurredconcurrently, exacerbating and accelerating the rate of each other.

A Need to Escape

This “vicious cycle” perpetuated a downward spiral, causing the need to es-cape and a further increase in the symptoms. This need to escape is one ofthe most frequent theories accounting for alcohol addiction (Richards, 1993, p.47). All three women recounted that they used alcohol to escape the reality of


their lives. Susan remembers one of the first times she went drinking. “Iblacked out. All I knew was that I really enjoyed it because blacking out meantI wouldn’t remember. It took me away. It took me away from myself.” Agnesrecalls that “You didn’t worry about anything when you were drinking. Youknow, get away from all my problems. Have a few drinks.” Susan and Agneswere not alone. All but one of their respective siblings became alcoholics.

They also, as Lithman (1979) asserts, drank to get drunk. Susan, in her lastdrinking binge, found that beer didn’t do what she wanted it to do and soswitched 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 wom-en’s lack of “roots.” Both Susan and Debra talk repeatedly about their transientupbringings. Susan says she lived “All over. Staying with a sister. Staying withmom. Kind of all over. Wherever I went. Stayed with an auntie.” Debra’s expe-rience was similar. Her earliest childhood memories were:

“moving lots. Moving to different places. We lived in Brandon, movedto Calgary. Lived lots of places in Calgary. We’d move twice a year orsomething and we’d stay somewhere for so long and then end upmoving somewhere else in Calgary.”

No place really felt like home. It is little wonder they did not feel connectedto the rest of society. They seldom stayed in one place long enough to developany kind of bond or attachment to anyone or anything. Debra hated movingschools. “I hated moving. Never really got to be close to anybody.” To this dayher 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 fromsociety, like really disconnected and not growing up with my people. Iwasn’t even connected there . . . and not having an identity to startoff with, like it was just, it was hard, it was difficult. I think not know-ing anything about yourself. Imagine growing up with a life not know-ing anything. Not knowing where you came from. Not knowing yourbackground. Not knowing your grandparents and then being put downfor who you are, but you don’t understand why. You know, beingcalled a dirty Indian.”

Because Agnes believed that all Native kids were “simple,” Susan grew upbelieving she was mentally handicapped. Almost all of her brothers and sisterswere placed in “simple classrooms.” Susan’s daughter Debra didn’t like beingNative because she thought, “all Native people were alcoholics.” She dealtwith this by claiming she was Spanish.


Familial Disconnection

This disconnection permeated every facet of these women’s lives. Not onlydid they feel alienated from society at large; they were also disconnected fromtheir own biological family. Agnes’ case is the starkest example. She was physi-cally and forcibly removed from her family and sent to a residential school fromthe age of “about six or seven” till the age of 14. She was gone from Septem-ber to June every year, and because her parents were too poor, they were un-able to visit her during the year. Debra’s disconnection from her family was, onthe 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 mehome. 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 isdoubtful that a firm bond was ever initially established between mother anddaughter. Susan’s mother did not seem to possess the requisite skills to forma bond with any of her children. As Susan says, her mother ran the householdas the nuns ran the residential school. It was clean and orderly, but little or noattention was paid to the other needs of the children. Susan remembers whatit 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 atthe 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. Theymet in a bar, “sat down and drank, got stoned. That was my encounter withmy dad. He was a drug dealer and probably a pimp. Useless, useless, uselessman.” One of the only “connections” Susan made growing up was with oneof her aunts. “I probably . . . cared more for her than I did for my own motherbecause . . . there was this person that was talking to me and acknowledgedmy existence. She was everything.” Susan’s aunt was stabbed to death by herhusband when Susan was 15.

It is doubtful whether Susan was initially “connected” to anyone or any-thing. She did not know who she was or where she fit it. Susan was sexuallyabused by her uncle’s brother at the age of “four or five.” Her home environ-ment was extraordinarily violent. After her father left, her eldest brother “tookit upon himself to be the father” and beat his siblings on a continual basis. Onthe weekends, when her mom’s friends came over to drink, “there’d be a lotof fighting and blood all over.” It is little wonder that between the ages of 11and 18 Susan experienced multiple suicide attempts, that she became vio-lent—venting her frustration by “scrapping” at booze cans — that she wasnearly charged with attempted murder after cutting up someone with a bro-ken beer bottle and that she was committed to a mental institution for severalmonths.


Epiphany

The question of how one begins the transition from being so completely dis-connected to becoming a part of society and connecting with oneself is onefaced 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 ofher 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 be-ginning 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 andthen beaten up. Her partner “made me go to the hospital because I was allbeat up and stuff like that and in pretty rough shape.” X-rays revealed threebreaks 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 re-ally said, is when a person, you can be beaten up so bad, and there isjust no more physical pain left in that person.Then all of a sudden, Idon’t know what happened. It’s like for the first time in my life myeyes 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 thesekids are mine but who are they?” And so for the first time I saw mychildren and they were crying and it’s like my eyes were opened forthe very first time in my life. And then I realized, you know, that I hadthree beautiful children but I didn’t know who they were. You know Ireally didn’t.”

As she looked at her crying children, Susan began to feel pain; “and it feltso good . . . because I hadn’t felt pain in so long.” That night Susan made adecision. She said, “Okay God, I’m throwing the towel in now and I can prom-ise 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 contin-ued to drink. To this day she can’t say whether she’ll be drunk tomorrow ornot, and so she takes it just one day at a time. That day marked the beginningof Susan’s sobriety and her connection to herself and the world around her.

Agnes’ epiphany came when a worker for Child & Family Services came toher house and asked her if she would consider a position as a family aideworker. The worker explained that the job entailed being a role model for othermothers, 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 startcaring and feeling good about herself. She was taken off half her governmentassistance thereby increasing Agnes’ self-esteem. She held this job for sevenyears before she moved from Brandon. She went to Winnipeg to a dry-up cen-tre for two weeks. “I learned quite a bit from there. I think I fell off the wagonabout three times after that. That was it.”


Debra’s transition from disconnection to reconnection was traumatic. At theage of 16 Debra spent time in and out of jail. “It would be so empty and I wouldbe scared, and I’d cry and . . . I ended up in a mental institution for being sui-cidal.” Being locked up brought on fear and depression. This fear of being re-incarcerated convinced Debra to stop hanging around with her friends.

“They were all ending up in jail. They were committing suicide. Theywere hurting each other. They were all turning against each other.They were getting into heavier drugs. I just, I guess I didn’t want thatanymore. I didn’t want to be around . . . I was getting scared.”

Debra was feeling alone and a need to be with her mother. Although thingsremained difficult for Debra for the next couple of years, the recognition thather friends’ lives weren’t going anywhere was the first step of many that Debratook on her path to reconnection.

(Re)Connection

I believe that for both Agnes and Debra, the next stage of their life involved are-connection to a life they had lost. In the case of Susan, I don’t believe shewas ever initially connected to anyone or anything. So for her, this stage wasnot a re-connection, but a connection to herself and those around her. Thisstage involves not only the establishment of a connection, but also the acquisi-tion of the tools necessary to ensure its sustainability. It is one thing to stopdrinking; 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 herepiphany, but always ended up drinking again. This time was different. AsSusan 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 soberto help her newly rediscovered child. Susan knew her daughter was going todie. She also knew that if she didn’t start working on some of her guilt shewouldn’t be able to live with herself. So she threw everything she had in her-self into building a relationship with her daughter. Susan asked God for twothings:

“Like I know you’re going to take her in the end. But . . .don’t take herbefore I’m ready — give me that time. And . . . don’t let her die with-out me there.

I think working with her, you know, with all that I did with her, keep-ing her alive, really taught me a lot about how powerful and strong Ireally am as an individual. Like with her I did things that . . . she broughta lot in me. She brought out a lot of strengths that I didn’t think I had.


Not a Total DefectAnother key to Susan remaining on her road to healing was her opportunity togo to university and “learn about my people and not feeling that I was 100% atotal defect.” Realizing what Aboriginal people have been through, and con-tinue to endure, allowed Susan to put some of the blame that she had foistedon herself, back on society. Her studies enlightened her about the effects thatresidential schools had, specifically on her mother. This helped Susan under-stand why her mother raised her children the way she did and helped her un-derstand a great deal about her own life. “And in the end, I’m not crazy, and I’mnot . . . a dirty soulless Indian.” Susan paid a visit to the residential school whereher mother had been abused. “Everywhere I looked I can see this little girl andI just wanted to grab her and protect her from what was done to her.”

The Importance of ChildrenChildren play a prominent role in Agnes’ ability to remain on her healing path aswell. When Agnes talks about Cassandra, the girl they’ve been fostering forthe past seven years, she says if she hadn’t come into their lives, she doesn’tknow how she would have coped. Caring for Cassandra has allowed Agnes tohug and say things like, “I love you;” not only to Cassandra, but to her ownchildren as well. She is also able to talk with one of her sisters who is “the sameway as I am. She couldn’t hug her kids or tell them she loved them, but nowshe’s learning with her grandchildren.”

Agnes attributes two other factors in her successful transition from awoman who was suicidal, lonely, depressed, and hated life to where she is to-day: quitting drinking and meeting Dennis — her current partner — who doesnot drink. “Now I want to live. I don’t want to die now. Every time I feel pain Irun to the doctor.”

For Debra, her reconnection came when she knew she was pregnant. Al-though she does drink from time to time, she would never “raise a hand to mychild, 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 herchildren. She never drank while breastfeeding. “I quit drinking, totally. Neveronce 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 womenstudied, their epiphanies and reconnections all involved children. For Susan itwas clearly the realization that she had three beautiful children. Agnes’ lifestarted turning around when she began working with children taken into careby a Child & Family Services agency. And Debra stopped her drinking the dayshe 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 ofsome Indian drinking, it remains clear that, for some, the ‘high’ generated byalcohol is the prime reason for its over consumption. Lemert’s (1958) study of


three Salish tribes in B.C. convinced him that for them, the objective in drink-ing was to get drunk. He points to the consumption of home brew before it iscompletely fermented, the gulping of drinks, the drinking until the supply is ex-hausted, and the preference for strong liquor when obtainable, as support forthis assertion. Lithman’s (1979) statement that people drink because they liketo do what they can do when they are drunk is one explanation for why onemay drink to excess. Mancall (1995) believed some Indians took advantage ofthe custom of exonerating inebriated perpetrators by purposely getting drunkand exacting revenge on their enemies. For the Whitehorse Potawatomi, themost important criterion in selecting alcohol is that it have a high alcohol con-tent (Hamer, 1965). According to Mancall (1995) “Indians treated alcohol as ifit were some sort of medicine that had to be taken in great quantity if thedrinker were to derive any benefit from it” (p.70).

Table 1Overview 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 one of eight children one of three children• seven biological,• two step

has given birth to had nine children of has two childrenthree children (the her own, seven with

first at age 16) first husband, twowith second husband

alcoholic alcoholic alcoholic

sexually abused sexually abused sexually abused

multiple partners multiple partners multiple partners

physically abused by physically abused by physically abused byher partners her partners her partners

drank throughout all drank throughout quit drinking whenthree pregnancies last two pregnancies she realized she was

pregnant

began drinking at 12 began drinking at 29 began drinking at 13,and quit at 26 and quit at 42 continues to drink

has attempted has attempted has attemptedsuicide suicide suicide

all siblings but one all siblings but one brother drinks fromare alcoholics are alcoholics time to time

spent time in a spent time in a spent time in amental institution mental institution mental institution

The chart above gives an overview of the lives these three women havelived to date. The similarities are striking. I contend that it is precisely thesefactors that are the underlying cause for the symptom of FAS/E. These women


are victims of colonization and all the ravages it has bestowed upon Aboriginalpeople.

Although this study looks at only three women in particular, their life experi-ences are played out on a daily basis in Aboriginal communities, across thiscountry. And yet, despite the tragedies they endured, the indelible messagethey leave us is one of hope. Hope for Aboriginal women, Aboriginal commu-nities and, perhaps most importantly, Aboriginal children. As has been noted, itwas children that enabled each of these three women to recover back fromtheir personal hell, and children that are the hope for future generations.

NOTES:1. “Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is a specific type of birth defect caused by

heavy prenatal alcohol exposure and manifested by a cluster of spe-cific features. The FAS diagnosis is employed when children whosemothers abused alcohol during pregnancy have some features ineach of three categories (1) craniofacial anomalies; (2) growth defi-ciency; and (3) Central Nervous System (CNS) effects” (Stratton,Howe, & Battaglia, 1996).

For the purposes of this report, the terms FAS and FAS/E were usedthroughout 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 cognitiveor behavioural issues similar to FAS children. In the past, a ‘soft’diagnosis of Fetal Alcohol Effects (FAE) which was suggestive ofpossible alcohol related birth defects, was commonly used. The FAElabel attempted to capture a child’s educational and/or social needswithout a definitive medical diagnosis (Aase, 1994, p.8). An FAE la-bel has proven to be unsatisfactory to many as it fails to specifyissues or to identify the level and extent of need in affected children.In 1996, the American Institute of Medicine proposed to redefineFAE into two categories, Alcohol-Related Birth Defects (ARBD) andAlcohol-Related Neurodevelopmental Disorders (ARND). Under thesedefinitions, ARBD is used to refer to children who exhibit congenital(physical) anomalies while the ARND classification would encom-pass those with evidence of central nervous system damage, in-cluding patterns in behaviour or cognitive abilities inconsistent withother disabling conditions (Stratton et al., 1996, p.4-5). For the pur-poses of this report, the terms FAS and FAS/E was used throughoutto describe those individuals affected by alcohol in utero.

3. The term “birth mother” is used in this paper to denote a womanwho has given birth to a child affected by alcohol and/or who hasconsumed alcohol during her pregnancy. I used the term as statedalthough many writers use this term strictly for mothers who have


given birth to a child affected by alcohol in utero and because myinterest is more in discovering the determinants that would lead awoman to drink during her pregnancy than whether she gave birthto 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 domi-nance of the Aboriginal peoples by settler people in Canada has beenthe process of attaching settler, mainly English names to describevarious groupings of Aboriginal people” (Chartrand, 1991, p. 2). Theterm “Aboriginal” was used throughout this paper to denote thedescendants of the ancient societies that inhabited what is knownas North America. It includes what section 35 of the ConstitutionAct of 1982 refers to as Indian, Inuit and Métis. The term Aboriginalhas been widely used as a self-reference by the three aforemen-tioned groups. In the chapter on capitalization, The Canadian style: Aguide to writing and editing (1985), published by the Department ofthe Secretary of State, directs that the form preferred or used by theperson being addressed or referred to should be retained if used. Italso states that the capitalization of both nouns and adjectives shouldbe implemented when denoting race, tribe, nationality and language.Other forms of nomenclature (e.g., Indians, First Nations) was usedwhen referencing or quoting authors or participants in this study.

6. In one way or another, every event that occurs in our lives is signifi-cant and contributes to our overall state, but I am particularly inter-ested in the factors that have contributed to the informants’ viewson alcohol and pregnancy.

REFERENCES

Aase, J. (1994). Clinical recognition of FAS: Difficulties in diagnosis. Alcohol: Healthand Research World, 18(1), 5-9.

Chartrand, P. (1991). “Terms of division”: Problems of ‘outside-naming’ forAboriginal people in Canada. Journal of Indigenous Studies, 2(2), 1-26.

Department of the Secretary of the State of Canada (1985). The Canadian style: Aguide 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 theForest Potawatomi. In J. H. Hamer & J. Steinbring (Eds.), Alcohol andNative Peoples of the North (pp.107-153). Lanham, MD: University Pressof America.

Kowlessar, Debra L. (1997). An examination of the effects of prenatal alcohol exposureon school-age children in a Manitoba First Nation community: A study of FetalAlcohol Syndrome prevalence and dysmorphology. Unpublished master’s the-sis, University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada.


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: Themythical and real properties. American Indian Culture and ResearchJournal, 18(2), 121-143.

Richards, H. J. (1993). Therapy of the substance abuse syndromes. London: JasonAronson.

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 FetalAlcohol Syndrome and prevalence of alcohol-related neurodevelopmentaldisorder. 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: Thesearch for meanings. New York: Wiley.


Intellectual Disability and Aboriginal People:An Overview of Current Practise and Process inInstitutionalization

Cheryl Martens

Currently, in Manitoba, Aboriginal individuals with intellectual disabilities aremore highly represented in the Province’s large, hospital-like settings than incommunity agencies or services. At a time when advocacy movements aredemanding that citizens with intellectual disabilities take their rightful place asfull participants in society, it appears that the institutional experience contin-ues to be the norm for people who are Aboriginal. In this study I examined theinstitutional experience of people who are Aboriginal and have an intellectualdisability. Data were collected from both people in key decision-making rolesand those who live with the resulting policies and decisions.

DEFINING KEY TERMS

The Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP) uses the term Aboriginalto refer to “the indigenous inhabitants of Canada . . . to Inuit and to First Na-tions and Metis people” (Vol. 1, Terminology, XV). For this paper, these groupsof people will be referred to as Aboriginal. Currently 10% of Manitoba’s popu-lation is Aboriginal (RCAP, 1997).

Over the years people with intellectual disabilities have been referred to ina variety of ways, for example, as “mentally retarded”, “developmentally disa-bled”, or “intellectually impaired.” I will be using the term intellectual disabil-ity. The Roeher Institute, which is the research branch of the advocacyorganization, Canadian Association for Community Living, has used the termintellectual disability since 1992 (Roslyn Ward, personal communication, Sep-tember 1999).

Of particular interest to me is the experience of institutionalization for Abo-riginal people with intellectual disabilities. Aboriginal individuals who wereplaced in institutions for the intellectually disabled would no doubt have expe-rienced the same things that other residents report; however, their loneliness,loss, and separation would have been compounded by a loss of culture andlanguage. As Traustadottir, Lutfiyya and Shoultz observe, “members of racialminority groups with disabilities experience a double dose of discrimination”(1994, p. 415). Everett Soop, in the Saskatchewan Indian (April, 1988), saysthat “to be handicapped and to be Native means to be doubly pitted againstthe whole Canadian Establishment” (Removing Barriers: An Action Plan forAboriginal, p. 1).


METHOD

This was a qualitative research study based in Manitoba. Aboriginal people whohave intellectual disabilities, their family members, and professionals whowere knowledgeable were asked to share their perspectives about this topic.Interviews were conducted during two periods: a beginning study in the springof 1997 and the thesis study during the summer and fall of 1998. The data arecomprised almost entirely of the transcriptions of these taped interviews. Asmall portion of the data is made up of the contextual notes and debriefing ses-sions for each interview. A third part of the data collection occurred in Februaryof 1999. Various direct services for people with intellectual disabilities werecontacted about the number of Aboriginal people they support.

Presence of Aboriginal Research Assistants

The thesis study differed from the beginning study because of the presenceof four Aboriginal research assistants. I am a non-Aboriginal person, who doesnot at this point in life have a disability. It can be very difficult to understandfrom a personal perspective what life is like for individuals who are Aboriginaland have a developmental disability. While none of the research assistants hadan intellectual disability, as Aboriginal people, they certainly held membershipin the perspectives, history, and on-going issues of Aboriginal people. The re-search assistants were involved in the data collection portion of the study; how-ever, the data analysis was my responsibility, and I am solely accountable forthe conclusions drawn from the data.

The Participants

In determining who to talk to about this topic, I felt that there were four groupsof people who would potentially be most helpful:

1. Aboriginal people and their families. These are the individuals whowould be most able to give a first-hand account of the experience ofhaving an intellectual disability and being Aboriginal.

2. Personnel from institutional settings. In the beginning study, Iwas able to talk with two people from one institutional setting in theprovince. The information they provided on this topic was extremelyhelpful. For this study I had hoped to broaden the scope by meetingwith personnel from two other provincial institutional settings. Thiswas not possible; however, I was able to refer to a 1985 study of allprovincial institutions that estimated the population of Aboriginal resi-dents to be about three times that of their representation in thegeneral population (Evans, Hunter, Thompson, & Ramsey, 1985, p.155).

3. Representatives from government departments. I was able tospeak with individuals from three different departments in


Manitoba’s provincial government and with someone from theDepartment of Indian and Northern Affairs.

4. Representatives of organizations run by or for Aboriginal peo-

ple. Four of the interviews were with personnel from Aboriginal agen-cies. Two of these were with individuals primarily involved in ruralreserve communities and two were with people working in urbancentres. A final interview was held with a woman who has workedon advocacy, planning, and family issues for many years and herhusband who is working with health organizations, about 90% ofwhich were band councils.

THEMES IN THE STUDY

The themes are key ideas or responses from participants that addressed thequestions of the study: namely, what is the experience of people who are Abo-riginal and have intellectual disabilities, and why do these individuals seem tobe 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 govern-ment departments that are involved in the lives of Aboriginal people. Depend-ing on who is speaking, there may be a variety of interpretations about lines ofresponsibility. The two key players are the Federal and Provincial governments,and each of these branches of government have varying responsibilities andfunding contingencies. One participant responded to the issue of responsibil-ity by saying that if you walked into a group of people from all branches of gov-ernment and asked who is responsible for making life good for Aboriginalpeople 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 Af-fairs, has primary responsibility for Aboriginal people when they are on reservecommunities. As well, Health and Welfare Canada, another federal depart-ment, channels funds to reserve communities through a branch that providesmedical services (Transcript 5). These are the two key federal branches thathave relevance for Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities; however, atpresent neither of these branches play a role in ensuring services for peoplewith intellectual disabilities.

Participants said that the service system for people with intellectual disabili-ties is pretty well non-existent in Aboriginal communities. One participant re-sponded to the question of whether services were available as follows, “In theAboriginal community? I doubt it. We never get that kind of money. ” (Tran-script 6, p. 7). Another said, “Right now, I can tell you truthfully, there is noth-ing there for them at this point” (Transcript 3, p. 7).


Role of the Provincial Government

The provincial government is the funding source for services to people withintellectual disabilities. The province supports a “continuum of services” (Tran-script 4, p. 3) ranging from institutional care to highly integrated communityresidential and day programs. Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities canreceive support from the provincial government provided they are not living intheir reserve communities.

Currently the provincial government is not mandated to pay for services foradults with intellectual disabilities. There is no certainty of service provision noris there a legal obligation on the part of government to provide service. In someways, service providers for people with intellectual disabilities in the provincehave often had to take a ‘cap-in hand’ approach when trying to access provin-cial dollars.

The Vulnerable Persons Act (1996), which is provincial legislation related topeople with intellectual disabilities, outlines various rights related to decision-making, abuse, and protection for people with intellectual disabilities. Whilethis legislation outlines some rights of citizens with intellectual disabilities, itdoes not entitle them to services.

Though it is clearly practice for the province not to provide funding to re-serve communities, some participants felt that this was not appropriate. Theypointed out that the block funding which comes to the province from the fed-eral government is meant to provide health, education, and community serv-ices 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 ofyears. 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 receivesfunding and who does not. While the general rule appears to be that the fed-eral government provides funding on reserves and the province provides fund-ing off-reserve, there are exceptions to this rule. At present, if people in reservecommunities do receive service, it is typically carved out of federal fundingsources that have been delegated to other services. It would seem that thelong-term consequence of using funds designated for other sources to assistpeople with intellectual disabilities may not be positive. It is likely to lead tounequal quality in services, and over time, there may also be growing resent-ment from those individuals needing the services for which the funding wasinitially intended.


Problems of Current Systemic Change

Related to these jurisdictional issues is the fact that the federal government, inconsultation with provinces and Aboriginal groups, is dismantling the Depart-ment 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 mov-ing in that direction” (Transcript 7, p. 9). Simultaneously, a similar kind of with-drawal is taking place in medical services. Soon the provision of all services inreserve communities will be over-seen by First Nations people. In general, theAboriginal participants in this study viewed this change to increased self-gov-ernment as a positive thing, but the implications for people with disabilities arehard to predict, particularly since people living in institutions may have lost theirlinks to particular bands.

The result of not addressing the issue of responsibility is that Aboriginal peo-ple with intellectual disabilities must take what they can get in terms of serv-ices. Often this results in institutionalization because no one is actively tryingto prevent this or provide other alternatives. The path of least resistance is cho-sen.

Lack of Services in Reserve Communities

Many reserve communities are located in remote areas far from the large ur-ban areas where most services tend to be congregated. According to the RoyalCommission 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 every-one, everywhere in the province, so services tend to be congregated in theareas with the large population centres” (Transcript 5, p. 10). Often, for peoplewho are Aboriginal, the pattern for accessing services is to be flown out of thecommunity to an urban centre.

The Size of the Reserve Community

Another related issue has to do with the size of reserve communities. There isat least one community with a population approaching 5000 people while thereare 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 forservice provision than smaller communities. So, for an Aboriginal person witha intellectual disability, one of the factors that will affect whether or not he/shereceives service is whether he/she was born into a large or small reserve com-munity.

Lack of Training about Disability

One resource that is often missing is trained staff to work with people withintellectual disabilities. One woman asked the following question, “Would it


be as beneficial for them to come home, if you don’t have anything ready forthem?” (Transcript 3, p. 12) Another said, “The problem in the reserve com-munities . . . is that there is nobody trained” (Transcript 7, p. 18), and anothercommented, “It’s going to take awhile and there’s a need for a lot of trainingand a lot of support” (Transcript 9, p. 19). Lack of trained personnel in reservecommunities means that often people with intellectual disabilities must go offreserve for support.

At present most of the jobs related to supporting Aboriginal children andadults with disabilities go to workers from outside of reserve communities.These employment opportunities are lost for Aboriginal people on reservesbecause people with disabilities are sent elsewhere for care. Even in non-re-serve communities such as Winnipeg, Aboriginal people appear not to behighly represented in staffing groups. The family members interviewed com-mented that they seldom encountered Aboriginal staff.

Concerns about Off-reserve Services

Participants in the study expressed some concern about the nature of existingoff-reserve services. One participant commented, “These are not the kinds ofsystems, 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 notbeen involved for very long in the existing service system, so time will beneeded before a vision of a new and better way of doing things becomes ap-parent.

In non-reserve settings Aboriginal people do not currently use ‘communitybased’ services as readily as other citizens. In an informal phone survey of com-munity-based services for people with intellectual disabilities in Winnipeg, itwas shown that about 5 percent of participants are Aboriginal. The Aboriginalpopulation of Winnipeg is at least 10% of the total population; so this wouldseem to suggest that Aboriginal people are under-represented in community-based services.

Aboriginal People are Poor

When participants were asked to identify possible reasons for the institution-alization of Aboriginal people with disabilities, the most frequent response wasrelated to the financial poverty of Aboriginal people. The Royal CommissionReport (1997) points out that in 1991 “over half of the total Aboriginal popula-tion received social assistance or welfare payments” (p. 176). Poverty existsfor Aboriginal people both on- and off-reserve communities.

In reserve communities poverty is often related to basic creature comfortssuch as housing, heating, electricity, running water, and so on. Also, in remotecommunities the cost of food, clothing, and other supplies are excessive be-cause of transport costs. High unemployment, reliance on welfare, and under-employment in reserve communities result in these communities beingconsiderably poorer than non-Aboriginal urban and rural settings.


For Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities, the result of poverty inreserve communities is that there is no resource base upon which to draw indeveloping supports. In practical terms, it means that it would be hard for aperson 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, itwould be very difficult because there simply are no jobs. There are further im-plications for people whose disabilities have a medical component. The lack ofelectricity, for example, is problematic for people who need dialysis or haverespiratory conditions.

In non-reserve communities, poverty is still an issue for Aboriginal families.The Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (1997) outlines two key factorsrelated to the level of poverty of Aboriginal peoples who don’t live on reserves.Obtaining employment off reserve is very difficult for Aboriginal people; onlyfour out of ten people find employment when they leave the reserve (RoyalCommission Report, 1997, p. 145). Discrimination plays a role in that Aborigi-nal people may be paid less for doing the same job (RCAP, p. 147). Lack ofemployment also means that there is increased reliance on welfare, which bydefinition ensures that people are poor. Off-reserve Aboriginal people continueto be poor, unemployed, and underpaid.

It seems that poverty may lead to an over-representation of Aboriginal peo-ple in some services and an under-representation in others. One person ex-plains, “I think the Aboriginal community of Winnipeg doesn’t fit themainstream community in terms of, you know, where they are socio-economi-cally, and yet a lot of the programs that are offered are made for the main-stream” (Transcript 8, p. 7). People who are poorer may not feel welcome inthe typical middle-class model of services.

History and Institutionalization

One participant commented, “It seems that the kids that are born with severedisabilities are whisked way very quickly” (Transcript 1, p. 5). People who areAboriginal have a history of being taken from their home communities in orderto receive services of one kind or another. The most notable of these is theexperience of being plucked from home to attend the residential school, butpeople have also had to leave for medical care and to advance their educationor access training. Perhaps it is this history of being taken away to receive serv-ices that, in part, accounts for the high incidence of institutionalization. Whenthe pattern that has developed over the past century is one of leaving the com-munity for services, it is not surprising that this becomes the practice for chil-dren with intellectual disabilities.

Institutionalization is often the easiest option to implement. Often commu-nity placement is difficult to arrange. For example, an individual might visit threeor four potential residential service providers to see what they like best, thenthey would do the same to find a day program. Social workers or advocates


are involved at each of these visits, so the process can be quite involved. Insti-tutional options provide greater ease of access because all services are pro-vided 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 racismtoday, when it does happen is so much more subtle. We almost sometimesdon’t recognize it anymore as racism” (Transcript 8, p. 15). Webster’s Diction-ary (1996) defines racism as, “A belief that race is the primary determinant ofhuman traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent su-periority of a particular race.” The definition also includes “racial prejudice ordiscrimination.”

In general, participants in the study tended to feel that overt racism was nota primary problem leading to institutionalization. For example, one person said,“The jurisdiction is more heavier than the racial thing” (Transcript 3, p. 24); an-other said, “I don’t know if it’s really had to do with racism, than it is bureauc-racy and what is [money] saving tactics” (Transcript 2, p. 12), while still anothersaid, “I don’t know how much of it is racism and how much of it is classismand how much of it is just cultural difference - so, I’m not saying that the per-son is necessarily racist . . . but they just see the world differently . . . so theymay 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 institutionsmay be less likely to be returned to their home communities. During the lateeighties the province undertook a deinstitutionalization project. The project fo-cused on returning people to their home communities. One of the conditionsof returning home was that there needed to be a support system in place toreceive people. Typically such systems could not have been in place for Abo-riginal people because there was no service delivery mechanism. Also, in lightof the fact that this was a provincial initiative and that provincial dollars willnever go on to reserve communities, there was essentially a systemic as wellas a programmatic restriction on the return of Aboriginal people with disabili-ties to their home communities.

Advocacy for Change

It is primarily because of parent advocacy that institutionalization is no longerthe sole option for most children with intellectual disabilities in the mainstreamculture. Within the Aboriginal community there has been little opportunity toform similar advocacy groups or to join existing advocacy movements. Oneparticipant commented that “People who are Aboriginal in developmental cen-tres lose contact with their families, and they have nobody advocating forthem” (Transcript 4, p. 16). Simply being separated may lead to a lack of knowl-edge about the circumstances of a son or daughter with a disability and theneed for advocacy may simply not be known.


It Shouldn’t Be Like This: A Focus on Traditional Values

Without fail, participants felt that, traditionally, institutionalization would neverhave been what Aboriginal people would have accepted for members with in-tellectual disabilities. They described a perspective that focused on the gifts,contributions, and roles of all members within a society. In the mainstreamculture, it is only in the past twenty years or so that new perspectives focusingon giftedness have begun to flourish. Participants described these as being tra-ditional values within Aboriginal culture.

Individual StoriesMy goal in relating these individual stories is to give a human face to a topicthat might otherwise be solely bureaucratic in nature. Also, many of the reali-ties faced by these individuals are echoes of the themes described.

Donald Morgan was born in 1963. When he was two, he experienced sei-zures that left him with some physical and intellectual restrictions. For most ofhis life he has been involved with various kinds of services including foster care,group homes, sanitariums, hospitals, and sheltered workshops. He has expe-rienced physical abuse, he has been lied to by services providers, he was sepa-rated from his family, and has never been paid for his labour. He is currentlyvery 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 Col-leen has lived in this setting for about twenty years and is currently in her latethirties, while her brother, Jim, has been there all of his life. Colleen was notborn with a mental disability but when she was about three months old, shefell off of the bed. This seems to have caused some damage which, down theroad, led to epilepsy, and finally the development of behavioural and intellec-tual problems which resulted in institutionalization. Joanne’s brother was bornwith a mental disability, possibly the result of a medical prescription taken byhis mother before he was born.

The third interview was held in the home of a woman named Kelly who livesin a reserve community north of a large urban centre. Darrel is Kelly’s adoptedson, and, at the time of the interview, he was twelve years old. She adoptedhim when he was five days old, and he was able to stay home until he wasabout eighteen months old. At that time Kelly became pregnant and was nolonger physically able to handle him because of her increasing size and his needfor twenty-four-hour care. Darrel contracted herpes from his birth mother whenhe was about a month and a half old, which resulted in brain damage and fairlyextensive physical disabilities. His need for twenty-four-hour physical care andnursing care was a determining factor in his institutionalization.

The final family interview was with a woman named Cassandra who is cur-rently a college student studying nursing. She has a brother, Tom, who has


been in an institutional setting for about eighteen years. She and her familycame from a northern reserve community. In recalling how her brother wasinstitutionalized, 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 diag-nosed as mild retardation due to solvent abuse” (p. 3). She said that Tom’s be-haviour started to change, his school work started going down, he startedgetting into trouble, and finally he began running away from home. She feelsat this point that the solvent abuse has caused brain damage and the result isthat “his total personality is different . . . his speech is pretty well gone” (p. 4).

The family stories confirm many of the themes mentioned by other partici-pants. All families report a lack of resources in reserve communities, and forColleen, Jim, and Tom, the remoteness of their communities compounded theproblem. Their institutionalization resulted in a loss of connection with family,a loss of advocacy, and a loss of language. All family participants described howinstitutionalization was the only option that parents felt they had available.

Poverty was another problem sited in all of the family interviews. In someinstances, participants referred to personal poverty, and in others to the overallmaterial poverty of the reserve community. Three of the four families indicatedthat racism was a factor that in some way affected the institutionalization ofAboriginal people with intellectual disabilities. They also said that decisionswere being made that were out of their hands, and in some instances, theywere not informed about decisions. This feeling of not being in control wasidentified most clearly in the family interviews.

RECOMMENDATIONS FOR SERVICE PROVISION

The issue of funding seems most crucial for Aboriginal people with intellectualdisabilities in reserve communities. Every branch of government seems tohave ways of abdicating responsibility. For example, the federal governmentcan argue that disability is not really a health-related issue so it is not coveredby treaty considerations. The new legislation for people with intellectual dis-abilities, namely, the Vulnerable Persons Act, has not yet been effectively usedto ensure service in non-reserve communities, so it is difficult to know whatthe effect of a challenge would be for reserve communities. The provincial gov-ernment can argue that its service to people with intellectual disabilities is notmandated and that they have no jurisdiction on the reserve. Bands that admin-ister funds can argue that the funding is allocated to specific things and thatthey are barely able to provide a minimal level of service to those without dis-abilities, let alone supporting individuals who may need more.

In an atmosphere where everyone is abdicating responsibility, the peoplewho lose out will be Aboriginal people with disabilities and their families. Thismeans that all branches of government need to consciously decide to addressthe needs of Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities.

There may be a role for the broader disability movement in bringing aboutchange. Typically individuals advocating for the rights of people with intellec-


tual disabilities have assumed that they were fighting for all people with dis-abilities regardless of race. If, as this study is suggesting, some racial groupsmay be being left out of services then there may be a need to address thisomission. Also, the low representation of Aboriginal people in off-reserve serv-ices may mean that some kind of outreach or welcoming process should be inplace so that Aboriginal families will feel a sense of welcome in existing serv-ices.

In terms of service design and delivery, it was an over-riding response thatpeople would be best supported within the context of family and community.What follows are key ideas about the philosophical underpinnings of systemsthat might be appropriate for people who are Aboriginal and have intellectualdisabilities:

Language. It is important that services be provided in the language of theperson with disabilities.

Holistic approach. Aboriginal participants described disability as having aspiritual, emotional, intellectual, and social context. Services would have toaddress all of these.

Giftedness. Service delivery would need to focus on giftedness. All commu-nity members have gifts, and it is the responsibility of the community tonurture and use these gifts.

Community-based and -controlled. It is important that people receiveservices in their home communities and that services be individualized to thespecific needs of families.

Keep kids in families. Services must focus on keeping kids in families andbuilding supports to families.

Use flexible models of support. Service alternatives that focus on flexibilitywere also identified as being important.

Hire Aboriginal staff. The importance of hiring Aboriginal staff to work withAboriginal people who have intellectual disabilities was mentioned in severalinstances.

Naturally, changing a service system is not an easy thing to do, but many ofthe suggestions and comments made by participants led in a positivedirection.

CONCLUSION

Several themes have been identified that help to explain why Aboriginal peo-ple with intellectual disabilities have been institutionalized. These include: ju-risdictional issues, problems related to being in a remote community, problemsassociated with poverty, a history of having been exported from home com-munities in order to get services, problems related to racism, a lack of trainingabout disability issues, problems related to services and resources, lack of clear


legislation, and finally, a present lack of advocacy for change. These conclu-sions were drawn from the words of people in government, in service deliv-ery, advocacy groups, and from people with intellectual disabilities and theirfamilies.

In addition to these themes, I feel there are at least four key conclusionsthat can be drawn from this study. The first is related to the fact that this is anew topic for discussion. It seems that at this point very little thought has re-ally been given to the institutionalization of Aboriginal people who have intel-lectual disabilities. An initial conclusion is that awareness and thoughtfulnessare needed. Aboriginal communities, people from within the intellectual dis-ability advocacy movement, and people involved in the service delivery sys-tem need to consider whether this is an important issue, and if it is, what canbe done about it.

A second conclusion is that this issue occurs in a very complex environ-ment. It would be an extreme understatement to say that Aboriginal peoplehave a ‘lot on their plate’ at the moment. Broad issues of disability and healthcare are just beginning to be addressed. Systemic problems of poverty and ju-risdictional wrangling mean that nothing is clear cut in terms of what shouldhappen. Though, without fail, participants said that within the traditional valuesystem people would not have been institutionalized, it is very difficult at thisjuncture to find easy solutions.

Thirdly, I would conclude that there is a very different level of support serv-ices for Aboriginal people with intellectual disabilities than there is for non-Abo-riginal Manitobans. At present we have two diverse levels of service in thesame province. While participants did not say that this was the result of rac-ism, Aboriginal people in reserve communities are the only Manitobans withintellectual disabilities without existing supports. I think there are systemic is-sues that must be addressed in order for life to change for people with intellec-tual disabilities who are Aboriginal.

A final conclusion is that there are many reasons to think that things canchange for the better. Participants in this study did not approach issues withany kind of fatalism or despair. They seemed to have confidence that thingscould change for the better. The numerous recommendations that participantsmade for improved support to people with intellectual disabilities who are Abo-riginal reflect a sense that things can change and that perhaps the time is com-ing for things to begin to change.


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Part III: Challenge of a New Praxis

97Challenge 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 narrativetakes a reader away to a new place, introduces characters that the reader canidentify with, and reveals a situation that the characters in the story must dealwith. In this way an educational story spurs on a voyage of imagination into anexistence that is at the same time different and common to our own. Suchstories also have an instructive or argument dimension – they are the way inwhich individuals make sense of the amorphous mass of information that eachof us receives. However, narratives cannot reflect out of a vacuum. Storiesexist in negotiation with the needs, expectations, and wants of society as awhole. Jerome Bruner (1990) describes this as the social function of narrative.For him, the establishment of meaning comes from the synthesis of self andsociety via a narrative text. In this discussion, I explore the social function ofnarrative by examining the way that teachers are represented in popular film.

Texts are books. Texts are movies. Texts, in fact, are episodes which can beread everywhere. Reading the texts of popular culture as stories which supplycitizens with meaning can provide insights into how people or groups are in-cluded, excluded, and assembled. But proposing such a directive role for cul-tural stories exposes critical assumptions about the power of narrative. Is itwarranted to assume that such texts are instructive or ordering tools? Morespecifically, are tales of teachers which enchant through the “culturally avail-able” (Atkinson, 1990) contributors to educators’ self construction?

In approaching representations of teacher in film I am not considering popu-lar texts as simply escapist entertainment; but rather as an index of general-ized popular attitudes. I propose that this indexing is rooted in the Jungianprinciple that the images extant in a society enchant because they are pro-duced through universal longings, and satisfy in response to these needs. Thisuniversalism in story construction, that “we all lead storied lives” (Connelly &Clandinin, 1991) is one of the rationales for the magnetism and value of narra-tive as a form of educational inquiry. As Jean Clandinin (1992) reports:

In the accounts of research, issues of representation and audienceare of central concern[because]...One purpose of narrative research


is to have other readers raise questions about their practices, theirways of knowing ...and see in the narrative accounts stories of theirown stories...(to) suggest new truths especially the extent to whichall living is a creative act of greater or less authenticity, hindered orhelped by the fictions to which we submit ourselves.(pp. 135-136).

While inquiring into narrative as educational research I have been confrontedby the idea that the representations a society mints for itself instigate as muchas they mirror cultural tensions and appetites. Clandinin and others seem toconcur 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 “readthemselves” (Newman, 1999). However, while educators are presented moreand more through a canon of the popular to each other, the same canon can beat work supporting an uncritical acceptance of iconography of popular images.The teacher icon in popular film is an almalgum of tensions, appetites, andlongings that deserves our attention, because in a world where life is text theseimages inform, and perhaps even preface our metanarrative. As FrankKermode (1981) remarks, generic texts encourage under-reading. I speculatethat contemporary representations of teacher are ingested, digested, and thenfunction as models for discourse in this manner.

So how would this under-reading work? The two films I have chosen asdemonstrations are almost identical in their plots and themes, although theywere produced 28 years apart. They are To Sir with Love (1967) andDangerous Minds (1995). In both of these films I find a facet of teacher repre-sentation 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 willbrave the environment they find themselves in. However, In “DangerousMinds” (1995), the teacher is represented as not wanting or not able to “makeany 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 actualevents. She is shaped as a person who is ineffective in preparing him for theworld; 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-any-thing you want.


And from the same film:

Teacher: Don’t be afraid to experiment, and always remember you caneat 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 youain’t.

Teacher: Huh?

Girl Two: Sir, what he means is blimey, I can’t sort of put into words oranything

but...

Girl One: Well sir you’re like us, but you ain’t, I mean you’re not; itskind 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 teachyou 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 educa-tor is an expounder of life’s big questions, and he’s ready to preach. The 1967character had a function-it assisted an audience of people just like me in con-structing our icon of teacher. Not surprisingly, I have often found myself speak-ing back to opposing texts – complaining that the teacher characters suffer amoral absence. I want a 1967 teacher, who knows his truth and its strengthsand dangers.

So what function is being performed by the teacher icon in “DangerousMinds”? This contemporary text presents different arguments and lessons. Inthis scene viewers heard:

Teacher: Nasty cut. You mind telling me what the fight was about inthe first place?

Boy: Yeah!

Teacher: I really would like to know what happened. I’m not going tomake any trouble for you. I just want to know. Was it worth it?

Boy: Yeah it was worth it.


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 figureme out?

I’ll help you out. I come from a broken home and we’re poor okay? Isee 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? Yougonna give

me some advice? Just say no? You gonna get me off the streets? Wellforget 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 presentationbetween “To Sir with Love”, and “Dangerous Minds”. Here we have an inti-mate conversation between two people who happen to be a teacher and herstudent. Instead of life issues, we are offered a reflexive reference to the me-dium itself, directing viewers to under read both individuals as symbolic“types”. Even more tellingly, the final scene in “Dangerous Minds” offers upthese 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 reli-gious style fervor through the teacher icon it presents. However, it is impera-tive to note that a comparison of these two films offers nothing as simple as agood/bad dichotomy. The teacher in “Dangerous Minds” is caring, passionate,and in many ways appropriate to her place and time. The teacher in “To Sirwith 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 encour-ages a class-based society. Most significantly, both films contain the prevailing


representation of teacher in popular media; that of a “bright light” in a schoolof darkness (Dalton, 1996). These idealized educators as celebrities are suc-cessful totally due to their Don Quixote style personal quests and their rejec-tion of authority. In the end, the commonalties in both of these representationsare as provocative as their differences.

Accepting that popular texts do provide lessons for educators has implica-tions. By becoming aware of the instigation aspect of narrative I have found itpossible to view these icons and define who I am not. But films also demon-strate for me that these stories can work within a hermeneutic circle, becausethey influence my perspectives while reflecting back on my role as a consumerof popular culture. The social function of these popular representations mayclarify components of the teacher characters we all meet in educational textsand journals, seemingly far from the world of “To Sir with Love”, “DangerousMinds”, or even “Reader’s Digest”. Both professional and popular educationalnarratives are populated by rebels, saints, and other icons of social construc-tion. As Keroes (1999) suggests, “Teachers remain figures on which we testsocial change” (p. 4).

As well, there is a growing body of literature which suggests that narrativeaccounts such as biographies and life stories are a legitimate and importantmethodology for deepening the understanding of teachers in their everydaypractice (Barone, 1992; Clandinin & Connelly, 1991; Elbaz-Luwisch, 1997).These texts are justly celebrated, and deserve to have their social archeologyexplored. Examining how society views teachers through the prism of popularfilms such as “To Sir With Love” and “Dangerous Minds” can productivelyproblematize the dominant concept of personal, practical knowledge. Such anawareness of how prevailing discourses legitimate certain texts for certain au-diences (Giroux, 1999) directs viewers to ask how our deepest concerns arereflected back upon us, shaping, enhancing, and even manipulating percep-tions in the process.


REFERENCES

Atkinson, P. (1990). The ethnographic imagination. London: Routledge, Chapman& Hall.

Barone, T. (1992). A narrative of enhanced professionalism: Educational research-ers 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: StateUniversity 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 celluloidculture. In J. Collins, H. Radner, & A. Preacher Collins (Eds.), Film theorygoes to the movies. London: Routledge.

Johnson, L. (1992). My posse don’t do homework. New York: St. Martin’s Paper-backs.

Kermode, F. (1981). Secrets and narrative sequence. In W. J. T. Mitchell (Ed.), Onnarrative (pp. 79-97). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Keroes, J. (1999). Tales out of school: Gender, longing, and the teacher in fictionand 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, fromhttp://www.behs.cchs.usyd.edu.au/arow/reader/

Smith, J. (Director). (1995). Dangerous minds [Motion picture]. United States:Hollywood Pictures.


Should We Remove Corporal Punishmentfrom the Criminal Code?

Zhide Li

INTRODUCTION

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 isjustified in using force by way of correction toward a pupil or child, asthe case may be, who is under his care, if the force does not exceedwhat is reasonable under the circumstances.

Section 43 does not create a right for schoolteachers, parents, or other peo-ple standing in place of a parent to administer corporal punishment on childrenor pupils, nor does it literally encourage the use of force on the young in gen-eral. It protects the authority of use of force by those adults toward children/pupils for the purpose of “correction,” provided the force is “reasonable” un-der the circumstances. In recent years, especially after the entrenchment ofthe Charter of Rights and Freedoms in Canadian Constitution, s.43 has evokedmuch controversy. The core issue of the controversy is not how s.43 shouldbe applied, but whether or not it should exist. To some people, the function ofs.43 is simply justifying an action that would otherwise be charged as an as-sault. To some others, s.43 protects a type of authority that has some value inchild/pupil discipline. Discipline, in the context of child rearing, is traditionallyinterpreted as “correction; chastisement; punishment inflicted by way of cor-rection and training” and “to chastise, thrash, punish” (The Oxford English Dic-tionary 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.43in the Criminal Code of Canada dates back to the year 1877. FitzjamesStephen’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 byany lawful application of force ... to the person of another; but if theharm inflicted on such an occasion is excessive, the act which inflictsit is unlawful, and, even if there is no excess, it is the duty of every


person applying the force to take reasonable precautions against theinfliction of other or greater harm than the occasion requires (p.126).

In the 1892 Canadian Criminal Code, under the heading of “Discipline ofMinors,” in the part titled “Protection of persons in authority,” Section 55states that:

It is lawful for every parent, or person in the place of a parent, school-master or master, to use force by way of correction towards any child,pupil or apprentice under his care, provided that such force is reason-able under the circumstances (Cited in McGillivray 1997, p. 207).

The 1900 version of this provision is found in s.280 in the Queensland Codeof 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.” In1953, the section was reworded to the present version after a few alterations.First, “schoolteachers” replaced “schoolmasters” and came before “par-ents.” Secondly, “master” and “apprentice” were taken off the list. The prin-ciple of “reasonable” remains and governs all circumstances under which apunishment is administered, including the injury, risk, instruments, and causesfor “correction.” To understand what “reasonable” means, it is necessary toknow first where the disciplinary authority of parents and schoolteachers overchildren/pupils came from.

The Disciplinary Authority of Parents andSchoolteachers Over Children/Pupils

Parents’ Disciplinary Authority Over Children

Parents obtain authority to discipline their children from three sources: reli-gious, historical/ societal, and legal (Cryan 1987; Malik & Des Dixon 1986;McGillivray 1997; Miller 1990; Pritchard 1989). Some Biblical provisions clearlysupport disciplining children with force. Examples are:

1. “Do not be chary of correcting a child, a stroke of the cane is notlikely to be fatal” (Proverbs 23:13);

2. “Give him a stroke of the cane, you will save his soul from theSheol” (Proverbs 23:14);

3. “Folly is anchored in the heart of a youth, the whip of instructionwill rid him of it” (Proverbs 22:15);

4. “Whoever fails to use the stick hates his child; whoever is freewith his correction loves him” (Proverbs 13:24); and

5. “While there is hope for him, chastise your child, but do not get soangry as to kill him” (Proverbs 19:18).


Actually, Bergen (1984) provides an example of an Alberta case judged onthe basis of the “forms” of punishment used; the motives were beyond ques-tioning owing to biblical provisions. According to Scott (1938), historically, theutility of corporal punishment to train and teach children has been viewed bothnecessary and virtuous since Roman times. Most of the ancient philosophersand law-makers were in favour of flogging children and regarded it both as ameans to shape their conduct and to educate them. Presently, some beliefsabout corporal punishment are wide accepted. For example, violence can beused as a means of conflict resolution; parental autonomy in disciplining chil-dren 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 legalorigin of s.43, is, “no doubt, the Roman concept of patria potestas,” whichmeans in Roman law “paternal authority” (Law Reform Commission 1984, p.55). Blackstone (1765/1966) commented that one responsibility of the parentsfor their children is:

of giving them an education suitable to their station in life: a dutypointed 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 maylawfully 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 futurepositions in the society. Canadian courts recognize this parental authority. Forexample, 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 parkinglot was justifiable and said that the Peterson couple’s discipline policy “seemedreasonable and designed with the best interests of their children... to properlycorrect and educate their children” (McGillivray, 1997, pp. 197-198).

Teachers’ Authority of Using Corporal Punishmentto Discipline PupilsTeachers’ legal authority to administer corporal punishment to discipline pupilshas sources in the common law of England, the statutory provisions for disci-pline, and case law. The most quoted common law doctrine with this respectis in loco parentis. Blackstone (1765/1966) explains that a parent

... may also delegate part of his parental authority, during his life totutor or school master of his child; who is then in loco parentis, andhas such a portion of the power of the parent committed to his charge,viz. that restraint and correction, as may be necessary to answer thepurpose for which he is employed (pp. 440-441).


It is believed that, by in loco parentis, a portion of parents’ authority of childdiscipline is lawfully delegated to a teacher. Canadian courts recognize the inloco 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 statedthat teachers have the authority to discipline students “with lawful justifica-tion;” students have the obligations to “accept such discipline as would beexercised by a kind, firm and judicious parent” (School Law Commentary,1987, p. 2). However, people question the functioning capacity of the in locoparentis doctrine in present-day schools. Schooling today is a public enterprise,where teacher-student interactions become more public, and are more oftenframed 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 anothersource from which teachers obtain their power for discipline. Education is nowstate funded and the power of the state over education has been delegated toa large school system through government legislatures. That is why some peo-ple argue that it would be more appropriate to view teachers as state agentsrather than persons standing in the classroom as substitute parents (Dickinson& MacKay, 1989; MacKay & Sutherland, 1992). Courts recognize the status ofteachers both as in loco parentis and as state agents. One early case affirmingteacher’s authority in school discipline based on the public nature of theteacher-student relationship is Mansell v. Griffin (1908). In this case, a certifiedmistress disciplined a child and caused injury. Justice Phillimore presented hisjudgement:

. . . it has from the earliest times been the practice for teachers to en-force discipline by some form of coercion . . . . This being the case, ifthis punishment was moderate . . . . and was administered by a certi-fied assistant mistress who was in charge of this class, apparentlysome forty children, we think she can in an action justify that whichshe 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 caselaw. Case law defines the acceptable/unacceptable conditions and circum-stances under which disciplinary actions may be/may not be legally adminis-tered in individual cases.


A Brief Historical Account of the Use of s.43 in Canadian CourtsAccording to s.43, anyone providing evidence that he/she is a schoolteacher, aparent, or a person in place of a parent, “is justified in using force by way ofcorrection toward a pupil or child.” The next question is whether the instanceis “reasonable under the circumstances.” Bargen (1961) suggests a list of cri-teria in the determination of whether a particular corporal punishment instanceis considered “reasonable” by the courts (p. 129). Today, these criteria are stillin 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 classiccase to illustrate this point is Reg. v. Robinson (1899), in which ateacher administered straps on the hands of a 14-year-old boy, caus-ing blisters and bruising. The teacher was acquitted on appeal. Thiscase is noted for the legal principle applied that purpose/motive forpunishment 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 findthe page for reading. The teacher, using a leather strap of 15 incheslong, struck him violently for 10 to 15 minutes, inflicting seriouswounds on his face and hands. The teacher was found guilty for herbrutal and inhuman punishment administered (see Note 1). This caseis noted for the insufficient cause for the punishment, the excessiveforce 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 studentby administering strapping on her backside. The court found thepunishment not excessive because no permanent injury was caused.This case established the principle of existence of permanent injuryas criterion for excessive force used. Since then, ‘lasting injury’ hasremained an ‘acid test’ for excessive force used and unreasonablecorrection (McGillivray, 1997). In the case of R. v. Peterson (April,1995), the Court ruled that the force used was not excessive solelybecause 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’ knucklesagainst a table was held liable because the boys were young andtheir 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 bejustified... Not only is there a great danger of a teen-aged girl suffer-ing physical injury but emotional damage is also likely. It implies alack of respect (Cited in McGillivray, 1997, p. 215).


In R. v. Schnick (1988) O.J. No.1037 (unreported), handcuffing a youngboy to a radiator for 10 minutes was considered reasonable. In R. v.Taylor (1985), tying the hands of an adolescent girl to a basementpost for 15 minutes was not reasonable.

5. It is not protracted beyond the child’s power of endurance. Thiscriterion concerns how many times and how long a punishmentlasted. When this criterion is applied, physical conditions such asage and gender of a child are considered (Hurlbert & Hurlbert, 1992).

6. The instrument used for punishment is suitable. This criterion isalso based on a child’s physical condition. In Brisson v. Lafontaine(1864), the 15-inch long strap was considered too heavy for a 6-year-old-boy. The judge in R. v. Hilton (1927) expressly pointed out thatthe use of a dangerous weapon is likely to arouse criminal chargesagainst 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 fromthe 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, maybe pronounced in itself immoderate, as not only being unnecessaryfor, but inconsistent with the purpose for which correction is author-ized. (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 misbehav-iour and accidentally delivered a severe blow to one of the girl’sbreasts, which caused a chronic condition of mastitis. The judgeruled: “There was negligence on the part of the teacher for whichshe must be held responsible” (Bargen, 1961, p. 131).

Supplementary Points to Bargen’s Criteria1. Hidden criteria. One hidden criterion is societal norms/community

standards. This criterion affects the standards and interpretation ofthe reasonableness of a corporal punishment instance. An interest-ing example is found with the different attitudes held by two courtsin the case R. v. Dupperon (1985). The trial court did not view appro-priate strapping of a 13-year-old boy’s bare buttocks for punishment,and stated, “ You don’t beat kids into being good kids. You beatthem into jail . . . . We’re not in the dark ages now . . . ” (McGillivray,1997, pp. 224, 226). The appeal Court disagreed saying that the de-fendant’s motive of preventing his son from “growing up to be abum” was corrective (McGillivray, 1997, p. 226). Apparently, it is thedifferent standards and interpretations of the term “reasonable” that


led to different judgements. Another hidden criterion is about thecognitive, psychological, and emotional injury, harm, danger, disfig-uring, and pain that the children/ pupils suffer from the corporal pun-ishment. Regretfully, very few courts paid attention to this less visiblecriterion as the Ontario Provincial Court did in R. v. Baptiste andBaptiste (date), in which the emotional damage of a 15-year old girlwas 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 fa-ther beat his infant daughter with a leather strap and the child died.The court ruled that, “The law as to correction has reference only toa child capable of appreciating correction and not to an infant of twoyears and half old.” The father was convicted of manslaughter. Thesame 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 severelymentally challenged adult repeatedly on the forehead with a largespoon for spilling food. The Court ruled that the “correction” mustbenefit the child and that a child who cannot control the behaviourbeing corrected is not a correctable child (see Note 5).

3. Use of force. The distinction between ‘use of force’ and ‘corporalpunishment’ 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 shov-ing match, but there was no intention of punishment involved. In R.v. Godin (March 20, 1996), a teacher struck two boys in the facewhen trying to break up a fight between them. The Court held thatthe teacher was entitled to “intervene” and to use reasonable forceto “stop” any disruptive behaviour; failure to do so would have beena dereliction of his responsibilities (i.e., negligence) (see Note 6).

Some Arguments over Retaining and Repealing s.43P. F. Bargen (1961) states that there are two views commonly held about cor-poral punishment. One is that beating is brutal but ought to be inflicted. Theother is that corporal punishment is a necessary process in the establishmentof good characters in children (Bargen, 1961). In reality, the views that peoplehold of corporal punishment are more complex and have gone beyond the twopolarised views depicted by Bargen. For example, people argue for repealings.43 from other perspectives besides “beating is brutal,” and people who wantto reserve corporal punishment may not really believe in the goodness of beat-ing, but simply want to keep it as the last resort to mark the line between ac-ceptable and unacceptable behaviours.


Arguments for Retaining Corporal Punishment1. Corporal punishment has some value in school management.

People holding this opinion argue that corporal punishment matchesthe norms and general practices of the present society (Carter, 1976),can assist the students under the punishment to learn self-disciplineand protect other students’ right to learn from being impeded bythose disruptive students (Jefferson, 1984), and is an effective de-terrent 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 inloco parentis is entitled to use reasonable force to maintain disci-pline and compel compliance (p. 49). A New Brunswick judge ex-pressed his view that legislative provisions prohibiting corporalpunishment purport to take away a statutory right that all teacherspossess under s.43 of the Criminal Code and thus are contrary tothe 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 bibli-cal teachings to strap them. Corporal punishment should have a placein school and at home, because it is “a loving discipline,” because“we have divine authority to use the strap,” and because “it worksand always will” (pp. 6-7).

4. Other views. Genereus (1990) holds that corporal punishment isdifferent from violence and child abuse and is “an acceptable behav-iour in relation to particular children” (p. 32). To her, removing a childfrom classroom is no better than corporally punishing him in termsof ensuring his human dignity. In the Report to the House of Com-mons, the Standing Committee on Health, Welfare and Social Af-fairs (1976) decided not to recommend the repeal of s.43 withoutfurther study, out of the consideration that this “might deprive par-ents and teachers of needed protection against unfounded com-plaints” (p. 19).

Arguments for Repealing Corporal Punishment1. Corporal punishment is legalized child abuse. People argue that

corporal punishment receives support from societal beliefs (e.g., pun-ishment 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 provi-sions (Durrant & Rose-Krasner, 1995; Law Reform Commission, 1984;McFadden, 1987a, 1987b; McGillivray, 1993, 1997; Pritchard, 1988).


2. Corporal punishment is against Charter provisions. The Cana-dian Charter of Rights and Freedoms guarantees the right to secu-rity of the person (Section 7), the right of not being subjected tounusual and cruel treatment (Section 12), and equal protection ofthe law without discrimination on the basis of age (Section 15). Limi-tations to these rights are allowed only when they are “demonstra-bly justified in a free and democratic society” (Section 1). Sincenumerous evidences reveal that corporal punishment does not ben-efit children development; therefore, it cannot be demonstrably jus-tified under the Charter (Durrant & Rose-Krasnor, 1995; Law ReformCommission, 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 theextent to which the society can accept this practice. Canada ratifiedThe United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child in 1991.The Convention requires that all States Parties take all appropriatemeasures to protect children from violence and maltreatment. (seeAppendix 1 for “Article 19.1” and “Article 28.2” of the UN Conven-tion on the Rights of the Child.) In 1995, the Committee on the Rightsof the Child first time assessed the situation of the rights of the childin Canada. Canada was urged by this UN Committee to change thesituations of corporal punishment on children in Canada, especiallythrough legislative reform. (see Appendix 2 for quotations of theassessment of this Committee on the situations of corporal punish-ment on children in Canada, and recommendations.)

Researchers and scholars also assessed the status of Canadian leg-islation on corporal punishment within an international context andurged legislative change. They related that, of 27 countries listed inThe Progress of Nations by UNICEF in 1994, Canada is one of theonly three that still permit corporal punishment in their schools, whileby 1900, corporal punishment had already been abolished in theschools in Poland, the Netherlands, Luxembourg, Italy, Belgium,Austria, Finland, and France (Durrant & Rose-Krasnor, 1995;McGillivray, 1993). Now, corporal punishment has been abolished inevery 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 & Rose-Krasnor, 1995, p. 31). A new trend is emerging in the U.S.: between1940 and 1980, only 4 states banned this practice in schools; by


1994, the number of states rose to 26 (Straus & Mathur, 1994). Also,in Canada, Durrant and Rose-Krasnor (1995) reported that, between1976 and 1993, 11 government-sponsored reports recommendedthat s.43 be reconsidered, amended, or repealed that a growingnumber of organizations oppose officially the use of corporal punish-ment on children, and that recent survey data also indicate that Ca-nadians are becoming aware of the ineffectiveness of corporalpunishment and many would support the abolition.

4. Recommendations of strategies for child/pupil discipline manage-ment. Repealing s.43 is not the ultimate purpose of the battle. Alter-native management strategies and many kinds of education programsmust be provided to improve the quality of child education and childrearing. Recommendations with this respect range from classroommanagement 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 RemovedMy opinion is that corporal punishment on children should not be used eitherby parents or by educators; s.43 should be removed. Before proceeding anyfurther, I want to make two points clear. First, corporal punishment on childrenshould not be used, but the use of force is sometimes justifiable. As stated byLaw Reform Commission (1984), in emergency situations such as for the safe-guarding of a child or others or protection of property, use of reasonable forceis necessary and is thus justifiable. Corporal punishment lacks the urgent as-pect in emergency situations; therefore, it is not readily justifiable in terms ofnecessity. Second, I do not see that parents’ authority over child discipline isabsolute. I respect a parent’s rights that are protected by law and under theCharter. But their rights should not infringe on children’s rights that are also pro-tected by law and under the Charter. These two points said, let me proceed tomy other arguments.

Change of Social Ideology.

The standard for acceptable/unacceptable student discipline practices is “afunction of current ideology in regard to punishment and the use of force onchildren” (Hurlbert and Hurlbert, 1992, p. 194). Social ideology is a powerfulforce in setting standards and norms for law-making. Here is an example. OnAugust 15, 1987, when the Education (No.2) Act (1986) became law, it alsoabolished physical chastisement on pupils in British state schools. Section47(1) of the Act states:


Where, in any proceedings, it is shown that corporal punishment hasbeen 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 wasdone in pursuance of a right exercisable by the member of the staffby 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 thecommon law doctrine “in loco parentis” to administer corporal punishment anddefend themselves against a charge of assault. Section 47(1) does not stateexplicitly that this common law doctrine is “dated” altogether, but a need tore-define this concept is clearly indicated (Parker-Jenkins, 1988). One teacherin England recalled that he performed 1,115,800 raps on the heads of the pu-pils 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, corporalpunishment was abolished in British state schools. When the social ideologyof using force on children changes such as in the U.K., birthplace of the in locoparentis doctrine, the value of this 200-year-old doctrine has to be reconsid-ered.

In Canada, one significant event in recent years is the constitutionalizationof 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 andemerging societal values and norms. Magsino (1983) points out further thatthe “freedoms” given here must be understood before they can be appliedand that proper understanding is based on our rational autonomy capacity. Thisargument leads our attention to the development in the young citizens theknowledge, skills, and dispositions needed for the responsible exercise ofrights granted by the Charter (White & Pritchard, 1989). Section 43 defendsparents and teachers’ absolute authority of using force on children, and is in-compatible with the principles in Section 12 and Section 15 of the Charter.

Section 12 of Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms raises two difficul-ties for s.43. First, if the onus is on the challenger of s.12 to demonstrate that apractice is cruel and unusual treatment, then, the onus “shifts” to the govern-ment or its agents to show that this practice is reasonable and demonstrablyjustified under s.1 (Watkinson, 1988) (see Note 7). Second, if the use of corpo-ral punishment cannot be justified under Section 12, it cannot be justified as“reasonable limits” under Section 1 of the Charter. Consequently, the capacityof s.43 to protect the practice of corporal punishment becomes questionable.Actually, many alternatives of student discipline have been in use or recom-mended. For example, the Board of Education for the city of London (1982)issued a booklet with a summary of nearly 100 classroom management strate-gies suggested by the principals. The philosophy of the Board is: “Studentsare individuals. Programs to meet their individual needs are essential to suc-cessful management and discipline” (Front cover). Malik and Des Dixon (1986)found that Ontario teachers have been using humanistic approaches to estab-


lish a school environment that promotes student self-discipline, better attend-ance, and high academic achievement.

Section 15 of the Charter presents one more challenge to s.43. Section15 is often referred to as the equality section. It requires that people be treatedequally, without discrimination based on, for example, age, when a judicial de-cision is made. It also places an onus on governments, or their agents, to jus-tify all laws, regulations, or acts of the government that discriminate againstindividuals because of their age. In R. v. Ogg-Moss (1984), Chief JusticeDickson said:

One of the key rights in our society is the individual’s right to be freefrom unconsented invasions on his or her physical security or dignityand it is a central purpose of the criminal law to protect members ofsociety from such invasions . . . Any derogation from this right andthis 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 mem-bers on some minor members of the society, it is defending an action, whichwould otherwise be charged as assault if it happens between two adults.

“Reasonable” and “Correction” QuestionedSection 43 does not provide any definition for what constitutes reasonable cir-cumstances, reasonable force, instruments involved, etc. The definitions andstandards of “reasonable” are left for case law to answer. In the Courts, whatconstitutes “reasonable” force and “reasonable” cause has been given a widerange of and liberal interpretations. Of the cases regarding corporal punish-ment, it is not uncommon that a judicial decision made by one court was re-jected by another court, e.g., R. v. Ogg-Moss (1984). Also, judicial decisionsmay be highly controversial since its birth, e.g., R. v. Haberstock (1971). Thereare also human factors to consider: the preference/bias of the people whomake 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 theface and “switched” all her children. She argued that what she had done iscommonplace in Guyana, her country of origin. The judge of Manitoba Court ofQueen’s Bench said:

Sitting around the judges’ table we talked about this business of dis-cipline. Guy Kroft said that his father disciplined him that way and hisfather was a loving, gentle man. My father . . . whacking me and hit-ting me with a belt. I am not saying that I would now do that to kids orthat my kids would do it to theirs. Philosophies have changed. Buttwenty-five years ago, here in Canada, this conduct was not seen asbeing criminal. As a matter of fact it was seen as being normal by gen-tle responsible people.


We now call it abuse. We have now become more enlightened.We are now talking about children’s rights. I hope the day will comewhen people stop hitting their children (Cited in McGillivray, 1997, p.218).

“Correction” refers to altering children’s wrong behaviours so they canadopt correct ones. Many research findings have successfully argued that vio-lence breeds violence, not stops it, and that beating/physical punishment doesnot benefit the development of children nor the development of the society(Durrant & Rose-Krasnor, 1995; Miller, 1990; Straus, 1994). Therefore, “correc-tion” of behaviours, the goal of corporal punishment in general, and a long-termgoal in particular, can hardly be achieved through the use of corporal punish-ment. For example, Derek Wright (1971) found that there is a clear relationshipbetween violent punishment of children at home by the father and violent be-haviour of the children outside the home. One explanation is that the father isthe child’s chief model of how adults behave. Through corporal punishment,the father has showed the child that violence and aggression are acceptableways when dealing with other people. A massive study of inner-city Londonschools reveals that pupil behaviour was significantly worse in schools wherecorporal punishment was used frequently, that corporal punishment was highlycorrelated with the worst patterns of pupil behaviour, and that pupil behaviourwas significantly better in schools where school atmosphere was positive andtask-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 ma-jority of abusive incidents began as disciplinary encounters that escalated outof control. For example, they also reported:

— In a study of temper tantrums among preschool children, “a clearassociation” was found between maternal use (vs. non-use) of cor-poral 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) founda positive linear relationship between the frequency of parents’ spank-ing their children and the frequency of aggressive acts their childrendirected against them, and an even stronger linear association be-tween spanking frequency and child’s aggression towards siblings.But “there is no evidence that a threshold frequency of spanking isnecessary 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 be-tween severe parental punishment and delinquent aggression amonga court sample of 58 boys. (Durrant & Rose-Krasnor, 1995, p. 7)


— Straus and Smith (1992) found that parents who were physicallypunished at age 13 assaulted their spouses significantly more oftenthan 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 theconsequences of corporal punishment on children. One source of the litera-ture can be found in the list of “Books on child abuse searched for discussionsof corporal punishment,” provided by a leading American researcher, MurrayStraus (1994).

RecommendationsAlong with the removal of s.43, some substantial measures should be takento support teachers to carry out their duties. For instance, legal provisionsshould be established to protect teachers’ rights and encourage teachers’ re-sponsibilities to: a) discipline students in ways acceptable to a free, democraticsociety, b) maintain school order and a learning-supportive environment for theinterests of the students as a whole, and c) use force, when necessary, to dealwith emergent situations. I do not see the proposal that educators should adoptdisciplinary 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 thestudents, particularly the virtues that are valued in this free and democraticsociety and that are expected to develop in a pupil through education.


NOTES

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 andR.v.Inwood.

5. See Ogg-Moss v. R., in Dickinson and MacKay (1989), p.344-352.

6. See “Corporal punishment: Conviction overturned.” EduLaw. TheEducation Law Reporter, 7(10), June 1996, p.73.

7. In R. v. Oakes (1986), the Supreme Court expanded on the meaningof s.1 by outlining criteria and components which must be met bygovernments or their agents in order to justify limiting a right or free-dom:.

(1) The limit must be “prescribed by law”;

(2) The objective to be gained by limiting a right or freedom is of suffi-cient importance;

(3) The method chosen to limit a right or freedom is reasonable anddemonstrably 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 usedand the legitimate objective.

(Watkinson 1988, p.20)

REFERENCES

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Beckingham, M. (1976). Are there effective alternatives? Education Canada, 16(1),20-27.

Bergen, J. J. (1984). Rethink your treatment of students. The Canadian SchoolExecutive, 3(8), 13-15.

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Blackstone, W. (1765/1966). Blackstone’s commentaries (Vol.1). London: Dawsonof Pell Mell.


Board of Education for the city of London (1982). Alternatives for school and class-room management and discipline: A resource booklet for principals, vice-principals and teachers. Toronto, Ontario, Canada: Ontario Ministry ofEducation, Information Centre.

Buchanan, D. (1987). God has given us the authority to use it. SaskatchewanBulletin, September 16, 6-7.

Carter, M. (1976). A last resort. Education Canada, 16(1), 20-24.

Cryan, J. R. (1987). The banning of corporal punishment in child care, school, andother educational settings in the United States. Childhood Education, 63(3),146-153.

Dickinson, G. M., & MacKay, A. W. (1989). Rights, freedoms and the education sys-tem in Canada: Cases and materials. Toronto, Ontario, Canada: EmondMontgomery.

Durrant, J. E. & Rose-Krasnor, L. (1995). Corporal punishment. Unpublished reportby Health Canada. Ottawa, Ontario: Health Canada.

Genereus, A. (1990). Corporal punishment: Is it violence against children? InM. Clarke (Ed.), On the right side: Canada and the convention on the rightson the child. Proceedings from the CCCY’s 1989 Presidential consultationExamining the Potential Impact of the United Nations Convention on theRights of the Child on Canadian Legislation and Policies (pp. 29-33). Ottawa,Ontario: Canadian Council on Children and Youth.

Ghosh, R., & Ray, D. (1995). Social change and education in Canada. Toronto,Ontario, Canada: Harcourt Brace.

Giles, W. H., (1988). Schools and students: Legal aspects of administration. To-ronto, Ontario, Canada: Carswell.

Hindle, D. (1987). Corporal punishment in middle years schools. The CanadianAdministrator, 27(2), 1-7.

Hurlbert, E. L, & Hurlbert, M. A. (1992). School law under the Charter of Rights andFreedoms (2nd ed.). Calgary, Alberta, Canada: The University of CalgaryPress.

Jefferson, A. L. (1984). Corporal punishment. Canadian School Executive, 3(7), 32.

Law Reform Commission (1984). Working paper 38: Assault. Ottawa, Ontario,Canada: Author.

MacKay, A. W. (1984). Education law in Canada. Toronto, ON: Emond

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MacKay, A. W., & Sutherland, L. I. (1992). Teachers and the law: A practical guidefor educators. Toronto, Ontario, Canada: Emond Montgomery.

Magsino, R. (1983). Student’s rights in a new era. The Canadian School Executive,3(5), 3-6.

Malik, C. & Des Dixon, R. G. (1996). Hugs and hickory: A review of literature ondisciplinary practices in schools. Toronto, Ontario, Canada: Ontario Teach-ers’ Federation.


McFadden, M. (1987a). Corporal punishment: Legalized child abuse. EducationCanada, 27(3), 4-7.

McFadden, M. (1987b). It’s a cruel and barbaric method of discipline. SaskatchewanBulletin, September 16, 6-7.

McGillivray, A. (1993). R. v. K. (M.): Legitimating brutality. Criminal Reports, 16 C.R.(4th), 125-132.

McGillivray, A. (1997). ‘He’ll learn it on his body’: Disciplining childhood in Canadianlaw. The International Journal of Children’s Rights, 5, 197-242.

Miller, A. (1990). For your own good: Hidden cruelty in child-rearing and the roots ofviolence. New York: Noonday Press.

The New Jerusalem Bible (1985). New York: Doubleday.

The Oxford English dictionary (Vol.III). (1933). Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.

Parker-Jenkins, M. (1988). No more stick: Britain abolishes corporal punishment.Canadian School Executive, 7(9), 9-11.

Pritchard, B. W. (1988). Corporal punishment: A legal storm is brewing. TheCanadian School Executive, 8(2), 3-9.

Pritchard, B. W. (1989). A legal analysis of corporal punishment in schools. Unpub-lished master’s thesis, University of Alberta, Edmonton, Canada.

Rutter, M., Maughan, B., Mortimore, P., Ouston, J., & Smith, P. (1979). Fifteen thou-sand hours: Secondary schools and their effects on children. Cambridge,MA: Harvard University Press.

School Law Commentary (1987) 1(8), April. Case file No.: 1-8-1.

Scott, G. R. (1938). The history of corporal punishment: A survey of flagellation inits historical, anthropological and sociological aspects. London: T. WernerLaurie.

Standing Committee on Health, Welfare and Social Affairs (1976). Child abuse andneglect: Report to the House of Commons. Ottawa, Ontario, Canada:Author.

Stephen, J. F. (1877). A digest of the criminal law (crimes and punishments.London: Macmillan.

Straus, M. A. (1994). Beating the devil out of them: Corporal punishment inAmerican families. New York: Lexington Books.

Sussel, T. A. (1997, January 28). Physical discipline may sometimes be appropri-ate, court rules. Education Leader (British Columbia School Trustee Asso-ciation), p. 2.

United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (1995). Concluding observa-tions of the committee on the rights of the child: Canada. U.N. CRC 9thSess, 233rd Mtg, UN Doc. CRC/C/15/Add.37 20, June 1995.

Watkinson, A. (1987). It’s just legalized abuse by adults on children. SaskatchewanBulletin, September 16, 6-7.


Watkinson, A. (1988). Corporal punishment: Apply the Charter, spare the child. TheCanadian School Executive, 8(5), 15-21.

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Wright, D. (1971). The psychology of moral behaviour. Harmondsworth, UK:Penguin.

CASES CITED

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.355Mansell v. Griffin ([1908] 1 K.B. 160.R. v. Baptiste and Baptiste 61 C.C.C. (2d) 438R. 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. 402R. 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. 287R. 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 1995R. 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) 263Reg. 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)


ADDITIONAL NOTES:

1. “Article 19.1” and “Article 28.2” of the UN Convention on the Rightsof the Child).

States Parties shall take all appropriate legislative, administrative,social and educational measures to protect the child from all formsof physical or mental violence, injury or abuse, neglect or negligenttreatment, maltreatment or exploitation, including sexual abuse whilein the care of parent(s), legal guardian(s), or any other person whohas the care of the child (Article 19.1).

States Parties shall take all appropriate measure to ensure that schooldiscipline is administered in a manner consistent with the child’shuman dignity and in conformity with the present Convention (Arti-cle 28.2).

2. Quotations of the assessment of the Committee on the situationsof corporal punishment on children in Canada, and recommenda-tions. [The United Nations Convention on Rights of the Child 1995,p.5])

Further measures seems to be needed to effectively prevent anccombat all forms of corporal punishment and ill-treatment of chil-dren in schools or in institutions where children may be placed. TheCommittee is also preoccupied by the existence of child abuse andviolence within family and the insufficient protection afforded by theexisting legislation in that regard (p.3).

The Committee suggests that the State party examine the possibil-ity of reviewing the penal legislation allowing corporal punishmentof children by parents, in schools and in institutions where childrenmay be placed.... the Committee recommends that the physical pun-ishment of children in families be prohibited.... the Committee fur-ther suggests that the State party consider the possibility ofintroducing new legislation and follow-up mechanisms to preventviolence within the family, and that education campaigns be launchedwith a view to changing attitudes in society on the use of physicalpunishment in the family and fostering the acceptance of its legalprohibition (p. 5).


The Garden as a Metaphor for Curriculumand for Curriculum Inquiry

Karen Wilson Baptist

ABSTRACT

This paper explores the notion of the garden as a metaphor for curriculum andfor curriculum inquiry, because like curriculum, the garden, too is primarily asocial construct which reflects the intent of the maker and the prevailing cul-tural ideologies of the time. Research into the social and cultural evolution ofthe garden can broadened our collective conceptions of what a garden can orcould be; of what a garden can or could mean. Similarily, interpretive, artisticand aesthetic forms of curriculum can open eyes to new roles for curriculumand curriculum inquiry. The garden metaphor allows us to let go of the neces-sity to enclose, define and frame a particular meaning for inquiry. Metaphorinspires 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 practicalMen die every day for the lack of it

It is vast & elegant

Diane DiPrima, Rant, 1985

INTRODUCTION

Twenty five years ago in William Pinar’s ground breaking collection ofreconceptualist thought, Curriculum Theorizing: The Reconceptualists,(Kliebard, 1975) focused the attention of contemporary curriculum theorists onthe descriptive power of metaphor as an aid to re-imagining curriculum. In hisbrief contribution to that collection, “Metaphorical roots of curriculum design”,Kliebard characterizes curriculum through three metaphoric descriptors: pro-duction, 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 anduseful product under the control of a highly skilled technician” (p.84). The pro-duction metaphor emphasizes predictable outcomes, efficiency and effectivechannelling of resources. The metaphor of growth describes the learner as a


member of a community of plants in a greenhouse. Here, the educator acts asgardener, taking responsibility for the development of each plant according tospecific individualized needs. Kliebard observes: “no attempt is made to divertthe inherent potential of the individual plant from its own metamorphosis ordevelopment to the whims and desires of the gardener.” (pp.84-85) Finally,through the metaphor of travel, the educational experience is seen as a jour-ney of discovery for the learner. Both the nature of the road and the nature ofthe learner are considered in determining the course of the experience. Asguide and companion, the educator is concerned less with a need to “antici-pate the exact nature of the effect on the traveller” and more with providing ajourney “as rich, as fascinating, and as memorable as possible” (p.85).

Arts-based curricular theorists such as Greene (1995) and Eisner (1991) pro-vide a historical and intellectual context for employing metaphorical thinking inexpansive ways. Slattery (1995), Diamond and Mullen (1999) and Snowber(1999) have explored the potential of a postmodern interpretation of metaphorthrough artistic, hermeneutic and phenomenological approaches to contem-porary curriculum theory. The use of metaphor as a figure of comparison byscholars generates new ways of examining curricular forms by merging twoor more seemingly unconnected concepts together. Sarup (1993) observes:“metaphors are not just the concern of the poet or the literary critic, ... theyrepresent one of the ways in which many kinds of discourse are structuredand powerfully influence how we conceive things” (p.48).

Following these examples, this paper explores the notion of the garden asa metaphor for curriculum and for curriculum inquiry, because like curriculum,the garden, too is primarily a social construct which reflects the intent of themaker and the prevailing cultural ideologies of the time. The lived experiencesof the person within both curriculum and garden are a synthesis of orchestratedand phenomenological experiences. The garden and the curriculum employ acommon interpretive stance by referencing the artistry of creation within anaesthetic of experience. Within this hermeneutic relationship lies the potentialfor moving dreams and visions from private contemplation to public interpreta-tion. 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 par-ticipation through physical movement, intellectual engagement and creativeimagination. At their best, each can awaken the senses, provide delight, evokelove; at their worst, provoke hatred, prejudice and terror.

Re-conceptualizing Curriculum throughthe Metaphor of the GardenMead (1936) described the educational milieu as a place where the learner, in-sulated from the external environment, engages in a process of self discoveryand invention. By association, the garden as metaphor for curriculum can there-fore be a medieval hortus conclusus, the biblical Garden of Eden or a post ro-


mantic garden in the wild. Yet as the student killings in Tabor, Alberta andLittletown, Colorado have so tragically illustrated, the innocents seeking theapple of knowledge arrive in the garden packing gym bags heavy with artillery.Who brought the serpent to the garden? Was it Marc Lépine in EcolePolytechnique in Montreal, or Dan Kebold and Eric Harris in Colombine HighSchool, or paradoxically, did the corruption flourish within the garden as otherswould have it, through promoting tolerance for prejudice and hate? In that waywas the curriculum so restrictive, so fragmented, that these angry young mencould find no better way to express themselves than through an eruption ofviolence and revenge? Even in a walled garden, outside elements such as sunand rain cannot be shut out. No matter how proficient the gardener or thecurricularist, no one can predict or control all factors which could influence thegarden or the curriculum. Slattery (1995) aptly illustrates this concept when heuses the 1993 floods of the rigidly controlled Mississippi River as a metaphorfor “... teachers and students whose movement through the places of educa-tion is often confined, restricted, and polluted by those who seek to conquerthe mind and spirit.” (p.186). If the goal is then the creation of optimum condi-tions for growth for all learners, how can this be attained?

In Balmori and Morton’s (1993) study of homeless people’s gardens in NewYork City, there is a pair of images which capture “Anna’s Garden”. Enclosedwithin a chain link barrier, a profusion of stuffed animals and dolls crowd thistiny garden. Through this collection, an alleged concentration camp survivorexpresses her inner terror in a garden which both fascinates and frightens theviewer with its complexity and obsessiveness. Anna’s garden becomes Anna’svoice. Balmori and Morton (1993) comment, “We have here two gardens jux-taposed: a Garden of Eden for animals and plants and a garden of evil for thedoll-humans. Wholeness is set against the wounded, and a feeling of immi-nent danger is pervasive” (p.39).

Anna’s garden illustrates the darker side of human inventiveness. If Annacould not speak through her garden, she could potentially express her fear andanger through internal or external destructiveness. The paradox of humanity isthat each of us are potentially both good and evil. Curriculum can present learn-ers with an opportunity to express the many facets of human nature. There isa price for favoring one voice over another; there is a cost for silence. Accord-ing to Slattery (1995), “Curriculum development in the postmodern era re-spects and celebrates the uniqueness of each individual person, text, event,culture and educative moment, but all within the context of an interdependentcosmological view” (p. 142).

In the community of the garden, all elements are considered equally essen-tial to the overall success of the garden. The re-enchantment of curriculumthrough the metaphor of garden is not a fanciful notion. An enhanced under-standing of this metaphor for curriculum could focus our collective attentionon the potential of contemporary curricular theorizing to deliver imaginative,real life solutions to educational dilemmas.


The Garden and Curriculum as SimulacraThe similarity between curriculum and garden occurs because they are bothmimetic constructions based on nature and natural forms of knowing. There-fore, as fabrications of ecologies, the garden and the curriculum exist assimulacra. According to Jameson (1991), simulacrum is “the identical copyfor which no original ever existed” (p.18). In nature, learning occurs when themore experienced animal engages with the offspring in the transfer of crucialskills and knowledge systems. Combining imitation with a process of experi-mentation allows the animal to individualize techniques for survival. For exam-ple, because they are typically adopted by 6 to 8 weeks of age, household catsoften fail to kill their prey. Instinct provides them with the actions of a hunterbut the replacement of the natural learning processes delivered by the mothercat, for the discipline and control of domestication, means that kittens oftenlack rudimentary knowledge of how best to deliver a fatal bite. Similarity,through trial and error a child discovers the optimum way to individualize knowl-edge through actions which will initiate personally desired outcomes. Curricu-lum can distort natural forms of learning through organizationallyinstitutionalized, constrained modes of education. In its best constructions,curriculum mimics natural forms of learning through dialogical, cooperativelearning modes which encourage individualized interpretations of knowledge.Similarly, in some gardens the natural processes of nature are arrested. Thegardener imposes order, weeding out all deviant forms. Yet in others, the fluid-ity of the structure allows for the flourishing of spontaneous growth. ForFrancis and Hester (1995):

Gardens have special meanings. They are powerful settings for hu-man life, transcending time, place and culture. Gardens are mirrors ofourselves, reflections of sensual and personal experiences. By mak-ing gardens, using or admiring them and dreaming them we createour own idealized order of nature and culture. Gardens connect us toour collective and primeval pasts. Since the beginning of time we haveexpressed ourselves through the gardens we have made. They liveon 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 ofcurriculum consist of a combination of subjects, learners, teachers, experi-ences and environment (Schwab, 1970). Thus, the quest of the gardener is notunlike the goal of the educator. In a successful garden, individual elements actin concert, evoking a holistic experience for the observer/participant. Recentlyemerging strands in curriculum inquiry commit to that same holistic tendencyby incorporating elements of theory, practice and experience, and a view of


inquiry and the research text that constructs an image of curriculum that is in-dividual, relevant and whole (Bowers, 1997). Therefore as a metaphor for cur-riculum, the garden expresses the need for an “ecology of interrelatednessand connected thoughts, spaces, activities and symbols” (Francis & Hester,1995, p.2).

Re-imagining CurriculumGarden as a metaphor for curriculum references the creative and the imagina-tive. Metaphoric inquiry can liberate the inquirer from disciplinary and philo-sophical boundaries, creating new possibilities for meaning-making. As a poeticidea, the garden metaphor encourages the inquirer to individually shape theinquiry. Each curricularist frames curriculum inquiry through a form born in per-sonal meaning systems and observations of social life. The placement of theseideologies into the communal realm reflects the public act of the gardener. Thereader, as observer and participant, is invited to process these ideas throughtheir own personal meaning systems. This action reflects aesthetic and artistmodes of inquiry where the private becomes public and then, through reflec-tion, becomes private once more. Personal synthesis of public and private, oftheory, ideas, practice, and the requirements or restrictions of each mode ofinquiry can be difficult to explicate. The garden provides a model for resolutionthrough the acceptance of contradiction. Francis & Hester (1995) observe that:“In the garden these apparent irreconcilables are clarified and mediated be-cause the garden accepts paradox. Anyone who has ever gardened, knowsthat a garden represents constancy yet is ever changing” (p.4). Curriculum in-quiry, as with the garden experience, is a gift. It has shape, relevance and struc-ture; but in the hands and eyes of each new recipient, it takes on additionallayers of meaning.

Six Views of the Garden MetaphorFrancis & Hester (1995), provide a structure for curriculum inquiry that demon-strates the versatility of the garden metaphor. Their six muses of the contem-porary garden: faith, power, ordering, cultural and personal expression andhealing provide a unique stance from which to view curriculum.

Faith. Currriculum and curriculum inquiry based on faith creates a space forthe spiritual nature of humankind. In story of the Garden of Eden, Adam andEve 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 andeconomic factors. According to Francis and Hester (1995) “faith can also forma creative future by providing alternatives to those forces of modern life thatdeaden humanity” (p.10). The modern demons of consumerism, crime, ill-ness, and genocide seek our discipleship. We have learned to accept blood-shed, material lust and the destruction of our earth, because our fragmentededucational environments muffle our responsibility for the perpetuation of


these horrors. For example, consumer desire for inexpensive goods has leadto the proliferation of child labor camps in third world countries and the destruc-tion of the domestic clothing industry (see Hawkins, 1993; Barber, 1995).

Our conduct in this place and time has consequences. We need time to con-sider our actions. Yet contemporary life leaves little opportunity for contempla-tion. Snowber (1999) observes: “We live in a world that thrives on anaccelerated pace of life, consumerism and production more than the art of be-ing, an environment not conducive to listening to the organic rhythm of ourbodies’ pulses” (p.18). It is within the silences of our lives that we find the timeand place to connect with our spirituality. Gardens provide intervals for reflec-tion. This should be a goal for curriculum as well.

Power.The ideologies represented in various new forms of curriculum in-quiry (Short, 1991) embody the potential to evoke and document powerful cul-tural or political change. Curriculum, like the garden, can be a symbol ofindividual or political prowess. Louis the XIV’s garden at Versailles is an exam-ple of how a garden can express the power of the individual and of the politicalstructure. Francis and Hester (1995) observe that: “The garden may expresspersonal or cultural power or suppressed desire for it. It may include or pro-mote self-confidence. It may represent a vital temporary refuge that restorespersonal power or a total withdrawal by the utterly powerless” (p.11). Curricu-lum can potentially restore equality between genders, inspire diversity and re-unite humanity with the earth. Voices can be awakened or silenced throughcurriculum. As Slattery (1995) observes:

If the curriculum ignores sedimented perceptors, identity formation,and social construction and suppresses individual visions and dreamsin the content and context of education, and if individuals are con-stantly required to conform to someone else’s worldview, then eitherdreams will be repressed, hope will be suppressed, people will incor-porate the other’s vision of themselves into their own self-understand-ing, and/or they will lash out in anger against those systems that ex-clude their voice. (p.135)

To experience the gardens at Versailles is to see how the hand of a collec-tive power was imposed upon the landscape and the lives of the people of thattime. Alternatively, to create a garden of one’s own is an enactment of the crea-tive power of the self.

Order. Order provides structure to garden and curriculum. Social, math-ematical, biological, ecological, and aesthetic ordering in the garden speak ofthe purpose and underlying philosophy of the garden. In the curriculum, ordermay be provided by aesthetic, phenomenological, normative, critical, actionbased, 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


be determined by how these ideologies are put into action. A task of the cur-riculum inquirer is to uncover the implicit meaning systems, to make the invis-ible - visible. According to Smith (1991), “how we interpret details is very muchrelated to our macro-frames, so we struggle continuously and contingently toextend our sense of what is at work “ (p.199). As in the garden, interpretationmay be disabled by an inquiry method that seeks the truth only in surface de-tails, 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 infact based on evil, injustice, or environmental degradation. (p.12)

Cultural Expression. As cultural expression, garden and curriculum are areflections of their place and their time. Both mirror the prevailing social sys-tems that formed them. Puerto Rican social clubs have created a piece ofhome in empty lots on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. Casitas are more than acommunity 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 preservecultural forms. For example, in Winnipeg, Aboriginal schools are struggling toachieve a balance between academic rigor and cultural preservation. (Martin,1999, p.1) Yet the preservation of diversity is not the only problem facing oursociety. Homogeneity encouraged by mass media, big box retailers and glo-balization threaten to flatten human reality. Retailers encourage consumers toseek comfort in the ubiquitous. “Everyone in leather,” ordained a recent Gapcampaign. In the natural world, bio-diversity is threatened by habitat loss, agri-cultural monocultures and the extinction of species. “We believe that it is es-sential to maintain and celebrate cultural diversity in a landscape increasinglymade uniform ….”, remark Francis and Hester (1995, p.12). Curriculum inquir-ers can encourage such diversity through the creation of curricular forms thatencourage and celebrate multiple ways of knowing.

Personal Expression. A garden creates opportunity for personal creativityand expression. Gardens provide delight. What if curriculum could do that too?Imagine a curricular experience that rewards personal engagement in the ho-listic manner of the garden. Toil and labor result in self-gratification and in a pub-lic expression of beauty. The impetus for the garden of Max Wood of Merryall,Pennsylvania was predicated by a question: How is bread made? Max cleareda plot, planted cereal grains, nurtured and finally harvested the results of hislabor. Max described his experience thus: “We rototilled the ground, then weplanted 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 al-low the learner to explore personally relevant questions that develop the confi-dence to act upon personal and community values. This evolution of privateideologies to public action, requires courage, knowledge and above all a com-


mitment to collective action. Through community gardens, individuals worktogether to counter urban and cultural decay and to re-establish a relationshipwith nature. Lippard (1997) notes: “Mediators between nature and culture,gardens are paradoxically, communal places that encourage solitude and selfreliance” (p.253). In this scenario, the garden and the individual are intimatelyunited - each gives and receives from and to each other. In curriculum, learnerand knowledge merge, forging new levels of understanding. According toBowers (1987):

The task of thinking about curriculum in a manner that takes accountof the phenomenological world of the student and the pattern ofthought in our culture being communicated through the curriculumappears difficult to the educator who is habituated to think in a (di-chotomous) manner that neatly separates the student from the ob-jective knowledge to be learned. (p.79)

The gardener and the garden grow together, as do the learner and the ele-ments of curriculum. Neither the plants of the garden, nor forms of knowledgein the curriculum are frozen in this scenario. Each is transitory, ever changing,like life itself. Overly and Spalding (1992) observe: “In a democracy, schoolingand the education that is fostered within its framework take on a particular tex-ture because the relationship between the individual and society is seen asevolving and interactive, not static” (p.2).

Healing. The healing power of the garden is well documented. The gardensof the dispossessed in Balmori and Morton (1993) demonstrate how even aperson without home desires a place in the world. They indicate that: “Thetruth 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 ofnature, 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 estab-lish a place of our own upon the earth, where through love and care and tillagewe can create beauty, make food, heal our souls and our communities. Hereis the story of Jimmy’s garden:

Not one of the components of Jimmy’s garden is permanent. Thereare no underground pipes running into the pool; no concrete has beenpoured to make its basin. The pool, in fact, is but one example of theimpermanence of nearly everything here, a site that overtly confrontsthe essential characteristic of landscape: the limits of time. At times,teenage boys come into the lot and steal the goldfish; other times, forcruel 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’sown. We live in an age when many of us and many of our children feel lost and


alone in the world. Curriculum can help us live inside the world again. As edu-cators we must commit to the creation of curriculum that can potentially pro-mote healing and growth; that re-establishes a sense of personal meaning andbalance. Cooper Marcus (1995) states:

The garden is a place where matter is transformed from one state toanother. It is a potent symbol for what many believe is happening tohumankind - a transformation of consciousness in which spiritual andglobal perspectives are emerging organically from the necessary butpartial perspective of ego and nation-state. (p.32)

The Garden as a Metaphor for ReconstructionCurriculum can help learners verify their vitality by forging links with the world.As theorist and researcher, the inquirer can create curricular forms which ener-gize participants for action beyond the confines of the learning milieu. The de-struction of individual dignity, the erosion of a collective commitment to thesocial good, and the widespread degradation of our planet result in part froman educational system which objectifies both knowledge and learners. Culturalcritic Suzi Gablik (1991) notes: “Our culture has failed to generate a living cos-mology that would enable us to hold the sacredness and inter-connectivenessof life in mind. Because awareness of the whole escapes us, we devastate theland in greed” (p.82). Curriculum, like the garden, is an environment that re-stores and heals the self, the community and the earth. Hence, the act of thecurricularist falls like a pebble in a pond. What may begin as a tiny splash, mayhave the potential to evoke ripples of change.

If you and I describe a garden, our stories are likely quite different. If we areto define curriculum or curricular inquiry, we again spin a unique tale. Each ofus has some form of internal script or image file through which we order theelements of our life world. This research into the social and cultural evolutionof the garden can broadened our collective conceptions of what a garden canor could be; of what a garden can or could mean. Similarly, interpretive, artisticand aesthetic forms of curriculum can open eyes to new roles for curriculumand curriculum inquiry. The garden metaphor allows us to let go of the neces-sity to enclose, define and frame a particular meaning for inquiry. Metaphorinspires fresh ways of seeing through discovery, imagination, and play. Gardenas metaphor for curriculum encourages new beginnings, new forms and newshapes. In the words of Cooper Marcus (1990):

Many people passionately embrace the metaphor and reality of thegarden because it enables them to marry two modes of thought - in-tuitive/logical, right brain/left brain, feminine/masculine - and by doingso, to resolve certain inner conflicts that remain in the individual andthe group psyche. We garden because that activity requires knowl-edge and intuition, science and nurturance, planning and faith (p.27).


REFERENCES

Balmori, D. & Morton, M. (1993). Transitory gardens, uprooted lives. New Haven:Yale University Press.

Barber, B. (1995). Jihad vs. McWorld. New York: Times Books.

Bowers, C. (1997). The culture of denial. New York: State University of New YorkPress.

Bowers, C. A. (1987). The promise of theory: Education and the politics of culturalchange. New York: Teachers College Press.

Cooper Marcus, C. (1995). Garden as metaphor. In Francis, M. & Hester Jr.,R. T. (Eds.). (1995). The Meaning of Gardens. (pp. 26-33) Cambridge: TheMIT Press.

Diamond, C. T. P. & Mullen, C. A. (Eds.) (1999). The Postmodern educator: Arts-based inquiries and teacher development. New York: Peter Lang.

Eisner, E.W. (1991). The enlightened eye: Qualitative inquiry and the enhancementof educational practice. New York: MacMillan.

Francis, M. & Hester Jr., R. T. (Eds.). (1995). The meaning of gardens. Cambridge:The MIT Press.

Gablik, S. (1991). The Re-enchantment of art. New York: Thames and Hudson.

Greene, M. (1995). Releasing the imagination: Essays on education, the arts, andsocial change. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

Hawkins, P. (1993). The ecology of commerce: A declaration of sustainability.New York: Harpers Business.

Jameson, F. (1991). Postmodernism and the cultural logic of late capitalism.Durham: Duke University Press.

Kliebard, H. M. (1975). Metaphorical roots of curriculum design. In Pinar, W. (Ed.),Curriculum theorizing: The reconceptualists. (pp. 84-85). Berkeley:McCutchan.

Lippard, L. (1997). The lure of the local: Senses of place in a multicentered society.New York: The New Press.

Martin, N. (1999). Aboriginal schools facing exodus. Winnipeg Free Press, Febru-ary 8, 1999.

Mead, G. (1936). Movement of thought in the nineteenth century. Chicago. IL:University of Chicago Press.

Overly, N. M. & Spalding, E. (1992). The novel as metaphor for curriculum and toolfor curriculum development. Paper presented at the Annual Bergamo Con-ference of the Journal of Curriculum Theorizing, Bergamo, OH.

Poster, M. (Ed). (1988). Jean Baudrillard: Selected writings. Stanford, CA: StanfordUniversity Press.

Sarup, M. (1993). An introductory guide to post-structuralism and postmodernism.2nd ed. Athens: University of Georgia Press.


Schwab, J. (1970). The practical: A language for curriculum. Washington: NationalEducation Association.

Short, E. (1991). Forms of curriculum inquiry. New York: State University of NewYork Press.

Slattery, P. (1995). Curriculum development in the postmodern era. New York:Garland Publishing.

Smith, D. (1991). Hermeneutic inquiry. In Short, E.C. (Ed.). Forms of curriculuminquiry. (pp. 187-209). New York: State University of New York Press.

Snowber, C. N. (1999). The eros of listening: Dancing into presence. Journal ofCurriculum Theorizing, 15, 17-25

van Manen, M. (1990). Researching lived experience: Human science for an actionsensitive pedagogy. London, ON.: Althouse.

Wood, M. (1998). The breadwinner: A young contender for this year’s golden trowelaward gives us food for thought. Garden, Dec 98 / Jan 99, p.10.

Woodard, S. (1999). Gardens under fire: Can New York City’s Casitas survive?Garden Dec 98 / Jan 99, pp. 53-55.


Toward a Reconsideration of Biography as anInstrument for Studying Leadership inEducational Administration

John V. Brandon

ABSTRACT

The thesis of this paper is that “biography” does offer something valuable toeducational administration, and that biography ought to be reconsidered as alegitimate instrument for the study of educational leadership. Traditional re-search methodologies (e.g., questionnaire surveys) normally associated withpositivist approaches to the study of educational leadership remain theorists’predominant mode of inquiry. Such methods, however, do not pay sufficientattention to the role played by institutional contexts in the definition and struc-turing of human agency. Biography acknowledges the importance of contextin the social construction of leaders and leadership systems. The differencebetween biography and social science also relates to the level of generality – asort of micro/macro distinction. Educational leadership theorists, by trainingand inclination, look to the general, while biography deals with the particular.Biography can be moved beyond narration and storytelling to the constructionof case studies to test or evaluate theories. And it can be argued that to under-stand a system, we need to look at leadership both “close up” and from the“long view.” Previous approaches to the study of educational leadershipdecontextualized not only the decisions but the “process” involved in devel-oping them. Biography can restore the “wholeness” of the entire act of lead-ership.

INTRODUCTION

Biographies are not unwelcome visitors to the history of education in Canada.Sissons’s (1947) remarkable biography of Egerton Ryerson’s administrationduring the mid-nineteenth century will attest to that. Regardless of the preciseeffect of his influence, Ryerson’s dictum that “to be a State system of Publicinstruction, there must be State contoul (sic) as well as State law”, was imple-mented across the country (Allison, 1991, p. 227, citing Ryerson). In fact,Ontario’s school superintendents must still qualify for their position through an


examination process initiated in 1871 when Ryerson consolidated his hold overthe Ontario inspectorate (Allison, 1991, p. 203, citing Ryerson). Thus it seemsodd that the field of educational administration, where “leadership” is of cen-tral concern, has shunned biography both as a legitimate instrument for thestudy of educational leadership and as a legitimate instrument for teachingeducational administration. The main reason for this situation stems from“positivist” approaches to leadership.

Simon’s book, Administrative Behaviour (1945, 1957), was the first majorwork centred on behaviourism/logical positivism in public administration. Whilehis work made no mention of educational administration, it had considerabletheoretical scope, partly because of the theoretical vocabulary employed, andpartly because it attempted to derive a theory of administration from the logicand psychology of choice. And, it was Simon’s work that provided the mostdirect conduit (in the 1940s - 1950s) for the flow of “administrative science”into educational administration in a form known as the New Movement. Mod-ern practitioners of educational administration know it under a different rubricnamely, the “theory movement”.

Despite its fall from grace, the legacy of the theory movement is still evi-dent in much of the leadership research today, even though different method-ologies and analytical approaches deriving from the interpretive paradigm,emerging in the 1980s, have enlarged the scope of educational leadership re-search and alternative methodologies available to researchers. Notwithstand-ing, educational leadership research can no longer abide studies which still relyon simple correlation analysis of a finite number of variables, reputational ap-proaches, or the most convenient methodologies (e.g., questionnaire surveys),because such methods pay insufficient attention to the role played by “con-text” in the definition and structuring of leadership.

Leadership is both enabled and constrained by social context, including thepeople within it. Hence, the freedom to do as one pleases or to assert one’sindividual will is mediated by the leader’s social relationship with others. Tothe extent that an individual’s actions are determined or dictated by others, tothat extent he or she becomes less morally blameworthy. Leadership, there-fore, is intimately connected with responsibility (in common usage, responsi-bility refers to the human struggle to reconcile one’s individual will withaccountability) and the self-reflexive awareness of the limits and possibilitiesof the exercise of leadership, and whatever rights public servants may sacri-fice in return for their employment. Freedom, asserts Harmon (1995), has tobe seen as an intrinsic aspect of a public administrator’s responsibility, ratherthan 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 nomatter how clear an interpretation of an action from the point of view of itsmeaning, it alone does not explain the individual’s action because both con-scious and unconscious motives always drive the individual concerned. One


must also appreciate how social and cultural constructs or abstractions, suchas leadership, have a powerful - often decisive influence on the course of ac-tion of real individuals, serving to guide, control or regulate proper and accept-able 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 isitself a precondition of freedom.

The perspective advanced here is that biography ought to be reconsideredas a method for studying leadership in educational administration.

The Case for BiographyBiography is slowly gaining ground as a viable approach to the study of leader-ship among scholars in the field of educational administration. Biography is oneform 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, auto-biography, and prosopography (group biography).

In the proposal for her case study entitled, Dr. Elizabeth Murray ofTatamagouche: A Case Study in the Meaning of Educational Leadership, CarolHarris (1992) points out that the dominant view of leadership has been stronglyinfluenced by psychological thought. This view focuses on the characteristicsof individual leaders, typically, charisma, vision, communication skills, and sen-sitivity to the conflicting demands of the organization. The predominant em-phasis on personal attributes has resulted in a downplaying of morephilosophical notions of leadership that would focus on values, ethics, andmorality as well as the pursuit of valued ends. Support of the more philosophi-cal view allows us to examine the character, traced as beliefs, attitudes, andvalues expressed in action, of leaders and the meanings that bind leaders, fol-lowers, and indeed all participants together in the same social setting.

Character, asserts Kaplan (1990), is the point of anchorage because it directsus to try to determine the essential properties of people who hold and wantinstitutional responsibility (pp. 417-422). Kets de Vries (1990) extended thisargument by proposing an “interpsychic model of the mind,” claiming that ifone really wants to understand a person’s life, he (or she) must know the con-text of that life and analyze it over time as a “patterned continuum.” He alsoobserved that a study of character actually serves to highlight the impact ofthe interplay of genetic predispositions, parental influence, and the effects ofsociety at each stage of one’s life. Kets de Vries defined character as the basiccore of the individual, representing one’s singularity, uniqueness and predict-ability. 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).


Westley and Mintsberg (1988) advocate the use of biography as a means ofbetter understanding vision and leadership style, especially visionary leadershipand leaders’ vision content styles (pp. 162-212). Ralston (1995) seems to havetaken Westley and Mintsberg’s advice, because she used biographical tech-niques to illustrate the aspects of vision formulation and implementation in herbiography of Australian scientist and explorer, Dr. Phillip Law. Ralston was ableto show that visionary leadership is aimed at engineering the transformation oforganizational culture (pp. 97-110).

Stone (1981) draws our attention to the fact that not only is personal biogra-phy important but prosopography in particular adds a further dimension to thestudy of leadership. It provides insight into the larger problems of social struc-ture and social mobility. Networks, connections, and family relationships (sup-port) 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 andinstitutional history and personal biography, two of the oldest and best devel-oped parts of the historian’s craft, but ones that have run too independent ofeach other. Oral history, investigative journalism in the political domain and themaking of archives offer an array of possibilities to the historian, because theroots of political actions lie in the motives, personalities, and characters of keyindividual actors in any set of important historical events (Stone, 1981, pp. 286-305).

Wilson’s (1978) account of Daniel McIntyre’s life and educational leadershipas Superintendent of the Winnipeg School Division from 1885 to 1928, espe-cially his commitment to social control in the interests of preserving, promot-ing and perpetuating the system of values which were represented in theBritish Protestant middle class in Winnipeg affords a unique opportunity to as-sess 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 ofhis guiding principles of unity and harmony in society, and his work throughthe public school system to achieve a unified, harmonious, structured and or-derly society (pp. 1-270). Wilson’s biography of Daniel McIntyre affords a bet-ter understanding of what educational leaders do and why they do what theydo than traditional mainstream methodologies, because it puts context backinto the study of leadership. In fact, Wilson’s biography of Daniel McIntyre is asuperb source for understanding the context in which a “master practitioner”functioned. However, educational administration, as a discipline, does not en-joy an extensive literature of master practitioners – biography can providewhole lives in context as exemplars of “artists in action”. Perhaps it is time tothoughtfully reconsider the use of biography and other forms of life writing asa focus for teaching educational administration.


Nothing is more difficult than achieving insight into “the figure under thecarpet,” as Edel (1979) has observed. And nothing is more important to thebiographer than coming to know the essence of one’s subject. The best onecan do is to construct a pattern that fits well the data one has gathered aboutthe life of one’s subject. Or, as Stone (1981) has observed, “The figure underthe carpet is not so much found as constructed” (p. 291). The thinking of thescholars noted above suggests that there is an alternative way to reveal a lead-er’s character structure, if one chooses to use it. Biography overcomes anumber of defects fatal to traditional research methodologies into leader be-haviour.

The Significance of Leadership ContextsLeadership research makes use of a variety of methodological approaches anddraws from both a structural-functional paradigm (traditional science, behav-iourism) and an interpretive paradigm (hermeneutics). But one of the most cu-rious things about leadership research is its continued reliance on approachesusing simple correlational analysis of a limited number of variables, or ap-proaches that use outdated questionnaires, or the use of a traits or attributesapproach or simple descriptive procedures or approaches that use the mostconvenient samples or methods, and a general failure to account for possiblealternative explanations, or to consider issues of reliability and validity. The con-tinued use of questionnaire data from constructed, simulated, or hypothetical(or otherwise contrived or controlled) situations raises serious problems of va-lidity with much inquiry. On the other hand, while the use of reputational ap-proaches might be justified in getting at leadership style (for example), thesekinds of data are not as defensible in studying behaviour, especially in the senseof what leaders actually do. At an even more telling level, given what is knownfrom inquiry about leadership and leadership behaviour, its complexity, itssituational nature, and the two-way nature of effects makes this approach todata collection (without corroboration) more than just suspect. The need, sug-gests Immegart (1988), is not only to investigate and collect data about actualleadership situations, but also to systematically accumulate a large number ofincidents portraying actual examples of leader behaviour in leadership situa-tions.

Much of what we know of leadership in education, or in other fields of hu-man endeavour, observes English (1995), has been gleaned through researchmethods in which the context in which leadership is exercised has been ne-glected. Worse, introductory texts in administrative studies in educationpresent a decontextualized notion of leadership. If the objective in leadershipresearch is to understand and illuminate behaviour, only the use of data ac-quired from real settings/contexts will move the study of leadership beyondthe presumptuousness of trying to ascertain what leaders do from reputationalapproaches (English, 1995, p. 204).


In addition, both Hodgkinson (1991) and Greenfield (1988) argue for the rel-evance of feelings, values, moral issues, and real, lived experience in researchon educational leadership. Greenfield insisted that leadership research shouldfocus 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 be-tween guesswork and empirical assertions for educational leadership research.

Interestingly, if one examines past educational leadership research begin-ning in the 1960s, one cannot help but notice that some practitioners in educa-tional administration (Broad, 1963; Kearns, 1976; House & Baetz, 1979; Peters& Waterman, 1982; Sergiovanni & Corbally, 1984; Bennis & Nanus, 1985) ad-vocated the use of biography, because it would allow leadership researchersto look at a greater number of variables than scientific inquiry, such as the cul-tural or environmental aspects of situations; the goals and motivations of lead-ers in various situations; the role of second-level or subordinate leaders orleadership structures; how leaders use resources and array organizations andtheir members to achieve results, and how leaders get from here to there.

At present, there is a clear need in leadership research to expand thenumber of leadership variables to be investigated. At the very least, four kindsof sets of variables ought to be included in leadership studies: (1) personal char-acteristics of the leader, including traits; (2) behaviour or patterns of behaviour/style; (3) the situation or context, task, and environment, and (4) outcomes oreffects. There is also a need in educational leadership research to theorizeabout leadership. Accordingly, one might ask: “How does biography facilitatetheorizing about leadership?”

Leaders’ Careers in ContextAccording to Gronn and Ribbins (1996) there are at least three ways in whichbiographies facilitate theorizing about leadership. First, as detailed case histo-ries, biographies may be examined for evidence of the development and learn-ing of leadership attributes. Second, biographies afford “analytical balancesheets” on the goals to which leaders have directed their attributes through-out their leadership careers within the shifting demands on, and options avail-able to them. Third, a comparative analysis of leaders’ career paths, as revealedin biographies, would answer broader institutional-level questions, such aswhether a particular set of leaders share common attributes and whether soci-eties and organizations screen their leadership cohorts in such a way as to guar-antee 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 provideuseful tests of or “counterfoils” to existing models or theories of leadership,and neglect of them as legitimate sources of theoretical insight carries impor-


tant consequences for the study of leadership. For example, there is a clearlack of understanding in the literature of how individuals become leaders, be-cause ignorance of culturally diverse patterns of defining leadership and knowl-edge of the culturally different ways prospective leaders learn their leadershipis 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 pathwayfor ordering the biographical detail of leaders’ lives. By using “leadership ca-reer” as a conceptual pathway through time, there is the added advantage ofbeing able to determine the dialectical interplay between any leader’s ownsense 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 asfour career phases or stages. The first is formation, when all leaders of everytype, in all sectors, and at every institutional level learn their leadership. As partof this formation, prospective leaders are socialized into various institutionalnorms and values by three key agencies: family, school, and reference groups.These groups and agencies shape a prospective leader’s character by generat-ing a conception of self and the beginnings of a workstyle and outlook. Duringthe second stage, accession, the rate, direction, and timing of upward mobilityare all determined by well-documented mechanisms, such as training, succes-sion, selection, and induction. While they are waiting for their call to office, pro-spective leaders rely on networks of peers, patrons, and sponsors for support.At the third stage, incumbency, leaders called to office undergo formal or infor-mal induction into their new institutional roles. Each new role requires furtherinduction, and transformations, into organizational and workplace norms. But,regardless of their location or status within an organization, institutional rolescomprise three elements: constraints, demands, and opportunities. In turn, theprecise mix of these elements and nature of the leader’s role shape and giveexpression to the new leader’s sense of self, style, and outlook. During incum-bency, the new leader develops a distinct persona, projects his/her authority,expresses his/her potency, ambition and vision, and exercises the responsibil-ity of his/her office. The final stage, divestiture, signifies the end-point of a lead-er’s career, because of factors associated with aging, incapacity, mandatory orvoluntary retirement, or death. Divestiture connotes the relinquishing of office,the almost certain loss of influence by the leader and the potential loss of one’sheritage 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 propo-sition 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 tothree or just two. In effect, the four-phased framework described above actu-ally screens for (or selects for) individuals whose leadership careers and myriad


experiences can be chronologically ordered into four neat, distinct, and sequen-tial stages. In short, the framework is not perfect, but it does provide a startingpoint for understanding leadership reproduction processes, and for appreciat-ing the variety of ways in which leaders of different cultures define complexproblems and the actions they take to resolve them, and why.

At present, biographies provide the most powerful evidence of the institu-tional effects of induction and socialization in the preparation of leaders andthe values informing their subsequent actions, whatever the particular setting.But, as Immegart (1988) wryly points out here, “A number of things that canbe gleaned from case accounts and biographies that warrant the attention ofleadership researchers have escaped conscious and systematic attention” (p.269). If leadership researchers heeded Immegart’s advice, what kinds of con-tributions would biography make to our understanding of leadership?

Uses of Biography in Leadership ResearchBy regarding biographies as case studies, it is possible to link theory and prac-tice, and to test and evaluate theories about educational administration. Inas-much as all case studies, by definition, deal with the exceptional, the scope forgeneralization is reduced/qualified, though this limitation can be overcome bythe use of multiple and comparative, as opposed to single, case studies. Andclearly, to the extent to which case studies emphasize the importance of con-text (historical, institutional, and cultural) is a strength when it comes to under-standing 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 lead-ership in educational organizations is perhaps best studied and analysed froma historical perspective, focusing on the evolution of educational institutionsand leadership actions and roles over long time periods. According to Leavyand Wilson (1994), long time-frames of analysis have the advantage of lendinga perspective to the varying potency and powerlessness of individual action.As importantly, comparative biography can illustrate the different ways inwhich leadership is exercised in an educational organization, including the op-portunities for and constraints on leadership. In other words, a biographicalapproach to leadership affords a means to connect individual biographies tokey developments in the history of an organization.

Furthermore, useful lessons can be learned by studying the biographies ofacknowledged leaders; by looking at their personal qualities, their methods,their successes, and their failures. Moreover, according to Riccucci (1995), ifone compares individual biographies of educational administrators, one cangeneralize about the skills, qualities, traits, career-experiences, and other fac-tors associated with effective leadership. Thus, an important factor in explain-ing the effectiveness of certain leaders is their possession of relevantknowledge and expertise. Similarly, important career experiences may, insome ways, influence an individual’s outlook and approach to leadership.


Since biography claims that individuals do matter, the challenge is to deter-mine how much leaders matter and to identify under what conditions or inwhat circumstances they do make a difference. In biographical research, there-fore, one has to pay attention to the connections between the individual storyand the person’s institutional location and historical scope in terms of the char-acter of the system, the prevailing traditions and the general circumstances ofthe period, what their achievements were and whether in retrospect someyears later they are seen as having made an important contribution, otherwisethe result is a sort of journalistic “bio-pic”.

Problems Associated with the Use of BiographyCertain problems attend the use of biography. First, any approach to leader-ship that affords the subject an opportunity to define or evaluate his or her lead-ership invites a distortion of the truth. Here documents, public records ofevents, and the perceptions and recollections of peers and subordinates, forexample, about the subject’s leadership are critical in terms of supporting (orcontesting) the accuracy of the subject’s recollection or interpretation of keyevents in the history of an organization.

Second, biography that emphasizes the leadership of a specific individualdoes 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 interpreta-tions 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 comesto establishing a clear link between individual actions and public policy out-comes: was the action performed by the leader one that would have been per-formed by any leader in the same situation or role? Assessing an individual’sactions (and impact) against what might be predicted or expected on the basisof his or her institutional identity (and authority) and context may be useful,suggest Burch and Holiday (1996), in connecting an administrator’s actions toparticular policy outcomes. Greenstein (1970) restates the problem as estab-lishing actor and action dispensability. It is up to the biographer to establishwhether a particular action taken by the subject was a necessary condition of ahistorical outcome (action dispensability), and if so whether the action is onethat needs to be explained in terms of the actor’s personal characteristics (ac-tor dispensability).

Fourth, certain ethical problems always attend the biographies of adminis-trative leaders. Such problems concern the relationship between the subjectand the biographer. The biographer, cautions Novarr (1986), should not “love”or “hate” the biographee, nor should the biographer become unduly involvedwith him or her. Put simply, attempts at reconstruction ought to be compre-hensive, open, logical, inclusive, non-reductionistic, and non-polemical. Auty


(1981) is also concerned about conveying a “true portrait” of the subject. Thebiographer is irresponsible if he or she does not ensure that the facts about thelife of the subject are arranged in such a way as to achieve a proper balancebetween his/her private and public life. Further, does the biography convey thereal and whole human being, does it make him/her a living person, and does itshow why the biographee is a suitable subject for biography?

Establishing a clear link between individual actions and specific outcomeswithin an organizational setting is one of the most problematic issues of all forbiographers. Recognizing that structure and agency are relevant here is abso-lutely critical, but often ignored by biographers. Burch and Holiday’s (1996) ar-gument about assessing individuals’ actions and impacts against what mightbe predicted or expected on the basis of their institutional identity or location isuseful in this context, because there may be critical occasions when leadersdo exceed their institutional self in order to achieve a desired objective.

CONCLUSION

Thus far, biography has not figured prominently in a field in which so much sig-nificance is attached to the causal agency of individual leaders. And despitethe advantages of using biography in educational leadership research, a major-ity of theorists refuse to be swayed; instead, many remain committed to theprovision of behavioural technologies of leadership with narrowly defined cat-egorical views of context, even in the face of more appeals for naturalistic andlongitudinal studies (Foster, 1989; Bryman, 1992, for example). Yet, paradoxi-cally, as soon as concerns are raised about the quality (enhanced performance),and effectiveness of leadership, the searchlight of research is likely to berefocused on the social structures of which leaders are products. So, thesearch begins anew for ways of guaranteeing the production of preferred out-comes, and, inevitably, answers to how it is that competing organizations orhow some cultures seem to do things more efficiently.

It was the classical management theorists who first drew attention to thesignificance of the quality of leaders’ institutional socialization arrangements.If anything, the interest currently attached to the production and performanceof key organizational leaders has increased. The appeal of leadership has in-creased because of the promise of change, for the better, to be wrought byhighly placed individuals. Biographical method affords a legitimate means ofunderstanding leadership reproduction processes, provided one is willing topainstakingly map leaders’ career experiences and passages onto the struc-tural features of the systems that produced them. And for those critics of biog-raphy who seem to think that reliance on biographical data constitutes areversion to hagiography and theories of heroic leadership, scrutiny of the so-called “heroic leaders” and a thorough analysis of what made them the kind ofindividuals they were affords the “best corrective” to the residuum of the“great man” theory of leadership.


IMPLICATIONS

One finding in this study was that biography will have broader implications forthe training of teachers, by providing a deeper understanding of the valuationalaspects of leadership, and the preparation of future administrators and othereducational leaders. Further, over the course of the last decade, there has beenincreasingly an acknowledgement, among scholars, of the significance of the“voices” of administrators, teachers, and students. This development appearsto be shifting the emphasis away from the experimental locus (controlled bythe researcher) and towards an emphasis on the educational context and theway those who initiate educational happenings interpret and receive the ac-tion. Increasingly, a growing number of scholars are leaving the lofty seclusionof the so-called “ivory tower” to chart new territories and to interact with peo-ple to describe phenomena both as he or she believes them to be and as per-ceived by others, and to evaluate the data gathered from multiple sources inlight of a specific theoretical framework and new concepts as they emerge.One way to hear those voices is biography. However, re-centering educationaladministration on leadership through biography (and other forms of life writ-ing) means abandoning the traditional academic “boxes” and “specialties”which have come to dominate approaches to the preparation of school admin-istrators. Accordingly, how universities approach the preparation of future lead-ers will change.

NEW AVENUES FOR RESEARCH

Avenues for further research aimed at developing a curriculum for future edu-cational leaders might include: (1) improved efforts to integrate qualitative andquantitative methodologies and to use several approaches in one study, includ-ing life writing; (2) understanding, applying, and integrating knowledge fromthe 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 situa-tions in order to develop a curriculum that will help potential leaders engage inthe practical/real problems which will confront them on the job.


REFERENCES

Allison, J. (1991). Pride and privilege: The development of the position and role ofchief education officers in the United States and Canada. In K. Leithwood& D. Musella, (Eds.), Understanding school system administration: Studiesof the contemporary chief education officer (p. 227). London: Falmer.

Auty, P. (1981). The Applicability of organizational sociology. Cambridge, MA:

Harvard University Press.

Burch, M., & Holiday, I. (1996). The British cabinet system. London: Prentice-Hall.

Edel, L. (1979). The figure under the carpet. In M. Pachter (Ed.), Telling lives: Thebiographer’s art (pp. 16-43). Washington, DC: New Republic Books.

English, F. W. (1995). Toward a reconsideration of biography and other forms of lifewriting as a focus for teaching educational administration. EducationalAdministration Quarterly, 31(2), 204.

Greenfield, T. B. (1988). The decline and fall of science in educational administra-tion. In D. E. Griffiths, R. Stout, & P. B. Forsyth (Eds.), Leaders for Ameri-ca’s schools (p. 155) Berkley, CA: McCutchan.

Greenstein, F. I. (1970). Personality and politics. Chicago: Markham.

Gronn, P. & Ribbins, P. (1996). Leaders in context: Postpositivist approaches tounderstanding educational leadership. Educational AdministrationQuarterly, 32(3), 466.

Harmon, M. A. (1995). Responsibility as paradox: A critique of rational discourse on

government. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Harris, C. (1992). Dr. Elizabeth Murray of Tatamagouche: A case study in the mean-ing of educational leadership. Unpublished summary of a proposedresearch program. University of Victoria, Victoria, British Columbia, Canada.

Hodgkinson, C. (1991). Educational leadership: The moral art. Albany, NY: Suny.

Immegart, G. L. (1988). Leadership and leader behavior. In Boyan, N. J. (Ed.),Handbook of research on educational administration. New York: Longman.

Kaplan, R. E. (1990). Introduction: Why character and leadership? Journal ofApplied Behavioral Science, 26(4), 417-422.

Kets de Vries, M. F. R. (1990). Leaders on the couch. Journal of Applied BehavioralScience, 26(4), 424.

Leavy, B., & Wilson, D. (1994). Strategy and leadership. London: Routledge.

Novarr, D. (1986). The lines of life: Theories of biography 1880-1970.West Lafayette, IN: Purdue University.

Ralston, K. (1995). Learning about leading: A biographical approach. Leading andManaging, 2(1), 97-110.

Riccucci, N. (1995). Unsung heroes: Federal executives making a difference.Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press.


Sissons, C. G. (1947). Egerton Ryerson: His life and letters (Vols. 1 –2). Toronto,ON: Clarke, Irwin.

Stone, L. (1981/1994). The past and the present. In N. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.),Handbook of Qualitative Research (pp. 286-305). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Theakston, K. (1997, Winter). Comparative biography and leadership in Whitehall.Public Administration, 75, 656.

Westley, F., & Mintzberg, H. (1988). Profiles of strategic vision: Levesque andIacocca. In Conger, J. A., & Kanungo, R. K. (Eds.), Charismatic leadership:The elusive factor in organizational effectiveness. San Francisco:Josey-Bass.

Wilson, W. J. (1978). Daniel McIntyre and education in Winnipeg. Unpublishedmaster’s thesis, University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada.

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


Editors: Zana M. Lutfiyya and Karen E. Smith

Programme

Table of Contents

. INTRODUCTION

PART I:

The Effect of a Traditional, a Process Writing and a 159Combined Talking and Writing Instructional Approach on theQuality of Secondary English Students’ Written ResponseMark Reimer

Pedagogy of the Oppressed: Flights in the Field 177Diane Driedger

Dialogic Crossroads:A Bakhtinian Perspective 191on Selected Theories of Reader ResponseKaren Krasny

PART II:

The Social Integration of Parents and School Effectiveness 211Ian Riffel

The Origins of the Manitoba text Book Bureau 227School Trustees and the provincial GovernmentJohn Tooth

PART III:

Students’ Perspectives Toward Disruptive Behaviour 253Problems in Elementary SchoolBarbara Myron

The Prevalence of Problem and Pathological Gambling 269in a Canadian University Student PopulationBill Smitheringale

The Nature of the Conceptual Changes that Students 283Undergo as They Become Aware of Their OwnGrowth in Mathematical Problem SolvingHanhsong Vuong

Unifying Theory and Practice in Implementing Change 297Jaclyn Koskie

Part I

159Research, Curriculum and Pedagogy: Exploring Applications

The Effect of a Traditional, a Process Writing anda Combined Talking and Writing InstructionalApproach on the Quality of SecondaryEnglish Students’ Written Response

Mark Reimer

INTRODUCTION OF PURPOSE

The English Language Arts (ELA) curriculum in Manitoba is divided into sixareas: reading, writing, listening, speaking, viewing and representing. The el-ements 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 interactwith ideas and to effectively communicate responses to those ideas, is es-sential to experiencing success in grade school, and arguably, beyond thoseyears as well. With the importance of written communication being what itis, instructors need to offer opportunities for developing and improving thequality of students’ written responses. Grade school ELA classes presentwriting lessons in a variety of ways in efforts to help students clearly presentideas and responses to topics and issues encountered in the classroom andin their communities. In those language arts classes there are students whosewriting ability ranges from barely capable of self-expression, verbally or inwriting, to others who produce fluid, creative and powerful writing in polishedpieces that showcase their eloquent thinking and ability to manipulate lan-guage. As a teacher, I muse about whether it is possible to in some way at-tempt to bring those distant polarities between students closer togetherthrough the use of different instructional approaches. By examining the ef-fects of (1) a “traditional”, (2) a writing response, and (3) a combination ofstudent talking and writing, this study will attempt to discover whether differ-ent instructional approaches can impact the quality of writing.

There was a time when teachers, using a transmission model, were thecentre of all instruction (Hillocks, 1971). We now refer to that as the “tradi-tional” method of delivery. During that time, it was believed that the teacherpossessed all the knowledge and skills deemed necessary for a student’seducation. Teachers delivered that knowledge to their classes using a spe-cific, direct method and then evaluated whether or not the students couldrecall those lessons. Lectures on important ideas and issues and teacher-ledquestion and answer routines were intended to bring students up to accept-


able levels of academic achievement. Over the last few year, there has beena group of vocal advocates for a “return to basics”, believing that educationas it was, was superior to education as it is. This back-to-basics movementprompts the need for a re-examination of the instructional approaches usedin the traditional model and whether or not such a model can be effective inimproving the quality of students’ writing.

Writing across subject areas serves as a tool for learning in all areas of cur-riculum and life (Langer & Applebee, 1987). In a writing process instructionalapproach, the roles of the teacher and student change significantly from whatthey were in the traditional model. By being asked to respond in writing, stu-dents become much more involved in identifying ideas, determining issues,and deciding how and what to write about. Students respond in writing to alltextual materials encountered. Their writings range from free writing in jour-nals to the more formal creation of essays and newspaper-style articles andeditorials. Heuristics can provide a detailed organizational plan or guide forstudents to follow while writing. This approach to writing instruction doesprovide some very direct teacher-guided instruction but allows students togenerate their own ideas and develop the style within which they will presentthose ideas.

Hillocks (1986) defines inquiry instruction as “presenting students with setsof data and then initiating activities designed to help them develop skills orstrategies for dealing with the data in order to say or write something aboutit” (p. 211). Hillocks’ concept of inquiry also places the student at the centerof the questioning and writing process. Students interact with the texts pro-vided to develop their own set of important data. Then they dialogue and writetogether, creating their own texts to reflect what they are learning. Barnes(1995) also writes about the value of conversation in the classroom. Whenstudents are encouraged and supported while participating in classroom con-versations, they pick up on signals regarding what they should be learning. Inthis instructional approach, both talking and questioning to explore ideas aswell as writing to learn are emphasized. As a result, students have a greatervoice and play a role in deciding what information is useful and how they canwork with it.

Initially, the study determined whether these instructional approaches arecapable of producing “good” quality written expression. Additionally, com-parisons were made to identify differences in instructional effectiveness, asmeasured by student performance on their writing tasks. These comparisonssuggested whether or not certain instructional approaches produced betterwriting 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 whatinstructional approach was most effective for helping students improve thequality of their written responses was somewhat restricted. The time framealso meant that the students were exposed to each of the instructional deliv-ery methods for such a short period that time limitations may have reduced


the possibility of finding a significant effect in the students’ written perform-ance. Both Burton (1973) and Wesdorp (1982), as cited in Hillocks (1986), iden-tify that the short duration of a treatment in a study frequently results in nosignificant effect, even if the experimental treatment(s) might be legitimate.

The variations in instructional approaches allow students with differentlearning abilities to find an instructional delivery system with which they feelcomfortable. As students respond to different types of stimuli, these variedlearning opportunities will serve to create a greater learning experience forthem. The combination of three tightly planned thematically based units mayshow positive results, simply by virtue of being three tightly planned unitsthat take students through a sequential, ordered and directed learning expe-rience.

The Study

SUBJECTS

The subjects in this study were voluntary participants from two Senior Fourlanguage arts classes at a rural high school in Manitoba. A total of 30 sets ofstudent data were used in this study. Students varied in age from 16 to 18with 12 females and 18 males in two classes of 13 and 17 students respec-tively. Classes were heterogeneously mixed based on gender and their pre-vious year’s performance in language arts. Students came from a variety ofethnic, economic, educational and religious backgrounds.

METHODS

Three instructional approaches and sets of assignments were designed toreflect different learning-delivery models. The first instructional approach wasentitled “Traditional.” In this method, the teacher directed the learning activi-ties by providing prescribed material to read and specific questions and termsfor student learning. The teacher acted as the provider of knowledge and ledthe students to that knowledge in the following assignments:

(a) Definition lists generated by the instructor which students completedon their own before the instructor led the class in making correc-tions;

(b) Worksheets with questions regarding the readings. The questionswere instructor-generated and, once again, students were led as agroup in making corrections;

(c) Paragraph writing on instructor-identified topics related to the text.The instructor carried out all the evaluation without previous peerediting or collaborative writing; and (d) Expository essay writing onthe theme of one of the reading selections. The students were guidedthrough a detailed heuristic on writing an expository essay on a themeidentified by the instructor.


The second instructional approach was entitled “Process Writing.” In thismethod, the students had much more control over the ideas with which theyworked. They were given time to write about their own ideas while journallingand were highly interactive with opportunities for peer feedback and editingfor written work. The students engaged in the following types of assignments:

(a) Journalling on a daily basis. The students were given 10 minutes atthe start of class to write anything in response to the texts that theywere studying or about what was happening in the class. This writ-ing served as the jumping-off point for other writing assignmentsand as a study guide for tests;

(b) Students responded to other students’ writing. All student writingwas given to another student who responded with feedback;

(c) Heuristics were used to direct students in writing newspaper-stylearticles and editorials; and

(d) Letters in varying forms (personal, to an editor, formal) and fromvarious perspectives (first person, observer, characters from the story)were also an instructional focus.

The third instructional approach was entitled “Talking and Writing.” This thirdmethod placed almost full control in the hands and minds of the students.Students determined the scope and range of topics for discussion and ledboth small group and whole class discussions on the ideas and issues thatthey discovered. The teacher acted as facilitator, support person and initiatorby providing the initial assignment, which was in the form of a newspaper.The class functioned as a newsroom. There was a revolving series of editors-in-chief (there were between three or four students assuming this responsi-bility each day) who met with the instructor in the morning and planned thetopics, issues and questions for discussion for that day. They dealt with eachof the texts, using the following techniques:

(a) Think/Talk-a-louds, think-pair-share, jigsaws, group brainstorming andclass discussions as collaborative methods used in responding tothe texts;

(b) Journalling to outline ideas, personal responses and reflect on thetexts and the class discussions;

(c) Peer editing all written work. A variety of formats were used forediting with chosen classmates, randomly assigned classmates orparents/siblings. All exchanges of materials and ideas required oraland/or written feedback from a few sources; and

(d) Student-teacher conferencing was conducted before, during and af-ter writing newspaper selections.

Students acting as editors led discussions with their classmates who thenfunctioned as a newsroom staff working on articles, editorials, letters, essays,pictures, advertisements, stories, interviews and anything else that they could


plan and create for inclusion into their final-product newspaper. There was anongoing engagement in discussion, writing, peer editing, conferencing, moretalking, dialoguing and re-writing before the final product was put together.

INSTRUCTIONAL DELIVERY

Three thematic units (nature, stand up for your beliefs, death) were designedfor instructional use in the study. The instructional period for each thematicunit was three weeks in duration. Each class received their thematic unit de-livered by a different one of the designed instructional approaches. At thecompletion of the unit of study, students in both classes wrote the same es-say test.

Figure 1.

Sequence of themes and instructional approaches. (Four repeated measures bytwo classes receiving the instructional approaches)

Pre-Test Nature Stand Up for Your Beliefs Death

a.m. class(Group 1) Pre-Test process writing talking and writing traditional

p.m. class Pre-Test traditional process writing talking and (Group 2) writing

MEASUREMENT INSTRUMENTS AND EVALUATION

A pre-study expository essay test for comparison and three essay-test ques-tions at the end of each instructional unit served as the data collection instru-ments for this study. Each of two classes received instruction in a thematicunit, using the same texts. Each group, however, was taught using a differ-ent instructional approach. At the completion of the period of study, threeweeks, each group wrote an expository essay in response to the same ques-tion. Each of these essays had the quality of writing evaluated on a five-pointscale for content (ideas), organization (structure), style (word choice) andmechanics (writing conventions). Blind markers who had all received evalua-tion training with the rubric preceding their involvement marked the exams.The final measure was a series of investigator-designed questions for inter-views with four randomly selected students at the completion of the deliveryof the three instructional units.

DATA ANALYSIS

The data collected were the student scores for content, organization, styleand mechanics on each of the essay tests they wrote. The data were analyzedin two ways. First, the data were analyzed employing a 4 x 2 Analysis of Vari-ance on repeated measures (as indicated in Figure 1). The four levels of the


first variable (the repeated measure) were the pre-test, traditional, processwriting, and the talking-writing treatments. The second variable (betweensubjects) was the two classes, each receiving one of two different instruc-tional approaches (process writing or traditional, talking and writing or proc-ess writing, traditional or talking and writing). A priori planned comparisonswere carried out between each of the possible pairs of the repeated meas-ure variable. The data analysis sought to explain what effect, if any, each sepa-rate instructional approach had on the classes’ achievement. By comparingthe results between each of the instructional approaches, conclusions weredrawn regarding the value of each approach for the purpose of improving thequality of writing. Secondly, the interview data were reviewed. The interviewswith students at the end of the study provided their personal perspectives onwhat forms of instruction they deemed effective and what forms of instruc-tion they considered less valuable.

Data, Results and Explanations

CONTENT

Before any intervention was used, the students wrote a pre-test essay. Onthat pre-test, the students scored a mean of 3.07 out of a possible 5 with astandard deviation of 0.64 for the content in their essays. Group one scored amean 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 Sizewhen Compared to the Pre-Test

N Mean S/D Effect % ile rankSize (g)

Pre-test 30 3.07 0.64Group One 13 2.77 0.73Group Two 17 3.29 0.47

Traditional 30 3.30 0.53 0.3594 64Group One 13 2.92 0.28 -0.2344 41Group Two 17 3.59 0.51 0.8125 79

Process Writing 30 2.97 0.56 -0.1563 44Group One 13 2.85 0.55 -0.3438 37Group Two 17 3.06 0.56 -0.0156 49

Talking and Writing 30 3.43 0.68 0.5625 71Group One 13 3.15 0.80 0.1250 55Group Two 17 3.65 0.49 0.9063 82


The students improved on their mean performance after the ‘traditional’instruction by raising their content scores to 3.30 (SD = 0.53) with an effectsize of g = 0.36 (64th percentile) which was not significant (p = 0.088). Groupone 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 aneffect size of g = 0.81 (79th percentile). Under the process writing instructionalapproach, 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 effectsize 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 effectsize 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 writingwas the most effective instructional condition (F (3,84) = 1.242, p = 0.001). Con-tent was the only measured category where there was a significant value(p = 0.001) relative to the instructional approaches used. Not only was therea significant main effect for the condition, there was also a significant maineffect for the group. There was a consistent difference between the perform-ances of the two groups (See Table 1), a difference the ANOVA showed to besignificant (p = 0.002). Group two outscored group one in each of the treat-ment conditions. While the difference in performance between groups oneand two was significant, both groups responded to the instructional ap-proaches in a similar manner, resulting in no significant interaction for condi-tion by group (p = 0.311).

The mean performance of the students from the planned comparisons re-vealed an improvement in scores when comparing the pre-test to the post-test for the traditional intervention, a drop for process writing and a significantimprovement when comparing pre to post-test performance for talking andwriting (p = 0.006). While the talking and writing treatment was the only in-structional approach that resulted in a significant improvement, the perform-ance on the traditional treatment approached significance (p = 0.088). Studentsin the traditional treatment did score significantly better than those in the proc-ess writing treatment (p = 0.003), making it the second most successful in-structional approach. The talking and writing treatment was also significantlybetter than the process writing treatment (p = 0.001). This suggests that thetalking and writing treatment was the most successful for improving the qualityof students’ written responses.


Table 2.

Condition Comparisons for Content

Mean Significance * Effect %ile rankDifference Size (g)

Pre-Test Talking and Writing -0.369 0.006 0.36 64

Traditional Pro. Writing 0.303 0.003 -0.62 28

Pro. Writing Talking and Writing -.448 .001 0.68 75

*Adjustment for multiple comparisons: Least Significant Difference (LSD)

EXPLANATION OF RESULTS FOR CONTENT

The condition comparisons showed the talking and writing to be the mosteffective of the three treatments used in the study. Barnes (1995) spoke abouthow talk contributed to the development of ideas and allowed students toexperiment with ideas verbally before committing them to paper. This ap-peared to have worked in the two treatment groups. By bouncing ideas arounda student discussion table on one or more occasions, students had the op-portunity to identify ideas and issues raised by a text. In addition, they couldfind 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 timeto ingest, define and redefine the ideas about which they would write. Whilethe students wrote a lot in the talking and writing approach, their writing tookthe form of letters, articles, and editorials, rather than an essay. Despite notworking with the evaluative instrument’s form, the students clearly developedthe ability to present ideas, regardless of the form in which they were writ-ing. The mean performance of 3.43 (SD = 0.68) out of a possible 5, with aneffect size of g = 0.56, placed the students’ performance at the 71st percen-tile. Working at 21% above the pre-test mean makes talking and writing avery credible and worthwhile approach for instructors to use in their attemptsto help develop students’ ability to express ideas in writing.

The traditional approach contained certain elements in its instructional ap-proach that were of benefit as measured by the essay test. In the traditionalapproach, a very directive, step-by-step expository essay heuristic was pro-vided. The students were directed in pre-writing, writing and post-writing stepsthat required the identification of ideas, extensive supportive evidence anddirectives to redraft and revise, making certain that each component was com-pleted thoroughly. This specific and detailed instruction clearly matched theevaluative 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,


however, never in the same form as the evaluative instrument. At no pointwas there any discussion between students about the ideas they were find-ing in the texts. With the absence of dialogue, the students clearly did notdevelop their ideas to the same extent as experienced in either the traditionalor talk/write approach. The students did have the opportunity to engage inpeer editing for their written work; however, the responses always came backin written form on their original work, not allowing for any discussion or addi-tional dialogue surrounding the ideas presented.

The ANOVA also showed group performance to have a significant maineffect (p = 0.002). While both treatment groups followed the same pattern ofperformance in response to the instructional approach, group two consistentlyout-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 talkand write instructional approaches. That compared to group two’s perform-ances at the 79th, 49th and 82nd percentile rank for the same treatments. Whilethe two senior four groups were heterogeneously mixed, based on their sen-ior three English marks at the start of the year, the students definitely devel-oped at different levels in their senior four class. Group two scored ahead ofgroup one in 15 out of 16 possible categories in the evaluation instruments.

ORGANIZATION

The mean score for organization was 3.30 (SD = 0.53) on the pre-test. Itdropped to 3.23 (SD = 0.73) for the traditional treatment with an effect sizeof g = -0.13 (45th percentile). It dropped again to 3.17 (SD = 0.79) for the proc-ess writing treatment with an effect size of g = -0.25 (40th percentile) beforerising to 3.47 (SD = 0.57) for the talking and writing treatment with an effectsize of g = 0.32 (63rd percentile). The talking and writing treatment resulted ina significant rise in performance over both the traditional (p = 0.029) and proc-ess writing (p = 0.048) treatments. Group two again outscored group one foreach treatment with mean scores of 3.59 (SD = .51, 71st percentile) for tradi-tional, 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 processwriting 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) forcondition by group as both groups responded in a similar pattern to the in-structional treatments. Once again, there was a significant main effect (p =0.003) when comparing the group performance of group two to that of groupone. In each treatment condition, group two scored significantly higher thangroup one.


Table 3.

Means and Standard Deviations for Organization and Effect Sizewhen compared to the Pre-Test


Pretest 30 3.30 0.53Group One 13 3.00 0.41Group Two 17 3.53 0.51

Traditional 30 3.23 0.73 -0.1321 45Group One 13 2.77 0.73 -1.0000 16Group Two 17 3.59 0.51 0.5472 71

Process Writing 30 3.17 0.79 -0.2453 40Group One 13 2.92 0.86 -0.7170 24Group Two 17 3.35 0.70 0.0943 54

Talking and Writing 30 3.47 0.57 0.3208 63Group One 13 3.38 0.65 0.1509 56Group Two 17 3.53 0.51 0.4340 67

While there was not a significant effect for condition on organization(p = 0.116), there were two significant effects within the treatment condi-tions based on the planned comparisons. The talking and writing instructionalapproach resulted in significantly better results for organization than eitherthe traditional approach (p = 0.029) or the process writing approach (p = 0.048).The mean results for organization followed a peculiar pattern. After scoringrelatively well on the pre-test, performance began to drop. Scores went downfor the traditional approach, and down further for the process writing approach,to instruction. Only when the talking and writing instructional approach wasused did the students raise their performance level.

Table 4.

Condition Comparisons for Organization

Mean Significance * Effect %ile rankDifference 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)


EXPLANATION OF RESULTS FOR ORGANIZATION

With no significant main effect for organization (p = .116), it was interestingto note that the talking and writing instructional approach still resulted in sig-nificantly better organization than either the traditional (p = .029) or processwriting (p = .048) approaches when the data were subjected to the plannedcomparisons analysis. Barnes (1995) argued that “talking thus becomes a toolof thought as well as communication” (p 2) and that talk is used to “achievenew understandings, make new connections with what we already know, andtry out new ideas in other contexts…” (p 3). Wells (1992), as cited by Barnes(1995), suggested that “talking helps to achieve literate thinking which trainsstudents to choose alternatives in problem-solving situations and take respon-sibility for selecting, defining and planning as well as performing” (p 4). Eachof these ideas included notions of development and planning relative to thepresentation of ideas. By talking about the ideas and issues that they discov-ered in the texts to which they were exposed, students could have developeda mental construct for how they might present those ideas in writing. Throughtheir discussions they could also have planned what details were relevant totheir presentation and where most appropriately to fit them into their final es-says. Neither of the traditional or process writing approaches offered the op-portunity to practice the verbal planning as identified by Barnes (1995).

Once again, there was a significant main effect when comparing groupperformance (p = .003). Group two out-performed group one under each in-structional 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 strongerorganizational skills than did group one regardless of the method of instruc-tion.

STYLE

The pre-test mean score for style was 3.23 (SD = 0.73) with group one scor-ing 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 to3.30 (SD = 0.75) with an effect size of g = 0.10 (54th percentile). Group onescored a mean of 2.85 (SD = 0.69) with an effect size of g = -0.52 (30th per-centile). 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 theprocess writing approach with an effect size of g = -0.08, indicating a drop inperformance to just below the 47th percentile. The performance for group onewas 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 of3.12 (SD = 0.70) and an effect size of g = -0.15 (44th percentile). In the talkingand 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


(SD = 0.58) with an effect size of g = -0.32 (38th percentile), with group two’smean 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 approachesresulted in a significant effect (F (3,84) = 0.123, p = 0.702). The group presenta-tion, however, continued to show a significant main effect (p = 0.020). In twoof the three instructional approaches, the mean performance of group twosurpassed that of group one with resultant percentile ranks considerablyhigher. When comparing group performances, group two showed significantperformance gains in the traditional approach (p = 0.041), from the traditionalto the process writing approach (p = 0.015) and again from the writing to thetalking and writing (p = 0.003), while group one showed no significant gainsfrom any of the instructional approaches.

Table 5.

Means and Standard Deviations for Style and Effect Size whenCompared to the Pre-Test




Process Writing 30 3.17 0.70 -0.0822 47Group One 13 3.23 0.73 0.0 50Group Two 17 3.12 0.70 -0.1507 44

Talking and Writing 30 3.37 0.61 0.1918 58Group One 13 3.00 0.58 -0.3151 38Group Two 17 3.65 0.49 0.5753 72

With the ANOVA there was also a significant main effect for condition bygroup performance (p = 0.005). The students in the two treatment groupsresponded in a very different way to the instructional approaches. While onegroup made gains in performance on measures of style during the processwriting instructional approach, the performance of the other dropped. All apriori comparisons between treatment conditions for style were not signifi-cant.


EXPLANATION OF RESULTS FOR STYLE

The explanation for achieving no significant effect for style (p = 0.702) seemsto be based on age and experience. The subjects in this study had already en-countered eleven years of training in language use and expression. They stud-ied under their senior four teacher for their senior three English Language Artsclass and had been pushed and trained in language use and expression. Bythe time these students arrived in senior four, their vocabulary might well havebecome habitual. They may have become accustomed to using certain wordsto 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, non-significant range.

Group two continued to perform significantly better (p = 0.020) than groupone. Once again, they outscored group one significantly in two out of three oftheir percentile rankings (72nd percentile for style compared to the 30th for thetraditional 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 com-pared to group two’s 44th. This blip in performance might have been the resultof group one not feeling as comfortable expressing themselves in acceptableclassroom language in the other conditions and now feeling the freedom to leteverything loose in the unrestricted domain of free-writing. Group two on theother hand had demonstrated their competence at meeting the demands ofthe regular class program in every other writing element. Being that accustomedto conforming to expectations, they might not have been willing to assumeany additional risks in freely expressing themselves. The end result came inthe form of a higher mean score for style in this condition.

MECHANICS

The students scored a mean of 3.63 (SD = 0.76) on the pre-test for mechan-ics. Group one had a mean of 3.15 (SD = 0.69) while group two attained a meanof 4.00 (SD = 0.61). The highest mean for mechanics was earned during thetraditional instructional approach with a score of 3.83 (SD = 0.83), which pro-duced an effect size of g = 0.26 (60th percentile). The mean performance ofgroup one rose to 3.31 (SD = 0.85) with an effect size of g = -0.42 (34th percen-tile), while that of group two rose to 4.24 (SD = 0.56) with an effect size ofg = 0.82 (79th percentile). The process writing approach resulted in just a slightlylower 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 effectsize 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 perform-ance of both groups again dropped slightly during the talking and writing ap-proach 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 ofg = 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).


The data from the ANOVA indicated that none of the instructional ap-proaches 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 groupperformance (p = 0.068). Once again, the data indicated that there was a sig-nificant difference (p = 0.001) between the performances of the two treat-ment 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




Writing 30 3.70 0.65 0.0921 54Group One 13 3.54 0.66 -0.1184 45Group Two 17 3.82 0.64 0.2500 60

Talking and Writing 30 3.67 0.92 0.0526 52Group One 13 3.15 0.99 -0.6316 26Group Two 17 4.06 0.66 0.5658 72

EXPLANATION OF RESULTS FOR MECHANICS

Students have read and written for years. They have rehearsed punctuation,spelling checks, grammatical structures and have learned how to use mechan-ics in a relatively effective manner. Their age and experience with the con-ventions of language might have meant that there was not going to be asignificant effect (p = 0.500). While using a variety of forms of writing acrossthe three instructional approaches, each intervention required the use of thesame conventions in creating and developing writing. These conventions arethe same ones that they have used and been tested on for years, so studentsmay have developed such a level of familiarity that no instructional approachwas going to either shake them loose from using what they knew or inspirethem to try something else.

In the traditional approach students encountered a very directive heuristicthat guided them through a review of their early written drafts and askedpointed questions about their use of punctuation, capitalization, grammar andsentence structure and resulted in their highest mean 3.83 (60th percentile).


While not significant (p = 0.500), a 10 percentile rank improvement is worthconsideration for use in a language arts classroom.

Group two continued to demonstrate that their ability was significantlybetter (p = 0.001) than that of group one. They performed, on average, at the70th percentile, 35 percentile points above that of group one. By consistentlyscoring ahead of group one, group two established that they were the strongergroup for the measures used. As with style, all a priori comparisons betweentreatment conditions were not significant.

SEQUENCE OF INSTRUCTIONAL APPROACHES

The order in which the instructional approaches were used for the two groupsdid not appear to make a difference in the students’ performance. Both groupsone and two achieved their highest scores in the content category while re-ceiving instruction in the talking and writing approach, which they received atdifferent times. Group one also achieved their highest rating in the organiza-tion category while being instructed in the talking and writing approach. Grouptwo was almost equally successful in both the talking and writing and tradi-tional approaches.

STUDENT RESPONSES TO THE STUDY

Four students from the study were randomly selected and asked to give aresponse to the instructional approaches, thematic units and any relevant ideasregarding their writing during the study. All four students were unanimous inidentifying the process writing instructional approach as their favourite, andas 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 thatthey wanted to. Two students stated that when it came to personal expres-sion, they didn’t have to try and remember the texts, or what the teacherwanted of them, they merely had to write out what they already knew andthought. If they were drawn in personally or could respond personally theywould be more inclined to participate in the writing tasks required.

The students also identified the group discussion and interaction in the talk-ing and writing approach as valuable. One student suggested that more ideascould be generated when students discussed the materials together. Thisplaced 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 theinstructional approach used. Three students mentioned that when the mate-rials were true, or somehow connected to real-life experiences, they foundmaking 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 theleast favourable outcome. While the traditional approach was deemed to beboring and meaningless, students scored well under that system of instruc-


tion. The instructional approach that required the most work and interactionfrom the students, talking and writing, was the least popular but resulted inthe best written product.

IMPLICATIONS FOR TEACHING

The move toward talking as part of collaboration between students and teach-ers has introduced many new learning elements, both for students and teach-ers (Hillocks, 1971; Applebee, 1996). This increased level of participationprovided students with a greater sense of ownership and control over theirlearning, which, in turn, resulted in better student performance. Talking doesnot imply students are free to converse about just anything, they do requireguidance from the instructor so that their discussions are meaningful for learn-ing about ideas and issues and finding appropriate ways to express them.

The second implication is that there is room for direct instruction in orderto achieve specific learning objectives. Elements of the traditional/transmis-sion did produce positive results. What is important is that teachers do notusurp direct instruction in such a way as to remove students from the deci-sion-making process, or from making choices about ideas and issues andchoosing forms to express them. Teachers need to be cognizant of the factthat different students may learn ideas through different means of instruc-tion, and that sometimes direct instruction is the best way to help them.

Teachers need to take specific assignments that work successfully andincorporate them into an instructional approach that allows both the teacherand students to be active participants in the learning process. Teachers needto know when and how to offer direct instruction and when and how to tapthe resources, ideas and energy that students bring with them into the class-room.

RECOMMENDATIONS FOR FURTHER RESEARCH

Instructional Approaches

Adapting or modifying the design of the instructional approaches might makestudents more successful. The literature review suggested that a writing proc-ess approach should improve the quality of writing more than was found inthis study. Redesigning assignments and the order in which they were givenmay allow students to make greater gains through a predominantly processwriting 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 voiceand sense of ownership for the study, possibly encouraging them to partici-pate more keenly. Additional research into student-selected themes might


reveal a difference in students’ subsequent engagement with assignmentsand levels of performance.

Time Frame

The short time frame for each of the instructional approaches has been iden-tified as a concern. Increasing the intervention period might provide opportu-nities for students to become more familiar with each method and itsunderlying purpose, thereby creating the possibility of greater gains in writ-ing quality. Increased time would also allow for more writing instruction andpractice, thereby potentially developing better writing.

CONCLUSION

Research shows that talking and writing is an effective instructional approachfor improving the quality of students’ written response. This study’s resultssupport that body of research. Talking and writing is an instructional approachthat allows students to pursue their own interests, make decisions regardingideas and issues, take opportunities to develop their thinking skills and proc-esses through discussion, and take ownership for their learning. It is a stu-dent-centered approach that allows students to develop their skills and learnto express themselves more effectively by producing better quality writing.

REFERENCES

Applebee, A. N. (1996). Curriculum as conversation: Transforming traditions ofteaching and learning. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Barnes, D. (1995). Talking and learning in classrooms: An introduction. PrimaryVoices K – 6, 3(1), p 2 – 7.

Burton, D. (1973). In G. Hillocks, Jr. (1986) Research on written composition: Newdirections for teaching. Urbana, Illinois: ERIC Clearinghouse & the NationalConference on Research in English.

Hillocks, Jr., G. (1986). Research on written composition: New directions for teach-ing. Urbana, Illinois: ERIC Clearinghouse & the National Conference onResearch in English.

Hillocks, Jr., G., McCabe, B. J., & McCampbell, J. F. (1971). The dynamics ofEnglish instruction: Grades 7 - 12. New York: Random House.

Langer, J. & Applebee, A. (1987). How writing shapes thinking: A study of teach-ing and learning. Urbana, Illinois: National Council of Teachers of English.

Wells. (1992). In D. Barnes (1995) Talking and learning in classrooms: An intro-duction. 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 & theNational Conference on Research in English.


Pedagogy of the Oppressed: Flights in the Field

Diane Driedger

Pedagogy of the Oppressed (Freire, 1970) had a big impact on me when Iread it eighteen years ago. At the time I was working with an internationalself-help organization of disabled people, Disabled Peoples’ International. Theorganization was starting leadership training programmes run by disabledpersons themselves. The model Freire (1970) proposed fitted in with the workI was doing as a young Master’s student without a disability. I would be oneof those outsiders who would be going to communities to educate myselfabout their concerns and then lead educational programmes. This guided methrough many projects. This paper describes Freire’s ideas as put forward inPedagogy of the Oppressed (1970), and then applies these ideas to twoprojects that I worked on in Trinidad and Tobago. Finally, it will outline how Ienvision using Freire’s ideas with Inuit learners in a creative writing course.

ConscientizationFirst, Freire’s well-known concept, so aptly explained in Pedagogy of theOppressed, is the notion that the oppressed must be conscientized(conscientizao in Portuguese), (Freire, 1970). This means that teachers mustbe sent, in this case to the Brazilian countryside, to help the oppressed, thepeasants, understand their own oppression. They will become“conscientized”, they will realize their oppressive conditions. Freire points outthat these oppressive conditions are that the oppressors, the rich, keep themin 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 theyhave, everyone should want for themselves. The image of the oppressor per-meates the minds of the oppressed. In the process, both oppressed and op-pressors become dehumanized. (Freire, 1970).

Freire argues that this system does not really benefit anyone — even theoppressors. In fact, the oppressors need to be freed from their role to fulfilltheir roles as human beings, just as the oppressed need to be freed from op-pression: “Dehumanization, which marks not only those whose humanity hasbeen stolen, but also (though in a different way) those who have stolen it, is a


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 human-istic and historical task of the oppressed: to liberate themselves and theiroppressors as well.” (Freire, 1970,p.28).

Given that the oppression needs to end, according to Freire, a cadre ofeducators must aid the oppressed in the countryside in freeing themselvesand the rest of society as well. How is this to be achieved? The teachers mustknow that they cannot dictate to the oppressed, the peasants, what to do asFreire (1970) states: “No pedagogy which is truly liberating can remain dis-tant from the oppressed by treating them as unfortunates and by presentingfor their emulation models from among the oppressors. The oppressed mustbe their own example in the struggle for their redemption.” (p. 39).

No Banking, Problem-solving InsteadFreire is against the banking concept of education (1970, p.66) as this doesnot fit with truly liberating the oppressed. The oppressed must be involved inproblem-solving education, not being talked at and having knowledge “de-posited” into their minds:

Those truly committed to liberation must reject the banking conceptin its entirety adopting instead a concept of men (sic) as consciousbeings, and consciousness as consciousness intent upon the world.They must abandon the educational goal of deposit-making and re-place it with the posing of the problems of men in their relations withthe world. (p. 66).

Moffett (1983) also concurs and in fact, “Besides being inefficient and ir-relevant, exposition is inhumane. It is dull.” (p. 118). The banking method as-sumes 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-pos-ing education the teacher works with the students on the issues that theysee as important.

The teachers do not know the situation of the oppressed, because that isnot their reality. Instead, the teachers must go to where the oppressed liveand talk with them in small groups, observe their way of life and learn abouttheir lives. The teachers will learn about the reality of the oppressed over timeand will thus be prepared to help the oppressed free themselves: “The cor-rect method lies in dialogue. The conviction of the oppressed that they mustfight for their liberation is not a gift bestowed by the revolutionary leadership,but the result of their own conscientizacao.” (Freire 1970, p.54). This meansthat the teachers who will become the revolutionary leadership are not thereto 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


is related to “metacognition” (Marzano, 1991), that is, the learners continu-ally assess what they are learning about their own learning, themselves, theiroppressors and their position in society and they discuss it in their groups oflearners with the teachers.

What then is the curriculum that these teachers will use? This has been acriticism of Freire’s work, as Schugurensky (1998) reiterates:

a concern raised by many adult educators is that Freire does not pro-vide them with concrete ideas to implement in the classroom. Theyappreciate Freire’s epistemological, philosophical and social principlesto guide their practises, but regret that he did not present a specificmethod for teaching adults to read and write, or practical suggestionsto use in the pedagogical process. (p. 25).

However, Freire’s intent was for educators to develop a curriculum as theyencountered their students, “…Freire systematically refused to write a ‘how-to’ book, arguing that educators should reinvent his ideas and apply them crea-tively according to the context.” (Schugurensky, 1998, p.25). This is the waythat I have used Freire’s ideas about curriculum, as a process model of howto 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 ofwords to their own situation: “ ‘The process of understanding discourse,’ saidRumelhart (1980, p. 47), ‘is the process of finding a configuration of schematathat offers an adequate account of the passage in question.’ ” (in Bereiter &Scardamalia, 1991, p. 521). In this process, the teacher is also allowing thestudents to determine their own curriculum — what is it that they want todiscuss 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 experi-enced in the craft; he talks freely at times like any other member but doesnot feel obliged to pre-schedule what is to be talked about….He fosters cross-education among the students and they focus on the tasks, not the teacher.”(p. 98).

Both Freire and Moffett are proponents of having the students determinethe curriculum. And in fact, they imply that the teacher is on the same levelas the students (Freire, 1970; Moffett, 1983). Other educators have difficultywith 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 perform-ance, the teacher is always the teacher and in a different position than thestudent. As Professor Ellsworth claimed about her role in an anti-racist course“… while I had the institutional power and authority in the classroom to en-force ‘reflective examination’ of the plurality of moral and political positionsbefore us in a way that supposedly gave my own assessments equal weightwith those of students, in fact my institutional role as professor would always


weight my statements differently from those of students.” (Ellsworth, 1989,p.308). I agree with this critique to some extent, however, I think that anytheory which brings the teacher closer to the students, and establishes a morelevel playing field benefits the education of students.

I do believe, as Ellsworth reiterates, that the teacher still holds the author-ity and it should be made clear that that is so. Why can there not be an in-between? I do think that students will feel more comfortable to share in aclassroom which encourages discussion and in which the teacher is also shar-ing. The problem is, as Ellsworth also points out, the teacher in most class-rooms does not end up sharing equally with students and thus, “I am similarlysuspicious of the desire by mostly White, middle class men who write theliterature on critical pedagogy to elicit ‘full expression’ of student voices. Sucha relation between teacher/student becomes voyeuristic when the voice ofthe pedagogue himself goes unexamined.” (1998, p. 312).

Praxis Equals Reflection Plus ActionAnother important idea is that of “praxis”. Freire describes this as reflectionand action put together. Praxis arises from knowing the “word”. Inherent inspeaking or writing a word is reflecting on its meaning and then acting: “Withinthe word we find two dimensions, reflection and action in such radical inter-vention that if one is sacrificed — even in part — the other immediately suf-fers. There is no true word that is not at the same time a praxis. Thus, to speaka true word is to transform the world.” (Freire, 1970, p. 75).

Two field studies in Trinidad and TobagoIn my own work as an adult educator I have used Freire’s concept of the im-portance of learning the words of the oppressor, of getting people to talk to-gether, of the teacher teaching from where the learners are. I have also takenFreire’s concept to mean that words in themselves can liberate a group ofpersons who are marginalized or oppressed because the group can write theirstory and thus tell it to the mainstream of society. I have worked with per-sons who are marginalized because they are disabled, because they arewomen, because they are poor or because they are illiterate. I have believedin the freeing power of speaking, of writing your own word and broadcastingit to the world.

I will explain how I have used Freire’s concepts in the following two exam-ples, both of which take place in Trinidad and Tobago in the Eastern Carib-bean. Trinidad is a twin-island state that has had a long history of colonialismunder the Spanish, the French and finally the British. Trinidad and Tobago be-came independent in 1962. (Taylor, 1999, p. 14). Thus, when I started work-ing in Trinidad in 1990, I knew that it had been colonized and that Freire’sconcept 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 ques-tion: how do people tell their story with colonized minds?


In addition, I took Freire’s advice to teachers and learned about the cul-ture, Creole language and overall social conditions of the persons that I wouldeventually teach. I worked in Trinidad over a ten-year period and progressivelymoved from advising local teachers how to do training with disabled persons,to conducting the training myself as I learned more about the needs and wishesof the people I was working with. I knew full well that I was a white, middle-class, educated woman going in to, in a sense, do some “missionary” work;but how to get around that? This is the conundrum of community developersfrom the North who go to Southern countries. Two local organizations in Trini-dad and Tobago invited me to teach, so I took this as a validation that I shoulddo it. I did have my take on what and how I thought we should learn aboutwords and writing.

However, no curriculum is neutral, there is always a reason for why cer-tain things are taught and why they are not. I knew that I have a socialreconstructionist orientation as an educator, as did Freire himself. Eisner states:“This orientation is basically aimed at developing levels of critical conscious-ness among children and youth so that they become aware of the kinds of illsthat the society has and become motivated to learn how to alleviate them.”(1979, p.63). Eisner does not, however, discuss the oppressed themselveslearning about their oppression and then working to do something about it. Inaddition, Eisner is only addressing schools for children. In a later article, Eisner(1992) discusses Freire under the curriculum ideology of “critical theory”. Heconcludes that Freire’s methods were political and that, “In short, literacy wasan instrument for political education.” (p. 316).

Freire’s project with adults in Brazil was very successful in educating peas-ants to read and write — but the government closed it down because theywere threatened by the social implications of Freire’s methods. Perhaps thepeasants would revolt against the privileged.

An interesting dimension of the problem-posing model is its efficiencyin terms of learners’ achievement. In Brazil, peasants who participatedin the cultural circles not only acquired tools to unveil structures ofdomination, but also acquired literacy skills in a record time of fortydays. 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 impli-cations. (Schugurensky, 1998, p. 20).

Adult Literacy Tutors Association — Adult Learners WriteIn 1999, I was recruited through the Canadian Executive Services Organiza-tion (CESO) to work with the Adult Literacy Tutors Association (ALTA) in Trini-dad and Tobago. I believed that this would be a good teaching assignment forme. I had experience with the culture of Trinidad and Tobago, and I had also


been teaching with a disabled women’s group off and on over ten years. Ihad expertise in teaching creative writing, in writing poetry and prose and alsoin editing anthologies of diverse works. I thought I had the background in thefield 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. Icame from the background of being white, middle-class and having a disabil-ity.

I was asked to teach eight one-day creative writing workshops across thecountry over a two-month period. Paula Lucie-Smith, Executive Director ofALTA, wanted to publish an anthology of writings by adult learners as a textfor other learners and also as an educational tool to draw attention to the is-sue of adult illiteracy in Trinidad and Tobago. Indeed, most people in Trinidadand Tobago were under the impression that the country had a 95% literacyrate, but a University of West Indies study (in Driedger, 1999a) showed thatalmost one in four people in Trinidad and Tobago were unable to read every-day 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 peopleto tell their own stories and then empowering those people through publish-ing their work in an anthology — clearly Freirean goals. I read the texts thathad been written by Trinidadians for their adult learners (Lucie-Smith, 1999). Italked with some of the volunteer adult literacy tutors about how they sawthe situation of adult learners. I thought about what kinds of teaching meth-ods would work best in the cultural context to motivate people to write. Thetutors were warning me that some of their students just could not get startedwith writing. The students tended to worry about whether they were spell-ing every word right and this stopped the flow of their writing. I decided totake 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 ad-dition, for those students who just could not do that, I had several tutors inthe room who helped students with spelling during writing exercises. I justsaid, “Put your pen on that page and don’t stop writing until the half an houris up.” This may sound rather directive in a Canadian context; however, peo-ple have grown up in a very rigid British educational system in Trinidad andTobago. If you leave exercises too open, the students will not know where tobegin at all, in my experience. In a sense, I took into account the colonial voicein 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 accountboth the goals of the published anthology and the cultural milieu I would beteaching in. I needed to emphasize the importance of Trinidadian andTobagonian stories and the importance of them telling their own stories. Thenarrative in their head has been one of British and North American literatureabout daffodils and snow, that has little to do with their everyday lives — es-


pecially since most of the adult learners were in their forties and older andgrew up in British-run schools.

Since Trinidad and Tobago is building an indigenous literature and it is juststarting to be taught in the schools, I decided to read poems and excerpts ofshort stories written by Trindiadians (Nichols, 1994; Gibbings, 1988) and byother Caribbean authors (Breeze, 1992) as examples of the kinds of writingthat the students could do in the writing workshop. This worked and it acti-vated the schema (Bereiter & Scardamalia, 1992) of the students. They allknew about small towns, beaches, hot weather and their stories fit in too. Iasked them to write about a memory from their childhoods to get them writ-ing.

I talked about the importance of having your own “voice”, of telling yourown story and of getting it into print. I read a poem of mine about discoveringmy voice and writing to let it be heard. I discussed my own personal journeyas a poet and why it was important to tell your own story. I explained why wewanted an anthology published from the writings in the workshops. Havingsomething published meant that when you were not there, someone couldhear 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 ofspeaking when you are not there in person is important. This concept is aptlyexplained by Goody (1968):

The importance of writing lies in its creating a new medium of com-munication between [people]. Its essential service is to objectifyspeech, to provide language with a material correlative, a set of vis-ible signs. In this material form, speech can be transmitted over spaceand preserved over time; what people say and think can be rescuedfrom the transitoriness of oral communication (in Dyson and Freed-man, 1991, pp. 1-2).

In addition, I explained that the anthology would be read by other adultswho may be illiterate, and the adult learners’ words would encourage othersto learn to read and write.

Finally, I decided to ask the learners to write in a form indigenous to theirculture — calypso. This is a rhyming song that originated in Trinidad and issung throughout the Eastern Caribbean. The calypso is written usually in theCreole language, which is different than Standard English. It is a dialect ofEnglish 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 philosophyof the Adult Literacy Tutors Association (ALTA), the group I was teaching onbehalf 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 theirfirst poems and essays in their first language, because these are the wordsand the grammar that they know through oral speech. Adult illiteracy in Trini-


dad and Tobago was not just a case of adults not learning, it was that adultshad to learn a second language and learn to read and write when they hadnot spoken Standard English in the home before coming to school.

Liverpool’s book, Culture and Education (1988), clearly sets out the ben-efits of teaching calypso in a secondary school setting: “Most pupils have gotto listen to very dull lessons from teachers… The calypso then could hereadd life to their lessons” (1988, p. 76).

I proceeded with the teaching of writing calypsoes. This brought a lot ofchuckles as writing calypsoes was not part of their original traditional Britisheducation. I read out loud a calypso written by an adult learner who had learnedto read and write through ALTA. This was an example of what they could doas well. I then activated their schema (Bereiter & Scardamalia, 1992) aroundrhyming by finding words that rhymed with the theme of the calypso that theywere going to write: “what it means to me to read and write”. Webrainstormed on the blackboard all the words that rhymed with “read” andwith “write”. This was to get them started writing.

After half an hour of writing, everyone was eager to share his or her ca-lypso with the others. Many sang their calypsos while drumming on their desksto the rhythm. They were humorous songs and everyone got into the swingof it, beating their desks, singing along and laughing. Writing and then read-ing your work could actually be fun! In fact, one student handed me a pieceof paper at the end of her workshop that read, “I thought the workshop wouldbe boring, but it wasn’t!” The culture of Trinidad and Tobago is imbued withhaving fun, with “liming” or hanging out with friends and having a good timeand of participating in Carnival before Lent every year. (Liverpool, 1988). I hadactivated their cultural schema (Bereiter & Scardamalia, 1992) of having fun.

It should be noted that the dialogic tactics promoted by Freire are ideal forWest-Indian cultures. People like to speak, sing and perform for each other,so sharing their writing becomes an extension of this public performance. Thebook that was published, At Last! Adult Learners Write (Driedger, 1999a),became a kind of public performance as well. A book launch was held withthe former First Lady present and some of the students read their work. Thebook was also reviewed in two national daily newspapers, and this extendedthe public performance even further (Jacob, 2000; Hilton, 2000).

Body Image, Self-Esteem and Writing Equals EmpowermentWriting and public performance became part of a course that I was teachingon self-esteem and body image for women with disabilities at the DisabledWomen’s Network of Trinidad and Tobago (DAWN). I taught a course one af-ternoon a week over a six-month period. In this case, I suggested to DAWNthat I could volunteer to teach the course since I was coming to Trinidad tolive for the winter of 1997-98. The Board and Coordinator of DAWN thoughtit was a good idea and asked me to come up with the curriculum and to teachthe course. I located myself as a white middle class, first world woman with


a disability. I felt that being a woman and having a disability would benefit mein teaching the course, as I had some personal experience in the area of bodyimage and self-esteem and women with disabilities. I hoped that this wouldoffset the fact that I was not a woman of colour, or born in their developingnation. 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 theCaribbean region (in Driedger, Feika & Giron Batres, 1996) and read poemsand stories to them about body image and disability. We used these writingsas jumping off points for discussion about issues around the role of womenin society, the role of disabled women in society and what the everyday reali-ties were of the women participants themselves. I used Freire’s (1970)dialogical method of teaching and focussed on problem-posing and problem-solving with the class.

Women shared stories of discrimination against them in public places. Theyshared stories of family abuse towards them and other women they knew.We used drama to act out these stories, and the DAWN Players Drama Troupewas born. In future, the troupe would present skits about attitudes towardspeople with disabilities in Trinidad and Tobago at public gatherings around thecountry. One member of the group discovered that she was good actress andthat she loved it — this raised her self-esteem as a woman in her late 60swith a visual impairment.

From the beginning, I suggested to the group that their writings be pub-lished in a booklet that I would edit. There was enthusiasm for this idea andsubmissions were made. I worked together with the authors on editing theirwork. The poems and essays submitted focused on their own lives of livingwith disability and how society views them. From Hibernation to Liberation:Women with Disabilities Speak Out (Driedger, 1999b) was published by DAWNand launched at the prestigious Central Bank in Port of Spain, with three na-tional cabinet members and the former First Lady present. Two major dailynewspapers reviewed the book (Jacob, 1999; Caliste, 1999). I suggested thatwe have the book launch, send out the invitations to dignitaries and that Ipursue book reviewers at the papers. The idea was a Freirean one of gettingtheir views out into the public domain, to begin discussion in government andthe public about the situation of women with disabilities. DAWN saw this asa public education campaign to bring about change in society, changes thatwould improve attitudes towards women with disabilities, improve living con-ditions and improve the treatment of women with disabilities in public.

The books were sold out after three months and the women felt vindicatedto have their words in print. It was especially empowering for one womanwho became a neighborhood celebrity in her small village after her life storyappeared in the booklet. Her neighbors wanted to buy copies of the book andthey called her the “author in town”. She was a person who was glowing ather success and recognition. Overall, in the two field studies I have presented,


I have seen people who are oppressed or marginalized in society name theiroppression and proclaim it publicly through writing.

A Writing Programme for Inuit: The Importance of NamingIn the future, as my PhD dissertation project, I am looking to construct andteach a writing curriculum for Inuit people in the new territory of Nunavut. Indoing this paper, I have given thought to how I could employ Freire’sPedagogy of the Oppressed (1970) as a basis for teaching creative writing anddoing publishing with Inuit people. Currently I am constructing an educationalplan for a rehabilitation assistant and hearing worker course at Arctic Collegein 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 aboutthe culture, history and land of the Inuit. By no means has this been exhaus-tive, 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 bemore immersed in the culture and history of the place — that is, I will need togo into the field and talk more with the people to find out their issues andconcerns, as Freire (1970) recommends. In addition, it has occurred to methat in the previous two projects I have outlined here, I did not talk with theactual people I would be teaching about what we should learn. I talked withthe 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 adultlearners who I will teach writing, about how we should approach writing ex-ercises and what we should write about. Of course, this takes a lot more timeas Freire has been criticized for, but,

[Freire] recognized that many social activists — sectarians — wereunprepared to spend the time, and show the humility required toestablish real dialogue with oppressed people. On the other hand,radicals were engaged in continuous inquiry and self-criticism, listen-ing carefully to oppressed people in order to provoke questions withintheir own thematic universe … when asked if the radical stance mighttake too much time, Paulo responded irritably that time spent anyother way was essentially wasted (Martin, 1998, p. 119).

I will discuss traditional story telling devices, such as the pissiit, with thegroup of learners. The pissiit is a type of storytelling poem (personal commu-nication with Janet Onalik, Nunavut Literacy Council, July 9, 2001). I will lookfor written examples of these poems.

I will also endeavor to involve Elders in telling their stories. While I was inRankin Inlet in 2001, I attended a Nunavut Day Celebration where an Eldersang a song he had written about his visit to New York as an Inuit artist. Hemet a homeless man there and told the story of his conversation with thisman living poor in a rich country. I do not know if this was a traditional pissiit


or another kind of story. I need to do more research on the pissiit and I have areferral to a woman who has done research in this area (personal communi-cation with Janet Onalik, July 9, 2001). The role of Elders was very importantin traditional Inuit society and now the Elders are continuing to teach tradi-tional 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 sharedand everyone is respected for what they are able to contribute to and sharein the learning process.” (Early Childhood, 2001). These concepts are beingintegrated into all areas of Nunavut’s society, including new educational cur-riculum (Early Childhood, 2001) and the “Bathurst Mandate” a document thatoutlines the political aims of a new Nunavut (Bathurst Mandate, 1999). Theseideas are at the very heart of Freire’s (1970) philosophy of small groups of theoppressed working together and thus, Freire’s ideas should be useful to mein developing a writing curriculum.

Overall, I will aim to help the group decide how to best disseminate theirwriting. Should it be through a book, as books are starting to be published byArctic College with Elders’ stories (Stories, 1989) or should they write for thebi-weekly newspaper that appears in both English and Inuktitiut? This coursewill take place in English, the second language of the learners, since I am anEnglish speaker. I need to explore how the bilingual language policy of Nunavutis being implemented and how I need to teach writing in English, which istheir second language. The implications of English and its role as a colonizerneed to be explored with the learners and with other adult education teach-ers. 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 fitsin with Freire’s dialogical methods of looking at what are the causes of op-pression, in this case, white colonization.

In a sense, this is “naming oppression” and naming plays an importantpart in Inuit life. When people die, their names are passed on to a new babythat is born. It is believed that names hold the power of the person who diedand of all people who have had that name in the past (Minor, 1992). Part ofthe white colonization process has been that the Government of Canada de-creed in the 1970s that Inuit needed to have two names. Previously they hadone name and were also identified by a plastic disc with a number. Then thefederal government asked Inuit to take another name. Thus, the people tooka Christian name such as John or Alice and tacked that on before their onename. This is an issue of colonization and an Inuk recently won the right to goback to his one name. In Alberta law, where David Ward was challenging thelegislation, one cannot have just one name (Inuk wins, 2001).

The results of white colonization, both through missionary activity andthrough trade, will need to be explored. I will bring up these issues to the


learners and ask them to write about and discuss how these issues have im-pacted on their lives. Perhaps they have a “naming” story, or they have rela-tives that have intermarried with white people, or they wish to write abouttheir 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 con-tinue to meet to discuss how the course is going and whether it is meetingtheir needs and expectations. Issues that come up during the writing mayalso be discussed. These will be jumping off points for discussion about theirown reality, naming their oppression through written words and then throughdialogue. This will also link the written expression to the traditional oral rootsof the culture.

ConclusionOverall, Freirean theories have worked well in the work I have done in Trini-dad and Tobago with adult learners and with women with disabilities. I fore-see that I will also use many of Freire’s ideas in my work with Inuit adultlearners. Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1970) has served as a goodtool to motivate me, as an adult educator, to work with oppressed ormarginalized individuals in post-colonial societies.

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Dialogic Crossroads: A Bakhtinian Perspective onSelected Theories of Reader Response

Karen A. Krasny

Dialogism, an epistemology formulated by Soviet thinker, Mikhail MikhailovichBakhtin, foregrounds a social perspective of language and literacy learning.Since the Western emergence of Bakhtin’s writings in the early 1980’s, liter-ary scholars have begun to look toward dialogism as a way of articulating aunified theory of composition and literature (Bizzell, 1986; Clark, 1990; LeFevre,1987; Lodge, 1990). In this paper, I extend the principles of Bakhtin’s theoryto textual interpretation in order to acknowledge the active voice of both au-thor and reader and to situate meaning in the dialogical relation between thetwo.

Against a literary critical terrain divided by the “abstract objectivism” ofstructuralism and the ”individual subjectivity” of poststructuralism, Bakhtin’spragmatically oriented theory of knowledge offers a dialogic alternative whichaccounts for existence that is both unique and socially constituted. In thispaper, I will explicate various aspects of Bakhtin’s social theory of utteranceto establish meaning as the intimate connection between self and languageand determine the extent to which transactional theories of reader-response,in particular, Louise Rosenblatt’s (1968) “lived through experience”, WolfgangIser’s (1980) “virtual text” and Stanley Fish’s (1980) “interpretive communi-ties” account for the internal and external dialogue implicit in the view thatreading is a social phenomenon.

Transactional theories of reader-response focus on describing the constantinterchange between reader and text and differ from traditional transmissionmodels of reading (Straw, 1990) whereby information is shunted from theSender (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 readeras an essentially a passive player, whose main role is to decode the messagein the text as it was encoded by the author and demonstrate how dialogismsupports and extends the central purposes of transactional models of read-ing. Also, I will argue that a dialogic view of literary transaction can embracethe author without compromising the active role of the reader.


In conclusion, I assert that dialogism in the curriculum moves teachers andstudents beyond decoding and rote comprehension in their investigations intoliterature. I describe a dialogic pedagogy, which values the multiple voiceswithin each individual student and fosters opportunities for the creation of,and exchange between, interpretive communities of learners. Of particularnote 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 acritical orientation toward reading.

The Self/Other Relations in LanguageMikhail Mikhailovich Bakhtin sought to describe language and the productionof meaning in terms of relationships rather than nominal signs. WhileSaussure’s structural linguistics focused on the general rules that can be ap-plied to all speakers of a particular language, Bakhtin sought to establish speechas 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. Ifyou were to say to me “Pass me a cup, please!,” I would in all likelihood passyou a ‘cup,’ that is, a vessel to drink from because there is agreement througha “shared” or “social” orientation of consciousness. But Bakhtin’s social theoryof utterance also contends that meaning is never unitary and all utterancesare 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 thelocus where the centripetal or unifying and rule-governing forces collide withthe centrifugal or diversifying forces. In The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essaysby 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 condi-tions—social historical, meteorological, physiological—that will insurethat a word uttered in that place and at that time will have a meaningdifferent than it would have under any other conditions; all utterancesare heteroglot in that they are functions of a matrix of forces practi-cally impossible to recoup. (p. 428)

Bakhtin concentrated on the self-other aspects of language in order to for-mulate a dialogic epistemology. Like Vygotsky (1962; 1978), Bakhtin describesa dialogic consciousness, in which thought is conceived of as dialogues withimagined addressees from voices previously heard. The “word” as the basicstructural unit of the dialogic utterance is both given and created. There areno words that are not “double-voiced” that is “…every word tastes of thecontext 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 tex-tual surfaces rather than a point (a fixed meaning)” (p. 65). The word isspatialized and functions simultaneously in three dimensions—subject-ad-


dressee-context (Kristeva, 1980). Given its temporal and spatial nature, thedialogic 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 ownaccent, when he appropriates the word, adapting it to his own se-mantic and expressive intention. Prior to this moment of appropria-tion the word does not exist in a neutral and impersonallanguage…but rather it exists in other people’s mouths, serving otherpeople’s intentions: it is from there that we must take the word andmake it one’s own. (Bakhtin, 1981, p. 293)

Bakhtin’s dialogism is rooted in the neo-Kantian project of bridging the gapbetween the self and society. Dialogic consciousness depends on Otherness.In other words, inner dialogue occurs because we have internalized an audi-ence from human interactions. Meaning is a tripartite construction that con-sists 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 tosay, there is no utterance without a reply. We are perpetually bombarded witha chaotic collection of potential messages as stimuli generated by the naturaland social environment. Our responsibility to either ignore certain stimuli, orto respond to them linguistically in order to produce meaning is what Bakhtinrefers to as addressivity.

Transactional Theories of Reader-responseTransactional theories of reader-response examine the role of the reader anddefine the central purposes for reading as being internal to and generated bythe reader (Straw & Bogdan, 1990, p. 3 emphasis in the original). In transac-tional terms, actualization (after Maslow, 1954) or the fulfillment of a set ofneeds and desires becomes the primary goal of reading. Accordingly, read-ers read to extract from the text, the interpretation, concepts, or informationthat actualizes their own particular needs and desires. However, despite theemphasis on the reader, reader-response criticism includes a number of theo-retical orientations that implicate among other things, the author’s perceptionof audience, the text and its implied readers, the status of the reader withinthe social context, and the linguistic structures that delineate the interpreta-tive parameters.

Those who first began to investigate the inseparability of the literary workand 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 in-teractive theories of reading comprehension (Chomsky, 1957) and structural-ist criticism (Frye, 1957; Booth, 1961) in which reading was no longer


conceptualized as a “one-way transmission of ideas from either author or textto reader” (Straw, 1990, p. 59).

Reader-response theorists describe the active understanding of readersengaged in the production of meaning through an interaction of their beliefsand experiences with the literary text (Straw & Bogdan, 1990). Bakhtin’s (1981)active understanding is both responsive and “one that participates in the for-mulation of discourse…one that discourse senses as resistance or supportenriching the discourse” (pp. 280-281). The hermeneutics of Bakhtin’s activeunderstanding is similar to Gadamer’s “fusion of horizons” in which interlocu-tors engage in an open-ended dialogic interchange “leading to mutual self-understanding…best effected through a free and uncoerced exchange ofperspectives and views” (Gardiner, 1992, p. 113). While texts do not actually“talk” to readers, dialogism is never unitary. It depends on the active under-standing of at least two, the self and other. Bakhtin affirms the active role ofthe 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 mean-ing? The literary text constitutes another field of answerability in which theintimate connection between language and existence can be seen in the struc-ture of self/other relations. The critical orientations we adopt in the classroomare likely to be the approaches our students apply in the process of construct-ing meaning from literary texts. In a field where we purport that theory guidesour instructional practice, we are compelled to examine more closely the po-tential 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” andStanley Fish’s (1980) “interpretive communities” account for a dialogic con-sciousness or, on the other hand, adhere to the centralizing forces which serveto 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 fromEdmund Husserl’s phenomenological hermeneutics in which understandingis achieved through an anticipatory movement. According to Husserl, the workof phenomenology is the constitution of flux. Iser (1987) believes that the lit-erary experience induces the reader to constitute the work’s intention by or-dering the aesthetic effects of the text discursively. Iser (2000) contends thatinterpretation is a form of translatability and therefore interpretation dependson what gets translated. This is an important contention, which establishesthe role of the reader in the act of interpretation as being determined by thesalient 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 ac-tual text but also, and in equal measure, the actions involved in responding to


that text” (p. 50), he describes the phenomenology of the reading processonly insofar as it is circumscribed by the parameters of the text itself. Accordingto Iser, reading demands that we bring to the text our own codes and con-ventions that are subject to frustrations of expectation or interruptions in theflow creating a gestalt in the virtual dimension that opens up opportunitiesfor multiple realizations and interrogates our normative ways of seeing. De-spite Iser’s (1980) belief that “the potential text is infinitely richer than any ofits individual realizations” (p. 55) it is so only as long as the reader’s actualiza-tion renders the text internally consistent (Eagleton, 1996).

Iser envisions the literary work to be translated as having two poles—theartistic, which refers to the text written by the author and the esthetic, whichrefers to the reader’s realization of the artistic text. The text dialogically claimsan addressee, what Iser termed the “implied reader” (1987). He claims thatthe 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 re-calls Bakhtin’s notion of the heterglot text and the tripartite construction ofmeaning. However, further analysis of the “virtual text” and the “impliedreader” reveals a text that is privileged with greater authority in the dialogicarrangement. In Iser’s (1987) estimation, textual interpretation relies on thereader 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 theconvergence of the shifting textual perspectives that include “those of thenarrator, the characters, the plot and the fictitious reader” (p. 35), all of whichcombine to project the author’s vision. The role of Iser’s reader is to “occupyshifting vantage points…geared to a prestructured activity and to fit the di-verse perspectives into a gradually evolving pattern” (p. 35). In other words,the reader’s perspective contributes to the production of meaning only inso-far as it coalesces with the various standpoints in the text. In this way, Iserargues the relative indeterminacy of the text allows a spectrum ofactualizations granting the reader the right to fulfill the role of implied readerin different ways as long as the text is rendered internally consistent. Isercontends that his theory favors both text and reader, since the reader is grantedthe experience to bring out “the ideal standard of objectivist theory as an in-herent quality of the text” (p. 24). But to my mind dialogue is inhibited by theontological privilege of the text. The text becomes an authoritative voice thatgrants, allows, induces, but is never answerable.

Iser’s virtual dimension operates on the premise that the preexisting textconditions the interaction between reader and text. He (1987) states, “it isclear 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 possi-ble through what Ingarden (1968) refers to as intentional sentence correlatives.“Sentences link up in different ways to form more complex units of mean-ing….” (cited in Iser, 1980, p. 52). In other words, a sentence does not con-


sist solely of a statement but aims to say something beyond what it stateson an immediate level. Governed by the perspectives offered by the text, thereader engages in a back and forth movement between anticipation and con-firmation, constantly building up expectations of what is to come next, in or-der for the text to unfold itself.

Iser’s phenomenological approach claims, “Central to the reading of everyliterary work is the interaction between its structure and its recipient” (p. 20).Meaning is conceived of as something that “happens” (Iser, 1987, p. 22) ratherthan constructed collaboratively. These basic tenets of Iser’s theory of reader-response conjure images of the reader as “recipient” (p. 20) of this transcen-dental message and the text as the “source of production” (p. 27). The readingprocess entails a reader actively contributing to reproducing the author’s textrather than the collaborative production of meaning.

Elizabeth Freund (1987) has also cited problems with Iser’sphenomenological approach to reading. His theory both assumes the readeris actively engaging in the construction of meaning while simultaneously es-tablishes the text as independent of the reader’s meaning-making. The at-tempts to fill in the indeterminacies of the text are aimed at creating a coherenttotality—the organic wholeness associated with New Criticism and dependon reducing, or as Iser calls it, “normalizing” the polysemantic possibilitieswithin the framework of text conventions. Iser recognizes the significance ofthe reader’s prior knowledge in the concretization of multiple realizations,however his awareness of the social dimension of reading is eclipsed by hisconcentration on the aesthetic aspects of the text (Eagleton, 1996, p.83). Theconcretization (Ingarden, 1968) of the text arrived at through the schematizedviews presented by the text itself appears antithetical to the “unfinalizability”of Bakhtin’s dialogism.

In later writings, Iser (2000) acknowledges Bakhtin’s contribution to ahermeneutics of suspicion, in which the individuality of sign usage comesunder scrutiny. In his own words, he credits Bakhtin for alerting us that “thewords of a language have traversed very many different contexts in their his-tory, and what they have accumulated over time in terms of denotations andconnotations 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 toSchleiermacher, to argue that regardless of the inexhaustibility of meaning,the actual use of language is selective, and such selectivity is indicative ofthe author’s attitude to the words concerned. The primary aim ofSchleirmacher’s hermeneutical method was “to understand an author betterthan he understood himself”(cited in Iser, 2000, p. 46). In this dialogic arrange-ment between reader and text, Iser introduces the author as an authoritativethird voice. As a result, the text is never fully subjected to interrogation bythe 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


long as they do it “correctly.” Filling in the gaps to reenact essentially whatthe author has composed already requires readers who possess the innateknowledge of the underlying structures. Given that knowledge of these struc-tures is not some transcendental gift, students learn quickly to reiterate theanalysis presented in class or get a hold of the commercially prepared Colesnotes to write the assigned essay. In undergraduate classes, more astute stu-dents learn to search the library stacks for collections of literary analyses thathold the promise of providing the authoritative word of literary critics. Iser’s“implied reader” finds him/herself in an interlocutory relationship in which thetext and the author presume to know where the conversation is headed.

Such an orientation to reading finds comfortable and easy ground inan established canon since sheer repetition guarantees that teachers can con-fidently present what they have already confirmed counts in a particular textwhile absolving themselves of the responsibility of evaluating the merit of anyother interpretation than the one reputed to have been prestructured by thelanguage in the text. The “unfinalizability” born of the heterglot text dependson the reader’s sensitivity to ambiguity. According to Iser’s theory, the consti-tution of flux, albeit dynamic, negates any possibility of Bakhtinian ambiva-lence as the anticipatory movement of the virtual text purportedly guides thereader 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, issimply 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 two-way process that involves a reader and a text at a particular time, under par-ticular circumstances.

Rosenblatt (1978) distinguishes between the “text” and the “poem.” Inher transactional theory, the “text” is a series of printed signs interpretableas linguistic symbols. By contrast, the “poem” assumes the active engage-ment of a reader with a text and comes to stand for all literary works of artincluding novels, plays, poems and short stories. The poem signifies a “com-ing-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 experienceof language and of the world to the task, sets up tentative notions ofa subject, of some framework into which to fit the ideas as the wordsunfurl.” (Rosenblatt, 1980, p. 6)

If through further reading, the reader discovers that the words do not fithis/her tentative framework, then it is revised and is open to new possibili-ties. In other words, the “text” remains a self-identical object until it is trans-formed in transaction with the reader and becomes the “poem.”


Relying on Dewey and Bentley’s transactional formulation, Rosenblatt(1978) defines the abstract text in literary critical terms as an utterance or “aset of words that meet all the syntactic requirements” (p. 19) that neverthe-less “can mean different things in different contexts” (p. 19). In a departurefrom Bakhtin, Rosenblatt distinguishes the ‘utterance’ from the ‘speech act’or ‘poem,’ which depends on the existence of “a speaker and a listener shar-ing the same language and rules of communication in a particular context underparticular conditions” (p. 19). While there is an obvious shift from the struc-turalist focus on the analysis of the utterance to the transactional occupationwith the complex interactions that constitute the speech act, the unity inmeaning implied by the dependency on shared interpretive strategies andsocial structures as a necessary condition for the evocation of the ‘poem’defies the continual collision of centripetal and centrifugal forces of Bakhtin’sheteroglossia.

According to Bakhtin, dialogism naturally inheres in the utterance itself, onceagain recalling that words cannot be divorced from their particular speaker orescape social saturation. Bakhtinian addressivity is grounded in the belief thata speaker and an addressee are dialogically present in all utterances. In con-trast to Rosenblatt’s articulation, Bakhtin maintains that the “speech act” andthe inherent tension and indeterminacy of multiple voices live in the dialogicutterance as a preexisting condition. Moreover, the transformation of the ab-stract text into the “poem” is not necessarily the sole responsibility of thereader. The text is no less a “poem” when it mediates the conversation be-tween the author and an imagined audience or when the author engages indialogue with the characters s/he has created (Bakhtin, 1980). Rosenblattseparates the author from her/his words and negates the author as a dialogicparticipant in a “two-way process” that only recognizes the reader in trans-action with the abstract text. Curtailing any possibility of writing as conversa-tion (Clark, 1990), Rosenblatt (1978) asserts, “the reader ultimately has onlythe text to guide him (sic)” (p. 76).

The “lived through experience” seems to imply the “unfinalizability” ofBakhtin’s dialogue for “Experience,” writes Dewey (1910) “has to do withproduction…. It deals with generation, becoming, not with finality, being” (p.200). Consistent with Dewey’s generative notion of experience, the “livedthrough experience” of transactional reading implies multiple interpretivepossibilities reflective of the collective experience of the individual reader andthe context in which the transaction takes place. Rosenblatt (1978) contendsthat the act of reading “is the result of a complex social nexus” (p. 20)—aconvergence of the individual reader’s collective experience and the socio-physical context in which the reading takes place. The reader calls “forth frommemory of his (sic) world what the visual or auditory stimuli symbolize forhim (sic)” (Rosenblatt, 1978, p. 21). While I believe this transactional approachaccounts in part for the social constitution of the reader and what s/he sensesthe words point to, it does not go far enough to exploit the reader’s member-


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 con-nect with the text in self-actualizing ways to extend the reader’s experienceoutwardly (Rosenblatt, 1978) does not adequately address dialogism’s projectof bridging the gap between the individual and society. Traversing one levelof consciousness to another in order to arrive at new social, cultural, and his-torical meanings through the dialogic spaces created by literary texts alsomeans stepping outside of oneself and attempting to read the text throughthe eyes of the other, not in an attempt to fuse identities but to examine ourown incompleteness. In the process, we may acquire new critical perspec-tives, or in Bakhtinian terms, alien meanings, for authoring ourselves and ourworld. Bakhtin writes:

After all, a person cannot actually see or make sense of even his ownexterior appearance as whole, no mirrors or photographs will helphim, only others can see and understand his authentic exterior thanksto their spatial outsideness and thanks to the fact that they areothers…. In the realm of culture, outsideness is the most powerfullever of understanding. (Bakhtin, 1970, cited in Emerson, 1996)

The full dialogic potential of the literary experience needs to encompassthe spatial outsideness that allows the reader to step in and out of the text. Inlike fashion, Langer (2001) advocates “stepping into,” “moving through,” and“stepping back” as textual orientations “to explore the horizons of possibili-ties for literary understanding” (pp. 7-9). This capacity to exteriorize the textenables us to examine our values and attitudes against the perspectives ofothers.

Rosenblatt purports that the reader’s stance along a continuum betweenaesthetic and efferent reading is likely to direct the meaning constructed intransaction with a given text. Efferent comes from the Latin word meaning“to carry away” and as the etymology would suggest, efferent reading con-cerns itself with carrying away information, lexical meaning, ideas, or proce-dural knowledge. Aesthe comes from the Greek aesthetes, meaning “onethat perceives.” As Rosenblatt (1982) explains, the aesthetic stance allows a“much broader range of elements to rise into consciousness; not simply theabstract concepts that the words point to, but also what those objects or ref-erents stir up of personal feelings, ideas and attitudes” (p. 7). Readers mayrely on the socio-physical setting or the words in the text alone to determinetheir stance (Rosenblatt, 1978,p. 78). She suggests that no reading is com-pletely efferent or aesthetic and readers may oscillate between the twostances as the transaction with text often calls upon their “selective atten-tion to the reading process” (p. 43) This selective attention is central toRosenblatt’s definition of the aesthetic experience and refers to the degreeto which the reader draws “selectively on the resources of his (sic) own fund


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 “ex-periential matrix or stream of thought and feeling” (Rosenblatt, 1978, p. 43)and Rosenblatt (1978) suggests that the formulation of the literary work andthe intrinsic recognition of the individual consciousness are not necessarilythe products of conscious choice. The recognition of the individual conscious-ness within the lived through experience of the reader is reminiscent ofHeidegger’s (1972) aletheia or “unconcealment”—an opening to Being andthinking. While evoking an aesthetic response has the potential to provokean awakening of what lies beneath, I am not alone in warning of the dangerof the passive acceptance of an authentic self revealed through the “livedthrough experience.” In “Beyond Actualization,” John Willinsky (1990) cau-tions that the openness associated with what becomes the authentic momentof actualization “needs to be tempered…with an equal openness to how ithas been constructed through language” (p. 19).

The dialogic sphere of Rosenblatt’s “lived through experience” is deline-ated by a text that sets the “degrees of awareness accorded to the referen-tial 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 andtherefore is not comprehensive enough to account for the possibility of read-ing as a social and political act. According to Emerson (1996), Bakhtin con-tends “human beings make use of signs, but are never constrained or definedby them” (p. 4). Assuming a dialogic and often dialectical stance to readingdepends on our understanding that the inherent structures of a text, verbalor otherwise, are historical constructions and are therefore subject to the sametemporal and spatial positioning characteristic of readers themselves. Moreo-ver, a social perspective on reading suggests that the stance we assume andour resulting interpretations are likely to evolve from the extent of our partici-pation in various and intersecting interpretive communities (Fish, 1980). Aninterlocutory relationship, rather than a transactional one, releases the readerfrom abject acceptance of dominant textual structures and instead, offers thereader the option of reading against the text.

For example, as an educator concerned about ecological sustainability, myimmediate aesthetic response to Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree is unques-tionable concern for an earth, symbolized by the tree, constantly feeding theconsumable spirit of humankind, represented by the boy turned man in thestory. From a transactional point of view, reading the story is indeed a self-actualizing experience. Initially, I am, as Suleiman (1980) describes, experi-encing the “positive hermeneutic” as reading becomes a self-confirmingexperience. However, entering the transaction as a dialogic participant


problematizes the self-actualizing potential of reading and introduces the pos-sibility of reading against the authority of the text. As I assume the role of thequestioning other as described in Bakhtin’s Socratic dialogue, my identity asa feminist kicks in and I am appalled that Silverstein’s tree is granted femalestatus 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 stumpand 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 re-sponse rises out of a socially constructed female consciousness that cares,nurtures, and enables without considering the genuine toll of servitude onfeminine identities and my complicity in reinscribing “patriarchal codificationsof desire” (Pinar, 1994). What permits me to assume a dialectic stance to thistext and makes me aware of the androcentricity embedded in language andconsequently the act of reading, is not my immediate aesthetic response butthe extended dialogic activity that organizes and make sense of the more vis-ceral and emotional responses according to a particular social framework, inthis case, feminist poststructuralist theory which rejects an essentialist no-tion of a feminine identity. A Bakhtinian perspective on reading opens up theselective attention of the reader, regardless of the stance, to social influences.

In The Reader, the Text, the Poem (1978), Rosenblatt explains that a validinterpretation 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 thereader in the construction of meaning through the “lived-through” experienceis contained insofar as it does not compromise the ontological privilege of thetext. 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 thereader 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 roman-tic adherence to textual authority. While Iser’s implied readers are filling ingaps, Rosenblatt’s (1978) readers are also relegated to satisfying textualindeterminacies by dabbing paint from their personal palette of colors to fill inthe spaces of an open mesh. Meaning is illuminated in something of an im-pressionist painting. Rosenblatt insists that the weave of her canvas is openenough to accommodate various degrees of constraint. And while I love theimagery, Rosenblatt’s canvas lacks the multiple layers of meaning associatedwith a matrix of polyvocalic, polyvalent, and multi-determinant utterances—in painterly terms, the pentimenti of past lives. In contrast to Bakhtin’s asser-tion that meaning lies in the relation between interlocutors and is bothintersubjective and intertexual, Rosenblatt suggests the most actual readingsmight lie within the range of flexibility and rigidity allowed by the textual weave.


Stanley Fish’s “Interpretive Communities”Both Rosenblatt and Iser developed their theory of reader-response basedon an autonomous reader in transaction with an essentially autonomous text.The American critic, Stanley Fish challenges the individual integrity of bothreader 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 col-lection of his essays, Is There a Text in this Class?: The Authority of Interpre-tive Communities, Fish (1980) argues the case “for a method of analysis thatfocuses on the reader rather than on the artifact” (p. 42). Unlike Rosenblattand Iser, whose theories of reader-response still rely on the reader’s transac-tion with an objective text, Fish believes, the text is a sequence of unfoldingevents. In Bakhtinian style, Fish contends that literature is kinetic art, movingline by line, page by page, constantly changing and inciting the reader to beaware of her/himself changing accordingly.

To understand the interpretive community as the source of literary mean-ing, we have to accept that the activities of the reader are not regarded asleading to meaning but as having meaning (Fish, 1980, p. 158). These activi-ties include “the making and revising of assumptions, the rendering and re-gretting of judgments, the coming to and abandoning of conclusions, the givingand withdrawing of approval of answers, the solving of puzzles” (p. 159). In-terpretive communities account for groups of individuals who interpret par-ticular texts in a similar fashion as a result of their assimilation of shared signsystems. Fish posits that an individual’s interpretation is a function of the so-cial constructs of the group to which s/he belongs. Readers develop interpre-tive strategies, habits of perception and constructed models for making senseof the world specific to their social and historical positions. The shared set ofrules internalized by an interpretive community will promote a sense of uni-form understanding among its members, constrain the production of mean-ing 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 sharedapperceptive background that represents the centripetal or rule-governedforces that promote unity in meaning. The centrifugal or diversifying forcesthat defy the concretization of the abstract text by a subjective reader can beaccounted for in Fish’s theory if we consider that an individual can belong toany number of intersecting interpretive communities. Furthermore, even iftwo individuals belonged to the same set of interpretive communities, theirperspectives would vary according to the degree of their participation.

According to Fish, authors too, are members of interpretive communitiesand invite readers to apply a set of interpretive strategies. If the readers be-long to the same interpretive community as the author they will possess theparticular strategies that will lead them to the author’s interpretation. Those


readers outside of the authors interpretive community will likely make differ-ent meanings from the text reflective of their own set of interpretive tools.

Fish completely collapses the subject (reader)-object (text) model ofreality because in his view, literature is the act of reading. Fish (1980) defendshis theory against allegations of solipsism and relativism promulgated by suchcritics as Abrams and Hirsch, who Fish presupposes are likely to argue thatwithout the existence of a determinate core of meanings, there would be nonormative way of construing what anyone says or writes. Individual interpre-tation would defy challenge or correction leading to total relativism (p. 317).But Fish maintains that relativism does not pose a threat since the “possibili-ties and norms” are already encoded in language. Moreover, “the communi-cation occurs within a situation and that to be in a situation is already to be inpossession of (or to be possessed by) a structure of assumptions, of prac-tices understood to be relevant to purposes and goals that are already inplace…” (p. 318). Relativism and solipsism, in Fish’s estimation are not ten-able since no one is indifferent to the norms and values contingent on com-munal (not idiosyncratic) beliefs that enable one’s consciousness (pp. 319-321).

While I have been suggesting that Fish’s interpretive communities holdgreater potential for actively promoting reading as a social act, the image ofthe text as a function of the shared predispositions of a community of read-ers can bear a strange resemblance to the implied reader of morephenomenological theories. The reader’s loosely defined “situationality”(Shepard, 1989) within which the text unfolds runs the risk of recalling theflexibility of Rosenblatt’s textual mesh. Iser’s and Rosenblatt’s readers mustreconcile their interpretation within textual structures through the constantadjustment and realignment of their tentative frameworks until they get the“right fit.” In a similar fashion, Fish’s elusive text surfaces only in the socialstructures of its readers. The dialogic potential of interpretive communities isrevealed through their capacity for intersubjectivity, but likewise, there mustbe an acknowledgement of the intertextual life of the words themselves.Moreover, the “institutional embeddedness” (Fish, 1980, p. 320) of the inter-pretative community infers the presence of an authoritative third voice.

In literary transactions, constructive understanding does not come asa 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 com-munity is not the same as locating meaning within a tripartite construction,that is, in the dialogic relation between subject and addressee. Like Iser andRosenblatt, Fish cannot account for any possible conflict between reader andtext or the crisis arising from unresolvable tensions within the text or indi-vidual readers. There is something too convenient about the idea that as soonas a reader brings discord to the interpretive community, difference is sub-sumed by the immediacy of a “structure of assumptions” (Fish, 1980, p. 318)which purports that “meanings come already calculated” (Fish, 1980, p. 318).


Fish seems satisfied with the existence of social structures to producecounterarguments against those who would condemn his theory on the basisof solipsism. An educative application of Bakhtin’s epistemology would be toengage interpretive communities dialogically to radically deconstruct the “struc-ture of norms” (Fish, 1980, p. 318) within which language is perceived.

The authority of the interpretive community can appear deceivingly consen-sual. But consensus usually implies compromise. As David Shepard (1989) notesnot all voices carry equal weight within the discourse community. Fish attributesthe authority of the interpretive community to persuasion. However, since Fish’sexamination of the interpretive community does not extend too far beyond therealm of literary criticism, he does not consider a history replete with the grimrealities of the use of persuasion as a regulating force to establishing and main-taining authority. In “Discourse in the Novel” (1934-1935), a historically situ-ated Bakhtin (1981), writing from Stalinist Russia, manages to offer dialogicredemption to Fish’s notion of persuasion by elaborating on the difference be-tween an “internally persuasive discourse as opposed to one that is externallyauthoritative” (p. 345). More important, Bakhtin describes the internally persua-sive word in the light of self/other relations and goes much further than Fish inclearly suggesting the meaning making possibilities associated with intersec-tions of competing discourse communities.

In the everyday rounds of our consciousness, the internally persuasiveword is half-ours and half-someone else’s. Its creativity and produc-tiveness consist precisely in the fact that such a work awakens newand independent words, that it organizes masses of our words fromwithin, and does not remain in an isolated and static condition. It is notso much interpreted by us as it is further, that is freely, developed, ap-plied to new material, new conditions; it enters into interanimating re-lationships with new contexts. More than that, it enters into an intenseinteraction, a struggle with other internally persuasive discourses. (pp.345-346)

Perhaps Fish’s (1980) reluctance to explore more fully, the tension-filled andcontradiction-ridden possibilities for the word that is “half-ours and half-some-one else’s” stems from his conviction that while it is always possible to breakfree from one’s own perspective, the beliefs and opinions of others will alwaysbe 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 possibil-ity of authoring the self. Extending Fish’s theory to account for the various de-grees to which individuals belong to multiple intersecting interpretivecommunities introduces a disruptive force to the shared unity in meaning. Tomy mind, it is the capacity of the individual to contribute to an interpretive com-munity on the basis of shared meanings and to bring also with her/him, the ten-sions associated with meanings gleaned from other communities that hassignificant potential for provoking dialectical encounters leading to social change.


ConclusionBakhtin’s dialogism can extend the central purposes of transactional readingto encompass the possibility of reading as a social and political act. A dialogicconsciousness engages readers in the ethical practice of answerability, foronce we are awakened to new meanings, we are compelled to respond byeither taking action or choosing to ignore the significance of the utterance. Adialogic perspective on the phenomenology of reading releases the impliedreader from the structural constraints of the text and instead of abject accept-ance favors the opportunity to assume the various vantage points in the text,namely, those of the narrator, the characters, and the plot, to enter “intointeranimating relationships with new contexts” (Bakhtin, 1981, p. 346). But,in my opinion, the intersections of Fish’s interpretive communities hold thegreatest promise for moving reader-response from the atomistic act of theindividual to the interconnectedness of complex social networks. Bakhtin’semphasis on the “heterogeneity of social life” (Greene, 1995, p. 12) and theheteroglossia of the utterance interrelate with the historical situation of read-ers in ways that potentially disrupt the structural assumptions of interpretivecommunities 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 reader-response and positively values the negative hermeneutic. Schweickart (1989)presents the prospect of reading against the text to challenge the passivityof the “implied reader” who is prevented from assuming a critical stance in-consistent with those exhibited by the vantage points in the text, includingthat of the fictitious reader (Iser, 1987). It helps to remind one that Iser’s ficti-tious reader is a construct of the author and is not synonymous with the realreader. Generally, transactional theories of reader-response subscribe to thepositive hermeneutic, which amounts to reading as a self-confirming experi-ence through personal and psychological response. Such submission doesnot adequately account for either literature as a social institution or readingas a learned and therefore highly socialized activity (Schweickart, 1989). Asocial perspective on reading compels us to examine how texts are con-structed and how that construction contributes to the dialogic inclusion orexclusion of particular communities of readers. A critical consciousness en-compasses the possibility of applying, among others, perspectives rooted inMarxism, feminism, cultural theory, queer theory, postcolonial theory, andAfrican-American studies to expose the hegemonic power structures inher-ent in reading and composition and elucidate the unwitting compliance of thosemarginalized. In terms of classroom practice, teachers must ask themselveswhether students are expected to reconcile their identities with a “livedthrough experience” prescribed by textual parameters.


REFERENCES

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Bakhtin, M. (1986). Speech genres and other late essays (V. McGee, Trans.).Austin, TX: University of Texas Press.

Bizzell, P. (1986). On the possibility of a unified theory of composition and litera-ture. Rhetoric Review 4, 174-80.

Bogdan, D., & Straw, S. (1990). Beyond communication: Reading comprehensionand criticism. Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook Publishers.

Booth, W. (1961). The rhetoric of fiction. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

Chomsky, N. (1957). Syntactic structures. The Hague: Mouton.

Clark, G. (1990). Dialogue, dialectic, and conversation: A social perspective on thefunction of writing. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press.

Eagleton, T. (1996). Literary theory: An introduction. Minneapolis, MN: Universityof Minnesota Press.

Eco, U. (1979). The role of the reader: Explorations in the semiotics of texts.Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.

Emerson, C. (1999). Critical essays on Mikhail Bakhtin. New York: G. K. Hall & Co.

Fish, S. (1980). Is there a text in this class?: The authority of interpretive commu-nities. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Freund, E. (1987). The return of the reader: Reader-response criticism. New York:Methuen.

Frye, N. (1957). Anatomy of criticism: Four essays. Princeton, NJ: PrincetonUniversity Press.

Gardiner, M. (1992). The dialogics of critique: M. M. Bakhtin and the theory ofideology. London: Routledge.

Greene, M. (1995). Releasing the imagination: Essays on education, the arts, andsocial change. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass Publishers.

Heidegger, M. (1971). The origin of the work of art. In poetry, language, and thought,(pp. 17-87). New York: Harper & Row.

Holquist, M. (1980). Glossary. In M. Holquist (Ed.), The dialogic imagination: Fouressays by M. M. Bakhtin, (pp. 423-434). Austin, TX: University of TexasPress.

Holquist, M. (1990). Dialogism: Bakhtin and his world. London: Routledge.

Iser, W. (1978). The act of reading: A theory of aesthetic response. Baltimore, MD:The John Hopkin’s University Press

Iser, W. (1980). The Reading Process: A Phenomenological Approach. In J.Tompkins (Ed.), Reader-response criticism: From formalism to post-struc-turalism. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press.

Iser, W. (2000). The range of interpretation. New York: Columbia University Press.

Kristeva, J. (1980). Desire in language (T. Gora, A Jardine & L. Roudiez, trans).New York: Columbia University Press.


LeFevre, K. B. (1987). Invention as a social act. Carbondale, IL: Southern IllinoisUniversity Press.

Lodge, D. (1990). After Bakhtin: Essays on fiction and criticism. London: Routledge.

Mihailovic, A. (1997). Corporeal words: Mikhail Bakhtin’s theology of discourse.Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press.

Maslow, A. (1954). Motivation and personality. New York: Harper.

Pinar, W. (1994). Autobiography, politics and sexuality. New York: Peter LangPublishing.

Rosenblatt, L. (1968). Literature as exploration. New York: Noble and Noble Pub-lishers.

Rosenblatt, L. (1978). The reader, the text, the poem. Carbondale, IL: SouthernIllinois University Press.

Rosenblatt, L. (1993). The literary transaction: Evocation and response. InK. Holland, R. Hungerford & S. Ernst (Eds.), Journeying, (pp. 6-23).Portsmouth, NH Heinemann.

Saussure, F. (1959). Course in general linguistics. New York: McGraw-Hill.

Schweickart, P. (1989). Reading ourselves: Toward a feminist theory of reading.In E. Showalter (Ed.), Speaking of gender. New York: Routledge.

Shepard, D. (1989). Bakhtin and the reader. In K Hirschkop and D. Shepard (Eds.),Bakhtin and cultural theory, (pp. 91-108). Manchester, UK: ManchesterUniversity Press.

Showalter, E. (1989). Speaking of gender. New York, NY: Routledge.

Straw, S. (1990a). Conceptualizations of communication in the history of literarytheory. In D. Bogdan & S. Straw (Eds.), Beyond communication.Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook Publishers.

Straw, S. (1992). I’m not gay…but my husband is: Silence as response to main-stream literature. A paper presented at the Annual Conference of CollegeComposition and Communication, Cincinnati, Ohio, March 19, 1992.

Straw, S. & Bogdan, D. (1993). Constructive reading: Teaching beyond communi-cation.Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook Publishers.

Suleiman, S. (1980). The reader in the text: Essays on audience and interpreta-tion. Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press.

Tompkins, J. (1980). Reader-response criticism: From formalism to post-structuralism.Baltimore, MD: The John Hopkins University Press.

Voloshinov, V. (1929/1986). Marxism and the philosophy of language (L. Matejkaand I. Titunik, Trans.). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Vygotsky, L. (1978). Mind in society. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Vygotsky, L. (1962). Thought and language, (E. Hanfmann and G. Vakar, Eds. &Trans.). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Willinsky, J. (1990). Beyond actualization. In S. Straw & D. Bogdan (Eds.)Constructive reading, (pp. 15-29). Portsmouth NH: Boynton/Cook.

Part II


The Social Integration of Parents asan Aspect of School Effectiveness

Iain T. Riffel

This study examined the degree to which parents think they are socially inte-grated into their children’s schools. In this article, the background, the pur-pose, the theoretical and the practical significance of the study are presented.The theoretical framework and methodology in conducting the empirical in-vestigation for the study are explained. Finally, some findings and the impli-cations for theory, practice and future research are discussed.

BACKGROUND

In the 1996-1997 school year, a directive called School-Based Planning: AContinuous Process for Effective Education and Resource for Developing andImplementing 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, plannedactions to achieve the goals, and indicators of success. It was also expectedthat the plan would be developed using a theoretical framework, such asschool effectiveness, and that data would be collected and analyzed withinsuch a framework. Furthermore, it was expected that educators and parentswould be involved in generating the instrument to collect data, in analyzingthe data, and, in general, having their involvement reflected in the plan.

This study focuses upon the strategy of one Winnipeg school division torespond to this policy directive and these expectations. This school divisionstruck school-planning teams to review Lezotte’s (1988, 1991) model for ef-fective schools. The school-planning teams included educators and parentsfrom ten of sixteen schools in the division. All educators, parents and studentsin grades five through senior one were then surveyed by questionnaire, us-ing an inquiry adapted from Lezotte’s (1988, 1991) framework. The data andanalysis, provided by a local Winnipeg research company, informed the school-planning teams about the priorities of educators, parents, and students acrosseach of a number of areas, and identified the areas each group thought theschool was doing well in, and the areas each group thought required moreattention.


PURPOSE

This study is an empirical investigation of the degree to which parents per-ceive they are socially integrated in the schools their children attend. The prob-lems this study attempts to address are both theoretical and practical. Becauseschool effectiveness models are, for the most part, goal-oriented and are criti-cized on theoretical and methodological grounds, it was of theoretical inter-est to develop a model that examines schools and their effectiveness from asocial-systems point of view, where an aspect of school culture is specifiedand compared between schools in an empirically legitimate way. This studyalso attempts to remedy some of the limitations in the original survey con-ducted by the research company. Specifically, the original data are re-exam-ined and given an explicit theoretical interpretation. In turn, the empiricalinvestigation, cast in this theoretical framework, compares four similar schoolsfrom which specific findings are obtained, discussed, and recommendationsare proposed.

THEORETICAL SIGNIFICANCE

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 devel-oped and the data are analyzed in a novel way. The framework used to de-velop this model is derived from the sociological literature on alienation.Dimensions of alienation, as proposed by Seeman (1959, 1972, 1983), are re-conceptualized into dimensions of social integration. These dimensions arethen used to interpret the experiences of parents in their children’s classroomsand schools.

There is general agreement among school effectiveness and school im-provement 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 hav-ing higher student achievement and staff productivity share many traits. How-ever, there is little direct evidence that indicates which specific improvementswill yield increases in student performance, that is, causal relationships arevery difficult to establish. According to Clark, Lotto, and Astuto (1989), “theyield of school effects correlated with school outcomes from the traditionalschool effectiveness studies has been modest” (p. 164). Such assertions areoften contested because they are either inferred or appear marginally eviden-tiary. 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, meth-odological and theoretical grounds” (p. 259). Over time, these criticisms haveundermined the theory and research on school effectiveness because there


are few, if any, studies that rely on either comparative or longitudinal data thatcould establish, sufficiently, cause-effect relationships.

This study is significant to the theory and research on school effectivenessand school improvement, because it develops a social-systems model forexamining schools.

Time after time observers report that the organizational climate in suc-cessful school is obvious but hard to specify. Successful schools workfor all people in the building. They are not schools for students; norare they schools for teachers and administrators. They work for adultsand children and adolescents. ... Good schools are good places tolive and work, for everybody (Clark, Lotto, & Astuto, 1989, p. 183).

According to Owens (2001), some of the characteristics that have beenassociated with effective schools are less crucial than “the sense of commu-nity, in which alienation is reduced and a sense of mutual sharing is strength-ened” (p. 126).

Thus, the discussion on alienation is renewed and social integration is de-veloped as a line of inquiry for examining the effectiveness of schools. Seeman(1983) acknowledges the disenchantment on the part of theorists and re-searchers with alienation and its negative portrayal of current social condi-tions; a negativity that has probably contributed to decreasing interest in thisline of social inquiry. He offers social integration as an alternative because:

the negative word alienation, when seen in its positive side and in abroad sense, signifies membership – meaning the variety of funda-mental ways in which the individual is grounded in society: by wayof 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 sig-nificant because the effective organization is equally concerned about inca-pacitating people and placing undue strain upon its members as it is withstudent 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 theirinteraction within these organizations” (Clark, Lotto, & Astuto, 1989, p. 168).Hoy and Ferguson (1989) compare the goal-oriented and social-systems mod-els, 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 evalua-tive criteria, and thus a single statement about organizational effec-tiveness. The goal model stresses the successful attainment of spe-cific objectives, while the systems model is more concerned with


internal consistency, the ability to adapt and the optimization of re-sources. ... It is assumed that all formal organizations, such as schools,attempt to achieve certain objectives and to develop group productsthrough the manipulation of material and human resources; hencethis study of effectiveness is concerned with both organizationalmeans and ends. ... Consequently, organizational effectiveness isdefined as the extent to which any organization as a social system,given certain resources and means, fulfills its objectives without in-capacitating its means and resources and without placing undue strainupon its members (pp. 262-263).

When considering organizations, like schools, that depend on the manipu-lation of human resources (means), which are seeking to achieve increasedstudent achievement and staff performance (ends), attention to the aliena-tion of individuals is especially relevant. For example, Seeman (1972) observesthat changes are underway in the sphere of work where the trend is towardengagement and professionalization. This un-alienated state is seemingly re-lated 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 theobverse of powerlessness; understanding vs. meaninglessness; trustand social regulation vs. normlessness; cultural commitment vs. valueisolation; intrinsic work orientation vs. self-estrangement; andcolleagueship vs. social isolation (pp. 520-521).

However, Seeman (1972) acknowledges the question of socialization alsoremains one of the most neglected areas of work, much like alienation, byvirtue of the decreasing interest observed in the literature. In the sphere ofwork, Seeman (1972) recommends that future research place greater empha-sis on the solution theme, where engagement, not alienation, is the focus.

PRACTICAL SIGNIFICANCE

This study is of practical interest because it shows that there are similaritiesand differences between schools in the social integration of parents. This studyassumes that schools can make a difference, that is, schools can have posi-tive effects on student achievement, staff productivity, and parental engage-ment, when schools improve in certain aspects of their operation. Parentalinvolvement in schools is also widely considered a feature of effective schoolsand 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 ofpractical interest to examine what parents think about their connection with


and involvement in their children’s school, as an aspect of that school’s effec-tiveness. Thus, this study focuses on parents’ sense of engagement and ef-ficacy in their children’s school, in light of their own experience, given the waysthat they are or are not involved, and, of course, their perceptions of their chil-dren’s experience in classrooms and schools. According to Epstein (1995):

If educators view children simply as students, they are likely to seethe family as separate from the school. If educators view studentsas children, they are likely to see both the family and the communityas partners with the school in children’s education and development(p. 701).

Thus, this study is relevant to practitioners because the secondary exami-nation of existing data provides the basis for discussing the ways by whichsystem administrators, school principals and teachers might more effectivelypromote the social integration of parents in their children’s schools. This studyoffers a means for them to inform the development of policy and devise rec-ommendations for school improvement because it also offers a frameworkthat attempts to relate the social integration of parents to matters of institu-tional effectiveness.

This study also attempts to address, in part, the inability of school-plan-ning teams to identify achievable goals and to recommend plans for improv-ing those things that will most likely make a difference in schools. Thecriticisms of the research on effectiveness and school improvement are ech-oed in the difficulties the local school-planning teams experienced in analyzingthe original school effectiveness data provided the research company.

Firstly, what constituted a “high” or “low” score for a given area or for agiven item in the original questionnaire was left to local interpretation. Also,the original report did not provide each school with any comparative data fromall schools in the division. Overall areas of strength from school to school werenot presented, nor were data on areas that required attention. The absenceof comparative data undermined the potential for school administrators to learnfrom each other in meaningful ways.

Secondly, school-planning teams were left to facilitate the interpretationof the data with their local staff and parent groups, this from their limited knowl-edge of the research on effective schools and school improvement. A limitedknowledge of this research literature and research methods undermined theirability to affirm or contest findings in legitimate ways.

Thirdly, because school-planning teams were not able to examine the origi-nal data, the discovery and interpretation of other patterns that emerged inthe data could not be attempted. The desirability of regrouping items or cat-egorizing questions under different frameworks was considered by someschool-planning teams but was not seen as being feasible.


THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK

The original survey that this study relied upon for its data was inspired by thework of Lezotte (1988, 1991), who identifies several areas that promote schooleffectiveness. These areas include a safe and orderly environment, a clearand focused mission, a climate of high expectations, opportunities to learn,monitoring of student progress, and home-school partnerships. It is apparentthat throughout the literature on school effectiveness, and across each ofLezotte’s (1988, 1991) areas for school improvement, a strong themeemerges. Parents’ estimation of their children’s school’s effectiveness is re-lated to the degree to which parents think they influence the school’s direc-tion, influence decisions about their children, share values and goals withothers, agree with others in matters of behavior, participate in their children’seducation, and value the school experience of their children.

Just as in the original survey, parents’ impressions about their schools weregathered to identify needs and suggest improvements using Lezotte’s (1988,1991) school effectiveness framework, this study examines those same par-ents’ impressions using a different theoretical framework, that is, social inte-gration. In light of Seeman’s (1959, 1972, 1983) dimensions of alienation, atheoretical model for social integration is constructed for this study. Dimen-sions of powerfulness, meaningfulness, normfulness, inclusion, and satisfac-tion serve to describe the degree to which parents think they are sociallyintegrated into their children’s schools and classrooms.

Firstly, powerfulness is defined by the parents’ view of their ability to in-fluence the decisions and direction of the school in ways that affect their chil-dren’s lives. Powerfulness is a function of parental involvement in developingthe mission, goals, plans for improving the school, and in making decisionsabout their children.

The second dimension, meaningfulness, is defined by the parents’ senseof connection to the values and goals of the school. Meaningfulness is a func-tion of the positive experience of parents, and understanding with other par-ents and educators that classroom and school activities are important and havepurpose.

Thirdly, normfulness is defined by the parents’ view of the acceptability ofthe behaviors of teachers and students in achieving their goals. Within theclassroom, normfulness is, in large part, a function of the parents’ view thatteachers display appropriate attitudes, work habits, and keep their studentsinterested and progressing. Within the school, in general, normfulness is afunction of the parents’ view that expectations for achievement and personalbehavior are clearly set and that expectations for relationships between par-ticipants in the school are defined and respected.

Fourthly, inclusion is defined by the parents’ involvement in their children’seducation. Within the classroom, inclusion is, in large part, a function of theparents’ view that teachers communicate with them regularly to help them


understand the curriculum and inform them about their children’s progress.In this context, feelings of trust and the realization that parents and teachersshare similar goals influences their perceptions of inclusion. Within the school,inclusion is a function of the parents’ view that they are actively involved withteachers and are working together. The belief that parents are welcome inclassrooms and schools influences their perceptions of inclusion.

Finally, satisfaction, as the fifth dimension of social integration, is definedby the parents’ perception of the happiness and success experienced by theirchildren at school. From the perspective of parents, their perceptions of sat-isfaction are mostly a function of their observations of their children’s experi-ences. Within the classroom, satisfaction is, in large part, a function of theparents’ view that teachers celebrate their children’s accomplishments andhighlight their progress. Within the school, in general, satisfaction is a func-tion of the parents’ view that their children are happy to go to school. Thisindicates to parents that their children are safe, connected to others, inter-ested, and successful.

Thus, this study and the original survey are united in their recognition thatparents develop impressions about schools either from direct observation andtheir own experience, or by reflecting upon the experience of their children.However, in contrast, the framework of this study explores the degree to whichparents report their sense of social integration beyond the single category of“home-school partnerships”. That is, the social integration of parents is ex-amined across all areas of school effectiveness originally identified. Becausethese perceptions relate to several aspects of a school’s operation - missionand goals, climate, ethos, values, and relationships - the perceived social in-tegration of parents can rightly be considered a broadly based measure of aschool’s effectiveness.

METHODOLOGY

Although ten schools participated in the original survey, only four schools,comparable in program, size, and survey response rate, were selected for thisstudy. The schools, identified by pseudonyms, were Parkland, Westview,Hillcrest, and Lakeside. At the time of the original survey, 165 families weresurveyed at Parkland, 178 at Westview, 253 at Hillcrest, and 339 families atLakeside. The response rates for the original survey were 51% at Parkland,75% Hillcrest, 80% at Lakeside, and 82% at Westview. All four schools se-lected are Early-Middle Years schools; Westview and Hillcrest are similar be-cause they are both dual-track schools, where English instruction and Frenchimmersion programs are delivered; Parkland and Lakeside are both Englishinstruction schools.

Although there are five variables that measure the degree to which par-ents think they are socially integrated into schools, other than for the power-fulness variable, each of the other variables were examined in two ways. That


is, there are two meaningfulness variables, one related to school values andthe 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 operationalizedand 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 firstregrouped conceptually, then, justified empirically. That is, regrouped itemsfrom the original survey were correlated in order to verify that they measuredrelated aspects. Then, descriptive statistics were produced for each variableand scores were skewed to the right. Descriptive statistics were also pro-duced for each of the items within each variable for each of the schools sothat trends observed in the perceptions of parents could be highlighted.

FINDINGS

In order to examine whether parents experience social integration differentlyin different schools, the data were examined in several ways. For the purposesof this article, however, only the mean score for each variable in each schoolis 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 mean-ingfulness of school goals, “Nc” represents normfulness in the classroom,“Ns” represents normfulness in the school, “Ic” represents inclusion in theclassroom, “Is” represents inclusion in the school, “Sc” represents satisfac-tion 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 eachschool. This table shows that two schools, Parkland and Hillcrest, have thehighest mean scores across all the variables. The two schools that show thelowest mean scores across the variables are Westview and Lakeside. Thetable also shows that there are few differences between the schools that are5% or more. It is also noted that the two variables that show the highest meanscores across the schools are satisfaction in the school (Ss) and meaningful-ness of school values (Mv). The variable that shows the lowest mean scoreacross the schools is powerfulness (P). Moreover, the dimensions of socialintegration experienced by parents in the context of the school (Ns, Is andSs) show higher mean scores than the same dimensions experienced by par-ents in the context of the classroom (Nc, Ic, and Sc).


Table 1

Mean Percentages for Each Variable in Each School

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, thistable shows that two schools, Parkland and Hillcrest, have the highest per-centage of parents who answered “always” and “often” to all items withineach of the variables. The two schools where the least percentage of parentsconsistently 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 sat-isfaction in the school (Ss) and meaningfulness of school goals (Mg). The vari-ables that show the lowest percentage of parents who answered “always”and “often” to all of the items within each of the variables are normfulness inthe classroom (Nc) and, powerfulness (P). Again, the dimensions of social in-tegration experienced by parents in the context of the school (Ns, Is and Ss)show higher mean scores than the same dimensions experienced by parentsin the context of the classroom (Nc, Ic, and Sc).

Table 2

Percentage of Parents Who Answered “Always” and “Often” toAll Items for Each Variable in Each School

School VariablesP 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

School VariablesP 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


These findings show that parents at some schools consistently experiencehigher social integration than parents do at other schools. Parkland has thehighest mean in most variables (P, Nc, Ns, Ic, Sc and Ss), the second highestmean in the Is variable, the highest percentage of parents who answered “al-ways” 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 hasthe highest mean in the Is variable, the second highest mean in three vari-ables (Nc, Ns, and Ic), the highest percentage of parents who answered al-ways” and “often” to all of the items in the Nc variable, and the second highestpercentage in four variables (Ns, Ic, Is, and Ss). Conversely, Lakeside has thelowest mean in most variables (P, Nc, Ns, Ic, Is, Sc and Ss) and the lowestpercentages of parents who answered “always” and “often” to all the itemsin most variables (Mv, Mg, Nc, Ns, Ic, Is, Sc and Ss). Westview has the sec-ond lowest mean in the Nc variable and the second lowest percentage of par-ents 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 meanand 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 an-swered “always” and “often” to all the items in the Ss variable.

It is also apparent that parents in the four schools consistently experiencesome dimensions of social integration over others. Satisfaction in the school(Ss), for all four schools, has the highest mean, and the highest percentage ofparents who answered “always” and “often” to all of the items. Conversely,powerfulness (P), in the four schools, has the lowest mean, and the lowestpercentage of parents who answered “always” and “often”. Furthermore,the means and the percentage of parents who answered “always” and “of-ten” to all of the items are substantially higher for variables examined in thecontext of the school (Ns, Is, and Ss) than the same variables examined inthe context of the classroom (Nc, Ic, and Sc). Although not reflected in thedata 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 gen-erally lower than items related to the direct experience of the parents.

DISCUSSION

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 importantdata on an aspect of school effectiveness. The findings are consistent withthe theoretical framework of this study: parents’ perceptions of their socialintegration into their children’s school may properly be considered an estima-tion by the parents of that school’s effectiveness.

Because the dimensions of social integration were observed in many ofLezotte’s (1989, 1991) categories, planning for improvements in one dimen-sion would likely have a positive effect on other areas of school effectiveness


areas positively. For example, where educators work to increase a sense ofpowerfulness, the parents’ estimation of the school’s environment as “safeand orderly”, its mission as “clear and focused” and its home-school rela-tions as a “partnership” will likely be more positive. A safe and orderly envi-ronment focuses, in part, on parents’ perceptions related to their expectationthat undesirable behaviors are generally absent from the school. A clear andfocused mission relates, in part, to parents’ perceptions about their under-standing of the school’s mission or goals representing all students and par-ents. Finally, home-school partnerships direct attention to parents’ perceptionsof their involvement in helping the school achieve its mission. In a similar waythen, where principals and teachers work to increase a sense of meaningful-ness of school values, the parents’ belief that the climate supports “high ex-pectations” will also be strengthened. Where educators work to increase asense of meaningfulness of school goals, the parents’ estimation of the mis-sion as “clear and focused” will also likely increase. Where educators workto increase a sense of normfulness in the classroom, the parents’ estimationof the classroom as providing “opportunities to learn” and giving attention tothe “monitoring of student progress” will likely be more positive. Where edu-cators work to increase a sense of normfulness in the school, the parents’regard for the “safe and orderly environment”, the “climate of high expecta-tions” and the “monitoring of student progress” will also likely increase.Where educators work to increase a sense of inclusion in the classroom andin the school, the parents’ estimation of the commitment to “home-schoolpartnerships” will also likely increase. Where educators work to increase asense of satisfaction in the classroom, the parents’ perceptions of the class-room’s climate, as one which favors “high expectations” and the “monitor-ing of student progress”, will likely be more positive. Finally, where educatorswork to increase a sense of satisfaction in the school, the parents’ regard forthe “safe and orderly environment” and the view of the school providing “op-portunities to learn” will also likely increase.

The findings are also relevant to the study of school effectiveness on meth-odological grounds. Without the comparison of similar schools, it would havebeen difficult to determine what constituted a “high” or “low” score for eachdimension, given that all scales were generally skewed to the right. By meansof these comparisons, showing differences for each of the schools on eachof the variables, strengths and areas for improvement for each school can beidentified with more precision.

Generally, the literature on school effectiveness has shown that effectiveschools show similar traits: high attendance, positive student attitudes, highachievement scores, good behavior, and increased staff productivity. How-ever, it has been argued that there is little evidence to suggest that by im-proving 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-


gest that where schools focus on organizational culture, such indicators ofeffectiveness improve.

A substantial and growing body of empirical evidence, derived fromvigorous research in schools and other educative organizations, indi-cates that the effectiveness of these organizations, in terms of stu-dent learning and development, is significantly influenced by the qual-ity and characteristics of the organizational culture. Not surprisingly,the research clearly suggests that schools that emphasizesupportiveness, open communication, collaboration, intellectuality,and that reward achievement and success outperform (in terms ofachievement, attendance, dropout rate, frustration, and alienation)those that emphasize competition, constraint and restrictiveness,rules and standard operating procedures, and that reward conform-ity (Owens, 2001, p. 175).

These observations are relevant to school improvement initiatives as theyrelate to matters of organizational effectiveness, probably because they re-duce the alienation of those involved in schools, including parents.

The findings are consistent with the literature on alienation: alienation is amulti-faceted phenomenon; however, it has relatively distinct dimensions, ascan be noted in Seeman’s (1959) model and the findings of this study. Thus,measures of powerfulness, meaningfulness, and normfulness did not serveas indicators of inclusion and satisfaction.

The finding that parents, in all four schools, experienced higher degrees ofsocial integration in the context of the school rather than in the classroom issurprising because one might predict that parents would experience greatersocial integration in the classroom, where their children work and play, andwhere 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 hasprovided significant professional development for school administrators whichhas focused on fostering greater participation from community members,particularly parents. School administrators have focused on doing this, andthis may well be recognized by parents. Teachers, on the other hand, maynot have been socialized to the same extent as administrators. Perhaps par-ents do not view teachers as community builders to the same extent. Or per-haps, as Epstein’s (1995) observes:

Once people hear about such concepts as family-like schools, theyremember positive examples of schools, teachers, and places in thecommunity that were ‘like a family’ to them. They may rememberhow a teacher paid individual attention to them, recognized theiruniqueness, or praised them for real progress, just as a parent might.Or they might recall things at home that were ‘just like school’ andsupported their work as a student, or they might remember commu-


nity activities that made them feel smart or good about themselvesand their families. They will recall that parents, siblings, and otherfamily members engaged in and enjoyed educational activities andtook pride in the good schoolwork or homework that they did, justas the teacher might (p. 703).

IMPLICATIONS

There are several implications of this study for school effectiveness theoryand research, and for this study and practice of social integration. These im-plications deserve the attention of school principals, their staffs, and systemadministrators.

First, the social-systems model for considering school effectiveness, sug-gested by Hoy and Ferguson (1989) had only been suggested, not explored.Like other goal-oriented theories, this model confirms that similarities and dif-ferences exist between schools, and that some schools are, in fact, betterthan others at promoting the social integration of parents, that is, these schoolsare more effective. However, the similarities and differences between schoolsare more apparent using the model presented in this study than in other stud-ies. How the schools ranked in relation to each other was more relevant thanwhat constituted a “high” or “low” score. Future school effectiveness re-search should be conducted so as to show similarities and differences be-tween schools, across a range of very similar aspects, or should be conductedto show trends and changes on such variables in one or more schools overtime, that is, longitudinal research. Both types of studies should be conductedin different school systems, including public and private, if only to provide somedata which should be increasingly relevant to policy makers in an environmentof school choice.

Although the literature on alienation has been reviewed in this study, theimplications of this study are more related to theory development in regardto social integration. This study develops and operationalizes a conceptualmodel 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 operationalizesome important aspects of organizational culture, an increasingly importantorientation in the literature on organizations.

There are also some important implications of this study which are of prac-tical interest to system administrators, the principals and the teachers of theschools that were studied. It is reasonable to suggest that Parkland has littleto improve in socially integrating its parents whereas Lakeside could improvethe social integration of its parents by developing strategies that focus on alldimensions in both the classroom and the school. Hillcrest, on the other hand,could develop strategies that would improve the social integration of its par-ents by increasing their sense of powerfulness, their view of the meaningful-ness of the school’s values and goals, and their satisfaction with the experience


their children receive in classrooms. In doing so, the parents’ estimation oftheir school’s effectiveness would very probably increase in Lezotte’s (1988,1991) areas of safe and orderly environment, clear and focused mission, cli-mate for high expectations and success, and home-school partnerships.Westview could develop strategies that would increase the social integrationof its parents by increasing their sense of powerfulness, their view of themeaningfulness of the school’s values and goals, and their view of normfulnessand inclusion in both the context of the classroom and the school.

However, despite the findings of this study that parents experience differ-ent dimensions of social integration in different schools, it is clear that allschools could improve their perceived effectiveness by focusing more atten-tion on parents’ experience of powerfulness. Seeman (1972) asserts fourpropositions about powerlessness that are relevant to fostering parents’ per-ceptions of powerfulness in schools. The first proposition emphasizes the im-portance of mediating between the needs of the parents and the requirementsimposed by the government (Manitoba Education and Training), and the schooldivision. The implication of practical import is that all educators, not solelyadministrators, become more skilled at mediating competing needs in theirimmediate community. Seeman (1972) states:

[First], membership and participation in control-relevant organizationsis associated with low alienation (powerlessness). A good deal hasbeen said in the mass-society literature concerning the need for or-ganizations that can mediate between the individual and the state orcorporation. The implication is that such organizations provide the in-dividual with an instrument for control over [his/her] affairs, hencethe prediction that participation will be associated with low aliena-tion: i.e. with a relatively high sense of mastery. (p. 476)

Seeman’s (1972) second and third propositions emphasize the importanceof organized parental involvement in schools. In light of these propositions,Parent Advisory Councils and the inclusion of parents on various school com-mittees are very likely good ways of increasing their sense of powerfulness.Their suggestions must, however, be taken seriously. At the time the originalstudy was conducted, Parent Advisory Councils and the expectation that par-ents would be involved in developing annual school plans had only been re-cently legislated by the Manitoba government. In an effort to mediate betweenthe needs of parents and the needs of the school, system administrators, prin-cipals and teachers must continue to explore ways to help organize parentsin meaningful and helpful ways. Again, Seeman (1972) may be helpful here:

[Second], the alienated (powerless) person is not likely to engage inplanned, instrumentally oriented action. (p. 478) [Third], the power-less are characterized by their readiness to participate in relativelyunplanned and/or short-term protest activities. (p. 482)


Seeman’s (1972) fourth proposition gives emphasis to a surprising findingof 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 control-relevant information available in the environment. In a series of studiesin varied contexts, it has been demonstrated that poor learning andhigh powerlessness are associated. The poor learning is not simplya function of such variables as intelligence, test-taking skills, or sta-tus background, for the learning in question is differential: it does notoccur with any and all information, but occurs especially when theinformation involved is potentially useful in the planning, manage-ment, and control of life outcomes (p. 486).

In some respects, this is supported by recent studies that have attemptedto show that students:

who are at risk are much more likely affected by the quality of instruc-tion than are those who are not at risk. At-risk students - those whofeel depressed outside of school, invest almost no time in doinghomework, and hang out for many hours with friends - are the mostlikely to be alienated from instruction when it is boring and non-rel-evant. However, when instruction is challenging, academically de-manding, and relevant, these students are almost as attentive in classas those who are not at risk. Under such conditions, students whoare at risk may even be more engaged than their less troubled peers.Students who are at risk tend to reap greater benefits from everyimprovement in the quality of instruction (Yair, 2000, p. 261).

In some respects the conceptual framework and empirical results of thisstudy warrant further exploration. Future studies could complement this in-quiry by first, confirming the identification and operational definitions for eachof dimensions of social integration in a more rigorous way. Some of the di-mensions identified in this study and their operational definitions were moreclosely tied to the original survey items than were they the clear obverse ofSeeman’s dimensions of alienation.

Secondly, future studies could expand upon this line of inquiry by creatingan original survey instrument, where items are specifically devised to collectdata about social integration. Because the original survey was intended tocollect data about Lezotte’s (1989, 1991) perspective on school effectiveness,it is reasonable to suggest that different findings may result from differentempirical items, depending on their validity as measures of social integration.

Thirdly, future studies could expand upon the results of this inquiry by cor-relating perceptions of parental social integration with students’ attitudes,


attendance, behavior, and achievement. Because many practitioners and es-pecially the public view school effectiveness as a matter of heightened stu-dent achievement, examining social integration more broadly could providean indication to system administrators, school principals and teachers alike,which areas require more attention in their schools to heighten concern forstudent achievement.

Finally, it follows that future studies might also expand this line of inquiryby examining and comparing the social integration of all school members,which, of course, would include educators, clerical/custodial staff, and stu-dents themselves. Other inquiries that work more obviously to show the con-nection between what Owens (2001) has called “the quality and characteristicsof the organizational culture” and the effectiveness of schools may provide afuller understanding of the dimensions of parental social integration in schools.

REFERENCES

Brookover, W. B., Beady, C., Flood, P., Schweitzer, J., & Wisenbaker, J. (1979).School social systems and student achievement: Schools can make a dif-ference. 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.), SchoolLeadership (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 analysisof city schools that are instructionally effective for poor children. EastLansing, 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 enhance-ment through parental involvement. The Journal of School Psychology, 27,87-90.


The Origins of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau

John Tooth

INTRODUCTION

It is with irony that today, as with the past we know so little regarding some-thing so obvious, namely school textbooks1. Perhaps it is because they areso common and ever present that we take the school text for granted. Thestudy of school textbooks has multiple streams, including content, use, reader-response, bibliographic, time/space and distribution. There is no scholarshipon the distribution of school textbooks in Manitoba taught by teachers andused by students from 1871 to the present. Within this historiographical ma-laise one finds the towering presence of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau(MTBB) which opened its doors in the summer of 1931 and continues to pro-vide books to schools today. While teachers, school boards, parents and stu-dents, then as now, regularly used the Bureau, neither the staff of the Bureaunor scholars have researched the origins and early operation of this govern-ment office.

This study will examine the 10-year period on either side of the opening ofthe Bureau in the 1920s and 1930s. The main protagonists during these twodecades were the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association (MSTA) and theManitoba Department of Education, in the form of Dr. Robert Fletcher, DeputyMinister of Education. MSTA spoke to the unavailability of textbooks, severaldifficulties with the curriculum and textbooks, and to the lack of book pub-lishing capability in Manitoba, all leading to the need for a book bureau to han-dle textbooks, and to government inaction on all of these problems and clearsolution. On the other hand, the education department, through its chief civilservant, Robert Fletcher, resisted MSTA’s concerns for as long as possibleand only created the Manitoba Text Book Bureau when convinced it couldimprove textbook service at no cost to government and further as a meansof reducing government spending during the Great Depression by operatingthe Bureau with a small surplus and eliminating the three decades old FreeTexts service.1 “School textbooks,” “authorized textbooks,” “prescribed textbooks” and “approved

textbooks” are used interchangeably in this study, and always refer to those booksthat are legally authorized by the Department of Education for use by teachers withstudents in all school classrooms in all publicly funded schools in the province.


This study is important because it not only represents the first scholarlyaccount of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau and a different untold chapter onthe history of education in Manitoba, but it also reveals problems in school-ing, then as now.

Conceptual Framework and Research MethodThe work of critical educator Michael Apple (1986) assisted in setting thisstudy’s conceptual framework, wherein he argues that inquiries in educationmust 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 therelations between educational structures and processes and wider structuresof power, economy and control in particular periods of social change” (1986,p. 11). This study on the distribution of authorized textbooks to Manitobaschools will explore the political and economic issues surrounding the crea-tion of the Bureau within a framework of government control of educationand textbook authorization, rural school trustee agitation to convince the gov-ernment to resolve textbook distribution problems, and of the province’seconomy.

The historical research method used in this study is postmodern. Sincehistoriographically there is no scholarly research on the topic, I will not be ex-amining prevailing interpretations or its scholarly value. My postmodern his-torical approach facilitates an exploratory, open-ended, inductive examinationof the events leading to and following the opening of the Bureau in the sum-mer of 1931. The primary sources to be used - advertisements in newspa-pers, journals and catalogues, reports from educational association meetings,and the official discourse as found in government annual reports and otherofficial publications - all until now have remained silent on this topic.

Primary Sources on the MTBBA thorough search for scholarly accounts on the Manitoba Text Book Bureaurevealed not a single item. And only with a few references in the existing edu-cational and historical publishing to this significant agency of the provincialgovernment were present. However, primary sources, both direct and indi-rect, did provide insight on the Bureau. Newspapers - such as the weekliesthe Emerson Journal and Swan River’s The Star and Times, exhaustively ex-amined for the periods 1929 through 1932 - did provide indirect evidence pri-marily through advertisements by merchants who were dealing in approvedtextbooks. Similarly, the Manitoba Free Press/Winnipeg Free Press and TheWinnipeg Tribune, examined for the periods April and May as well as Augustthrough October for the periods 1929-1932, while providing useful advertis-ing information, also had no written accounts or stories or issues or concernsraised by columnists or letters to the editor on the Bureau.


Even The Western School Journal, an education journal published inWinnipeg, by and for teachers of Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta, andserving in part as the Manitoba Department of Education’s official organ be-ginning in 1916, had no textbook focus in the professional education portion,and but brief information on the MTBB by the Department in its portion ofthe Journal, during the period reviewed between 1916 and 1935. Shanks andWilson (1976) substantiated this in their work The Western School Journal1906-1938: Introduction and Index that had no entries under the MTBB or bookbureau. However, with the Manitoba Department of Education funding theJournal for 20 years such that when the funding was withdrawn in 1936 theJournal ceased publication the same year, it is easy to understand that thisfunding would in all likelihood have determined the nature of the less thancritical professional portion of the Journal.

The primary official discourse of the period was found in the ManitobaDepartment of Education’s Annual Reports that were examined for the pe-riod 1903 through 1941. Short and long reports appeared in the annual reportson Free Texts, later on the MTBB itself, and financial statements for provin-cial education expenditures. School inspectors, civil servants who were theeducation department’s official representatives in the field, described in theirsection of the annual reports issues related to teachers, student attendance,school buildings and grounds, field days and student progress. While occa-sionally critical of teachers’ reliance on textbooks, there was no reference toproblems related to student access to textbooks. Government education re-ports (Report of the Education Commission, 1924; Report of the Select Com-mittee of the Legislative Assembly, 1935b) of the time addressed issuesrelated to the administration and financing of schools, including textbooks.

The main source of information on the MTBB was to be found in theReports/Proceedings of the annual, later bi-annual, meetings of the ManitobaSchool Trustees’ Association. For the period 1914 through 1937, these pro-ceedings provided a clear picture of concern by school trustees over the sorrystate of textbooks in Manitoba, expressed as procedural motions to the gov-ernment, and the debate surrounding the motions, as well as questions askedand answered at the general meetings. Often the Minister of Education spokeat the opening of the conferences followed by Robert Fletcher, Deputy Min-ister of Education, who debated school book issues with the trustees. Sincethese Proceedings were for the most part transcribed accounts of the eventsafter 1927, we see words directly spoken by impassioned school trusteesand defensive government officials.

MSTA Concerns with Textbooks

The Issue of Availability

Dr. Robert Fletcher, First Deputy Minister of Education, from 1908 through1939, in his address to school trustees at the 1929 MSTA general meeting


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, whichhad a western office selling its books only; the T. Eaton Co.; the Hudson’sBay Co.; and Russell-Lang’s (MSTA, 1929, p. 21).

As early as 1901, the T. Eaton catalogues listed school textbooks availablefor sale through the Mail Order Department (pp. 168-169). A full-page adver-tisement in the Western School Journal spoke to the “Eaton Service in West-ern Canada” with illustrations of the Mail Order Buildings in Winnipeg, Reginaand Saskatoon (Eaton Co., February 1927, p. 82). Public school textbooks werefor sale from the Hudson’s Bay Co. during the opening of school in Septem-ber 1932 (September 1, 1932), one year after the opening of the MTBB. Noadvertisements were found for Russell-Lang’s, either in any of the newspa-pers or Western School Journals examined. Advertisements in the Journalfor 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 alsosold textbooks authorized by the Department of Education, with postage, asrequired, added to the price of each book (January 1928, p. 42). Henderson’sWinnipeg Directories (1929, p. 1722; 1932, p. 1278) under “Booksellers andStationers” list 23 companies in 1929 and 28 in 1932. However, after review-ing the entries, only Russell-Lang and Co., 298 Portage, appeared to be a text-book seller.

It can be deduced, therefore, that for Winnipeg and Brandon and their sur-rounding areas, parents and/or school trustees found it relatively easily ableto purchase certain textbooks available from these booksellers. None of thecompanies mentioned above, however, guaranteed the availability of the en-tire Province’s approved textbooks.

While there was no direct evidence to show that Christie’s in Brandon andT. Eaton in Winnipeg sold textbooks to rural Manitoba, it is reasonable to as-sume that this was the case. To what degree rural school trustees or parentstook advantage of these two booksellers’ service of providing textbooks pre-paid through the mail, cannot be determined at this time. There was, how-ever, one other mechanism that brought authorized textbooks to ruralManitoba.

Based on a reading of the newspapers published in Emerson and in SwanRiver, Manitoba, for the period 1929 through 1932, short-term local booksell-ers were evident. The Emerson Journal published weekly in Emerson had anews item on its front page entitled “School Books Needed for Grade Eleven,”(Anonymous, August 23, 1929) which indicated that Emerson High Schoolwas not providing free textbooks for its Grade 11 students at least in the sub-jects of Literature, French, and Latin. For example, the authorized textbook,Treasury of Verse for Secondary Schools Book II, was to be brought to classduring the first week of school (Anonymous, August 23, 1929, p. 1). Whilethere were advertisements published in the Emerson Journal from depart-ment stores and drug stores in 1929 and 1930, none indicated that they sold


textbooks. For example, A. H. Quicke’s advertisement stated that it sold Sun-rise School Supplies, including scribblers, pens and pencils (September 5,1930). So, for at least these two years, parents had to order textbooks fromBrandon or Winnipeg, purchase from other parents and use hand-me-downsfrom their older children. It was not until September 1931 by Quicke’s adver-tisement in the Emerson Journal do we know that it was sending orders tothe recently opened MTBB: “School TextBooks (for all grades) at the Depart-ment’s Price. Order early” (September 4, 1931, p. 2). Thus, once the parentsknew what authorized textbooks were required for their children, they placedorders 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 ordersfor textbooks by parents earlier in 1929 as was indicated in their advertise-ment: “Leave your orders early for Text Books” found in the weekly The Starand Times (September 5, 1929). These textbooks must have been orderedfrom 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 thattextbooks could be ordered through their drug store. Then, in 1931, W. J. Lambmade 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 earlySeptember school opening advertisement: “School Supplies! Orders Takenfor School Books” (September 10, 1931) and likewise in 1932 “Leave yourorders for School Text Books with us” (September 8, 1932). Thus, extrapo-lating from these two rural towns, other rural centers in Manitoba also used acombination of ordering directly from stores in Brandon or Winnipeg, usinglocal town stores as temporary booksellers that placed orders to stores inWinnipeg or Brandon, and also using the Manitoba Text Book Bureau.

But there remained the vast majority of schools in Manitoba. The stark re-ality of Manitoba’s unconsolidated school system was made clear whereinthe annual report for the Department in 1929-1930 stated that there were2,222 school districts and 2,019 school houses, exclusive of intermediateschools, high schools, collegiate departments, collegiate institutes and juniorhigh schools (p. 128). The vast majority of the schoolhouses were one-roomschools not located in Manitoba’s two cities and smaller towns, but rather onthe prairie and parklands. How parents and schools trustees secured textbookscan 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 bythe Department increased as one moved from the cities and towns to therural farming areas of Manitoba, and its myriad of isolated one-room schools.However, since none of the booksellers prior to the MTBB committed to car-rying all texts and titles in good quantities, there remained an ongoing prob-lem for all trustees and parents no matter where they lived.


The intertwining of the problem related to the availability of textbooks andof a clear solution as seen in the creation of a book bureau became a con-stant theme running throughout the Reports/Proceedings of the annual meet-ings of the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. During the 14th annualconvention 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 ofEducation be asked to establish a bureau for obtaining and distributing textbooks and school supplies to the schools” (MSTA, 1920, p. 9). While the mo-tion 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 bookbureau - that of solving the problem of getting text books to the many ruralschools in Manitoba. The following year at the Board of Trade Building in Win-nipeg another MSTA resolution shed a similar but different light on the prob-lem of textbook availability. This resolution which passed at the 15th conventionread as follows:

In view of the fact that the current text books are changed so fre-quently, and so frequently have to be obtained from the publishersdirect as there appears to be no firm or firms who wish to take thecontract and become responsible for the collection and distributionof the same; We, therefore, move that the Department of Educationshould establish a bureau for the collection and distribution of schooltext books from the different publishers…. (1921, p. 13)

The issue addressed in this resolution was the apparent unwillingness ofbooksellers in Winnipeg to carry all textbooks, exacerbated by the constantannouncement of new textbooks from different publishers. A 1923 schooltrustee resolution which passed the MSTA convention stated “that owing tothe delay of the publishers in providing the necessary text books, the Depart-ment of Education be asked to establish a bureau for obtaining and distribut-ing 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 On-tario publishers in providing textbooks ordered by schools in Manitoba. At the1924 and 1925 MSTA Conventions resolutions with an identical clause werepassed (MSTA, 1924, p. 14; MSTA, 1925, p. 15). During the 1930 MSTA con-vention, after passing a resolution calling on the need for a book bureau (p.35), an extensive discussion took place between trustees and Fletcher in whichtrustees asked the Deputy why they could not get the books new or alreadyon the curriculum. The exchange below indicated the high level of frustrationwith government in not addressing the problem of availability of books forGrades IX and X:

Dr. Fletcher: These history books were both books that were alreadyin use; they are not new books.


Mr. North, Carman: They were not obtainable.

Dr. Fletcher: The book we are using in Grade X this year has beenon 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 dis-satisfaction, because here are books which have been on the cur-riculum, and those books were not obtainable in Manitoba; that is,to the number required, until after January of this year, and I know indifferent schools the pupils did not get those books until January of1930. There was great difficulty in getting them, and even now inManitoba there are some schools don’t have them because they can-not be got. (MSTA, p. 37)

Difficulties with the Curriculum and Textbooks

A 1918 MSTA resolution called on the three Prairie Provinces to develop acommon education program, utilize common textbooks and to have teachercertification common across the prairies (MSTA, 1918, p. 22-23). Again, in1922, came a complex MSTA resolution that tied together common curricu-lum, common textbooks and the book bureaus:

Resolved that from an Educational as well as from a National stand-point this Public School Trustees’ Association, while appreciative ofany efforts that have been made in this direction, deem it expedientto urge upon the Department of Education of this province the ad-visability of approaching the Departments of Education in each of theother provinces of our Dominion of Canada with a view to arriving ata working arrangement whereby all the provinces will have a uniformcurriculum, and the same authorized text books, and that there beestablished a central bureau for the publication or purchasing and dis-tribution of all public school books and school supplies, and thatbranch bureaus be established in each provincial Department of Edu-cation. (MSTA, 1922, p. 11)

This rather astonishing resolution had as its focus the rationalization ofeducation across the continent by sharing three core educational features -curriculum, textbooks, and book bureaus for the publication, purchase and dis-tribution of texts. In 1924 a similar resolution at MSTA passed which calledfor a book bureau for obtaining and distributing textbooks for schools inManitoba and, in a second clause, that textbooks be standardized acrossManitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta (p. 14).

Trustees believed that if a common curriculum were adapted, it would beeasy to have common textbooks, and with a book bureau, schools would ac-


tually be able to secure the textbooks that the province authorized. Schooltrustees were also displeased with the Programme of studies released eachsummer by the Manitoba Department of Education to provide school trus-tees and teachers with a brief outline of the curriculum for each subject andfor each grade, as well as provide a list of approved textbooks. A 1923 MSTAresolution stated, in its first part, that there should be a book bureau but thesecond part identified a problem with the programme of studies, stating: “thatwhen the programme of studies is once decided upon and issued no changesbe made in same during the school year, and that this program be strictly ad-hered to, and that no text book be included therein which is not available atthe commencement of the school year” (MSTA, p. 14). Again, the exaspera-tion of school trustees trying to order textbooks during the school year withor without a local textbook supplier was evident.

A resolution that passed at the 1930 MSTA convention, while framed dif-ferently, had the same meaning:

Owing to the difficulty of obtaining text-books at the beginning of theschool term and the resultant handicap to school work, be it resolvedthat the Department of Education be again requested to consider theestablishment of text-book bureau, and to have the programme ofstudies sent out early in order to facilitate the placing in the hands ofpupils and teachers the necessary textbooks before school opening.(pp. 34-35)

The late arrival in schools of the programme of studies automatically meantthe late ordering of textbooks. “Dr. Fletcher, I take exception to your state-ment that the programme of studies is always sent out early in August,” stateda delegate during the debate over this 1930 motion, “because I know ourschool has on one occasion not received the programme of studies for a monthafter the school opened” (MSTA, 1930, p. 36). In other words, school trus-tees told the government that it was already difficult enough acquiring text-books, but if the programme of studies did not arrive earlier, or at least ontime, the problems were significantly increased in terms of textbook acquisi-tion at the local level.

School trustees further expressed concern regarding the frequency uponwhich textbooks changed and resulted in increased costs to parents. Whilethe first MSTA resolution condemning this practice of changing textbookspassed in 1921 (p. 13), it was not until the period 1929-1931 that this becamea rallying call. The essential point the trustees tried to make to the Depart-ment of Education was that these new books were even more difficult to ac-quire from the many publishers and were very costly to parents who had tofind the cash to purchase them. During the question and answer period ofthe 1929 MSTA annual convention in Brandon, a school trustee asked “whyis it necessary to change text books annually, causing excessive costs to fami-lies unable to bear it?” (p. 66). While Robert Fletcher provided a detailed an-


swer explaining they were not, he also undertook to do further research, re-sulting in the MSTA President receiving a letter from the Minister of Educa-tion a few days after the convention which illustrated the infrequency ofchanges (Hoey, March 4, 1929, in MSTA Proceedings, p. 150). However, dur-ing the resolutions’ portion of the 1929 convention, the Carman-Dufferin Lo-cal Association proposed and passed the following:

Whereas, the purchase of text books is an item of very considerableexpense to the average family; and whereas, the frequent change insaid text books tends largely to increase this expense and in manycases creates real hardship; and whereas these continued changesare in our opinion unwarranted and unnecessary; now therefore beit resolved that in the opinion of this convention greater permanencyshould be allowed in the use of texts and changes should only bemade after the fullest investigations have shown the necessity forsuch changes. (MSTA, p. 119)

Clearly, Fletcher had not convinced the school trustees regarding the in-frequency of textbook changes. The point was, of course, that he was cor-rect in that there had been few changes since 1890 but, as a result of the re-visions 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 Depart-ment 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 notbe sufficient to ensure that textbooks from the many publishers were alwaysin stock and available for distribution. Taking the solution one step further wasa 1921 MAST convention resolution that included a book bureau plus clause:“…or if necessary, enter the publishing business themselves, in order thatthe present very unsatisfactory condition of affairs may be improved” (MSTA,1921, p. 13).

This motion told the Department to get into the publishing business. Thiswas so because the publishing business in Manitoba was small then, as now,and during the 1920s, was in no way capable of publishing textbooks. Thecenter for publishing in Canada was Toronto and to a lesser extent Montreal.Very often books chosen by the Department of Education in Ontario were ul-timately used elsewhere in Canada, including Manitoba (Broten & Birdsall,1980, p. 39). Certainly, the Manitoba Department of Education did not havean editorial department or a publishing department, had a relatively small vol-ume of textbook requirements (even though these could not be met) and ap-peared to have had a lack of interest in undertaking local publishing. Thus,the domination of textbook publishing in central Canada and the underdevel-opment in Manitoba lead to the problem and the solution described in the


1921 MAST resolution. Writer Val Werier in a 1950 newspaper article aboutthe operation of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau offered confirmation of thedominance of central Canada in book publishing: “Practically all the bookscome from Toronto. Only 2 out of 2000 titles (including library books) stockedoriginate in Winnipeg” (Winnipeg Tribune, September 2). Trustees saw thatthere was a close association between the creation of a book bureau and thecreation of a local textbook publishing in Manitoba.

Government Response to Manitoba School Trustees’ ConcernsThus, the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association presented the EducationDepartment with a barrage of resolutions each year starting in 1920, focussingon textbook unavailability, curriculum difficulties related to texts and lack oflocal publishing capability as reasons for the creation of a book bureau. TheEducation Department’s response to these problems and recommended so-lution could only be described as muted. The prevailing government attitudeduring the 1920s and 1930s seemed to be one of educational standoffishness.While the critical function of textbook authorizations was never doubted orquestioned to ensure the province’s curriculum was taught, there was little,if any, government interest in how textbooks actually got into the hands ofstudents or of the cost or inconvenience to parents.

This was evidenced by the 1924 Report of the Educational Commissionthat had been formed on June 13, 1923 by the government to investigate “theneeds of the more recently settled and less developed districts of the Prov-ince for better Educational Facilities” and “the better adaptation of the Elemen-tary 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 intro-duction a brief summary of some presentations by the Independent LaborParty, the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association, the Manitoba Teachers’Federation and so on. In these report outlines, only once was there informa-tion given related to the problems with textbooks. Mr. Henry Woodcock ofClanwilliam, representing the school trustees of Crocus Hill, Westmount,Lakelet and Clanwilliam, “…advocated less frequent change of text books andthe advisability of the maintenance by the Department of Education of a bookdepository from which books could be secured without delay” (p. 11). No fur-ther reference was given to textbooks until the Recommendations section ofthe Report where it stated:

Your Commission, impressed by the evidence of the vexatious de-lays in the organization of school work at the beginning of each termcaused by inability to secure a sufficient supply of prescribed textbooks, recommend that the Department of education make provi-sion for a central depository for prescribed text books from whichadequate supplies may be obtained promptly by dealers, schools,pupils and parents as they may require them. (Manitoba, 1924, p. 122)


Since the MTTB was not operational until the summer of 1931, some sevenyears after the Murray Report, it is difficult to conclude that there was anyconnection between the MTBB and the Murray Report. One of the other rec-ommendations of the Murray Commission was a total review of the province’scurriculum, which in part lead to the formation of program review commit-tees in the Department of Education- one to examine elementary and one forsecondary (Manitoba, 1926; Manitoba, 1927). The Report of the Committeeon the Review of the Programme of Studies (1926) for elementary schoolswas particularly critical of textbooks describing them as “… in some respectsunsuitable for use in the schools…” (p. 44) and that “text books should berevised” (p. 46). The impact of changing textbooks began to be seen in MSTAresolutions beginning in 1927.

In Robert Fletcher’s address to the 1929 MSTA convention, as identifiedin the opening of the first part of this study, he indicated that not only werethere the five main textbook suppliers in Manitoba, but he added: “I think thefacilities for securing books are fairly good” (p. 21). Clearly the MSTA resolu-tions regarding the numerous problems with textbooks and book bureau so-lution had still not registered with Fletcher and perhaps the educationdepartment itself.

After a visit to the newly created Alberta book bureau, Grandview schooltrustee W. J. Swain moved the following informative resolution at the 1928MSTA convention:

Whereas there is at the present time, no uniform system for the han-dling of text books used in the public and high schools in our prov-ince, much to the inconvenience and monetary loss to parents andguardians of students; and whereas, the Province of Alberta has inoperation a government system whereby all text books used in theirschools are handled by a branch of the government; and whereas,such a system is working very satisfactorily both from point of serv-ice and finance; and whereas, the Provincial Trustees’ Association atits meeting one year ago did pass a resolution urging our governmentin Manitoba to put into operation such a system by unanimous vote;and whereas, a delegation from the Provincial Trustees Associationdid wait upon the then Honorable Minister of Education and laid theplan before him; and whereas, the then Minister did look upon thescheme with much favor and promised serious consideration; andwhereas, the present Minister has been approached in the matterand has expressed himself as being favorably inclined towards puttingin force such a plan; therefore, this Municipal Trustees Associationdo memorialize the Provincial Trustees’ Association to instruct theirexecutive to bring this matter again to the attention of the govern-ment, urging them to put into operation such a system with the leastpossible delay. (MSTA, 1928, pp. 134-135)


Swain indicated after several meetings with Mr. Hoey, Minister of Educa-tion, that his favourable response was clouded only by the lack of space tooperate the bureau (MSTA, 1928, p. 136). Then, in 1929, Fletcher’s addressto the trustees’ convention indicated that the government was favourably in-clined 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 savingsin bulk purchasing. Fletcher indicated that the previous summer he went toinvestigate the Alberta book bureau on his way back from a vacation on thecoast. Now the main issue was a building because Manitoba cannot replicateeither the excellent facility or its low operating costs of the one used in Ed-monton (MSTA, 1929, p. 20). He concluded his discussion regarding a bookbureau 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, tothe MSTA convention at the Royal Alexandra Hotel revealed further govern-ment thinking on the bureau. Hoey revealed what appeared to be a logicaland economical reorganization of his small Department, stating that additionalspace was being sought to move a sub-department whose function it was todistribute free texts. Thus, the physical move of the long-standing free textsservice from the Legislative Buildings “… with its directors, staff, and its offi-cials” to the new book bureau would result in “… one complete and unifiedorganization for text book purchase and text book distribution” (p. 17). It alsopermitted the integration and removal of the Free Text service but Hoey madeno reference to this plan, if there were one. The Free Text service and theorigins of the MTBB will be discussed later in this study.

The following year when Minister Hoey addressed the trustees at their 1931annual convention he announced that after three or four years of resolutionsby the conventions for a book bureau that “… I have given it to you. The bookbureau is in existence today on one of the finest locations in Winnipeg, prac-tically adjoining the Bank of Montreal on the corner of Portage and Main [loudapplause]” (p. 23). Hoey made no mention of solving what trustees have saidwas a major educational problem in the province; he stated, rather, it was whatyou asked for, and now we have given it to you. He went on to describe theimportance of making it a success by having trustees work with the Depart-ment to provide the service (MSTA, 1931, p. 23). Robert Fletcher addressedthe convention later and spent considerable time elaborating on the Text BookBureau. He revealed that the Department has purchased the Canadian Gen-eral Electric building on Notre Dame East where the bureau would be sentup, opening its doors in good time for school opening in 1931 (MSTA, 1931,p. 106).


Early Years of Operation

BACKGROUND

An Act to amend “The Education Department Act” was assented to March28th, 1930, thus legislatively creating the Manitoba Text Book Bureau. Theamendment’s opening clause permitted the minister “to purchase schoolbooks, books for school library purposes and school supplies, and to sell thesame to school districts or teachers or other persons” (Manitoba, LegislativeAssembly, 1930a, Chapter 8, clause h, i, p. 13). From the province’s consoli-dated revenue account, funds could be drawn upon up to $150,000.00 to payfor “… the printing and publishing or purchase of such books and for the pur-chase of such school supplies” (clause h, ii, p. 13). Monies received from thesale of these items, sold for cash only, were to be deposited against the re-duction of advances (clause h, iii, p. 13). Further, however, schools could drawdirectly from their school grant payments for textbooks and supplies, suchamounts were again to be deposited against advances (clause h, iii, p. 13). Aspecific clause described how the value of an item was to be determined:“… the Minister may take into account the cost of handling, storage, trans-portation, insurance, distribution and other costs, charges and expenses, in-cluding office assistance …” (clause h, iv, p. 13). While a statement of profitand loss was to be printed each year in the Public Accounts, “any profit aris-ing from the operations of the year, as shown by the said statements, shallform 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 suc-ceeding year or years (clause h, vi, p. 14).

This legislation was very clear in that the government was not directly fund-ing a Manitoba book bureau, but rather loaning it money that was to be paidback; the bureau could basically purchase textbooks, library books or supplies,as long as it did not lose money; that all costs associated with the acquisitionand sale of an item were to be included in the selling price; and should thebureau actually make a profit, these funds were to be incorporated into theprovince’s Consolidated Revenue.

Comparing this Manitoba legislative amendment to the one that createdthe Alberta book bureau on April 8, 1926 (Alberta, The Act to Amend), therewas a startling similarity. In fact, the Manitoba and Alberta legislative clauseswere either exactly the same or provide the same intent.

It was not until the February 1931 MSTA Convention that the Minister andthe Deputy were able to indicate that a location for the bureau had been se-cured at 148 Notre Dame Avenue East. Fletcher spent a good amount of timediscussing how the bureau was to operate when its doors were opened forthe wholesale distribution of textbooks for the school year 1931-1932. He in-dicated that the books were already on order and that stock was to be avail-able for July (MSTA, 1931, p. 106). But Fletcher added: “No one in this province


will be able to buy these text books except through the book bureau. Thepublishers will not be permitted to sell the text books to anyone except thebook bureau” (p. 106). Fletcher explained the need for this monopoly so thattext books would be delivered at considerable savings and so that the bookbureau could be made self-supporting. To make sure that the trustees under-stood things: “… and let me tell you frankly, the book bureau will have to payits way. We are not going into this in any philanthropic spirit” (p. 106). Lossesin 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 otherthan sufficient to pay expenses. We want to break even” (p. 107).

In terms of pricing, Fletcher indicated that Manitoba was to follow the Al-berta model such that there was to be a 15% discount from the retail list pricesfor school boards and retailers; in other words, a book listed at one dollar wasto be delivered for 85 cents (p. 107). Payment was in cash but school boardshad the option of debiting their legislative grant. Retailers, he indicated, wereable 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 werealso 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 in-dividual orders. Fletcher indicated that the parent or guardian was to pay thelist price, that is, with no discount. He was hopeful that the majority of theorders were to be from retail dealers and school boards, and that these wereto be large and therefore would receive the discount, but, if necessary, indi-vidual requests were to be honoured (p. 107). “School boards may buy booksfor resale to the pupils if this is found desirable, but in such cases the booksmust be sold to the students at cost. The school board will not be able to dealin 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 146-148 Notre Dame East occurred on May 1, 1931 (MSTA, 1933, p. 5), but thevery first textbook purchase order was dated July 16, 1931, where two bookswere sold to Miss Annie Fraser of Wroxeter, Ontario, at no discount.

Two unusual occurrences took place during the first year of operation ofthe Bureau. In the Emerson Journal, there appeared an article dealing withtextbooks in Saskatchewan, at the same time with no mention of the crea-tion of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau. The article described a cooperativeventure between the Saskatchewan Department of Education and the Sas-katchewan Teachers’ Alliance to collect used textbooks and make them avail-able to families in need, especially those in the “dried-out” areas of theprovince (Anonymous, October 1931). The following month in the Departmen-tal Bulletin portion of the Western School Journal there was a similar shortpiece indicating that:


many families in the Province are unable to supply their children withthe authorized text books this term for reasons which the teachersof the Province will readily understand. It occurs to the Departmentthat many homes must contain copies of some of the text books nowauthorized in the elementary grades which are not likely to be requiredagain in these homes. These families may be willing to pass thesebooks along for the use of some children who otherwise will not haveany books to aid them in their work this year. (Manitoba, November1931, p. 334)

Teachers were requested to make inquiries and pass along textbooks do-nated. These two news items were the first indication of the impact of theGreat Depression on school textbooks in the two provinces. For the Mani-toba Department of Education it was theoretically taking business away fromthe just-opened Manitoba Text Book Bureau. In the annual report for the De-partment of Education for 1931-1932, it stated that the Bureau did have a suc-cessful first year of operation although “its bulk sales for the year were notas large as anticipated, due to the decreased earnings of the people gener-ally but they were sufficient to enable the Bureau to make a small net profitout of its narrow trading margin” (p. 9).

The success of the Bureau in addressing trustee complaints regarding text-books, beyond its profitability, first came in February 1933, at the now bi-an-nual MSTA convention held at the Royal Alexandra Hotel in Winnipeg. Mr. A.T. Hainsworth, MSTA President, thanked Mr. Swain of Grandview for his workin bringing a book bureau to Manitoba. Hainsworth then introduced Mr. A. W.Brown who was the manager of the Manitoba Text Book Bureau. Brown statedthat the Bureau was shipping books in mid-August 1931 and by mid-Septem-ber had worked out the glitches associated with book distribution. During thefiscal year May 1, 1931 to May 1, 1932, the Bureau sold $118,563.16 worthof textbooks, handling some 5,188 orders (MSTA, 1933, p. 5). A small profitwas made. The Bureau also handled the Free Texts service. He indicated thatfor 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 theday 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’sProceedings were subsequently quiet on issues related to textbooks and theManitoba Text Book Bureau. This silence strongly suggested trustee approvalwith the operation of the Bureau and the easy availability of textbooks at alower cost.

In 1934-1935, gross sales were $112,995.94, a 25% increase over the pre-vious year (Manitoba, 1935a, p. 21). On April 6th, 1934, the Manitoba Legisla-tive Assembly set up a special committee to examine and report on the


administration and financing of the public school system. Its report, datedFebruary 25, 1935, had a section on textbooks, stating that the cost of text-books was a combination of editorial work and printing (Manitoba, 1935b, p.11). Text Book Manager Arthur Brown reported, at the request of the Legisla-tive Committee, on the estimated cost of printing and binding most schooltexts used in Manitoba, indicating that the work could be done in Winnipegand at a reduced cost. The 1935 Report of the Select Committee of the Leg-islative Assembly read: “In other words, the price of school texts would bereduced if the Government is prepared to set up an Editorial Branch and toabsorb some of the capital cost which must be incurred in preparing a text, orto give subventions to publishers” (p. 12). Its recommendation to the Legis-lative Assembly was that the Department’s Advisory Board should pursue costreductions in textbooks by standardizing texts in the Western provinces, re-duce frequent changes and investigate the publication of textbooks in Mani-toba or Western Canada (Manitoba, 1935b, pp. 12-13). These were issuesraised at one time or another by the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association.

There was no indication that the government acted upon any of these text-book recommendations. Certainly, creating an Editorial Department and pro-viding capital to publish/underwrite larger texts would have cost thegovernment additional ongoing salary and other operating funds. This furtherexpenditure was for the purpose of saving parents money. This was at a timewhen the economy of the province was weak, revenues were declining sharplyand when government was looking for ways to reduce costs.

However, it is interesting to note that the Manitoba Text Book Bureau wasalready publishing small textbooks, as was made possible in its founding leg-islation. The Programme of Studies for 1930-1931 (Manitoba, 1930b) statedthat Black and Davis’ New Practical Physics was the prescribed book for GradeXI and XII Physics. A year later in the 1931-1932 Programme of Studies (Mani-toba, 1931) it listed Black and Davis’ physics text again but this time also iden-tified another accompanying, approved text, the Outline of Experimental Workin Practical Physics, Grade XI, for sale for 10 cents. The earliest existing MTBBcatalogue was from 1937-1938, and Books for Manitoba (Manitoba, 1937a,p. 68) listed both books as authorized for Grade XI and XII Physics. A booklocated in the Rare Books Room at the Manitoba Education Library, entitledPractical Physics: An Outline of Experimental Work for Third Year, SecondarySchools, revised by Erwin Knapp, sold for 10 cents, had no publication dateand had as its publisher the Manitoba Text Book Bureau, a Branch of the De-partment of Education. A search of the National Library of Canada’s AMICUSdatabase, containing the bibliographic records of the majority of Canadianpublishing, revealed two other titles published by the Manitoba Text BookBureau that were authorized for use in schools in Manitoba: Tennyson’s Idyllsof the King: Including the Holy Grail, Gareth and Lynette, Geraint and Enid,the Passing of Arthur (1936) and Pincock’s The Manitoba Arithmetic for El-ementary Grades: Grade Five, Book Two (1931). Perhaps not in a large fash-


ion, but the Bureau was publishing textbooks as was requested by schooltrustees and as was permitted by its legislation.

The final year to be examined in this study is 1941, in which the tenth yearof 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, stat-ing: “Parents, with children at school, often complain of unwarranted outlayfor 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’srecords” (Manitoba, 1941, p. 98). Brown indicated that in the first Bureau cata-logue, dated August 1931, there were 132 textbooks listed, 54 of which werestill authorized in 1941. While student enrolments had increased, sales of thesebooks had decreased, indicating that books were passed from student to stu-dent 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 newGovernment Text Book Subsidy that helped to offset rising prices. Of the costof these textbooks, Brown further stated: “Of the fifty-four books, forty arenow lower than in 1931; ten are the same and four slightly higher” (Mani-toba, 1941, p. 98). In his analysis of sales for 1940-1941, Brown indicated thatthere 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 beconfronted with many problems in the future, and without mentioning thewar, stated that some books were simply not going to be available and thatothers were only to be published with delay as a result of government con-trols (p. 100).

Thus, with the first ten years of operation with sales in and about $100,000each year to dealers, school boards and parents, with small profits being madeeach year, and with textbooks made easily available and the cost of textbookskept low, along with the cessation of resolutions from the Manitoba SchoolTrustees’ Association, it can be concluded that the Bureau was meeting itsmandate as requested by MSTA and stipulated by the government that it wasto 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 indicatedthat in April the free text system was inaugurated, whereby each school dis-trict was given a list of textbooks that were to be provided free of charge bythe government, upon completion of the necessary forms by the school dis-trict. These books all had a plate/stamp inside indicating that the books werethe property of school district. In 1903, 10,116 volumes of Victoria ReaderPrimer, 8,208 volumes of the First Readers, 8,748 volumes of the SecondReaders, 1,281 volumes of the Bi-lingual French-English Readers and 8,042volumes of Our Home and Its Surrounding were distributed prepaid by the


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 forbooks, staff, printing and postage was $16,223.04 (p. 10). “The work of theteacher has been greatly facilitated, since each child now has a text book,where formerly many could not possess one” read the annual report. “Thiswise action on the part of the Government is highly commended by all par-ties, and the Government is to be congratulated on the initial success of theexperiment” (Manitoba, 1903, p. 52).

During the second year of operation, the same titles were also made avail-able, in smaller quantities, plus Morang’s Arithmetic Book, of which some12,676 were distributed without charge (Manitoba, 1904, p. 48). The RoyalAtlas was added in 1905 (Manitoba, 1906, p. 14). The Free Texts program con-tinued during the 1910s and 1920s. By the end of June 1929, the service wasproviding “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 Cana-dian Readers and three Manitoba Elementary Arithmetic books were dis-pensed at a cost of $30,307.13 (Manitoba, 1932, p. 35, p. 58). Beginning in1915, the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association began to try to encouragethe government to expand the Free Texts service to include all textbooks forelementary schooling. In March 1915, at the Industrial Bureau in Winnipeg,MSTA passed a resolution “that free text books should be provided for all thegrades of the public school course” (MSTA, 1915, p. 21). Similarly, at the MSTAconventions in 1916 (p. 6), 1917 (p. 8) and 1919 (p. 12) school trustees calledon the government to expand the Free Texts program.

The Free Texts program disappeared during the summer of 1932. Fletcherindicated that the staff had been integrated into the MTBB operation suchthat, during 1931-1932, the first year of operation of the MTBB, the text bookbureau sales program and free text program operated from the same loca-tion. 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 from1903 through 1940 for the Free Texts service, books for school libraries, pay-ments to schools and total expenditures is illustrated in Table 1. Clearly, theGreat Depression was having an impact on provincial expenditures, as theFree Texts service and Books for School Libraries grant, were eliminated in1932 and 1933 respectively, while payments to schools, largely for teachersalaries, dropped significantly beginning in 1932. In 1935, Department of Edu-cation expenditures were only slightly higher than 1920 (see Table 1). The FreeTexts service in its last year of operation in 1931-1932 accounted for approxi-mately 1.3% of the Department of Education’s spending; therefore, the ter-mination of the service resulted in a considerable ongoing saving for the


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 facilitatedthe closure of an expensive program by offering the same service for a fee.

Table 1

Selected Legislative Grant Expenditures for theManitoba Department of Education 1903-1940

Year Free Text Books for Payments TotalBooks* School Libraries to Schools 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 andstationery, 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 servicefrom the MSTA at its 1933 convention, but MSTA did laud government for


opening the MTBB. It was not until the 1935 do we see school trustee dis-pleasure with the cancellation of the Free Texts service. Mrs. Edward Manns,a trustee from Edrans, moved a resolution, with a long forward, asking thatthe “… Department of Education arrange to provide Text Books free to theGrades from One to Six in our Public schools. We earnestly ask for your con-sideration and your support of this resolution looking to the solution of ourEducation Problems” (MSTA, 1935, p. 48). The forward to her motion stated“… for perhaps three years, free text books have not been provided in thepublic schools. When the Manitoba Text Book Bureau was started, the De-partment of Education decided to discontinue supplying free text books inthe lower grades just at a time when parents found it most difficult to providethem” (p. 47). Mrs. Mann addressed the importance of an equal opportunityfor education, regardless of whether the child was rich or poor. “If it were atall possible for them to do so, parents would provide these text books, but itis a fact, through no fault of their own, hundreds today are simply not able tosupply their children with textbooks” (p. 47). The Resolutions chair indicatedthat he spoke earlier with Fletcher regarding this resolution, indicating thatthe Deputy thought the Department has a better chance of securing the fund-ing if it were to read 50% of the cost (p. 46). Mrs. Mann refused to alter herresolution. Mrs. Gloria Queen Hughes then stated “… don’t forget that if youdon’t ask for free text-books you won’t get them” (p. 49). The resolution waspassed “overwhelmingly” by the convention.

Thus, 1935 was the last time in the 1930s that the MSTA proposed mo-tions related to textbooks. Their victory in creating the Bureau was offset bythe loss of the Free Texts service. Whether the government specifically cre-ated the MTBB so that it could eliminate the Free Texts service remains specu-lative, but the coincidence of events is certainly compelling.

CONCLUSION

Concluding this study was not an easy task. Throughout the paper, only a pre-liminary study has been undertaken in an attempt to present the first globalexamination of the events leading to the birth of the Manitoba Text Book Bu-reau and its first decade of operation. The initial research suggested a 10-yearstruggle by school trustees to get the Manitoba Department of Education togo beyond just approving textbooks to one where the Department played acritical role in facilitating availability and keeping costs down. The Department’snon-philanthropic response was to create a replica of the Alberta book bu-reau where the Manitoba Text Book Bureau was a self-sustaining agency,absorbing and then passing along all costs related to textbook acquisition anddistribution, but at the same time vastly improving the quality of service toparents, school boards and dealers. MSTA requests for a common curricu-lum with common textbooks, less frequent changes in textbooks and for astrong local publishing of textbooks, all designed to keep costs down, metwith far less success.


The dark side of the origins of the Bureau, a fully functional facility by theend of the end of September 1931, related to the government’s terminationof the long standing elementary schools’ Free Texts service in June 1932 atthe beginning of the Great Depression, exactly when most needed by par-ents. Instead, the government, through the Bureau, offered the easy acquisi-tion of these same textbooks for sale.

It is worth observing that while the origins of the MTBB had to do with theMSTA and government discussions regarding the unavailability of textbooks,issues of curriculum and textbooks, the lack of local publishing capability andreductions in government spending with the Great Depression, there wasnothing of the political and publishing industry controversy which surroundedthe birth and two decade operation of the Ontario Educational Depository, asdescribed by Henley (1980, pp. 1-23).

In fact, Henley’s unpublished manuscript on the 19th century OntarioEducational Depository appeared to be the only article dealing with any of thebook depositories and later book bureaus that developed in the provincesacross Canada in the 20th century. A clearer picture of the nature of each ofthese government book depositories and bureaus will help us to understandbetter the important role that textbooks played in schooling throughoutCanada, then as now.

REFERENCES

Alberta. Legislative Assembly. (1926). The Act to Amend the Department ofEducation Act.

Anonymous (August 23, 1929). School books needed for Grade 11. EmersonJournal, 35, 1.

Anonymous (October 16, 1931). Text Books in Schools. Emerson Journal, 37.

Apple, M. (1986). Teachers and texts. New York, Routledge.

Broten, D., & Birdsall, P. (1980). Paper phoenix: A History of book publishing inEnglish Canada. Victoria, BC: Canlit.

Christie School Supply Co. (February 1928). Send your orders to the Christie SchoolSupply Co. Advertisement in Western School Journal, 23(1), 42.

Eaton (T.) Co. (February 1927). Eaton Service in Western Canada. Advertisementin Western School Journal, 22(2), 82.

Eaton (T.) Co. (1970). The 1901 editions of the T. Eaton Co. Catalogue for Spring/Summer and Fall/Winter. Don Mills, ON: Musson.

Gage (W. J.) & Co. (November 1927). Books for you. Advertisement in WesternSchool Journal, 22(9), 360.

Gage (W. J.) & Co. (February 1929). New books for Manitoba Schools. Advertise-ment in Western School Journal, 24(2), 82.

Grace, Gerald. (1985). Judging teachers: The social and political contexts of teacherevaluation. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 6(1), 3-16.


Henderson’s Winnipeg Directory, 1929. (1929). Winnipeg: The Company.

Henderson’s Winnipeg Directory, 1932. (1932). Winnipeg: The Company.

Henley, R. (1980). The story of Egerton Ryerson’s people’s depository. Unpublishedmanuscript, University of Toronto, Toronto.

Hoey, R. A. (March 4, 1929). Letter to H. N. Macneill, President, MSTA. In MSTAProceedings of the Twenty-Third Annual Convention of the ManitobaSchool Trustees’ Association. Winnipeg: The Association.

Hudson’s Bay Co. (September 1932). Here are the authorized text books forManitoba schools. Advertisement in Winnipeg Fress Press, September 1,1932.

Knapp, E. (1931?). Practical physics: An outline of experimental work for third year,secondary schools. Winnipeg: The Manitoba Text Book Bureau.

Lamb (W. J.) (September 5, 1929). School supplies and text books. Advertisementin The Star and Times, 29(38).

Lamb (W. J.) (August 28, 1931). School supplies. Advertisement in The Star andTimes, 30(38).

Manitoba. Departmental Bulletin. (June 1931). Book Bureau. Western SchoolJournal, XXVI(6), 207-208.

Manitoba. Departmental Bulletin. (November 1931). Used Text Books. WesternSchool Journal, XXVI(9), 334.

Manitoba. (1934a). Government of the Province of Manitoba. Manitoba Text BookBureau. Report and Accounts for the year ending 30th April, 1934.Manitoba: Comptroller-General.

Manitoba. Legislative Assembly. (1930a). An Act to amend the “The EducationDepartment Act.”

Manitoba. Manitoba Text Book Bureau. (1937a). Books for Manitoba: An educa-tional list 1937-1938. Winnipeg: The Manitoba Text Book Bureau.

Manitoba. Programme of studies for the schools of Manitoba 1930-1931. (1930b).Winnipeg: King’s Printer.

Manitoba. Programme of studies for the schools of Manitoba 1931-1932. (1931).Winnipeg: King’s Printer.

Manitoba. (1926). Report of the Committee on the review of the Programme ofStudies. Winnipeg: the Department of Education.

Manitoba. (1927). Report of the Committee on the review of the Programme ofStudies (Grade VII to XI). Winnipeg: King’s Printer.

Manitoba. (1903). Report of the Department of Education for the year endingDecember 31, 1903. Winnipeg: The Printer.



Manitoba. (1929). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending June30, 1929. Winnipeg: King’s Printer.


Manitoba. (1930c). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending June30th, 1930. Winnipeg: King’s Printer.

Manitoba. (1932). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending June30th, 1932. Winnipeg: King’s Printer.

Manitoba. (1934b). Report of the Department of Education for the year endingJune 30th,1934. Winnipeg: King’s Printer.

Manitoba. (1935a). Report of the Department of Education for the year ending June30th,1935. Winnipeg: King’s Printer.



Manitoba. (1924). Report of the educational commission.

Manitoba. (1935b). Report of the select committee of the Legislative Assemblyappointed to enquire into and report upon the administration and financ-ing of the public educational system of the province. Winnipeg:Legislative Assembly.

Manitoba Education Association. (1915). Proceedings of the Ninth AnnualConvention of the School Trustees’ Branch of the Manitoba EducationalAssociation. Winnipeg: The Association.

Manitoba School Trustee’s Association. (1916). Report of the Manitoba SchoolTrustees’ Association Tenth Annual Convention. Winnipeg: The Associa-tion.

Manitoba School Trustee’s Association. (1917). Report of the Manitoba SchoolTrustees’ Association Eleventh Annual Convention. Winnipeg: TheAssociation.

Manitoba School Trustee’s Association. (1918). Report of the Manitoba SchoolTrustees’ Association Twelfth Annual Convention. Winnipeg: TheAssociation.

Manitoba School Trustee’s Association. (1919). Report of the Manitoba SchoolTrustees’ Association Thirteenth Annual Convention. Winnipeg: TheAssociation.

Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1920). Report of the Manitoba SchoolTrustees’ Association Fourteenth Annual Convention. Winnipeg: TheAssociation.

Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1921). Report of the Manitoba SchoolTrustees’ Association Fifteenth Annual Convention. Winnipeg: TheAssociation.

Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1922). Report of the Manitoba SchoolTrustees’ Association Sixteenth Annual Convention. Winnipeg: TheAssociation.

Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1923). Report of the Manitoba SchoolTrustees’ Association Seventeenth Annual Convention. Winnipeg: TheAssociation.


Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1924). Report of the Manitoba SchoolTrustees’ Association Eighteenth Annual Convention. Winnipeg: TheAssociation.

Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1925). Report of the Manitoba SchoolTrustees’ Association Nineteenth Annual Convention. Winnipeg: TheAssociation.

Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1928). Report of the Manitoba SchoolTrustees’ Association Twenty-Second Annual Convention. Winnipeg: TheAssociation.

Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1929). Proceedings of Twenty-ThirdAnnual Convention of the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association.Winnipeg: The Association.

Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1930). Proceedings of the Twenty-FourthAnnual Convention of the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association.Winnipeg: The Association.

Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1931). Proceeding of the Twenty-FifthAnnual Convention of the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association.Winnipeg: The Association.

Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1933). Proceedings of the Twenty-SixthConvention of the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. Winnipeg: TheAssociation.

Manitoba School Trustees’ Association. (1935). Proceedings of the Twenty-Seventh Annual Convention of the Manitoba School Trustees’ Association.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 TheStar and Times, 31(40).

Porter’s Drug Store. (September 8, 1932). Leave your orders for school text bookswith us. The Star and Times, 32.

Quicke’s (A. H.). (September 5, 1930). Sunrise School Supplies. Advertisement inEmerson Journal, 36.

Quicke’s (A. H.). (September 4, 1931). School textbooks (for all grades) at theDepartment’s Price. Advertisement in Emerson Journal, 37, 2.

Shanks, D., & Wilson, K. (1976). The Western School Journal 1906-1938:Introduction and index. Winnipeg: The Manitoba Educational ResearchCouncil.

Tennyson, A. T., and Crossland, J. R. (1936). Idylls of the king: Including the HolyGrail, Gareth and Lynette, Geraint and Enid, The passing of Arthur.Winnipeg: Manitoba Text Book Bureau.

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Part III


Students’ Perspectives Toward DisruptiveBehaviour Problems in Elementary School

Barbara L. MyronUniversity of Manitoba

ABSTRACT

Students who exhibit problem behaviours in school are a growing concernfor educators, and Canadians in general. There are an alarming number ofchildren who confront their teachers, schools, and parents with persistentdisruptive and threatening behaviours. Many of these students have been la-belled as: behaviourally disordered, emotionally disturbed, socially malad-justed, mentally ill, or as having conduct disorder, or oppositional defiantdisorder. Professionals are not in agreement with respect to a definition forproblem behaviour, its identifying characteristics, the theoretical orientationsthat should be adopted, assessment techniques, therapeutic interventions,or educational approaches. Many educators do agree that a defensible andwidely accepted definition of behaviour disorders would assist in identifyingcharacteristics, estimating prevalence, designing assessment instruments,devising treatment and educational approaches and in conducting, compar-ing and replicating research. A review of the literature reveals a lack of infor-mation about students’ perspectives regarding their disruptive or problematicbehaviour. In this study, I explore student behaviour problems from the per-spectives of elementary school students. The study is based on interviewswith nine students in grades 5 and 6 who have been identified by their teach-ers as having behaviour problems. I document and discuss students’ percep-tions of themselves as behaviour problems. The discussion includes the effectof the student-teacher relationship on student behaviour, the disciplinary prac-tices which influence behaviour, the value of outside interventions, and therole of parents.

INTRODUCTION

The prevalence of school-aged children who exhibit behaviour problems haslong been a challenge to teachers and other professionals (Szatmari, Boyle &Offord, 1993; Thomas, Byrne, Offord & Boyle, 1991; Loeber, 1990). As well,


students with behaviour disorders continue to be among the most neglectedand underserved populations in our educational system (Rosenberg, Wilson,Maheady & Sindelar, 1997). These children are often unpredictable and im-pulsive, abusive and destructive. They can defy authority and lash out withhostility and aggression or, conversely, can be withdrawn and isolated, fre-quently rejected by their peers (Shatz, 1994).

The perceived increase in the prevalence and incidence of problem behav-iours in public schools has been a growing concern among teachers, schoolboard members, and provincial officials. It is also becoming a major concernof Canadians in general. Although many children and adolescents occasion-ally exhibit aggressive and sometimes antisocial behaviours in the course ofdevelopment (Rutherford & Nelson, 1995), an alarming number of childrenconfront their teachers, schools and parents with persistent disruptive andthreatening 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 chil-dren and for their teachers. The high rates of school-related behaviour prob-lems have been accompanied by a high risk for poor academic performance,poor peer relations, and high school attrition (Loeber, 1990). Predictions arethat half of the youths who experience behaviour problems in school will con-tinue to have problems into adulthood (Kazdin, Mazurick & Bass, 1993). InCanada, as well as elsewhere, these problems represent an increasing finan-cial and social burden as a significant percentage of youth develop problemsof adult criminality, drug abuse, or psychiatric illness (Offord & Bennett, 1994).

DEFINING BEHAVIOUR DISORDERS

The concept of “behaviour disorders” is complex, multifaceted and difficultto define (Goldberg, 1995; Rosenberg, Wilson, Maheady & Sindelar, 1997;Ruehl, 1998). Although numerous definitions of behavioural disorders appearthroughout the literature, currently there is not one that is universally accepted.Designing guidelines that will facilitate decisions about who is or is not be-haviourally disordered has proven to be a difficult task. Behaviour disorderscomprise many types, some of which may have overlapping characteristicsand others which may bear little resemblance to one another. Differences inworld views or conceptual models are one factor contributing to the problemof defining behaviour disorders, as this may influence which term is used. Inaddition, problems created by differences in the purposes of social agenciesresponsible for working with these children, problems in measuring emotionsand behaviour, the range and variability of normal and deviant behaviour, theconfusing relationships among disorders, the transience of many problemsduring human development, and the disadvantages inherent in labelling devi-ance all factor into the problem of constructing a definition (Kauffman, 1997).Although subject to criticism, the United States, under the Individuals withDisabilities Act (IDEA), has adopted a definition for behavioural disorders us-


ing the term “seriously emotionally disturbed” (Schwean, Saklofske, Schatz& Falk, 1996). In Canada, provincial/territorial jurisdiction of education has ledto a diversity of policies and guidelines.

Ruehl (1998) asserts that overwhelming evidence shows many childrenwho display emotional and behavioural problems have more than one disor-der and that there is considerable overlap, or comorbidity between emotionaldisturbance and social maladjustment. Many researchers have concluded thatthere are no assessment devices proven to be technically adequate for dis-tinguishing social maladjustment from other conditions (Council for Childrenwith Behavioural Disorders, 1990; Kauffman, 1997). What constitutes a be-haviour disorder becomes problematic and confusing when definitions are notclear and the language used to describe them is vague and contradictory.

The variation and inconsistency evident with terminology are a reflectionof the confusion found within the field of education for this population of chil-dren. “Bad” behaviour may fall under any of the following categories: mentalillness, emotional disorder, externalizing disorder, conduct problem, conductdisorder, oppositional defiant disorder, and social maladjustment. Some pro-fessionals use these terms precisely to distinguish subtle differences in thenature and severity of the problem, while others use them interchangeably(Tremblay & Pagani-Kurtz, 1995; Walker, Colvin & Ramsey, 1995). The varia-tion in terminology does not necessarily suggest a variety of distinct disor-ders. It does, however, imply a wide range of problematic behaviour patternsand reflects both the extreme variation in the types of behaviour included underthe general rubric “disturbed” or “disordered” and the conceptual confusionabout such problems (Kauffman & Kneedler, 1981).The disruptive behaviourstypically reported by school personnel include an array of behaviours such asstealing, lying, truancy, extreme non-compliance, and overt aggression (Vitaro,DeCivita, & Pagani, 1995).

It is not surprising, then, that discrepancies and disagreement arise as pro-fessionals construct their own meanings for behaviour disorders from sourcessuch as the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourthedition (DSM-IV) (APA, 1994), school division guidelines, and their own expe-riences. Shatz’ (1994) cross-Canada survey of programs for children with be-havioural disorders in 117 school districts found that 56% of Canadian schooldistricts had adopted a written definition of behavioural disorders. Approxi-mately 47% of these school districts indicated they used definitions identicalto the provincial definition, while 53% used locally developed definitions. Therewas great diversity in the definitions that were provided by respondents.

Many special educators agree that a defensible and widely accepted defi-nition of behaviour disorders would be desirable to clarify criteria for researchand service purposes (Goldberg, 1995; Rosenberg, Wilson, Maheady &Sindelar, 1997; Ruehl, 1998). In addition, a definition can be useful to reflect aparticular theoretical position or to structure public and professional discourse.The definition accepted will reflect how the problem of disordered behaviour


is conceptualized and, therefore, will determine what intervention strategiesare considered appropriate. Several definitions share some common elementsof agreement in the research, these terms may all be subsumed under theheading of behaviour disorders. The terms, “behaviour disorder” or “behav-iour problems,” are used interchangeably in this study to mean broadly: con-duct disorder, oppositional defiant disorder, antisocial behaviour, andaggressive behaviour.

EDUCATIONAL IMPLICATIONS

When responding to students who exhibit disordered behaviour, educatorsvery often adopt a problem-focused perspective based on a reactive crisismanagement model which treats the student as the source of the problem(Ogilvy, 1994). Typically, in response to escalating misbehaviour there is anescalating scale of disciplinary sanctions administered by the classroomteacher (e.g., verbal reprimands, extra work, writing lines, and punishmentexercises) or other school personnel (e.g. administrator, counsellor). From thispoint on, the “problem child” is referred to external personnel. Typically a re-ferral is made to those professionals (e.g., therapists, counsellors, physicians,social workers, psychologists, or other clinicians) who “fix” children’s prob-lems. If these attempts fail, the last resort is to suspend or exclude the childfrom the school or to refer him or her to an off-site program with a view toreintegration after assessment and treatment.

Although the problem-focused approach to behavioural difficulties has notbeen demonstrably successful, it is still the one very often used by many class-room teachers (Ogilvy, 1994). Most strategies lack clear educational objec-tives and have had little success in producing any long-term changes in pupilbehaviour. They do, however, serve a practical function by providing teacherswith a response to dealing with perceived problem children. As such, the avail-ability of special programs or special schools offers educators a way out whenprevious disciplinary sanctions have failed. A problem here is the fact that theprovision of external resources that enable schools to dispose of their mostdifficult children merely reinforces the schools’ tendency to do so.

The causation debate focuses educators towards a single cause for dis-ruptive 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 accountthe interaction of process dysfunctions, experiential defects, and experien-tial deficits (including inadequate teaching). While a child may be predisposedby personal or social factors to be ‘difficult’ in school, the way he or she ishandled there and the nature of the demands made on him/her will determinethe outcome. From this perspective, problem behaviour is not perceived asthe result of specific deficits in the child or the school; it is seen as an interac-tive, dynamic process. One cannot solely blame the teacher, the child, the


family, the curriculum, or school provisions. The solution, then, is to be foundwithin an interactional or systems perspective which takes a holistic ratherthan a reductionist view of human behaviour (Frederickson, 1990). This pointis illustrated by the variability of most student behaviour according to the con-text. Within schools, many students are disruptive only with certain teachersand cannot be divided easily into ‘the good’ and ‘the disruptive’. Rather, stu-dent behaviour consists of a continuum, ranging from extremely cooperativeto totally unacceptable, depending on the circumstances. Few children con-sistently occupy the same point on the continuum as their behaviour changesas their teachers, their age and their family circumstances change (Ogilvy,1994). The interactionist perspective views misbehaviour as arising within aspecific context out of the mutual interactions between the student andteacher and school support systems (Frederickson, 1990).

Within individual schools, different perspectives as to the causes of andsolutions to challenging behaviours are often at work. These may be in con-flict with each other. Confusion occurs when there is no clear agreement aboutthe cause for behaviours. This ambiguity hinders the process of developingclear effective interventions to address them. In addition, specific interven-tions, themselves, may be limited, only working in certain settings and not inothers. The reasons for their success or failure may not be evident. This com-petition between the different perspectives results in schools using a ‘mish-mash’ of interventions. Educators tend to use a given intervention until theydeem it no longer works, without regard to actual, documented efficacy, oruntil they are satisfied they have tried long enough. Further, interventions maynot be applied properly or used in the same way as research conditions, thusimpeding their effectiveness.

FRAMING THE RESEARCH PROBLEM

There has been a large amount of research on the types of behaviour prob-lems children display in school and the interventions suggested for reducingthem (Cheney & Harvey, 1994; Mann-Feder, 1995; Nelson, 1996; Quinn &McDougall, 1998; Sommers-Flanagan & Sommers-Flanagan, 1998). In an at-tempt to understand why children engage in challenging behaviour, research-ers have established compelling evidence that parents and communitycontribute to the development of problem behaviour by failing to provide thenecessary prerequisite social skills and by modelling inappropriate social in-teractions (Dishion & Andrews, 1995). Given that children may come to schoolwith a learning history that sets them up for further behavioural problems,schools must respond proactively and consistently. Unfortunately, there isevidence to suggest that current school discipline practices further exacer-bate and contribute to children’s patterns of challenging behaviour (Lewis,Sugai, & Colvin, 1998). High rates of problem behaviour in schools are asso-ciated with punitive discipline strategies, lack of clarity about rules, expecta-tions, and consequences, lack of staff support, and failure to consider and


accommodate individual differences (Mayer, 1995). The outcome of combinedrisk factors is an increase in problem behaviour within the school (Lewis, Sugai,& Colvin, 1998). Although the types of behaviour observed at the elementarylevel are less dramatic than severe forms of antisocial behaviour observed inadolescence, they are, nonetheless, disruptive to both teaching and learning.Ogilvy (1994) notes that pupils who are a “perpetual nuisance” through, forexample, continual “attention seeking” behaviour, do, in fact, constitute amajor group of referrals to alternative placements. Therefore, the conse-quences of persistent trivial behaviour may be considerable, presumably aspunishments escalate in line with teachers’ inability to deal with these be-haviours effectively. As well, research indicates that, unless the challengingbehaviour is addressed at an early age, the pattern is likely to continue andpossibly escalate (Rutherford & Nelson, 1995).

Although an understanding of the interconnections between students’school experiences and their emotions and behaviours is of importance, it hasreceived relatively little attention in the literature (Okey & Cusick, 1995). Thereis a lack of information about students’ perceptions of school circumstancesand of themselves as students. A review of the literature reveals that mostof the research on discipline has focused on the attitudes of teachers or, lessfrequently, on the attitude of students, and, even less frequently, on the atti-tude of parents toward behavioural problems (Romi & Freund, 1999). In or-der to fully understand the dynamics of student behaviour within the schoolenvironment, it is important to construct this understanding from all relevantperspectives. Too often, the viewpoint of the student remains unheard. Byobtaining a better understanding of why students misbehave, teachers maybuild on the strengths that exist within the interventions used for studentswith behaviour problems and may identify aspects of the strategies that ac-tually impede these students’ abilities to engage in school in a positive man-ner.

DESIGN OF THE STUDY

Students have been studied, tested, and acted upon without any acknowl-edgment of their own experiences and ideas. Procedural decisions are basedupon the conceptual frameworks of adults who may have had very differentschool experiences from those of the students they are analyzing. As well,the adults and students may hold very different perspectives amongst them-selves. When two groups hold different perspectives, it makes it difficult todetermine if one knows what the other is talking about. This difference maycause misperceptions, misunderstandings, misplacement, and sometimeseven mistreatment. Therefore, when such a gap exists, asking the studentsabout their perceptions of a common experience may be valuable. The attemptto look at an experience through another’s eyes enables the researcher toachieve an awareness of different ways of thinking and acting and to identify


new possibilities. In this study I attempt to elicit the views of one group ofpeople who are often neglected in the research literature. Through semi-struc-tured interviews, students were asked to share their perspectives of theirschool experiences, in particular their views about themselves and the typesof behaviour they display.

From the 16 letters that were sent home, nine were returned with paren-tal permission to take part in the study. Nine students participated, 8 boysand 1 girl. Parents expressed interest but had reservations about their chil-dren participating in the study. Parents were mainly concerned about how theirchild was identified as being a behaviour problem and questioned if this wouldbe a label that would stay with their child.

DATA COLLECTION

The data in this study were collected primarily through a series of semi-struc-tured interviews using an interview guide. Open-ended questions and a flex-ible format were chosen to avoid forcing students into predeterminedresponse categories and to encourage them to express their own feelingsand opinions (Brantlinger, 1991).

The children were interviewed in their own school, either in the resourceroom or the nurse’s room. The student interviews were conducted during theregular school day. The students were taken from the regular classroom andbrought to an interview room. The approximately thirty minute sessions weretape-recorded and fully transcribed later. The intent of the interviewer was tospeak to each student twice. However, three of the students did not want toparticipate in a second interview and two of the students were not accessi-ble due to field trips and other year-end school activities.

Once the child gave verbal assent and seemed comfortable with the situ-ation, the interview began. Each interview started with the same question –Do you sometimes get in trouble at school? (If yes) Tell me about it.

DATA ANALYSIS

For the purpose of this study, the goal of the analysis was to provide a cleardescription of one group’s perspective on their experiences specific to beingconsidered a behaviour problem.

All of the interview transcripts, field-notes and their accompanying “ob-server’s comments” were transcribed soon after the interviews were com-pleted. The first task in the data analysis was to read and reread the notes tolook for emerging themes and patterns and to write notes to summarize whatwas thought to be emerging. The most meaningful parts of the collected datawere organized, managed, and retrieved. This job was done by assigning seg-ments of data into analyzable units by creating categories with, and from, thedata. This process allowed time to reflect on the issues raised and to developlinks between the observer’s comments.


LIMITATIONS

There were certain barriers that needed to be overcome at the earliest stagesof the study in respect to gaining access to schools and students. The admin-istrators approached were very resistant to having this type of research takeplace in their schools. They contended that teachers would feel they were“stigmatizing” those students selected by identifying them as having behav-iour problems, even though existing identification was a criterion for selec-tion. They also felt parents would be unhappy with their children beingselected. This position, held by the majority of the school administrators con-tacted, led to the research being conducted in only one school. This did notallow for a comparison between schools in respect to the effect different dis-cipline policies might have on student behaviour.

Although the researcher was known to the school community where thestudy took place, many parents were initially concerned about or resistant totheir children participating. That the researcher was acquainted with many ofthese parents allowed parents to freely ask questions and feel more com-fortable in allowing their children to participate.

The researcher being known to the students also created a mixed situa-tion during the interview process. On the one hand, a relationship alreadyexisted between the researcher and students, which may have taken severalmore interviews to establish with students who were unknown to the re-searcher. On the other hand, the fact that students were familiar with the re-searcher may have caused them to be less forthcoming. In this study thestudents’ initial shyness soon gave way to open answers which provided gooddata.

RELEVANCE OF THE STUDY

Little is known about the nature of students’ perspectives on their own be-havioural problems or those of their peers. This study arose from a belief inthe inherent value of the views of students and recognition that these viewsare often absent from consideration. A search of the literature revealed onlya handful of studies on students’ perspectives about their behaviour problemsin school, and all of them only examined the views of secondary and highschool students. The semi-structured interviews allowed a rich, detailed ac-count of the students’ personal experiences to be collected. Their words andtheir stories provide a basis upon which to glean an understanding of differ-ing perspectives for explaining their behaviour and indicate a possible sourcefor the emergence of student disruptive behaviour problems.

STUDENT RESPONSES

Each of the student interviews began with the question, “Do you sometimesget in trouble at school?” The importance of this question and the studentresponse cannot be underestimated as they set the context for the line ofquestioning to follow. Had any of the students simply replied “no” the prob-


ing questions might have turned in another direction such as, “Why do youthink your teacher feels you get into trouble?” Asking the question based onthe teacher’s point of view would take the emphasis off the student perspec-tive or may have closed the questioning down altogether, if the students in-sisted that they did not get into trouble at school. However, all of the studentsanswered “yes” to the initial question, readily acknowledging they did getinto trouble at school. The students then provided answers which describedthe kinds of trouble they got into and why they believed problems occurred.

The types of behaviour that the students identified which got them intotrouble 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 experi-ence and the outcome.

RESULTS

The nine students in this study readily acknowledged that they got into trou-ble at school. Generally, these students had clear ideas about what went onin their classroom or on the playground. Students recognized several typesof 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 trou-ble they got into, and some even admitted to being “really bad” or “out ofcontrol”, the students did not always recognize their role in the behaviour ortake responsibility for their actions. The common belief was, “Yeah, I didwrong, but ... or because ...”. As well, the students reported that peers influ-enced student misbehaviour, particularly among groups who were friends. Ifthe group misbehaved, members of the group would more likely do the same.The students revealed a range of self-perceptions and constructions with re-gard to school, schoolwork and student behaviour.

The students perceive their teachers as holding the majority of the powerwithin the school. This perception works for and against students, depend-ing on whether they understand their relationship with their teacher to bepositive or negative. The students expressed a desire for teachers to speakto them “respectfully” and “kindly” and generally to recognize their ability tointeract in a mature way. They felt those teachers who had certain character-istics, like being fair, and having a sense of humour, as being those with whomthey could get along. It is important to the students that they feel cared forand supported. Repeatedly, the students mentioned certain teachers whoknew them, who would talk to and explain things to them, and who wouldlisten. Knowing students in this way implies that the teachers have an abilityand willingness to consider the individual student’s perspective.

Many of the children also felt teachers could resolve student behaviour is-sues by phoning the parents of those who misbehaved. The students wereconcerned that their parents would be angry with them and that additional


consequences would occur at home. That parental support is important tothe students further demonstrates their need for external support to controltheir behaviour.

Teachers who do not show an understanding of the student perspectiveserve to escalate certain behaviours in students, rather than help diffuse them.Not surprisingly, the school experiences of many of these students have beenpredominantly negative. In part, the students are saying that the teacher-stu-dent relationship is problematic. Students would welcome changing theteacher behaviour they view as disrespectful and antagonistic and increasingthe amount of teacher behaviour seen as caring and helpful. Students alsoexperience difficulty when they feel teachers do not afford them enough at-tention. A consistent and common grievance is that teachers do not listen tostudents. Teachers “not listening” is deemed inappropriate in two ways. Thefirst is the students’ sense that their point of view is not valued enough to beheard. The second is when it is interpreted as teachers failing to meet stu-dents’ social and emotional needs. These actions were often perceived tocommunicate a message to the students that they were not valued as stu-dents and, often, that they are not liked as individuals.

A recurring statement from students was that, when misbehaviour didoccur, the students involved needed a period of time to “calm down” beforethe problem was dealt with. Failure to be given this time was regarded as amajor factor that escalated students’ behaviour into more severe anger and/or aggression. The period of time given the students to cool off served to slowthings down for them so that their ability to problem solve and be involved ina mediation process was more likely to be successful. Writing lines and serv-ing time-outs were two consequences applied for misbehaviour that studentsmentioned helped them because they could “calm down” and “not get mad.”And, as one student put it, “It helped the teacher too.” The students alsoimplied by their comments that they were better able to talk things out andcontrol themselves when given a period of time to cool off.

In many of these cases, the teacher is described as recognizing a state ofvolatility for the student. This recognition suggests that there are certain cir-cumstances that can lead to a predictable pattern of interactions resulting inthe student “getting into trouble.” Given that the pattern is predictable, theskill required by the teacher is to recognize the pattern at its preliminary stagesand intervene appropriately. The intervention, itself, does not always reflectwhat we often think of as disciplinary action. Providing students with alterna-tive activities to allow them to cool off and divert them from potential con-flicts with peers requires the teachers both to know the students on a personalbasis and to care about them.

Surprisingly, while a number of intervention strategies were in place formost of the students interviewed, the students rarely mentioned them. Clearly,these interventions were not seen as making a difference. The only excep-tion was one boy who talked about the reward system set-up by the class-


room teacher to help monitor his behaviour, a procedure which his motheralso used at home. Given that much time and money is spent on programs toassist students with behaviour disorders, it may be that we are putting ourefforts in the wrong place. To increase teacher competency in dealing withbehaviour problems, written guidelines need to be further developed for be-havioural programs in the area of behavioural skills, social skills, communica-tion skills, and self-help skills. As well, successful programs are often attributedto the quality of staff, their training, knowledge, commitment, and attitude.Studying the teacher’s role from reviewing university training to program evalu-ation and in-services would also be beneficial.

IMPLICATIONS FOR FURTHER RESEARCH

This study involved interviewing a group of students from one school duringone or two sessions. Replicating this study with fewer students over a longerperiod would establish a baseline of the students’ behaviours early on, whichcould then be examined in the school context over the course of time.

A further study could elicit other perspectives regarding student problembehaviour, such as perspectives of teachers, of students whose behaviour isnot problematic, and of younger children. These results could provide a com-parative study among the different groups.

A further comparative study could involve different interviewers selectedfrom various disciplines from within and outside of the school. These peoplemay include a psychologist, social worker, classroom teacher, or medical doc-tor. These results could further our understanding of the dynamics in the re-lationship between students and the adults in their microsystems.

The role of a school wide management system was not addressed in thisstudy. An approach for further study may be to select best practices to beused in a whole school model and then test the strategies for their efficacy.Looking at the effects of best practices on behaviour problems would addanother dimension to the discussion on what might help students with be-haviour problems be successful in school.

CONCLUSION

Despite the controversies inherent in the field of education for students withbehaviour disorders, the lack of a universally accepted definition, the varia-tion in terminology, the diverse conceptual models and educational ap-proaches, the lack of research, and despite the challenges that these studentspresent to educators, teachers will continue to educate this population of stu-dents within the school system. The detailed accounts of students’ perspec-tives provide a basis upon which to construct a picture of the child’s view onthe structural and interpersonal features of school life affecting their behav-iour. The students’ comments provide a unique understanding of school andschool processes that contributes an essential perspective to understandingtheir educational experience.


The students’ responses suggest that they underestimate the seriousnessof their behaviours which teachers find problematic. Students felt certain be-haviours were serious, such as fighting, stealing and talking back to the teacher.Other behaviours, such as not doing their work and talking during class, werenot considered “as serious” by students. Perhaps the students were not clearabout the rules and expectations set by teachers, or maybe they understoodthe rules and expectations, but did not agree with them. However, whateverthe case, students must learn to accept responsibility for their behaviour whenthey break the rules.

Students talked about their behaviour in some situations as being “out ofcontrol.” Although they were aware their behaviour was not appropriate, stu-dents lacked the self-management strategies to respond in an acceptable way.The teacher may need to directly instruct students on how to recognize earlytheir own anger signals, and provide students with strategies for managingand reducing their anger.

The need for student self-management strategies is confirmed by students’comments suggesting that teachers need to create “calm down” time, andprovide mediation processes to help students solve their problems. Teach-ers should provide students with the “space” to cool down before talkingthrough the problem. Again, teachers may need to directly teach the vocabu-lary and skills in order that students may actively participate in the problemresolution process.

Teachers’ typical responses to student behaviour served to escalate theproblem behaviours rather than reduce or stop them. The teachers were per-ceived by students as using yelling, teasing, put-downs, sarcasm, and rude-ness in dealing with student misbehaviour. Student reaction to these kindsof teacher responses was more severe misbehaviour, which resulted in thestudent being sent out into the hall and/or to the office. The students’ per-ception is that students need to be dealt with more fairly by teachers whenapplying consequences for problem behaviour.

Teachers’ style of behaviour management strategy tended to be reactiveand equated to negative reinforcement or punishment. Consequences werehanded out to the students, in the students’ opinion, in reaction to, and rela-tion to, the seriousness of the behaviour. Often, the teacher deflected theproblem by sending the student to the principal’s office rather than dealingwith the student themselves.

The lack of adult supervision and lack of teachers’ control over teasing, blam-ing, put-downs and unfairness, elicited problematic behaviours from students.Students are less likely to engage in teasing and bullying behaviour whenteachers monitor the class and address misbehaviour. Failure to hold studentsaccountable means those students may engage in class tasks only to the ex-tent of their own interest.

The students’ comments about why they misbehaved in school were mostclosely aligned with the perspective known as the “sick school” typology.


Students put the “blame” for their misbehaviour almost entirely on the teacher,and, in some cases, on the school. Students spoke of teachers not listeningto them and treating them unfairly and unkindly. Students mentioned school-work being boring and repetitive from the year before. Sometimes, they said,they did not understand the work. They felt more supervision of students wasrequired, especially on the playground. The behaviour management strate-gies students identified teachers using suggested an escalating scale of pun-ishment administered by the teacher (yelling, writing lines, extra work, andlosing privileges) or the principal (reprimands and suspension). The studentsdid not believe any of these practices helped them manage or change theirproblem behaviour.

The interaction between student and teacher was an important factor inthe students’ opinion on how they were able to manage their own behaviour.Students provided concrete examples of both good and bad teacher practicesand, in doing so, highlighted the effects those practices had on the students’behaviour. What the students want of teachers is positive attention; they wantto be talked and listened to; they want teachers to help them achieve and besuccessful in school. Students also raised the importance of the links betweenthe home and school. As Bronfenbrenner (1979) suggested, the stronger andricher the links between microsystem elements, the better the situation forchildren at the center of those systems.

Teachers should encourage students to identify those factors that developsupportive and positive classroom environments. This knowledge would alsoserve as a foundation for promoting communication between students andtheir teachers and foster more positive learning environments.

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The Prevalence of Problem and PathologicalGambling in a Canadian University StudentPopulation

William Roy Smitheringale III

ABSTRACT

This study examines the prevalence rates of problem and pathological gam-bling in 483 students from the Faculty of Education and The Department ofPsychology at The University of Manitoba using the South Oaks GamblingScreen. Findings include problem gambling prevalence rates of 5.4% andpathological gambling prevalence rates of 5.0% for a combined prevalencerate of 10.4 %. Problem and pathological gambling prevalence rates were sig-nificantly higher among males (6.8% and 9.7% respectively) than among fe-males (4.0% and 0.3% respectively). Correlations were also found betweenproblem gambling and the following: drug and alcohol problems, depression,having experienced emotional and verbal abuse, and parental gambling prob-lems. Results suggest that a significant number of university students maybe experiencing problems with gambling and that those who are experienc-ing gambling problems are more likely to also be experiencing other problems.

INTRODUCTION

I took my life tonight because of VLT. Please get Governmentto 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 crookedand give no body a chance.

Dennis Wynant (committed suicide November 8, 1997)

The inception of this study is rooted in the experiences of the thousandsof Manitobans whose lives have been, and continue to be, adversely affectedby problem gambling. The specific focus, problem gambling among univer-sity students, was chosen for two reasons. Firstly, there have been relativelyfew studies which have measured problem gambling prevalence rates withinCanadian university populations. Secondly, the high problem gambling preva-lence rates that have been reported across Canada among young adults seemto warrant some concern and attention.


While determining the prevalence of problem gambling in our local univer-sities is important, there is also a need to look deeper and explore what fac-tors may put students at risk for developing gambling problems. Some of thekey areas of focus in this study include investigating possible correlationsbetween:

- 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 impetusfor the implementation of more effective prevention and education strategiesaimed at addressing problem gambling in universities. Current efforts to edu-cate students about gambling, and the inherent risks involved, may be inad-equate given the potential magnitude of the problem. In any event, knowingto what extent the problem exists is the first step toward creating a solution.

Gambling in Our Society: Defining the ProblemLegalized gambling has become increasingly prominent in Canadian society.Gross gambling revenues in Canada increased more than threefold between1992 and 2000 ($ 2.7 billion and $ 9.0 billion respectively) (Azmier, 2001). Neverbefore has gambling been such a ubiquitous part of our day-to-day lives(Rosecrance, 1988). Unfortunately, this widespread access and promotion oflegalized 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 prob-lem with gambling (Shaffer et al., 1997). In Manitoba, a general populationstudy completed by the Addictions Foundation of Manitoba (AFM) using theSouth Oaks Gambling Screen (SOGS) identified 3.8% of participants as prob-lem gamblers and a further 2.3% as probable pathological gamblers (AFM,2002). This combined prevalence rate of 6.1 % was the highest provincial prob-lem gambling prevalence rate reported in Canada at that time. Researchershave identified an overall trend of increasing problem gambling prevalencerates over the past two decades in conjunction with the expansion of legalgambling across North America (Shaffer et al., 1997).

Consequences of Problem Gambling There is no doubt that excessive gambling can cause serious problems forindividuals, families, and possibly our society as a whole. Clients admitted to


gambling rehabilitation programs typically report problems with their families,being in debt, feeling depressed and often suicidal. On a societal level, prob-lem gambling contributes to elevated levels of bankruptcy and crime(Blaszczynski, McConaghy and Frankova (1989).

Given these serious consequences, it would seem prudent for our societyto closely monitor the prevalence of problem gambling and its effects on ourcommunities so as to ensure that the financial benefits accrued from wide-spread legalized gambling are not overshadowed by the very real social costs.

Understanding Pathological GamblingPathological gambling was first categorized as a mental disorder in 1980 whenit was included in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual – Third Edition (DSM-III). It is now generally accepted that pathological gambling is an addictive ill-ness (Lesieur and Blume, 1993). Most of the major psychological schools ofthought have put forth theories on the nature or dynamics of problem gam-bling.

Physiological theories. These theories suggest that problem gamblersmay have a physiological and/or biological condition that results in a responseto gambling that is somehow different from a normal response, one that pre-disposes them to gamble heavily (Lesieur and Rosenthal, 1991; Jacobs, 1986).Research in this area has focused mainly on three areas: EEG waves, plasmaendorphin levels, and other brain chemical imbalances (Lesieur and Rosenthal,1991).

Psychological theories. These theories suggest that gamblers developproblems as a result of some factor related to their psyche (Rosenthal, 1992)whether it is an unresolved emotional wound (psychodynamic theories) orcertain personality traits that predispose someone to have problems withgambling (personality and trait theories) (Corless and Dickerson, 1989).

Sociological theories. These theories suggest that observational learn-ing and vicarious reinforcement from watching family or friends gamble ex-plains how gamblers first become involved in gambling (Dickerson, 1984;Rosecrance, 1986; Walker, 1992; Griffiths, 1990). Once introduced to gam-bling, people learn that gambling can provide social rewards, belonging to asub-culture that provides an identity and contact with like-minded peers or anescape from the complexities of the world outside the gambling context(Walters, 1994). The cognitive-behavioural model, one of the more acceptedsocial learning theories, suggests that problem gambling behaviours are ac-quired through operant and classical conditioning and are reinforced on a vari-able ratio reinforcement schedule through a combination of financial rewardsand heightened physiological arousal levels (Bandura, 1997).

It seems unlikely that any one theory can fully explain persistent gam-bling (Murray, 1993). Probably the best conceptual models of problem gam-bling are inclusive in that they take behavioural, cognitive, and emotional factors


into account. Pathological gambling should be approached with an eclecticperspective, one that acknowledges that sociological, psychological, and bio-logical processes are likely all involved an interactive and complex fashion(Lesiur, 1988).

Common Co-MorbiditiesIn an effort to better understand problem gambling, researchers have lookedat how often other disorders co-occur with problem gambling. One of the moreimportant findings is a link between problem gambling and depression.McCormick (1984) found significant rates of major depressive disorder amongproblem gamblers. Over ninety percent (90.8%) of the problem gamblers whocalled the AFM Problem Gambling HelpLine between March 1994 and April1995 reported being depressed (AFM, 1996).

While the link between problem gambling and depression has been clearlyestablished, it is not clear whether the depression precedes or follows diffi-culties with gambling (Roy, Custer, Lorenz & Linnoila, 1988). In some casesclinical depression may be the primary problem and the gambler may be us-ing gambling in an attempt to self-medicate; however, other research sug-gests that a large part of the distress pathological gamblers experience oftenstems from the gambling itself (Roy et al., 1988). The feelings of guilt andshame that most problem gamblers experience can lead to periods of depres-sion, and in extreme cases, suicidal thoughts and attempts (Sullivan, 1994).

Research has also shown that problem gamblers are much more likely thanthe general population to have drug or alcohol addictions (Murray, 1993).Lesieur (1988) reported findings that more than half of those who have prob-lems with gambling also have problems with alcohol or drug abuse. Similarly,higher rates of problem gambling exist among substance abusers than in thegeneral population. Other affective disorders that are common among prob-lem gamblers include hypo-manic disorders, obsessive-compulsiveness, an-tisocial personality disorders, panic disorders and schizo-affective disorders(Blaszczynski and McConaghy, 1989a; McCormick, 1984).

HYPOTHESES

This study will address the following hypotheses:

a) participants in this study (university students) are more likely to beproblem 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 non-problem gamblers to report having drug and/or alcohol use prob-lems;

d) participants who report having a parent who gambled too much aremore to be problem gamblers than those who did not.


METHODS

Recruiting Study Participants

Participants were recruited from the student population in the Faculty of Edu-cation and the Department of Psychology at the University of Manitoba. Par-ticipants were assured of their anonymity and that individual test results wouldbe kept completely confidential. All subjects were treated according to Cana-dian Psychology Association and American Psychology Association ethicalguidelines (1992).

Screening Instruments Used

The South Oaks Gambling Screen is a 20-item questionnaire based on theDSM-III criteria for pathological gambling developed in 1987 by Lesieur andBlume. Commonly used to screen clinical and general populations for prob-lem and pathological gambling, the SOGS has been shown to be a valid andreliable screening instrument (Lesieur and Blume, 1987).

RESULTS

Socio-demographical Profile of Participants

All study participants (N = 483) were asked to provide certain socio-demo-graphic information including gender, age, marital status, years at universityand parental income. The gender distribution for study participants may seemskewed (female, 62.9%, n = 304; male, 37.1%, n = 179), however it is actu-ally a fairly close representation of the students in the Faculty of Educationand the Department of Psychology. An overall socio-demographic profile ofstudy 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, theforms of gambled that were most often played on a weekly basis were lotter-ies (6%) and VLTs/slots (4%) (see Table 1).


Table 1

Percentage of Participant Involvement In Various Forms of Gambling atDifferent Frequencies

FrequencyGambling Type Weekly 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 gamblersand an additional 9.7% as probable pathological gamblers, for a combinedprevalence rate of 16.5%. Among the female participants, 4.0% were identi-fied as problem gamblers and an additional 0.3% as probable pathologicalgamblers for a combined prevalence rate of 4.3%.

Determining an overall prevalence rate for the study requires gender weight-ing as significantly more females (n=304) than males (n=179) took part in thestudy. The gender weighted prevalence rates for the study (an average of therates for males and females) are 5.4% problem gamblers and 5.0% probablepathological gamblers for a combined prevalence rate of 10.4 % (see Table2).


Table 2

Prevalence of Problem and Probable Pathological Gambling Among Males,Females and Overall Within the Study Population

Gambling CategoryProblem 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 signifi-cantly higher (χ2 = 28.892, df = 2, p < 0.001) among male participants thanamong female participants. In fact, the combined prevalence rate for maleparticipants (16.5%) was more than four times the combined prevalence ratefor female participants (4.0%).

Problem Gambling and Age/Marital Status/Years at University/Parental Income

There was no statistically significant relationship between the prevalence ofproblem gambling and any of these variables. The limited ranges of thesevariables within this study likely weighed against finding significant results inthese areas.

Problem Gambling and Parental Gambling Problems

There was a significant relationship between problem gambling and havinghad a parent who “gambles/gambled too much” (χ2 = 31.471, df = 2,p <0.001). Participants who reported having had a parent who “gambles/gam-bled too much” were almost 5 times more likely to have a gambling problemthemselves (see Table 3).


Table 3

Percentages of Participants Who Reported Having or Not Having a Parent WhoGambled Too Much By Gambling Category

Gambling Category

Problem Probable TotalParental Influence Pathological

Neither Parent Had a Gambling Problem 4 % 3 % 7 %

At Least One Parent Had a Gambling Problem 12 % 21 % 33 %

Problem Gambling and Age of First Gambling Experience

While there was no significant relationship between problem gambling andthe age at which participants first gambled, it was interesting to note that noneof the 49 participants who first gambled at age 18 or older reported having agambling problem.

Gambling Categories and CAGE Scores

There was a significant relationship between problem gambling and substanceabuse problems (χ2 = 32.613, df = 8, p < 0.001). Participants who had gam-bling problems were also more likely to have experienced drug or alcohol useproblems.

Problem Gambling and Depression

There was also a significant relationship between problem gambling and “hav-ing felt depressed” (χ2 = 6.227, df = 2, p < 0.05) as well as between problemgambling 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 gamblingand either thoughts of suicide or suicide attempts; however, two participantsdid report that they had considered suicide as a result of gambling problemsand one participant reported having attempted suicide as a result of gamblingproblems.

Problem Gambling and Physical/Sexual/Emotional/Verbal Abuse

There was no statistically significant relationship between problem gamblingand a history of either physical or sexual abuse. There was, however, a sig-nificant relationship between problem gambling and a history of both emo-tional abuse

(χ2 = 6.939, df = 2, p < 0.05) and verbal abuse (χ2 = 6.638, df =2, p < 0.05).


DISCUSSION

Socio-Demographic Results

The study population (N = 483) seems to be a fairly typical same of under-graduate students in most respects including age, marital status, years atuniversity and parental income. The overrepresentation of females among thestudy population (63% female, 37% male) was expected given that the ma-jority of in both the Faculty of Education and the Department of Psychologyare female.

Gambling Related Results

The popularity of gambling among participants, over 86% of study participantshad been involved in at least one form of gambling in the past year, was alsonot surprising. These figures are comparable to gambling involvement num-bers for the general population. The types of gambling students are involvedin, primarily VLTs, lottery tickets, and break-open or scratch tickets, were alsoexpected and again closely mirrored gambling involvement among the gen-eral public.

The problem gambling prevalence rates (5.4% problem; 5.0% probablepathological; 10.4% combined) are considerably higher than prevalence ratesfor the general population; however, this too was expected in that most otherstudies have found elevated problem gambling prevalence rates among col-lege and university students. In their meta-analysis of problem gambling preva-lence studies Shaffer, Hall, and Bilt (1997) reported average problem gamblingprevalence rates for college students as follows: 9.3% problem; 4.7% prob-able pathological; 14.0% combined).

Table 4

Problem and Probable Pathological Gambling PrevalenceRates Based on the SOGS

Gambling CategoryProblem Probable Combined

Parental Influence Pathological Prevalence

Meta-analysis: University and College 9.3 % 4.7 % 14.0 %

University of Manitoba (2004) 5.4 % 5.0 % 10.4 %3 %


Correlations Between Gambling Related Results and Other Variables

It was expected that male study participants would have significantly highercombined problem gambling prevalence rates than females (16.5% and 4.3% respectively); however, the four fold magnitude of the difference was some-what surprising. Also surprising was the fact that the probable pathologicalgambling rate among males (9.7%) was actually higher than the rate for prob-lem gambling (6.8%). This is somewhat unusual in that in most other stud-ies, pathological gambling rates are slightly lower than probable pathologicalgambling rates. While possibly an anomaly related to the relatively small sam-ple size, this result does suggest that male students have much more of atendency 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%), indicatingthat while some females may be experiencing some minor negative effectsfrom gambling, they are not involved in gambling to the extent that wouldresult in serious harms. Comparing the male and female rates of probablepathological gambling rates (9.7 % and 0.3% respectively) helps illustrate themarked differences in male and female gambling habits, especially at a moreextreme 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 havinglost 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 problemgambling and marital status, years at university, or parental income was notunexpected. In regards to age, many other studies have found statisticallyhigher problem gambling prevalence rates among those between the agesof 18 to 25. This was not evident in this study; however, it should be notedthat 88% of participants were age 18 to 26 meaning that the sample size forthose over age 26 was relatively small (n=58). The high problem gamblingprevalence rates found in this study are consistent with other studies of simi-lar age groups.

The significant influence of parental gambling habits was an expected find-ing but the strength of that influence was somewhat surprising. The com-bined prevalence rate (33%) for participants who had at least one parent who“gambles/gambled too much” was nearly 5 times that of participants whodid not have a parent who gambles/gambled too much (7%).

The relationship between gambling problems and alcohol or drug use prob-lems was anticipated as was the relationship between depression and prob-lem gambling. While it is a fairly well established fact that patterns of addictionsand depression are often convergent, the nature of the relationship, in terms


of which is cause and which is effect, has yet to be clearly established. Itseems likely that it is actually a complex relationship in which sometimesdepression leads to problem gambling and sometimes problem gambling leadsto depression. Clearly, each can have an exacerbating effect on the other, re-gardless of which occurred first.

The absence of a correlation between gambling problems and suicidal idea-tion in this study may be related to the fact that suicidal ideation and attemptsusually manifest in the later stages of gambling addiction. It may be that eventhough a significant number of participants had experienced problems relatedto their gambling, many may not have reached the later desperation and giv-ing up phases when suicidal thoughts most often occur. Also, most partici-pants in this study did not have families, jobs, and homes to lose and often itis these negative consequences that lead a problem gambler to consider sui-cide.

There was no significant relationship between having a gambling problemand having experienced physical or sexual abuse however there was a corre-lation between gambling problems and both emotional and verbal abuse. Simi-lar to substance abuse and depression, experiences with abuse often correlatewith gambling problems. It was slightly surprising that there was a relation-ship 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 aretypically much more likely to be female while it is the males that are muchmore likely to problem gamblers.

LIMITATIONS

While it appears that the study population is a fairly representative one, gen-eralizing the study results to groups outside the study population is problem-atic. Study participants were not chosen randomly in that the self-selectedthemselves by volunteering. It is very difficult to know what effect this hadon the make-up of the study population and how it may or may not have bi-ased it in any way. It also should be noted that the study included multiplecomparisons, increasing the possibility of a false correlation occurring due tochance. Finally, the use of self-report questionnaires in this study also intro-duces the potential for a self-report bias. Self-report bias could result in par-ticipants minimizing the behaviours because of guilt or shame. Conversely,study participants could over-report their gambling involvement in an effortto please the researcher.

Having said this, results are fairly consistent with studies looking at similarpopulations. Other than the self-selection of study participants, there doesnot appear to be any compelling reasons to doubt that the findings are likelyrepresentative of the range of gambling activities and the problems beingexperienced by the overall university student population.


IMPLICATIONS AND FURTHER RESEARCH

While the problem gambling prevalence rates found in this study were basi-cally in line with expectations, the fact that approximately 1 in 10 universitystudents surveyed had a problem with gambling is still significant. Universitystudents are often in an experimental phase of their lives in which they areseeking out new experiences, including gambling. In fact, risk taking in gen-eral is more common among young adults who are testing their limitationsand sometimes living under a false sense of invulnerability. This among othersocial factors puts university students at risk for gambling problems.

Gambling has never before been such a pervasive and accepted part ofsociety. For many youth, gambling has become a new rite of passage andstudents may experience peer pressure to gamble. University students of-ten spend more time in close proximity to VLTs in bars and lounges, increas-ing the likelihood of their gambling involvement. Additional risk factors mayinclude experiencing times of high stress, feelings of isolation as a result ofliving away from home for the first time, and new found access to large sumsof money through student loans and credit cards.

No discussion of problem gambling would be complete without acknowl-edging the effect of the new electronic forms of gambling such as VLTs andelectronic slot machines. These fast paced games may be particularly appeal-ing to young adults who have grown up playing video games and may viewVLTs as simply a form of adult video game.

While university years are often a time when people experiment, they arealso important years where success or failure at university can have a lastinglife impact. With a problem of this magnitude, it would seem prudent to havesome kind of active prevention and education program in place to help raisestudent awareness about the risks involved with gambling, to alert them topotential early signs and symptoms of problem gambling, and to inform themof the resources that are available if they are experiencing gambling problems.Programs aimed at educating students about safe and responsible gamblingstrategies would also seem advisable. More research needs to be done todetermine what the most effective ways of delivering these messages.


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The Nature of the Conceptual Changes thatStudents Undergo as They Become Awareof Their Own Growth in MathematicalProblem Solving

Hanhsong Vuong

ABSTRACT

The purpose of this paper is to describe a research study in problem-solvingactivities. I am an action researcher who studied 8th grade students. The studyinvestigated the students’ awareness of the conceptual changes in solvingthe Balance problems. Over a two-year period, students’ Balance work hascaused them to revisit their thinking processes, and these documents cantrigger students to recognize their learning growth.

My View on EducationWhenever I look into a mirror, the reflection of myself as a teacher shows methat I am an individual who takes learning to heart. Being a teacher during theday, and a master’s student at night has broadened my view on education. Iused to think that one of teachers’ main roles was to give a test at the end ofeach unit, and the test was supposed to measure students’ learning. Learn-ing is more than that. Learning cannot be treated as an end product, but learn-ing is a continuous process where there is no beginning or end. Each steppingstone, major or minor is considered significant, because the step can supple-ment previous steps allowing students to have a better understanding of theirontological and epistemological world. Being able to understand students’own personal learning style helps them become aware of their roles in theclassroom.

My teaching assignments include grades 6 to 8 mathematics, and grades7 and 8 English Language Arts. In some ways, I think that I am a fortunateteacher 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 canbe compared to a flower. The blooming process takes time. Snapshots of the


flower must be taken every few minutes in order to see the growth. Other-wise, the growth is too little to be noticeable.

Applying this analogy to learning growth, I believe that students go througha similar process as blooming flowers. The changes in the students’ progressoften seems little and insignificant. When the progress is examined after acertain period of time, I am then able to notice the growth in students’ learn-ing. The nature of changes that students undergo is important to me as ateacher. I believe, however, that students should become aware of their ownprogress as well. To see the learning growth, students are required to docu-ment their thinking processes, as they engage in problem-solving activitieson a regular basis. These documents contain students’ work samples repre-senting snapshots of their learning. Students and I can, then, revisit the docu-ments whenever needed. The written documents provide feedback forstudents to see the changes in their thinking processes. As the students gothrough the process, they become aware of their capabilities in solving math-ematical problems. As a result, students are able to personalize their goals,develop their own strategic plans, execute the plans, and constantly monitortheir own learning. The learning circle encourages students to become activeparticipants.

We seldom discuss how we accomplish our achievements. Things taketheir course, and we move on to our next destinations. If we could take a fewmoments each day to explicate one skill out of many which we would like tolearn 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 significantbecause when we recognize changes, we can strive for betterment, steeringand accelerating our learning rather than just allowing it to take place.

There should be no difference in mathematics classrooms. During any givenperiod, students are engaged in changing their knowledge about mathemati-cal ideas. If students are to intentionally become better at their mathematicallearning, they will need to set goals, develop plans, and execute those plans.However, they must first notice and then put into words their own learningprocesses.

In How to Solve It, George Polya, (1957) outlines the progression from alearner noticing his/her cognition, gaining confidence as a result, and becom-ing more intentional as a learner:

The best is, however, to help the students naturally. The teachershould put himself in the student’s place, he should see the student’scase, he should try to understand what is going on in the student’smind, and ask a question or indicate a step that could have occurredto the student himself. (p. 1).

If the student has really conceived a plan, the teacher has now arelatively peaceful time. The main danger is that the student forgets


his plan. This may easily happen if the student received his plan fromoutside, and accepted it on the authority of the teacher; but if heworked for it himself, even with some help, and conceived the finalidea with satisfaction, he will not lose this idea easily. Yet the teachermust insist that the student should check each step. (p. 13, originalitalic text)

One of the first and foremost duties of the teacher is not to givehis students the impression that mathematical problems have littleconnection with each other, and no connection at all with anythingelse. We have a natural opportunity to investigate the connectionsof a problem when looking back at its solution. The students will findlooking back at its solution really interesting if they have made anhonest effort, and have the consciousness of having done well. Thenthey are eager to see what else they could accomplish with that ef-fort, and how they could do equally well another time…(p. 15)

Polya’s ideas suggest that mathematics classrooms should be constructedin a manner that facilitate intentional learning. Learning is to be structured bythe learners themselves. Mathematics instruction needs to provide opportu-nities for each learner to adapt learning opportunities to their individual needs.Generating and establishing personal learning goals needs to be followed byreflection on and celebrating success as those goals are attained. Successcan be motivating, and success can provide learners with an opportunity tobecome aware of the incidences that led to their success, and this can en-able them to strive consciously for similar results.

Students’ roles in mathematics classrooms become more complex whenstudents are expected to become active participants in adapting their behaviorsto achieve goals. Students take charge of their own learning when they takeaction to fulfill their personal learning needs. Students must be encouragedto develop and execute plans, which can enable them to meet their needs,and they must be encouraged to reflect on and celebrate their accomplish-ments along the way. Students need to be taught to analyze their learningand ultimately, make internal the processes of becoming better at learning.This is what Polya intends when he describes helping students naturally tobecome better at learning.

When students in mathematics classrooms must construct their ownmeanings of mathematics, the teacher’s roles become challenging to estab-lish, but less central to the learning processes of the students. To establish alearning environment, the mathematics teacher must try to understand thelearning capability of each student. Richard Skemp (1987) explains, “So theteacher of mathematics has a triple task: to fit the mathematical material tothe state of development of the learners’ mathematical schemas; to also fit


the manner of presentation to the modes of thinking … of which the learnersare capable; and, finally, to increase gradually the learners’ abilities to [be in-dependent of the teacher]” (p. 45). As the teacher becomes more familiarwith the learners, the teacher is better able to decide how to adjust instruc-tion to help students fulfill their responsibilities. As the appropriate learningenvironment develops, the teacher’s roles are simplified. Learning processesare directed and completed more by the students than by the teacher. Theteacher facilitates by monitoring and guiding, and encourages students to applytheir acquired knowledge to solving mathematical problems.

This research study took place within a sequence of problem-solving ac-tivities for my grade 6, 7, and 8 students. In the activities, students solved aspecific problem and recorded their solution and their solution processes. Thestudents then used a rubric intended to lead them toward noticing and ex-pressing their strategies, and celebrating their progress. In this study, I fo-cused on the students’ awareness of their progress in solving problems. Theresearch question was:

What is the nature of the conceptual changes that students undergoas they become aware of their own growth in mathematicalproblem solving?

In the Balance SeriesThe 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 mo-bile. The mobile shows a two-armed balance suspended at its midpoint. Geo-metric forms suspended from each arm represent masses. Students mustdetermine numerical values for the mass of each form, so that the mobilewill balance. To assist students, each problem has one or more mathematicalstatements. The balances allow students to use informal algebra, and triggerthem 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


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 compu-tation error.

The fulcrum (balancing point) can represent the equals sign in the equa-tion; each geometric form can be seen as a variable; each arm with geomet-ric 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 themobile will be balanced, the geometric forms are seen as specific numericalvalues. The series of problems offers one context for engaging with the con-cepts involved in an algebraic equation. The complexity of each balance prob-lem in the series increases, with balances suspended from balances, moreliteral symbols, and more complex mathematical statements as clues.

As the students solve the balance problems, they are thinking about alge-braic ideas informally. Throughout the problem-solving process, students mustbe conscious of maintaining the balance of both sides; this is a contextualexample of the algebra concept of equality. Students learn that one geomet-ric 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 thanonce. This is how variables operate in formal algebra. The supplementary clues,in the form of mathematical statements using literal symbols, bring the formsof algebra into the problem-solving context. Students can think about algebrastatements as ways of expressing their understandings about the mobilesand the problems they are solving.


Instructional ProgramOne problem from The Balance Series is done each week. Each time, the stu-dents will work for one period of forty-five minutes on one problem, describ-ing their solution and their process on the problem sheet. Sometimes, moreclass time is provided, and usually they are able to take the problem home tocomplete their solution if necessary. Later in the week, the teacher will leada whole-class lesson, discussing students’ solutions and their representationsof their problem-solving processes. Often, this is done with transparenciesof students’ written work. After the discussion, students are asked to do self-assessment based on the four-level problem-solving rubric. (See ProblemSolving: The Balances; p. 294). On their balance sheets, they must indicatetheir level, along with their own explanations of why they know that they areworking at that level. The teacher collects these sheets for formal assess-ment of their mathematical reasoning and their self-assessment. The teacherwrites comments only when the student’s self-assessment indicates that thestudent is not using the rubric appropriately in the self-assessment. Becausethe intention for this program is to consider the progress of each student asan individual, there are no comparisons made between students.

Students store their Balance Series sheets in a duo-tang. The intentionsfor the students’ collection of their work are to provide opportunities for themto revisit their work and recognize that they are making progress: solving moredifficult problems and expressing their thinking processes more richly.

When middle-years students express their mathematical thinking proc-esses, they are writing algebraic steps informally. The students must showtheir understandings and the process that brings them to the solution. Whenthey determine a numerical value for a geometric form (a single variable) anduse it to determine other forms suspended on the balance, they have devel-oped their own algebraic procedures. Each time the students solve a mobilesuspended from another mobile, they are solving one-step or more firstdegree equations.

Literature Review—Research MethodFor my research study, I am using my own teaching situation as a site forresearch, with my students as research participants. Simultaneously main-taining the dual roles of teacher/researcher must be undertaken with care.David Wong (1995) perceives an inherent conflict in this dual role. He definesa teacher’s role as being concerned with the sphere of process or change inhuman characteristics, and a researcher’s role as being concerned with know-ing or understanding these characteristics. Furthermore, a teacher’s primarygoal is to choose and take appropriate actions to cause the change. A research-er’s primary goal, however, is to carefully observe, reflect and inquire to un-derstand the situation. Wong (1995) emphasizes his struggles to come toterms with his teacher’s role in the classroom, while negotiating his research-er’s roles. He believes that teacher’s roles are to act responsibly and with com-


passion and respect. The researcher’s roles are merely responsible for inter-rogating subjects, and asking probing questions until he/she knows and un-derstands his/her subjects’ perspectives. Wong (1995) explicates that thesetwo roles are distinct, and there should not be any crossovers. The teacher/researcher can merely play one role, either the teacher or the researcher, andnot both simultaneously.

As a researcher, I was greatly interested in students’ conceptions ofthe natural world and their ways of interpreting and explaining them.I felt that any assistance from me would adversely influence the ex-pression of their tenuous understanding. On the other hand, as ateacher I felt obligated to instruct, to change Toni’s notions or her wayof thinking (p. 25).

In contrast, Suzanne Wilson (1995) claims that the teacher’s role and theresearcher’s role can be unified. The teacher/researcher’s primary roles areto produce knowledge; researchers produce knowledge through writing andpublishing 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 sepa-rating 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 re-searchers alike to find out how to clarify any student confusion, and to exam-ine the situation at hand closely. Wong (1995), on the other hand, claims thatit is without doubt that the action of teacher/researcher can interfere andchange the intention of the research to a certain degree, but many teacher/researchers are incorporating such interventions as opportunities to examinethe change.

I agree with Wilson (1995):

…teacher must teach. But teaching, for me, entails everything Imust do to help my students learn, including asking questions. In hisportrait of both teaching and research, Wong focuses on question-ing as a tool of research and ignores the fact that it is equally a toolof teaching. Questions help teachers, as Dewey (1904,1964) remindsus, study pupils’ minds. Furthermore, from Socrates on, many edu-cators 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 samplesfrom the 2000-2001 school year. My task as action researcher is to analyzethe students’ work to see progress in their learning to explicate their cogni-tion through writing. Obviously, this task assists me, a researcher, in know-ing and understanding how students demonstrate their learning progress, andin 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


I can apply what I learn in my research analysis in the planning of my instruc-tion. Evidently, there is no need for negotiating between the two roles be-cause essentially both roles are striving for the same agenda – that is theknowledge of students becoming aware of their problem-solving processesand their understanding of Balance concepts. This example illustrates whatWilson (1995) meant by the compatibility of the two roles.

As a teacher/researcher, I have to acknowledge that the teacher and theresearcher at the fundamental level, are two distinct professional roles. AsWong (1995) points out, “… reducing our conceptions of teaching and researchto their common denominator eliminates much of what make each a disci-plined, professional practice” (p. 23). Being the teacher is to teach and ex-plore mathematical ideas with the students, and being the researcher is toobserve and understand such actions. These two roles, however, do not haveto operate independently of each other. Instead, both roles can be viewed asknowledge producers. The acquired knowledge, then, can bring two kinds oflearning processes – 1) the researcher’s learning and understanding the sphereof process or change in participants’ characteristics, and 2) the teacher’s learn-ing of his own practice. In my belief, I have the need to interact with the stu-dents in my classroom in order to become aware of my pedagogy. In otherwords, the more I understand the situation at hand, the more I will becomeacquainted with my own practice, and as a result, I am able to gain successwith students, and encourage their learning growth.

My duties as teacher include ensuring that every student is treated equallyand fairly. Although the students cannot opt out of instruction, it is within astudents’ discretion, in this case along with their legal guardians, to either par-ticipate or not in my research activity. I must ensure that the choice to partici-pate or not to participate in my research activity will not affect the students’course marks. My role as researcher includes defining clearly the parametersfor my data collection, and being ethical in fulfilling my responsibilities to bediscreet and respect the confidentiality of participants. I may need to sepa-rate research interactions from classroom interactions, and collect data equi-tably 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 inthe research report. These considerations will help to resolve the ethical com-plications of the teacher/researcher duality.

The Complementary Accounts MethodologyMy research design will be an adaptation of the qualitative approach that DavidClarke (1997) named complementary accounts methodology. With thismethod, a teacher/researcher seeks to understand the learning that occursin complex settings such as classrooms, recognizing that the learning mustreflect and accommodate that complexity. The focus of the methodology isto study the interactions between teacher/students and among students (so-cial context) in a classroom. This social activity is experienced as personal


meaning, and any theory of learning must accommodate this constructed self.This accommodation can occur through a data-collection process that gener-ates an appropriately rich data set, and then the research employs analyticaltechniques sensitive to the multifaceted and multiple connected nature of data.

In complementary accounts methodology, the research team utilizes avail-able technology to combine videotape data with participants’ reconstructionsof classroom events. Clarke (1997) states that complementary accounts meth-odology is distinguished from other approaches to classroom research by:

1. the nature of the data collection procedures, leading to the construc-tion of “integrated data sets” combining videotape and interviewdata;

2. the inclusion of the reflective voice of participant students in thedata set; and

3. an analytical approach that utilizes a research team with comple-mentary but diverse areas of expertise to carry out a multifacetedanalysis of a common body of classroom data (p. 98).

The challenge for this type of classroom research is to portray the learningprocess of individuals that occurs in a highly complex social context. The learn-ing process is taken to be an integration of the obvious social events that arecaptured on the videotape and the constructions of individual’s construal ofthose events, and the memories invoked that take place during the interview.

Central to this research procedure is the use of videotaped classroom les-sons and video-stimulated recall techniques within an interview protocol thatseek to obtain the following:

1. Students’ perceptions of their own constructed meanings in thecourse of the lesson and the associated memories and existing mean-ings employed in the constructive process;

2. Students’ sources of conviction for the construction of their math-ematical meanings; and

3. The individuals, experiences, arguments, or actions in which stu-dents believed mathematical (academic content) authority to reside(p. 100).

Although I will not be using the same technologies, I will be using a similarapproach to collecting students’ perceptions, sources of convictions, andviews on their learning experiences with the Balance Series.

The Rationale for Complementary Accounts ResearchThe focus of the research was to seek an understanding of learning growththat integrates the students’ learning process in problem-solving activities andtheir reflection on their role as problem solvers. The research method is simi-lar to complementary accounts methodology (Clarke, 1997). The data-collec-tion processes are the same, but the instruments used are different. The first


set of data is obtained from the activities that occur in the mathematics class-room. The collected data, then, are to be analyzed and interpreted by the re-searcher. The researcher generates field notes and collates the notes to thecorresponding documents in the students’ collections. The researcher setsup for the interviews with the students, making direct reference to the col-lections. The conversations during these interviews were recorded on audiocassettes 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 softwareto collate field notes to the corresponding events in the video recorder, thisresearch utilized students’ collections of past written work in solving the Bal-ance problems. I generated field notes on the word processor and manuallycollated the notes to the corresponding documents in the collections. Thesecollections 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 anddescriptions of the students’ interpretations and coming to terms with theirlearning growth in problem solving, the methods were qualitative.

RESEARCH PROCEDURE

The 8th-grade students, in an urban school division in Western Canada, servedas the setting for this research. The selected school was that of nursery tograde 8, and only offers French Immersion programs. Most of the studentsacquired the French language as early as nursery. Almost all the subject ar-eas are taught in French, except for English language arts, and a few specialhealth mini-programs such as Family Life, Lions Quest, The Real Game, aretaught in the English language.

The nature of the research was to have collections of sufficient amountsof previously written student samples in solving the Balance problems. The8th-grade students were the most suitable candidates because they have beenactively engaged in solving the Balance problems in my mathematics classsince 6th-grade. The collections used in the research were accumulations oftwo 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) prob-lem-solving skills, 2) strategic plans, and 3) written thought processes. Thefirst key element was to identify the students’ struggles, and successes insolving the Balance problems. The importance of noticing and recognizing thechanges necessary to become successful problem solvers helped the stu-dents and myself see the gradual changes in adapting and fine-tuning theirproblem-solving skills to fit novel situations. The second key element was toconcentrate on the problem-solving strategies that the students used in the


activities. The importance was for the students and myself to see and recog-nize the distinction between successful and unsuccessful strategies, and howstudents made necessary changes to their strategic plans to meet their learn-ing goals. The third key element was to focus on their written thought proc-esses. Writing in mathematics is already a difficult process for most students,making writing about their thinking processes even more difficult. The impor-tance of noticing and recognizing the changes in the way they expressed theirthought processes helped the students and myself in identifying and correct-ing any misconceptions that might play a major role in the students’ thoughtsabout the Balance problems.

The participants took part in an initial 30-minute audio-taped interview, inthe school library during lunch hour. Each interview involved 3 participants.To conduct the first interviews, I shared my analysis of key elements withthe participants, and made direct reference to their written work in their col-lections. This interview process is called “document-stimulated” (Clarke, 1997,p. 100). The students’ work collections triggered their memories and helpedthem in constructing their own meanings and understandings of the Balanceproblems. The participants were asked to confirm on or react to my state-ments. I attempted to provide a conversational quality to the interview by en-gaging in personal commentary and by encouraging the participants to leadthe conversation within the context of their own mathematical knowledge.Since each interview involved 3 students, the participants were invited andencouraged to interpret or give comments on each other’s responses whereapplicable. During the interviews, I intentionally made a comparison betweenthe participants’ work. I wanted to introduce two terms: working hard andworking smart. Working hard is considered as seeing and depending on nu-merical values to solve a problem, while working smart is considered as makinggeneralization about the relationships between geometric shapes on a mo-bile before applying numerical values to obtain solutions.

All three sets of the first interviews were transcribed. These transcriptshad focused on the highlighted elements. Key elements/statements from thefirst set of data were illuminated, and I was ready to schedule for the secondsets of interviews with all 9 participants.

In the second interviews, I provided the participants with an overview ofthe participants’ previous highlighted elements/statements. The interviewswere partly “document-stimulated” (Clark, 1997). I prepared at least one keystatement for each participant, and once again the tone of the conversationwas pursued through the active and interactive participation of the interview-ees. For the remaining time of the interview, I had asked the participants towork cooperatively on solving Puzzle 17 by showing only the mobile. The givenvalues were removed. My intention was to emphasize to the participants toexercise the “working smart” concept.


At this moment I have finished transcribing the second three sets of inter-views. The next step for me is to analyze and interpret for topics, demonstrat-ing the potential student growth, and students’ perception and conception oftheir growth in problem solving.

RESEARCH TIMELINE

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

FIGURE I


CONCLUSION

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 Ilearned about myself was my philosophy of education.

I believe that learning takes time. Students need to be patient so not togive up during the learning process, and teachers need to encourage and fos-ter learning that is taking place. The collaboration between the students andthe teacher is important. My role is to help students see their own growth insolving mathematical problems, and sometimes I have to intentionally causethe students to see their growth through direct teaching. I believe direct teach-ing is an important tool and can be used to stimulate and challenge studentsto see what they normally would not see.

Learning involves dedication. Students must personalize their sense of di-rection for learning. Students’ learning direction can be determined based ontheir previous work. The previous work serves as a learning foundation forthe students to build on. Otherwise, the sense of direction will become toovague for them to identify. The teacher needs to observe and guide studentsin seeing their progress, which in turn will assist students in setting up theirown goals. The process of involving students in their learning creates an en-vironment that enhances personal growth, and personal responsibility. Stu-dents will commit and apply their effort, to successfully attaining their goals.

Learning involves risks. As soon as the students are out of their comfortzone, they must take risks. This situation, however, teaches students to be-come aware of their learning and their progress. Risks stimulate students tothink critically. Critical thinking stimulates students to make informed deci-sions. 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 bygoing through the thesis processes, I have learned to value these ideas. Thethesis route gives me the flexibility to investigate areas that are most inter-esting to me. I am glad that I have chosen the thesis route, because I have achance to follow and do an extensive study of how students become awareof their learning growth. Because learning is not an end product, learning is acontinuous process. The research data provide an in-depth look at these 9students as learners in a mathematics class. Understanding their self-aware-ness helps my classroom instructions, and the most important thing for meis to use what I learned as a teacher and a researcher to help and understandstudents. The study has inspired me as a teacher and a researcher who takeslearning to heart.


REFERENCES

Barnes, M. (2000). Magical’ moments in mathematics: Insights into the processof 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 andunderstandings, 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 Develop-ment.

Burton, L. & Morgan, C. (2000). Mathematicians writing, Journal for Research inMathematics Education, 429-453.

Clarke, D. J. (1997). Studying the Classroom negotiation of meaning: Complemen-tary accounts methodology, Journal for Research in Mathematics Educa-tion Monograph No. 9, 98-111.

Day, R. & Jones, G. A. (1997). Building bridges to algebraic thinking, MathematicsTeaching in the Middle School, 209-212.

Fouche, K. (1997). Algebra for everyone: start early, Mathematics Teaching in theMiddle School, 226-229.

Fraivillig, J. L., Murphy, L. A. & Fuson, K. C. (1999). Advancing children’s math-ematical thinking in everyday mathematics classrooms, Journal forResearch in Mathematics Education, 148-170.

Kroner, L. (1997). In the Balance – Algebra logic puzzle. Mountain View, CA: Crea-tive Publications.

Manitoba Education and Training (1997). Grade 5 to 8 mathematics: A foundationfor implementation. Winnipeg, Manitoba: Author.

National Council of Teachers of Mathematics (1995). National council of teachersof 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, Mathemat-ics Teaching in the Middle School, 253-260.

Swafford, J. O. & Langrall, C. W. (2000). Grade 6 students’ pre-instructional useof equations to describe the represent problem situations, Journal for Re-search in Mathematics Education, 98-111.

Wilson, S. M. (1995). Not tension but intention: A response to Wong’s analysis ofthe researcher/teacher, Educational Researcher, 19–22.

Wong, E. D. (1995A). Challenges confronting the researcher/teacher: Conflicts ofpurpose and conduct, Educational Researcher, 22–28.

Wong, E. D. (1995B). Challenges confronting the researcher/teacher: A rejoinderto Wilson, Educational Researcher, 22–23.

Woodbury, S. (2000). Teaching toward the big ideas of algebra, Mathematics Teach-ing in the Middle School, 226-231.


Unifying Theory and Practice inImplementing Change

Jaclyn Koskie

Literature on implementing change in education includes abundant materialon strategies and professional development activities (Blair, 2000; Gainey &Webb, 1998; Murray, 1988). However, there continues to be debate on howto have educators adopt a variety of ‘best practices’ in the areas of educa-tional curricular content and program planning and implementation for studentswith special needs. A better understanding of these issues may be possibleif 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 basicbeliefs 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 aboutcause-effect relationships and standards of practice and behavior (Skrtic, 1995).Thus, each mode of theorizing produces a fundamentally different way ofunderstanding curricular content and the programming process, because eachis premised on a different set of metatheoretical presuppositions about thenature of special education (Burrell & Morgan, 1979; Morgan, 1983). In gen-eral, an educator’s theoretical perspective will influence the practices he orshe chooses to use, as well as how about instilling change occurs.

In this paper, I will describe and discuss two theoretical perspectives: thehuman pathology theory and the systemic pathology theory. I intend todeconstruct these theories in terms of the assumptions, models and prac-tices they support in educational content, as well as in program planning andimplementation for students receiving special education services. I will thendiscuss the implications of these perspectives for educators. Finally, I willexamine how change would be implemented based on the educator’s theo-retical perspective.

Deconstructing these theories permits me to reveal that implementingchange is best attained by having knowledge of the theory that underlies bestpractices and educators’ programming practices. For instance, if a ‘best prac-tice’ is in conflict with an educator’s theoretical perspective, then he or she isunlikely to view it as a best practice or to implement it. A change may onlyoccur if the educator experiences a paradigm shift. In fact, I believe that try-


ing to implement change without acknowledging these theoretical perspec-tives, inherent contradictions and conflict will be encountered. This is becausean inquiry that analyzes the nature and effects of special education practiceswithout questioning the assumptions, theories and metatheories in which theyare grounded would reproduce rather than resolve problems with implement-ing change. Skrtic (1995) refers to this as naïve pragmatism. Therefore, in or-der to avoid naïve pragmatism and achieve successful change in education, itis important to examine the theories that may guide an educator’s program-ming and implementation practices.

Human Pathology TheoryTraditionally, the organization and provision of special education services hasrelied explicitly or implicitly on the functionalist worldview to ground theirknowledge, practices and discourse (Skrtic, 1995). Functionalism assumesthat social reality is objective, inherently orderly and rational, and thus thathuman and social problems are pathological (Ritzier, 1990). According to Skrtic(1995), special education’s grounding in functionalism means that the guid-ing assumptions behind its professional models, practices, and tools are basedon the theory of human pathology. This theory assumes that special educa-tion practices are based on two assumptions. The first assumption is that stu-dent disability is a pathological condition. Educators with this theoreticalperspective believe that the root cause of a disability is within the person andno consideration is given to causal factors that lie in social and political proc-esses external to the individual. This directs attention away from the social,economic, political and systemic aspects (Csapo, 1989). The second assump-tion is that differential diagnosis (i.e., homogeneous classification by abilityor need) is an objective and useful practice. Given these assumptions, progressin special education is conceptualized in terms of using rational-technicalmeans to improve and extend its diagnostic and instructional models, prac-tices and tools (Skrtic, 1995).

Medical and Behavioral ModelAn educator whose beliefs are based on the human pathology perspectivewill use an approach to program planning and implementation that is prem-ised on the medical and behavioral model. These two models are derived fromthe fields of medicine and psychology. Skrtic (1995) states that the medicalmodel is bipolar and evaluative. It defines typical behavior according to thepresence or absence of observable biological processes. Those that interferewith 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-pre-scriptive practices are used as the basis for designing remedial interventionprograms (Campbell, 1987). The behavioral model defines typical behavior interms of a positive human reaction to the environmental contingencies. Bothmodels are used to define disability (Sleeter, 1995). Thus, the medical model


is used for assessing biological symptoms and the behavioral model describesdisability. Remediation is directed at specific behaviors whose presence/ab-sence denote the disability (Poplin et al., 1996).

These models continue to support the belief that a disability is a probleminherent in the child. It is viewed as an impairment of individual ability, ex-plained in terms of physical causes such as disease, trauma, malnutrition orgenetics (Freeze, 1996). Consequently, practices focus on attempting tochange the individual to fit the demands of the educational system by reduc-ing the impact of the impairment (e.g., therapy, medication) and compensat-ing for the effects of the impairment (e.g., adaptive technology). (Sleeter, 1995;Freeze, 1996). Thus, educational practices based on the human pathologytheory would be diagnostic and prescriptive in nature and mimic a medicalmodel of intervention.

PracticesAn educator with a human pathology perspective would use program plan-ning and implementation practices grounded in this theory. This may includepractices such as classifying children, standardized testing, using a standard-ized or developmentally sequenced curriculum, direct intervention, segrega-tion, and a multidisciplinary teaming approach.

One practice of the human pathology perspective is that children are givenlabels in an attempt to describe their impairments (e.g., learning disabled,emotionally disturbed, blind, Cerebral Palsy, Down’s Syndrome). Some edu-cators will use this categorical approach to guide program planning and im-plementation. They assume that knowing the name of a child’s conditionfocuses diagnostic assessment, as well as indicating prescriptive treatmentprograms and general strategies. This can create a program that is not indi-vidualized for the student.

This theoretical perspective also influences how educators evaluate a stu-dent in order to plan for his or her program. Assessment practices reflect themedical model conception of disabilities and seek to discover deficits withinthe student (Reschly, 1996). Tools such as systematic protocols, standard-ized tests and various forms of quantitative data analysis are used (Skrtic,1995). Team members use these assessment tools to make a diagnosis andguide instruction. Whatever has been determined to be wrong, whether it bememory functions, academic skills or cognitive strategies, then become thetarget for instruction (Poplin et al., 1996).

An educator with a human pathology perspective may view program plan-ning as a matter of fitting the student with special needs into the existing stand-ard 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 cur-riculum content as a matter of codifying knowledge in the form of a rational-ized or task-analyzed hierarchy of lower and higher order facts and skills thatare divided into sections (Cherryholmes, 1988). For example, a


developmentally sequenced curriculum’s content would be based on devel-opmental sequences in fine and gross motor, receptive and expressive lan-guage, social, sensorimotor, cognitive, and self-help curricular areas. Once theeducator has determined the student’s developmental level, he or she selectsskills for instruction that would represent the next logical developmental mile-stone in each of the areas (Nietupski & Hamre-Nietupski, 1987). This plan-ning orientation, in turn, influences the systematic education and training ofskills within identified content domains. For example, self-help training is of-ten conducted separately from communication training, which is conductedseparately from leisure skill training, and so forth (Guess & Helmstetter, 1986).

Implementation practices based on this theory would involve the directtreatment of what are seen as learning problems. This is referred to as directintervention and involves specific objectives, task analysis, behavioral princi-ples, and communication analyses (Bogdan & Knowll, 1988; Heshusius, 1995;Skrtic, 1986, Tarver, 1996). Instructional goals are selected from the curriculaand task analyzed into subskills, which are taught using a systematic applica-tion of behavioral procedures for skill acquisition (Skrtic, 1995). This breakingdown of skills is done outside the student and then delivered to the studentin a logically ordered sequence (Poplin et al., 1996). Direct instruction is alsodeficit-driven. The majority of students’ time in school tends to be focusedon tasks that are difficult for them to do. Very little time may be devoted tolocating or supporting activities in which the student has talent (Poplin et al.,1996).

Educators with a human pathology perspective may utilize the practice ofsegregation when planning and implementing a student’s program. Accord-ing to this perspective, dispensing services in segregated settings is neces-sary in order to accommodate students whose needs do not fit into the existingprogram or educational environment (Stainback, Stainback & Ayres, 1996). Thisis accomplished by formally identifying students with needs, assigning themto one of several categorical special needs programs and removing them fromthe system, for all or part of the school day. The student is taken to the serv-ice or support, rather than the service or support being taken to the student.

The human pathology theoretical perspective also impacts the team struc-ture. It involves a multidisciplinary team approach in planning and implement-ing a student’s program. This practice consists of team members from differentdisciplines working independently with students and being responsible for aparticular segment of the student’s program (Woodruff & Hanson, 1987). Thisperspective involves separate assessments by each discipline, followed byprogramming that is completed in isolation based on their own personal andclinical judgments (Campbell, 1987). This team approach also entails expertconsultation which involves each professional sharing his or her expert knowl-edge with other team members. In effect, each professional has expert knowl-edge in a particular discipline and provides insight to other team members onmatters they are not expert in themselves (Friend & Cook, 1992). This team


approach, combined with the above practices have several implications foreducators.

Implication of human pathology perspective for educatorsThe human pathology theoretical perspective has a great impact on educa-tors. Not only does it guide their programming practices, but it also shapestheir roles and responsibilities, perspectives on students, collaboration efforts,allocation of time and their choice of best practices. First, given the humanpathology perspective on curriculum content and programming, the role andresponsibilities of the educator are affected. The educator is conceptualizedas a technician who organizes the knowledge for efficient presentation andarranges the environmental contingencies to reinforce desirable or punishundesirable responses (Skrtic, 1995). It is the educator’s primary responsibil-ity to use this approach to remediate the student’s functional deficits to themaximum extent possible. That is, educators attempt to fix or improve thestudents who are being unsuccessful by providing them with the skills to beable to succeed in a mainstreamed educational environment that may not beadapted to meet their particular needs, interests, or capabilities (Stainback etal., 1996).

Secondly, the human pathology perspective on curriculum and program-ming also influences how educators may perceive the learner. Since it is theeducator’s role to deliver instruction and the student’s job to receive it, theeducator may view the learner as a passive receiver of factual material andskill training (Heshusius, 1986). Thus, learning is viewed as an accumulationof pieces of knowledge and skills that are placed in the learners’ head throughpractice and appropriate rewards (Resnick & Klopfer, 1989). This perspectiveand its practices may influence the teacher in having lowered expectationsof, and condescending attitudes towards, the student (Ysseldyke & Algozzine,1982).

Educators with this perspective also assume that a child’s failure in schoolis attributed to some lack or flaw inherent within the child, rather than someinsufficiency or deficit on the part of the school. This would lead educators tobelieve 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 tar-geted 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 edu-cators. It affects how the educational team works together in planning andimplementing a student’s program. For instance, the participation of educa-tors in the student’s program may be minimal. This occurs because teachersoften feel intimidated by the technical jargon and the unrealistic expectationsof those who work individually with the students in other professions (Koskie& Freeze, 2000). This creates a situation in which the priorities, needs, andresources of the educators involved with the child on a daily basis are not ac-


knowledged fully (Yolanda, Fenton, Maxwell & Kaufmann, 1979; Giangreco,1996).

Fourthly, the human pathology perspective influences how educators spendtheir time planning a program. For instance, educators may embark on a searchfor a label rather than contribute to the development of an individualized pro-gram of instruction. This may lead to educator frustration, because the labeldoes not assist with programming nor address variables that the educator cancontrol (Howell & Morehead, 1987).

Finally, an educator’s philosophy on special education not only provides astructure for how student programming is approached, but also influenceswhat he or she considers ‘best practices’. Thus, the human pathology per-spective would influence an educator’s adoption and implementation of ‘bestpractices’. An educator with this perspective is likely to use programming prac-tices such as categorization, standardized assessment, standardized ordevelopmentally sequenced curriculum, direct instruction, segregation, anda multidisciplinary teaming approach. Of these practices, very few are con-sidered to be ‘best practices’ because they are viewed as problematic by themajority of researchers. Below is a summary of some of these difficulties.

The practice of categorization is problematic. Labeling a student and view-ing him or her as a member of a categorical group, may replace an educator’sconsideration of the whole child and his or her specific needs, interests andcapabilities. As well, using this practice to plan a child’s program neglects toexamine other possibilities for why a child might be having difficulty (e.g., poorinstruction, linguistic differences, lack of motivation, family difficulties, etc.)(Freeze, 1996).

The practice of using standardized tests for making educational decisionsalso has encountered a wide range of criticism. Many standardized tests failto meet minimal standards of psychometric adequacy, making interpretationof results difficult (Buros, 1961; Salvia & Ysseldyke, 1985). Even when cer-tain psychometric criteria are met, administration of tests to individuals out-side the population (e.g., students with severe disabilities) on which theirreliability and validity were determined can be inappropriate (Duncan,Sbardellati, Maheady, & Sainato, 1981). Thus, students with severe disabili-ties are particularly susceptible to discriminatory assessment practices thatinvolve standardized tools. In general, the practice of using standardized, norm-referenced tests is technically inadequate for making educational decisionsaffecting students with severe disabilities and limits the degree to which otherpossible contributions to the problem can be taken into consideration(Campbell, 1987; Sigafoos, Cole & McQuarter, 1987).

The use of standardized or developmentally-sequenced curriculum for pro-gramming is also problematic. Programs are not individualized to meet thevarious needs of the student and they are less likely to focus on teaching func-tional skills within a natural context (Nietupski & Hamre-Nietupski, 1987;Stainback et al., 1996). Many research findings have provided evidence to the


ineffectiveness of this approach in terms of skill acquisition and generaliza-tion 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 prac-tices. For example, the use of independent, discipline-specific recommenda-tions and objectives result in intervention methods that are poorly integratedand recommendations that have little relationship to assessments or recom-mendations by other team members. This practice may also create a situa-tion in which there is a lack of parity and trust, causing professionals tocompete for authority, resources or territory. Research has also shown thatthe real life priorities, needs and resources of the student, parents and edu-cators 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 problemsinfluence the interactions between educators and make the implementationof the student’s program difficult to achieve (Koskie & Freeze, 2000).

Although many of the programming practices grounded in the human pa-thology theory are problematic, direct instruction is one approach that can beconsidered a ‘best practice’. Research has revealed that it is an effective ap-proach for teaching academic and basic skills as well as strategies (Chall,Jacobs & Baldwin, 1990; Elliot & Shapiro, 1990; Gersten, Woodward & Darch1986; Kinder & Carnine, 1991; Tarver, 1996). For example, Nietupski andHamre-Nietupski (1987) consider task analysis an essential component in plan-ning and implementing educational programs that are individualized and suc-cessful. Thus, an educator whose views are guided by this theory, would likelyacknowledge and implement this best practice, because it is consistent withhis or her assumptions and basic beliefs about special education.

The practice of planning and implementing a student’s program can bebased on the medical model and a set of guiding assumptions derived fromthe human pathology theory. Skrtic (1995) notes that special education prac-tices have been grounded almost exclusively in this functionalist paradigm.However, many of the practices based on this perspective appear to be inad-equate for developing and implementing successful educational programs forstudents with special needs. They are focused on ‘deficient’ skills and teach-ing these skills in isolation. These practices have limited success because in-dividuals with special needs tend to generalize information poorly and forgetskills not reinforced by the environment (Brown et al., 1983, Peterson, 1980as cited in Rainforth & York, 1987). On the other hand, the planning and im-plementation process can also be based on an ecological model that is guidedby assumptions derived from the systemic pathology theory. Practicesgrounded in this model appear to have greater potential for preparing studentsto live and work more independently in their environments.


Systemic Pathology TheoryAnother worldview approach that may impact on an educator’s perspectiveis the radical structuralist paradigm. This paradigm takes a macroscopic, ob-jective and realist view of the social world. Radical structuralists share an ob-jective view of social science with the functionalists, but their frame ofreference is the sociology of radical change. They use this perspective to cri-tique the material structures of society (e.g., language, technology, bureauc-racy) and to advocate change. In general, they view the social world asdominated by conflict (Skrtic, 1995).

Some theorists hypothesize that in special education there can be a “sys-tem conflict” which involves parts of the system in continued conflict witheach other. The system may be characterized by interprofessional conflicts,resource conflicts, parental-professional conflicts, legal conflicts or any otherconflict within the educational system. (Tomlinson, 1996). This hypothesis isreferred to as the systemic pathology theory (R. Freeze, class discussion,February, 1998). The theory assumes that special education practices arebased on two assumptions from the radical structural paradigm. The first as-sumption is that problems lie within the system. Thus, the principal difficul-ties of students with disabilities is not with the student, but rather with theorganization of the general educational environment (Skrtic, 1995). Schoolfailure 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 deter-mines individual behavior. Thus, the context will determine what is a disabil-ity (Skrtic, 1995). Given these assumptions, environmental determinants playan important role in the model, practices and tools used by educators whohold this perspective. They would believe that schooling should fit the childand 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 ModelAn educator with a systemic pathology theoretical perspective will use anapproach to program planning and implementation that is based on the eco-logical model. In the ecological model, students are perceived as interactingwith a variety of factors that may hinder or facilitate learning. Thus, a disabil-ity is understood as an interaction between a student and his or her learningenvironment. This means that teaching-learning problems are seen as a fail-ure to match student characteristics and variables in the student’s environ-ment (Freeze, Brave & Rampaul, 1989).

Program planning and implementation based on this model would considerecological factors that interact with the student’s life. This would include suchfactors as the physical environment, social climate, peer attitudes, curricu-lum, teaching methods, instructional materials, classroom management, evalu-


ative methods, educators’ skills and attitudes, support service policies andprocedures, parental attitude and involvement, as well as students’ charac-teristics (Freeze, 1996). For instance, educators need to consider the physi-cal environment of students with severe disabilities and ensure thatappropriate education occurs in the community, as well as in classrooms andother school settings. Team members are challenged to develop and imple-ment a program that targets the student’s goals in all of these educationalenvironments in order to achieve maximum learner participation (Rainforth &York, 1987). Educators who adopt a more ecological approach to the planningand implementation process would utilize educational practices that take intoaccount the above variables.

PracticesAn educator with a systemic pathology theoretical perspective would use pro-gram planning and implementation practices grounded in the ecological model.This would include practices such as a non-categorical approach to understand-ing children, ecological assessment, ecological curricula, adaptive instruction,integrated therapy, skill cluster instruction, inclusion, and a transdisciplinaryteam approach.

One practice grounded in this theory is a non-categorical approach to serv-ice delivery. This approach rejects the notion that there is such a thing as astudent 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 ofthe planning and implementation process. This includes the student, theteacher, everything that happens inside the classroom, and the societal andfamilial contexts. From this perspective, neither the student nor the teacherown the problem. The problem is seen as one of teaching and learning in aparticular context or system (Freeze et al., 1989).

Another practice based on the systemic pathology perspective would bean ecological assessment or inventory (Freeze et al., 1989; Rainforth & York,1987). This involves using a holistic, integrated approach to understanding thestudent. The student is understood in relation to teachers, peers, family, andthe ecological context in which he or she lives (Koskie & Freeze, 2000). Infor-mation would be gathered on variables such as: (a) the natural environmentswhere the student lives, works, and uses leisure time, (b) the student’s learningstrengths and preferences, (c) activities that occur in the student’s environ-ments, (d) specific motor, communication, social, or other skills required toengage 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 incritical skills, activities, and environments (Brown et al., 1979; Freeze et al.,


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). Thispractice encourages educators to develop a program that reflects the interre-lated nature of the student and his or her environment (Linder, 1990).

Program planning would utilize the above assessment information to formthe foundation for an ecological curriculum. This curriculum involves “system-atic instruction on community-referenced, individually determined, chronologi-cally age-appropriate, functional curricular content” (Nietupski &Hamre-Nietupski, 1987). Developing an ecological curriculum involves usingthe assessment information gathered to prioritize activities and select IEP goalsthrough team consensus. Next, activities are task analyzed into componentskills and adaptations are considered. Finally, instructional programs that teachfunctional, age-appropriate skills in naturally occurring environments are de-veloped (Nietupski & Hamre-Nietupski, 1987). The objective is to integratefunctional, 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 adaptiveinstruction. This practice entails the curriculum being adapted, when neces-sary, to meet the needs of any students with less complex disabilities, forwhom the standard curriculum is inappropriate or who could be better servedthrough adaptation (Stainback et al., 1996). While school curriculum guide-lines would remain the foundation for programming for students with lesscomplex disabilities, educators would diversify their instruction and modifythe educational environment in order to meet the various needs of studentsin their classroom. This would include such approaches as differentiated in-struction, cooperative learning, buddy systems and multilevel programmingin the regular classroom (Freeze, 1996). This approach does not make the stu-dent the focus of the intervention and allows the program to be implementedin the classroom.

Additional implementation practices that would be used in an ecologicalcurriculum are integrated therapy and skill cluster instruction. Integratedtherapy is a strategy to deliver related services in situations in which skillswill be functional, and performance meaningful, for a student with a complexdisability (Sternat, Messina, Nietupski, Lyon, & Brown, 1977). For instance,educators might teach the choice making skill using symbols, when the stu-dent needs to communicate (e.g., during recess, lunch, art and at other timeseach day), rather than teaching symbol use in the isolated speech therapyroom. Skill cluster instruction is a practice that is used to teach interrelatedskills (e.g., fine motor, language, pragmatics) concurrently within a functionalsequence (Guess & Helmstetter, 1986). This practice emphasizes that mo-tor, communication, social, and other skills are components of most functional


routines, and that these routines provide excellent opportunities to integratepriorities and methods from a variety of disciplines (Rainforth & York, 1987).

Inclusion is another programming practice grounded in this theory. Thisinvolves developing educational programs that ensure that all students, re-gardless of any individual differences they might have, are fully included inthe mainstream of school and community life. Therefore, integration is cou-pled with a restructuring of the student’s environment. It also entails the de-livery of specialized services and supports. If a student is experiencing difficultyor needs specialized services (e.g., instructional modifications, special toolsor techniques) to succeed educationally or socially, the educator determinesa way to get those services and supports to the student where he or she isnaturally placed with his or her peers or in the community. The student is nottaken to the support or service, rather the support or service is taken to thestudent. The focus is on determining ways (e.g., adaptive instruction, modifi-cation of the environment) students can get their educational and related needsmet within the existing, natural environment (Stainback et al., 1996).

Finally, the ecological, integrated approach to understanding the studentcan also be applied to the teaming process. This involves a transdisciplinaryteam approach in which the team members collaborate and share their re-spective knowledge with other team members (Linder, 1990). In order to un-derstand the whole child in his or her environment, there is a ‘role transition’among team members. This entails sharing information, knowledge, and skillsacross traditional disciplinary boundaries. Team members assume each oth-er’s roles and responsibilities, while allowing for the needs of the student andfamily to dictate the team’s goals (Briggs, 1988; Koskie & Freeze, 2000). Forinstance, each team member trains others to use methods traditionally per-formed primarily by one discipline. Also, this teaming approach supports pro-gram planning and implementation decisions that are not made by isolatedprofessionals, but by the consensus of all informed team members, with thestudent and student’s parents accorded a status of equality with other teammembers. This transdisciplinary approach guides and supports collaborativeteaming which allows team members to combine experience and skills in or-der to meet the diverse needs of students with special needs (Koskie & Freeze,2000).

Implication of Systemic Pathology Theory for EducatorsThe assumptions and practices of the systemic pathology perspective haveseveral implications for educators. Firstly, an educator with a systemic pathol-ogy perspective would believe that the ownership of problems that studentswith disabilities encounter is not with the individual, but rather with the sys-tem. This perspective may assign ownership to the educator to change thesystem (Csapo, 1989). He or she would be responsible for organizing and ar-ranging experiences within the student’s grasp, while the learner regulates


the learning (Poplin et al., 1996). Thus, preservice and inservice preparationwould need to equip educators with skills necessary to adapt learning situa-tions.

Secondly, this perspective would influence all team members’ roles. Sincethe practices grounded in this theory give rise to an educational team that ismore interdependent, educators would need to commit themselves to teach-ing, learning and working across disciplinary boundaries. This transition of rolesinvolves several processes: (a) developing a general understanding of otherdisciplines, (b) offering observations in areas other than that of their speciali-zation, (c) implementing techniques from other disciplines, and (d) continu-ously supporting other team members through assistance and feedback(Koskie & Freeze, 2000).

Third, a systemic pathology belief system would affect how educators col-laborate. Not only would they need to commit themselves to assist and sup-port one another, since more interdependence is required, but they would alsoneed to ensure that there is greater family involvement and increased parityin the collaboration process. This would require time, energy and strong in-terpersonal 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. Notonly is diversity valued and seen as a strength in the classroom, but studentsare viewed as individuals, rather than as members of categorical groups. Thismakes it much more likely that educators will concentrate on the specificneeds, interests, and capabilities of the students (Stainback et al., 1996).

Fifthly, the systemic pathology theory also changes the focus of the edu-cators. Their focus is on how to organize classrooms and schools as support-ive communities that include and meet the needs of everyone, rather thanhow to help a particular category of student fit into the mainstream (Sapon-Shevin, 1992). Educators with this focus would purposefully foster commu-nity. Thus, there would be an emphasis on students, as well as staff caringabout and accepting responsibility for each other (Stainback et al., 1996).

Sixthly, a natural or normal proportion of students with disabilities in schoolswould result from this perspective’s non-categorical approach. The use of“centers” or “cluster sites” for any category of student is avoided. This isimportant to educators, since placement of a disproportionately large numberof students with disabilities into a classroom reduces the diversity in the classand can result in segregated subsets of students within the class, thus ne-gating many of the benefits inherent in inclusive classrooms (e.g. gains in socialcompetence and communication, acquisition of IEP objectives, preparationof students for integrated community living). This diversity creates a learningenvironment that increases the learning, without additional effort from theeducator (Stainback & Stainback, 1990).

Finally, the systemic pathology perspective influences what educatorsperceive as ‘best practices’. The practices that they use, such as a non-cat-


egorical approach to understanding children, an ecological assessment andcurriculum, adaptive instruction, integrated therapy, skill cluster instruction,inclusion, and a transdisciplinary team approach, all contain features of whatresearchers and knowledgeable professionals consider to be ‘most promis-ing practices’ in educational programs for students with special needs (Meyer,Eichinger, Park-Lee, 1987). Educators with a systemic pathology theoreticalperspective would easily adopt these ‘best practices’ because they are con-sistent with their basic beliefs. Below is a summary of why these practicesare considered most promising for students with special needs.

The ecological approach to assessment contains several principles that areconsidered to be ‘best practices’. For example, the assessment helps educa-tors to focus on (a) a comprehensive assessment of affective, behavioral, andcognitive domains rather than a disabilities diagnosis, (b) mastered skills andstrengths, as well as error patterns and weaknesses, (c) teaching and learn-ing difficulties in the context in which they occur, and (d) special education asan essential part of regular education. Since these are variables that an edu-cator can control, he or she may be more likely to experience job satisfactioncompared to an educator working from the human pathology perspective(Bravi, 1984).

A growing body of research demonstrates that ecological curricula and in-struction are effective practices to teach students with disabilities. Not onlydo they help students acquire, maintain, and generalize useful skills (Hamre-Nietupski, Nietupski, Sandvig, Sandvig, & Ayres, 1984; Storey, Bates &Hanson, 1984; cited in Rainforth & York, 1987), but teaching relevant tasks inapplied settings may also have long-term benefits in terms of community in-tegration and participation by persons with severe disabilities (Brown et al.,1986). Research also indicates that instruction in natural environments is moreeffective than instruction using only classroom simulations (Nietupski, Hamre-Nietupski, Clancy, & Veerhusen, 1986). Overall, these practices provide aframework within which students with the most severe disabilities can re-ceive frequent instruction on functional groups of skills in meaningful contexts(Rainforth & York, 1987).

Inclusive practices are regarded to be among those approaches consideredto be ‘most promising’ for student with special needs (Mayer, 1985). Ben-efits of inclusive practices include gains in social competence and communi-cation, as well as the acquisition of IEP objectives. They also prepare studentsfor integrated community living (Stainback & Stainback, 1990).

Finally, a transdisciplinary teaming approach to the programming processis considered a ‘best practice’ because it encourages team members to makea commitment to teach, learn, and work together in order to implement aunified educational plan (Koskie & Freeze, 2000). The practice also has nu-merous strengths including the following: (a) increased agreement amongeducators as to the acceptability of decisions (Cooper & Wood, 1974), (b) op-portunities for members to learn from one another (Wolery & Dyk, 1984), (c)


decreased fragmentation of services, (d) continuity and consistency of serv-ices for the student (Sears, 1981), and (e) greater family involvement whichimproves problem-solving, follow-through, and support (Linder, 1990).

Educators who hold the systemic pathology theory believe that the princi-pal difficulties of students with disabilities is not with the student, but ratherwith the organization of the general education environment. Thus, it is theeducational organization or environment that needs to be modified in orderto address the diverse needs of all students (Stainback et al., 1996). Basedon this perspective, environmental determinants play a significant role in themodel and practices (e.g., ecological assessment and curricula development,adaptive instruction) used by educators who hold this perspective. Unlike thepractices grounded in the human pathology theory, many of the practices ofthe systemic pathology theory are considered ‘best practices’ by research-ers. Trying to encourage all educators, who have different values and beliefsabout special education, to adopt these exemplary practices, involves morethan education and support. The educators’ belief system must also be con-sidered when implementing change.

Implementing ChangeA challenge that has been widely acknowledged is changing educators’ prac-tices to include best practices (Williams, Fox, Thousand & Fox, 1990; Ayres,Meyer, Erevelles & Park-Lee, 1994). Research has revealed that this changemay require one or more of the following variables: (a) a systemic changewithin schools and school divisions, (b) changing of job roles, (c) training, (d)support from education staff and administrators, (e) more time, (f) increasedresources, (g) pressure through interactions with peers and administrativeleaders, and (h) learning new skills through practice and feedback (Ayres etal., 1994; Fullan, 1985; Wang & Zollers, 1990; Williams et al., 1990).

Although these may be important variables for implementing change, it isnecessary to understand the theoretical perspectives and interactions amongeducators before deciding which of the above variables are most effective.Without an understanding of the educators’ theoretical perspectives and thetheories that ground the ‘best practices’, we would encounter naïve pragma-tism and continue to reproduce, rather than resolve, the problems with im-plementing change. The change process would continue to be problematicbecause it would criticize the educators’ current practices, but treat theirgrounding assumptions and theories as unproblematic. (Skrtic, 1995).

In order to address the problem of naïve pragmatism and increase the pos-sibility of change occurring, one needs to ensure that the ‘best practices’ thatare being suggested are consistent with the educators’ theoretical perspec-tive. If they are not consistent, then the educators will need a paradigm shiftin order to alter their ways of thinking and doing, so that the educators’ be-liefs become compatible with the best practices (Fullan, 1982; Marris, 1975).There needs to be a unification of theory and practice.


Encouraging educators with a human pathology perspective to implement‘best practices’ such as adaptive instruction, collaboration, parent participa-tion and inclusion would be problematic. This is because the values that guidethe educators’ practices contradict the ‘best practice’s’ assumptions (e.g., “astudent’s disability is a pathological condition” versus “the problem lies withinthe system”). These ‘best practices’ require educators to become problem-solving individuals who collaborate to create individualized, inclusive programs.This contradicts the human pathology perspective which involves the prac-tice of expert-decision making and professionals working independently withstudents.

An example of this contradiction is encouraging educators, who have ahuman pathology perspective, to adopt a best practice that involves workingcollaboratively to implement an IEP in an integrated manner. This practicecontradicts the logic of specialization and expert decision-making that is in-herent in the human pathology perspective. The contradiction in values mayactually lead to resistance that undermines the goal of collaboration and anincrease in ritualized activity that intensifies the problem of professionalizationand expert decision-making (Skrtic, 1995). Thus, trying to change an educa-tors’ practice to include collaboration would be very difficult if their perspec-tive on student disability was based on the human pathology theory.

Skrtic (1995) discusses two methods for instituting change. The firstmethod involves fine-tuning the existing system and creating a more efficientorganization. This method is based on the functionalist world-view and hu-man pathology theory. It involves procedures that are similar to the ones usedin changing industrial machine bureaucracies. The assumption is that schoolorganizations are like machines that can be fine-tuned through the followingrational-technical approaches: (a) increased standardization of work processesand outcomes, (b) standardization of learning activities, (c) further specifica-tion of professional roles and student classifications, (d) revision and exten-sion of existing rules and regulations, and (e) closer supervision of personneland students (Elmore & McLaughlin, 1982; Heshusius, 1996; House, 1979;Wise, 1979). Changing the system in more fundamental ways or replacing italtogether is not considered. This method puts more pressure on educatorsto satisfy the standards instead of serving the students, thus reducing edu-cator problem-solving and discretion to create effective services for studentswith special needs (Skrtic, 1995). In general, this method of change reducesan educator’s ability to individualize students’ programs and makes a perma-nent change in educator’s practices less likely. Educators with the humanpathology perspective may need to experience a paradigm shift in order topermanently adopt the ‘best practices’ that are grounded in the systemic pa-thology theory.

The second method for implementing change involves creating a funda-mental change among educators and the educational system. In order for thisfundamental change to occur, educators need to realize that there is some-


thing amiss with their paradigm and instructional practices. This insight oc-curs when an anomaly is encountered (Skrtic, 1995). There are several waysin which an anomaly can be introduced. One way to introduce an anomaly iswhen values and preferences change in society. In this case, the paradigmfalls into crisis because the social theory underlying it changes. The new so-cial values are inconsistent with the prevailing theory and a change occurs toeliminate the crisis. However, in many cases there tends to be an increase inritualized practices, which acts to reaffirm the paradigm that has been calledinto question (Lipsky, 1976; Perrow, 1978; Zucker, 1977).

Another way that an anomaly may be introduced is through the availabilityof technical information that the current paradigm is not working (Rounds,1981, cited in Skrtic, 1995). For instance, educators may initially take actionto correct a recognized flaw in what otherwise is assumed to be a viable sys-tem. “The corrective measure exposes other flaws, which, when addressed,expose more flaws until enough of the system is called into question to pre-pare the way for a radical reconceptualization of the entire organization” (Skrtic,1995). What initially was a conservative attempt to protect the system, un-dermines it and ultimately ushers in a new paradigm (Rounds, 1981, cited inSkrtic, 1995).

According to Weick (1985) a paradigm shift can occur when individuals whoresolve an important, enduring anomaly for themselves and others, implant anew set of values in the organization (i.e., school or school team). Their be-liefs 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 humanpathology theory persist because anomalies are distorted to preserve its va-lidity. The principal distortion is the practice of removing students from thegeneral education system, thereby preventing the educators from recogniz-ing anomalies in their conventional practices. Without anomalies, there is noway for educators to see that there is something wrong with their worldviewand associated practices. This reduces professional thought and thus the de-gree to which educators can personalize their practices. This in turn forcesmore students into the special education system and further reinforces theeducator’s belief in both the validity of his or her conventional practices andthe notion that school failure is a human pathology (Skrtic, 1995).

To prevent the distortion of anomalies, it appears Huberman’s (1981) in-sight into implementing change may be useful. Huberman believes thatchanges in attitudes, beliefs, and understanding tend to follow, rather thanprecede changes in practice. For example, if practices such as removing stu-dents from the general education system were discontinued, then anoma-lies would occur because the educator’s standard practices would beinsufficient to teach all students. As discussed previously, these anomalies


would encourage a paradigm shift and create fundamental changes in an edu-cator’s human pathology based practices.

On the other hand, changing the practices of educators who believe in thesystemic pathology perspective may not involve a fundamental change inbeliefs since many of the ‘best practices’ are grounded in this theory. Thereis no contradiction between the values the educators hold and the practices’assumptions. Thus, variables such as changing of job roles, training, supportfrom education staff and administrators, increased time, more resources andpractice, 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 im-plementation practices, there is a tremendous discrepancy between whattypically occurs for most students with disabilities in school and what the lit-erature says should be occurring as exemplary practices (Meyer, 1991). Lit-erature discusses that this discrepancy in adopting best practices is due tosuch variables as lack of time, training and resources (Ayres et al., 1994;Williams et al., 1990). Although these variables may be important for imple-menting change, it is also essential to examine the theoretical perspectivesof the educators and the assumptions that guide the ‘best practices’.

In this paper, I have described and critiqued two opposing perspectives oneducational programming. The human pathology theory uses planning andimplementation practices that are grounded in the assumption that studentdisability is pathological. Traditionally, programming practices of educators haverelied explicitly on the knowledge and practices grounded in this theoreticalperspective. However, many of the practices based on this perspective ap-pear to be inadequate for developing and implementing successful educationalprograms for students with special needs.

On the other end of the continuum, the systemic pathology theory is guidedby the assumption that the principal difficulties of a student with disabilitiesare the result of the educational system. This perspective guides many of the‘best practices’ recommended by researchers and knowledgeable profession-als. In order to get educators to adopt these exemplary practices, one needsto ensure that the assumptions that guide the ‘best practices’ are consistentwith the educator’s theoretical perspective. If they are not consistent, thenthe educator needs to experience a paradigm shift in order to fundamentallyalter 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 applywhat is considered an exemplary practice to their real world settings.


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