negotiating authority through jointly constructing the course curriculum

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Negotiating authority through jointlyconstructing the course curriculumNathan D. Brubaker aa James Madison University , Harrisonburg , VA , USAPublished online: 15 Dec 2011.

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Negotiating authority through jointly constructing the coursecurriculum

Nathan D. Brubaker*

James Madison University, Harrisonburg, VA, USA

(Received 11 September 2009; final version received 28 March 2011)

Understanding how authority is negotiated in teacher education classrooms caninform efforts to foster democratic teacher education practices and prepare futureteachers to teach democratically. We know very little, however, about howauthority is negotiated in different classroom contexts, particularly in teachereducation settings. This qualitative study examined how authority was negoti-ated in an undergraduate teacher education course in which I – as the teacher ofthe course – involved students in actively determining the content, method, andassessment of the course through jointly constructing the course curriculum.Using self-study methodology to understand more deeply the problems embed-ded in my practice as a beginning teacher-educator, I generated themes from thedata using the constant comparative method. The findings suggest that derivinglegitimacy from mutually recognized sources, working from shared purposes,and confronting students’ deeply rooted familiarity with authoritarian teachingpractices present potential frameworks for negotiating authority in teacher edu-cation – while illuminating the challenges of teaching democratically inauthoritarian contexts. Such insights are important for helping future teachersexperience alternatives to conventional teaching while accounting for the com-plexity of learning to bring democratic values to life in classrooms at all levels.

Keywords: authority; negotiation; democratic pedagogy; teacher education;curriculum

Contemporary trends toward cross-disciplinary inquiry in educational researchheighten the need to produce knowledge about issues of broad relevance to scholarsand practitioners of diverse disciplines. Issues of authority are of particular rele-vance to educators of all fields committed to fostering democratic classroom prac-tices. Specifically, negotiating authority – a multifaceted process of mutualbargaining over the right to rule and the right to be believed (Steutel & Spiecker,2000) – permeates all facets of teaching experience (Shor, 1996; Winograd, 2002),and can be considered an outgrowth of collaborative dialog and decision-makingintended to foster active student engagement and investment in learning. The beliefthat self-governance and democratic citizenship are not naturally occurring phenom-ena, but are ways of living that must be purposefully cultivated through democraticeducational experiences (Dewey, 1966; Kyle & Jenks, 2002), provides support forexamining how authority is negotiated in teacher education classrooms.

*Email: [email protected]

Teachers and Teaching: theory and practiceVol. 18, No. 2, April 2012, 159–180

ISSN 1354-0602 print/ISSN 1470-1278 online� 2012 Taylor & Francishttp://dx.doi.org/10.1080/13540602.2012.632273http://www.tandfonline.com

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While surprisingly little research has been conducted on authority relationships inteacher education (Pace & Hemmings, 2006), two studies of negotiating authority inundergraduate teacher education courses (Brubaker, 2009, 2010) provide usefulinsights into the complexity and dynamics of this process. The first study (Brubaker,2009), in examining a professor’s efforts to help students assume responsibility formaking decisions of fundamental importance to a course experience by shaping theclass agenda on a regular basis, illustrates the difficulty of negotiating in a democraticfashion when participants’ actions embody the extremes of authority relations – abdi-cating and dictating – in ways that largely elude the middle ground of democraticauthority. The second study (Brubaker, 2010), in examining a teacher educator’sefforts to involve students in defining their obligations for a semester through a pro-cess of designing individualized grading contracts, highlights the importance of con-structing purposeful pedagogical partnerships through reconfiguring the conventionalrole of grades and promoting collaborative rather than adversarial associationsamongst those involved. While the insights from both classrooms are relevant to tea-cher education practices, they are principally concerned with course requirements andgrading practices and so need to be further examined to illuminate additional aspectsof classroom authority relations.

Literature suggests several dimensions through which authority is manifested indifferent classroom contexts relevant to examining how it is negotiated, of whichcurriculum is one. A teacher who assumes control of both curricular content andprocess can be considered to be both an authority and in authority (Oyler, 1996a).Boomer, Lester, Onore, and Cook (1992) outline a basic framework of four centralquestions for negotiating curricular content and process with students at all levels:

(1) What do we know already?(2) What do we want, and need, to find out?(3) How will we go about finding out?(4) How will we know, and show, that we’ve found out when we’ve finished? (p. 21)

If effective, using answers to these questions to collectively define the purposesfor a course experience should shift the basis of expert authority from being the tea-cher’s sole possession to something that is presented in response to the expressedinterests and needs of each student – fostering students’ ownership of learning. Whilethe ways in which teachers and students have discussed such questions to collectivelyestablish classroom curriculum have been examined in varied contexts, includingmathematics (Louth & Young, 1992), language arts (Louth & Young, 1992; Shosh,2000), interdisciplinary teaching in secondary English and Social Studies (Louth &Young, 1992), and overall conditions of school partnership (Ingram & Worrall, 1993),these examples are largely anecdotal and require systematic empirical examination tofurther illuminate how authority is negotiated in classroom contexts. Other studiesaddress the role of student initiative (Oyler, 1996a, 1996b), indirect discourse andpoliteness (Manke, 1997; Mullooly & Varenne, 2006; Pace, 2003b), collective verifi-cation of student knowledge (Amit & Fried, 2005; Hamm & Perry, 2002), and state-mandated testing (Wills, 2006) in shaping curriculum, though they are not concernedwith the negotiatory dimensions of classroom authority, and therefore require addi-tional investigation – particularly in teacher education settings, where such insight isessential for preparing future teachers to teach democratically in their own futureclassrooms.

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The purpose of this paper is to present findings from an investigation into howauthority was negotiated in an undergraduate teacher education course throughjointly constructing the course curriculum as one means of purposefully and explic-itly negotiating authority amongst the participants. In examining my own teaching,I hoped to realize the many benefits of the self-study genre of qualitative inquiry(Pinnegar & Hamilton, 2009), including the opportunity to investigate issues of rel-evance to actual teachers (Cochran-Smith & Lytle, 1990), to generate knowledgeabout teaching and learning from ‘insider’ perspectives (Cochran-Smith & Lytle,1999), and to assess the congruence of my practices with my beliefs (Berry, 2004;Loughran, 2004) while improving my own practice and credibility as a teacher-educator (Hamilton & Pinnegar, 2000).

Furthermore, as a beginning teacher-educator, I hoped to develop a deeperunderstanding of the problems in my practice in ways that could make it more com-prehensible and useful for others, including future teachers (Berry, 2008). Sinceteachers educators seldom receive formal preparation for their role as teachers ofteachers – and with there being relatively little research on the transition from tea-cher to teacher-educator (Zeichner, 2005) – the problems of such practice are impor-tant to investigate for discerning one’s assumptions about practice, articulatingknowledge from experience, and helping others understand teaching in ways thatwill effectively support their own and others’ learning (Berry, 2008). In so doing –in examining my practice as a beginning teacher-educator – I hoped to further fash-ion my own pedagogy of teacher education (Loughran, 2006) while constructingpublic knowledge of practice (LaBoskey, 2004) for informing my own and others’future teaching and contributing to professional knowledge about the complexity ofteaching teachers how to teach (Russell & Loughran, 2007).

Conceptualizing authority

At least three types of authority are recognized in the educational literature. Theseinclude authority of expertise, authority of rules, and authority of community (Benne,1970, 1986, 1990). While the authority relation in each depends on legitimate claimsto competence on the part of those exercising authority, the ultimate legitimacy ofthese claims is determined by the perception of those under its influence. In otherwords, if the subjects of authority do not believe in the legitimacy of leaders’ compe-tence – regardless of whether or not such a belief is warranted – there is no authorityrelationship (Durkheim, 1973; Pace & Hemmings, 2006). The sources of legitimacyunderlying the first two types of authority – expertise and rules – constitute those towhich authority figures most commonly appeal, while authority of community consti-tutes a normative ideal to which both expertise and rules are central.

The first type of authority, authority of expertise, is analogous to the relationshipbetween a doctor and patient (Benne, 1970). The extent to which people rely onothers with claims to specialized expertise considered important to their way of liv-ing determines the extent to which they are subjects of the authority of experts.When a patient willingly grants a doctor obedience for his or her perceived abilityto help restore or maintain health, the doctor can be considered an authority withthe right to be believed through acceptance or endorsement of his or her views orbeliefs (Peters, 1966; Steutel & Spiecker, 2000). Such authority is never absolute,but is collaborative to the extent that it is grounded in the expressed needs of thepatient, is confined to the doctor’s specific area of expertise, and is verified by some

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kind of evidence or credential recognized by the patient as indicating suchexpertise. In education, resorting to compulsion, prestige, bribes, threats, or cha-risma to convey knowledge does not represent being ‘authoritative,’ but of failingto establish expert authority relations in which teachers’ expertise is properlyaligned with students’ learning needs (Benne, 1970, p. 396). The legitimacy ofauthority of expertise is derived from specialized knowledge considered importantfor achieving consensual aims and represents in education a form of professionalauthority (Pace, 2003a).

The second type of authority, authority of rules, is analogous to the playing of agame (Benne, 1970). While the purpose of rules in a game is to create a system oforderly transactions among participants, a game cannot be played when participantsdo not willingly obey its rules – short of creating a different game. Those who helpdefine, issue, apply, and enforce rules can be considered in authority, with commandover conduct and a right to rule (Peters, 1966; Steutel & Spiecker, 2000). This type ofauthority emerges not so much from the rules themselves, but from the historical prec-edent of all those who have consensually accepted and re-enacted them through play-ing within the rules of the game. To the extent that the rules are considered legitimateand are obeyed, such authority can be considered mutual. In education, students andteachers may value conflicting sets of rules, though only those granted legitimacy canultimately be considered authoritative – typically, by default, the teachers’ (Benne,1970). When this type of authority is situated in institutional structures, as it typicallyis in educational contexts, its legitimacy derives from the validity and legality of thepolicies and procedures underlying organizational life, and therefore represents a formof bureaucratic authority (Pace & Hemmings, 2006; Weber, 1947).

The third type of authority, authority of community, is analogous to the relation-ship between a doctor and a medical student. This is derived from a conception of‘anthropogogical’1 authority (Benne, 1970, 1986, 1990), in which educational rela-tionships are not assumed to consist of unilateral transmission of culture from theold to the young, but are considered processes of mutual renewal and reconstructionof ‘persons-in-cultures’ (Benne, 1970, p. 400). In the case of medical students, thetask of the doctor is not just to help students master and internalize medical knowl-edge, skill, and rules of valid medical practice as though finished and complete, butto help them become autonomous members of the medical community who canthink and act like doctors and help transform medical practice. Such authority is notderived only from rules or expertise, but from community life characterized by‘mutual processes of common association’ and co-participation, involving interac-tion between the teacher, wider community, and those aspiring to assume full mem-bership in it (Benne, 1970, p. 401). The legitimacy of this type of authority derivesfrom conditions of mutual interdependence in which those involved are continuallyreaching beyond their present relationship ‘into the life of a wider and other com-munity,’ in which participants are involved in neither a pedagogical nor collegialrelationship, but one that supports growing independence while acknowledging dif-ferences in knowledge, skill, and status (Benne, 1970, p. 401; McNay, 2003). Inteacher education, this represents a form of authority rooted in experience (Munby& Russell, 1994) and narrative (Olson, 1995) and involves a combination of exper-tise and rules situated in the context of community interaction.

All three types of authority can be explicitly and purposefully negotiated in class-room contexts, and to the extent authority of community constitutes a normative idealto which educators aspire, should be explicitly and purposefully fashioned through

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negotiatory practices. For this study, I broadly defined authority as an interrelationalact that is exercised rather than owned, involving rights recognized as legitimate bythose under its influence to shape or control social circumstances (Amit & Fried,2005). I defined negotiation as an ongoing process of mutual communication anddecision-making that is concerned with reconciling differences when some interestsare shared and others are opposed (Lens, 2004). From this conception, it is not a mat-ter of whether authority is negotiated at any given moment in a classroom context, buthow – with there being multiple options of negotiating authority in a democratic fash-ion or from authoritarian and permissive standpoints (Brubaker, 2009).

The context of the course

The undergraduate teacher education course in which I conducted the study, Teach-ing for Critical Thinking, was one of several core courses required of all teachereducation students at Northeast State University (NSU, a pseudonym to protect theconfidentiality of student participants in my research). Teaching the course as aGraduate Assistant, my primary intent was to help students learn to teach in waysthat promoted Lipman’s (1992, p. 83) conception of critical thinking: ‘skillful,responsible thinking that facilitates good judgment because it (a) relies upon crite-ria, (b) is self-correcting, and (c) is sensitive to context.’ Since my previous experi-ences teaching the course helped me realize that many students’ prevailingconceptions of teaching reflected widespread misconceptions about teaching for crit-ical thinking (Lipman, 1989), I hoped to encourage students to think critically aboutteaching as an essential prerequisite for learning to teach for critical thinking. Theprocess of jointly constructing the course curriculum was one strategy throughwhich I intended to help students think critically about teaching – by collaborativelyplanning the course experience, reflecting on the content and process of our learn-ing, and experiencing firsthand the complexity of developing coherent curricula forclassroom learning. Other strategies I implemented to help students learn about thecontent and process of teaching for critical thinking included designing individual-ized grading contracts (consisting of both negotiable and non-negotiable courserequirements; see Brubaker, 2010), cultivating a classroom community of inquiry,and convening an After Class Group.

In the course syllabus, I characterized the process of negotiating the curriculum asa method through which we would ‘collectively decide exactly what we will dotogether and what the purposes of our class time will be.’ This required us to deviseanswers to the four ‘central questions’ for negotiating curricular content and processidentified by Boomer and his colleagues (1992), above. My intention was that ouranswers to these questions would provide the basis for our entire class experience. Inthe fourth week, I proclaimed to students that our collective answers would ‘definethe rest of our semester,’ and that we would do so ‘together.’ Through collaborativelyplanning the course experience and reflecting on the content and process of our learn-ing, I thought students would be engaging in exactly what would be required of themas future teachers. If they could do it for themselves within the confines of the course,they would be more likely to do it effectively for others in the future.

The process of jointly constructing the course curriculum commenced when Iasked students in the third week of the semester to write a statement of goals for thecourse and respond in writing to the four central questions in the syllabus. We hadalready spent several class sessions discussing texts I had assigned that addressed


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what it means to teach and why it is important to teach for critical thinking. Iexpected everyone to read the same texts for the first eight sessions of the course(sessions were twice a week for 75min over the 15 week semester) and to come toclass prepared to discuss the ideas in the readings and participate in activitiesintended to heighten our understanding of teaching. In the fifth week of the course, Icompiled students’ responses to the four curriculum questions into a single documentand presented copies to everyone in the class. This compilation provided the basisfor our collective deliberations about the curriculum. After nearly three weeks of dis-cussing the questions and modifying our initial ideas, in small groups and as a wholeclass, we developed a final document that comprised the course curriculum.

Our answers to the first two questions, about what we knew and wanted toknow about teaching for critical thinking, provided an important basis for definingthe content of what we studied throughout the semester, while our answers to thefinal two questions, about how we would go about finding answers to our questionsabout teaching for critical thinking and how we would know and show what wehad learned at the end of the semester, provided an important basis for defining theprocess of our learning throughout the semester. With regard to the content ofthe course, we identified four topics that we collectively believed everyone in thecourse needed to know more about: What is critical thinking? How can I teach forcritical thinking? How can critical thinking be applied to my specific discipline?How can I assess critical thinking in my discipline? Students were particularly inter-ested in understanding how to create an environment in which students’ opinionsmattered and in which they felt comfortable sharing, questioning, challenging, andreflecting. With regard to the process of the course, we spent the most time consid-ering the question of assessment – how students would show what they had learnedat the end of the class. We spent nearly two sessions discussing whether studentsshould show what they had learned through teaching mini lessons to each other inclass. After examining many questions – like how students would know if they hadlearned anything about teaching for critical thinking, whether lecture was an appro-priate means through which they could find answers to their questions, as well asmany questions about logistics – we collectively decided to show what they hadlearned through teaching lessons at the end of the semester. I asked students manyquestions of clarification and tried to actively synthesize their contributions to expe-dite the process of reaching consensus while facilitating our deliberations.

Once we finalized the curriculum for the course, I assumed an active role in struc-turing our class sessions for the remainder of the semester. In the seventh week of thecourse, I provided students an updated calendar with specific classes designated fordifferent questions in our curriculum, along with suggested readings I considered rel-evant to answering each question. I facilitated structured activities designed to illumi-nate different authors’ conceptions of critical thinking in the days immediatelyfollowing our deliberations. I increasingly set the stage for the next phase of thecourse: answering students’ most fundamental question about how to teach for criti-cal thinking through systematically cultivating a classroom community of inquiry(Brubaker, in press).

Research methods

I conducted this study during one semester at a large comprehensive state universityin the northeast United States. The university’s teacher education program was

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regionally and nationally regarded for its commitments to democratic teaching andurban education. The course in which I conducted the study, Teaching for CriticalThinking, was one of four sections offered across two departments on campus. Itaught the course in the spring 2006 semester, having taught one section of thecourse during each of the previous four semesters. I chose to examine my ownteaching for two primary reasons (in addition to those mentioned above). First, thetopic of the course, Teaching for Critical Thinking, seemed conducive to maximiz-ing negotiatory dynamics through cultivating a questioning classroom environment.Second, I intended to implement a particular combination of strategies forpurposefully and explicitly negotiating authority – of which the process of jointlyconstructing the course curriculum was one – that, to my knowledge, no otherteacher-educator – at NSU or elsewhere – was implementing in their teaching.

Twenty-two undergraduate students were enrolled in the course, and all of themagreed to participate in the study; they comprised the primary research participantsalong with me as the instructor of the course. Student participants identified them-selves as White (15, 68%), Hispanic (6, 27%), and Asian (1, 5%); half were maleand half female; they ranged in age from 20 to 37 with 11 (50%) between 20 and22, 8 (36%) between 23 and 26, and 3 (14%) between 34 and 37; they spoke multi-ple native languages including English (15, 67%), Spanish (4, 18%), Portuguese(1, 5%), Turkish (1, 5%), and Tagalog (1, 5%); they identified themselves as work-ing class (5, 25%), middle class (8, 40%), and upper middle class (7, 35%); theywere all junior or senior undergraduate students, preparing to be teachers in sevendifferent disciplines; and they were all just one or two semesters away from startingtheir student teaching experiences. I identified as Caucasian, male, in my early 30s,native English speaker, middle class, with an academic background in Pedagogy.

To derive the findings for the study, I analyzed the following qualitative data:transcripts of all audio-recorded course activities, including 28 class sessions and 53meetings with students outside of class; teacher- and student-generated course docu-ments, including e-mail correspondence and student reflections; regular personaljournal reflections; audio-recorded one-on-one interviews with students conductedby an experienced third party; audio-recorded informal discussions and debriefingswith mentors and colleagues; and observation field notes from experienced thirdparties. While my original intention was to transcribe only relevant sections ofselected tapes to obtain exact quotes from everyone involved in the study, in theinterests of being thorough and minimizing the effects of any biases or preconcep-tions involved with studying my own practice, I ultimately transcribed every record-ing in its entirety, totaling nearly 1300 single spaced pages of transcripts – for atotal of nearly 6000 pages of data.

I analyzed the data using the constant comparative method – in which I continu-ally compared incidents in the data with previous incidents of similar and differentattributes until stable categories emerged to give rise to the findings for the study(Glaser & Strauss, 1999; Strauss & Corbin, 1998). I used the computer softwareprogram QSR Nvivo 2.0 to facilitate this process of constant comparison, and keptdetailed records of the research process to enhance the dependability of my find-ings. Before entering the data into the software program, I read the entire collectionof data from beginning to end without doing any coding, which involved more than80 h of reading. I recorded my reflections in separate documents throughout thistime, then put all of my digital files into Nvivo and started coding, as inductivelyas possible, creating at first very broad categories such as ‘teacher behavior,’ then


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becoming increasingly specific with categories such as ‘questioning’ and then ‘ques-tions of clarification.’ I read through and coded the data in its entirety in this fash-ion at least three times, until my categories seemed specific, stable, anddifferentiated. I then continued to review each category and sub-category until I feltI could not possibly code them any further without completely compromising themeaning and value of the data (e.g. by removing it from context and/or changingits meaning by, for example, reducing complex ideas to simple phrases or singlewords). At this point, I read the data in each sub-category once more, and wrote ashort synthesis of each, incorporating reflective thoughts in an effort to connect allof the categories as completely as possible. Upon integrating these reflectionsnumerous times and continually paring away irrelevant or redundant ideas, I arrivedat my three principal themes for the study. These were the basis of my findings.

Although dozens of themes seemed significant throughout the process of analyz-ing the data, only those that were directly supported by the data were ultimatelyincorporated into the findings for the study – a connection I verified through sys-tematically searching the data using the computer software program, QSR Nvivo2.0. To help readers come to their own conclusions about the extent to which thefindings for this study may be transferable to other contexts, I have used thickdescription of the context, events, and people that I studied as much as possible(Guba & Lincoln, 1989).

The credibility of the findings was enhanced by the richness of the data, the tri-angulation of both the data methods and sources, and my use of other strategies likeprogressive subjectivity, negative case analysis, persistent observation, and pro-longed engagement (Guba & Lincoln, 1989; Patton, 2002) – in addition to the thor-oughness and detail of the data collected for the study. I triangulated both the datamethods by deriving insights from documents, interviews, and observations, anddata sources by gathering information from students, several outside observers, andme. While there were no instances of grossly inconsistent or incompatible perspec-tives between the different participants, there were variations of perspectives thatwould not have emerged through only one or two of the selected data sources.Meeting with students outside of class, for example, enabled individual perspectivesto emerge that otherwise did not surface during observations, such as those of qui-eter students who were not inclined to talk in class. Reflecting on my own percep-tions also helped me recognize additional aspects of class dynamics, likeparticipation patterns, that I otherwise may not have noticed in such detail fromtranscribing discussions without such reflection.

The fact that I studied my own teaching practice may have detracted from thestudy. I had already spent several semesters closely examining and developing myteaching in anticipation of the research, which may have caused me to uncon-sciously shape the findings to portray myself in a positive light. Using the strategyof progressive subjectivity (Guba & Lincoln, 1989) to record my initial and on-going expectations of how I thought authority would be negotiated in the class-room, however, helped assure that I moved beyond my initial preconceptions andeffectively derived the findings from the actual words and actions of participants.Regular discussions and debriefings with colleagues throughout the semester pro-vided additional perspectives on the extent to which I was influenced by the partici-pants’ perspectives – which I acknowledged on several occasions throughout thesemester. Using a combination of negative case analysis, persistent observation, andprolonged engagement – by which I repeatedly reviewed and coded my data in

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ever-finer detail until my themes accounted for all known cases in the data over thecourse of an entire semester (Guba & Lincoln, 1989) – further enhanced the credi-bility for this study.

Three major themes emerged from the data about how authority was negotiatedthrough jointly constructing the course curriculum: deriving legitimacy from mutu-ally recognized sources; working from purposes that were jointly constructed,understood, and shared; and confronting students’ deeply rooted familiarity withauthoritarian teaching practices. Below, I elaborate on each of these themes.

Deriving legitimacy from mutually recognized sources

Three mutually recognized sources of legitimacy pertaining to the process of jointlyconstructing the course curriculum emerged from the data. The first source of legiti-macy was the perception that sharing responsibility for shaping the course repre-sented a sensible means of facilitating a meaningful class experience. In writtenreflections, Gabriel (all names used in this study are pseudonyms, with the excep-tion of my own) deemed the opportunity to designate how and what she learned inthe course ‘beneficial, because obviously the students understand and know howthey learn.’ Hector thought that letting students ‘decide what best suits them justmakes sense’ and that ‘planning a course together I think is a great idea.’ In ourstudent–teacher conference, Zachary anticipated ‘achieving and learning more fromthe class’ as a result of having input into the course curriculum, ‘because peopleusually have at least a fair idea of how they learn and what they learn from’ – atheme I echoed in the fifth week of the semester when I shared my reasons in classfor opening the course curriculum to student input: ‘I really have complete confi-dence that you know how to learn, and that you are capable of making decisions[about it].’ Such comments indicate that the students and I perceived the process ofjointly constructing the course curriculum as a sensible way of maximizing themeaning of our collective experience in the class.

The second source of legitimacy related to constructing the course curriculumwas our perception that approximating the actions of teaching through engaging insuch a process represented a practical means of fostering students’ development asfuture teachers. Several students recognized the importance of aligning our classactivities with the demands of future teaching. In the 11th week of the course,Gabriel concluded that the ‘best way to learn something is to live it,’ and that peda-gogical ideas were ‘completely meaningless’ unless they were a part of teachers’lives – ‘a part of them, part of who they are.’ Kalika agreed: ‘[T]he only way we’regoing to learn how to use critical thinking is by [trying it out in class and] teach-ing.’ Martha, a former student from nearly a year before, most clearly discerned therelevance of one’s conduct in the course to becoming a future teacher in responseto my question, ‘What was particularly memorable, valuable, or concerning [aboutyour experience in the course]?’ Finding value from the ‘real-time thinking exer-cise’ in which ‘[e]ach student was given the opportunity to learn what it means tothink critically’ through making collective decisions about course requirements,grading, discussion topics, pacing, participation, and more, she concluded viae-mail: ‘Maybe our direct experience translates into our ability to teach what wehave learned to others.’ Having already faced the demands of teaching in thecourse, they were more likely to effectively do so as future teachers. As I empha-sized in class in the fifth week of the semester:


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I don’t see how you can go out and help other people learn, and facilitate a process oflearning with other people, if you haven’t first mastered that for yourself. If you’re notable to model it for yourself, then I think it’s going to be very difficult to precipitatethat process with your future students.

Through involving students in collectively defining our class experience andapproximating the demands of teaching, we created the possibility for influencinghow they would respond to similar circumstances in the future.

The third source of legitimacy related to constructing the course curriculum wasour perception that working from the personal interests of those involved reflected alogical means of maximizing students’ learning in the course. Throughout thesemester, we continually communicated the view that students must be interested inwhat they are learning for meaningful learning to occur. Antonia declared in thefourth week of the semester, ‘It is very hard to [learn] something that does not haveany importance to us.’ Zachary affirmed this outlook when he wrote in the fifthweek, ‘[W]hen someone has an interest in learning something . . . they will mostlikely have a less complicated time learning it.’ In the fourth week of the course,Isaac expressed in writing: ‘Shouldn’t it be clear that when a child’s interests are insomething, they take greater care with what they are doing? It seems that wheneveranyone finds an interest, and their heart is committed, they go at it 110%.’ He con-cluded in our sixth class session, ‘[I]f children are interested in the subject they’regoing to [immerse] themselves in [it],’ a view Zachary shared when he wrote in hisfirst paper: ‘An inspired student is a force to be reckoned with,’ while ‘pouringinformation down the throats of individuals who aren’t even the slightest bit thirstyis a waste of everybody’s time.’

Consistent with these views, students recognized the extent to which I designedthe course around their personal interests. During our student-teacher conference inthe sixth week of the semester, Antonia explained:

[Y]ou’re not telling us what you want to teach us. You’re asking us what we want tolearn. I’m pretty sure you have a lot of things that you can say, okay, I want to teachyou this. And you have to learn it. But you’re not doing that. You’re asking us whatwe need to learn, and what we want to learn . . . It would be easier for you to teachsomething that you want to teach, because you probably have lessons already, andalthough we’re asking you to teach us other things, then you have to research, andyou have to prepare it. I think it is a good thing.

While I was away in the 13th week of the course, one of my advisors took myplace for a session, and Hector shared a similar observation: ‘[I]f we don’t reallywant to know anything, he’s not going to like teach us . . . what he wants us toknow.’ Wanda then had the following exchange with my advisor:

Wanda: I think it’s a different experience coming to class. We don’t expect him tojust stand up there and talk and lecture and we’re just going to sit here anddaze and just, you know, wonder what everyone is wondering . . .

Advisor: So the fact that you’re not in a daze, does that mean you’re learning more?Wanda: I think it’s just more motivated, more interested.Advisor: And if you’re more motivated and more interested, are you learning more?Wanda: Yeah, I think so.

In our second-to-last class of the semester, I endorsed the view that student interestwas a prerequisite for meaningful learning when I announced: ‘When we strike

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something that’s interesting to us, it’s like hitting gold, folks. It’s like the eyes lightup, you know when it happens, and it’s very obvious.’ Through continually assert-ing our belief that students learn better and with greater commitment when they arepersonally interested in what they are learning – supported with insights from stu-dents’ personal experiences in the class and my own perspective – we acknowl-edged that expertise, rules, charisma, or position alone are not sufficient bases forlearning. In so doing, we provided important justification and legitimacy for struc-turing the course experience around students’ interests.

Working from purposes that were jointly constructed, understood, and shared

Creating purposes to which we were collectively committed in the class was a par-ticular challenge of jointly constructing the course curriculum. Antonia anticipatedthe complexity of this task in the fifth week of the semester when she recognizedthat not everybody in the class shared the same motivations. In her written prepara-tion for the After Class Group, she wondered: ‘How are we going to design theclasses for the rest of the semester and fulfill everyone’s purposes in this class? Weneed to take in[to] consideration that one’s purpose may not be someone else[’s]purpose.’ By thinking like a teacher and questioning how we could fashion a worth-while experience from varied intentions, Antonia invited my solution: ‘Negotiation.Individualization if necessary.’ The extent to which we collectively establishedcourse objectives illustrated the second theme of how authority was negotiatedthrough jointly constructing the course curriculum: working from purposes thatwere jointly constructed, understood, and shared.

Involving students in fashioning the course objectives emerged from the data asan important focus from the beginning of the semester. In the first week of thecourse, while sharing with my research advisor the course calendar I developed forthe syllabus, I explained how the purposes and activities for the first eight class ses-sions were all carefully prescribed and predetermined, but that the rest of the classesfor the semester were ‘wide open.’ I elaborated, ‘It’s not like I have no idea whatcould happen after that. But I’m still leaving it wide open for student input, so thatwe can plan it together.’ In leaving blank two-thirds of the course calendar, I con-veyed my intention that determining the course objectives would evolve from beingmy sole prerogative as the teacher to being the collective responsibility of everyonein the class. As I recorded in my journal during the seventh week of the semester:

It’s not just about setting the purposes as the teacher and then keeping them focusedon the purposes and trying to help them come up with ways of meeting the purposes,it’s about having them help me in setting the very purposes from the beginning.

By involving students in shaping the priorities of the course, I hoped to foster own-ership of their learning in ways that helped maximize their commitment to the class,while helping them gain insights into matters they considered genuinely importantto their development as future teachers. My commitment to actualizing such a col-laborative approach was evident from the start of the semester.

Students recognized the extent to which they were involved in shaping ourpurposes for the course. In the sixth week of the semester, while deliberating abouthow to show at the end of the course what they had learned about teaching for criti-cal thinking, Zachary explained in class how ‘the rest of our schedule is open slate,’


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and that to his understanding, ‘We don’t have anything set up for the rest of thesemester. And this is, I believe, what we’re doing right now, trying to decide [what]we’re going to do for the rest of the semester.’ In acknowledging that the calendarfor the course was open-ended, Zachary recognized the extent to which studentsshared responsibility for establishing the purposes of the course. When I asked stu-dents how they would explain the purpose of collectively deliberating about the fourcurriculum questions in class – as we had been doing for the previous two sessions –Hidalgo’s reply further illustrated the importance of students’ input:

I would explain that we were going through a list of what the students and myselfwere . . . looking for in the class, in order for them to take ownership of what they’regoing to [be] learning, rather than thinking that it’s being imposed on them. So theycould . . . become passionate about, or more interested about, the curriculum.

In recognizing a shift from teacher-generated to student-informed intentions, Hidalgoaffirmed the importance of students’ involvement in shaping the objectives of thecourse. In our conference during the seventh week of the semester, Hidalgo acknowl-edged the extent to which I was attempting to base the course around students’concerns when he explained to Brian, ‘I think he’s just trying to do what the classwants to do. And I think the class hasn’t come to a consensus on it.’ From suchcomments, students recognized that their presence in the class was important todetermining the direction of our daily activities and in establishing course objectives.

Students took an important step toward determining the course objectives when,while discussing how they could show what they had learned about teaching forcritical thinking at the end of the semester, they expressed interest in teaching les-sons with each other in class as a means of demonstrating their competence inteaching for critical thinking rather than just internalizing information about how toteach. Zachary presented this idea to the class in the sixth week of the semesterwhen he proposed leading ‘mini lessons with each other’ to ‘show if we haveacquired the ability’ to teach for critical thinking. He explained: ‘Trust me, I’m notone to get up in front of a crowd. I hate that. And I don’t . . . like the idea of hav-ing to create a lesson. But, I think it would help. In my opinion.’ In proposing abasis for focusing our efforts throughout the semester, Zachary transformed ourdeliberations about how to assess students’ learning in the class. He invited othersto join him in fashioning our underlying aims for the semester when he concluded,‘How’s everybody else feel about that?’

While we deliberated about whether students would be responsible for showingwhat they learned in the course through teaching lessons at the end of the semester,I made several efforts to include as many students as possible to ensure the underly-ing purposes were shared by everyone in the class. During the sixth week of thesemester, I withheld my participation in class to allow students to assume responsi-bility for shaping the decision-making process:

Oscar: Am I in the right direction here, or no? [8 seconds of silence].Nathan: I’m not responding because I don’t think I would be the one teaching the

lesson. So I’m creating space for other people to join the decision-making.[9 seconds of silence].

Everyone: Laughter.Hal: You’re just looking around to see whatever we want?Nathan: Yeah.

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By withholding my contributions to the discussion, I invited students to help shapeour decision-making and influence the purposes of the course. Understanding thatour decision would have important implications for the rest of the semester, Iwanted students to have ownership of the decision without being unduly influencedby my perspective as the teacher. I hoped students would feel free to accept orreject the ideas being considered without any obligation to conform to my prefer-ences. Before finalizing our decision in the sixth week of the semester, I providedstudents with additional opportunities to express their views and reconsider theirperspectives. I asked in our 11th class session:

So no objections to our resolution . . .? We’re going to show through actually teachingsome sort of a lesson. It might be five minutes, it might be 15minutes, it might be30minutes, those details can be set up later. But that we feel like the best way toshow is to actually do something . . . No objections?

In our next class session, I provided students another opportunity to express ques-tions or concerns about our decision when I asked, ‘Do people have any secondthoughts about that discussion? Because it seemed to me like we were deciding wewere going to show what we have learned . . . by leading a lesson of some sort,’ towhich Oscar responded, ‘That’s a good idea.’ I persisted: ‘Any other thoughts?Issues? Then I think we have established [that we will do it] . . . Have we?’ In mak-ing every effort to ensure students were committed to teaching lessons in the classas a means of showing what they had learned about teaching for critical thinking, Iconcluded, ‘If there’s no objections, I’d say we consider this final.’ Every step ofthe way, I provided students opportunities to express misgivings about the decisionand steer our purposes for the course in a different direction. I wanted the purposesto belong to everyone in ways that were jointly constructed, understood, and sharedrather than imposed. The fact that we collectively decided to teach lessons after Irepeatedly provided students opportunities to contribute to our deliberations sug-gests that this was the case – an important aspect of collectively establishing courseobjectives.

Confronting students’ deeply rooted familiarity with authoritarian teachingpractices

Despite students’ approval of the opportunity to collectively establish course objec-tives, they struggled to fully involve themselves in defining their learning for the class.Students repeatedly emphasized throughout the semester that they were far moreaccustomed to listening to lectures than actively constructing class experiences – aforce that powerfully shaped their views of teaching and illustrated their deeply rootedfamiliarity with authoritarian teaching practices. Students expressed that they hadnever before been asked to assume so much responsibility for their school experience.Lucy acknowledged in the fifth week of the semester, ‘In all my years of education, Ihave never had a teacher ask his students for input on the course and how it shouldproceed.’ Hidalgo shared with me in a meeting that in his other educational experi-ences, ‘You’re an empty receptacle for them to fill you up. That’s what they tell us,and that’s what continues to happen.’ He added in his final documents for the semes-ter, ‘Most of the instructors teach right from the PowerPoint. There is no discussion.We are just given lectures.’ Natalie told me in our student–teacher conference, ‘I can’tremember like a teacher ever sitting down and actually talking to us, like human


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beings.’ As Kalika described, ‘[A] lot of the professors don’t even know the students’names on this campus.’ In light of this context of teacher-dominated practice, manystudents considered the extent of their control over the course experience particularlyunusual – in contrast to the more familiar authoritarian approach to teaching.

Confronting students’ familiarity with authoritarian teaching through collabora-tively developing the course curriculum evoked in students a wide array ofresponses – of which surprise and suspicion were particularly prominent in the data.Lucy explained in the fifth week of the semester that her initial reaction to thecourse made her ‘overwhelmed and uncomfortable but excited at this “breath offresh air.”’ When Natalie was presented with the opportunity to help design thecourse experience, she was ‘truthfully shocked.’ In the sixth week, she wrote, ‘Iwas shocked to the point where I had to repetitively question Dr. [sic] Brubaker . . .Moreover, I felt overwhelmed with the responsibility that he had bestowed uponus.’ Vivian, a former student who completed the course nearly a year and a halfbefore, recalled her disbelief in an interview:

I remember going into the class and meeting you for the first time, and [thinking] like,what is this guy talking about? Like we get a say in like what our syllabus is . . . whodoes he think he is?

Hidalgo acknowledged that breaking from the authoritarian context of schoolingmade many students suspicious: ‘Most of us students believed there was going tobe some trick throughout the class.’ Ria acknowledged in the fourth week of thesemester: ‘I have been so trained since elementary school to always raise my hand,look to the teacher for the “correct answers,” and to listen, take notes, and memo-rize during class discussion,’ she did not feel comfortable adapting to ‘more open’classrooms. She wondered how to ‘make students feel more comfortable [with]problem-posing techniques after they have been taught in such a different manner. . . for so many years.’ Lucy similarly wondered how to make students more confi-dent in their ability to learn ‘when they are instructed and programmed to followcertain guidelines from the beginning of their education.’ Because she had neverbefore had a teacher ‘who actually taught democratically,’ she did not feel preparedto function in such a context. Hidalgo expressed similar sentiment when he articu-lated in the second week of the semester: ‘I must admit, I am happy to see this buthave the dilemma of not being ready for this situation.’

Reconstructing conventional classroom practices through involving students inprocesses of collective decision-making led many students to make concessions anddepend on others for direction. In the seventh week of the course, Antonia raised thepossibility that students in class were simply making concessions to avoid conflictwhen she wrote, ‘Is the class getting bored and is accepting any ideas just to goalong with class and finish the semester? I don’t know.’ Hal recorded in his journalin the eighth week of the semester, ‘[I]f that’s what the class decides [to show whatstudents have learned through teaching lessons] then I will obviously do what I amtold to do but maybe I just won’t agree with it.’ Martha, a former student, furtherillustrated the tendency to make concessions rather than compromise on principleand find several solutions to the problems being negotiated when she wrote:

The experience in this class highlighted how easily I concede to decisions the majorityof the group made whether I agreed with them or not. When presented with the

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opportunity . . . to directly challenge the teacher’s or the group’s decisions, regrettably,I tended to decline the chance to do so.

Through resorting to familiar habits, students relinquished their responsibility tohelp shape the course experience and succumbed to the customs of conventionalclassrooms where compromise is seldom acceptable and purposes are largely theprerogative of the teacher. Students’ tendency to concede when making collectivedecisions was closely related to what Hidalgo considered a prevailing dependenceon teachers for direction. In his written preparation for class in the seventh week ofthe course, he wrote:

I can feel this silent cry from some of the students to the professor. I can’t choose whatto read or do to accomplish a higher plain of learning on my own. You have to do itfor us. There is this yearning for direction. I am not sure if it is out of laziness or outof not wanting to take responsibility . . . but it is almost crippling to most students.

While meeting with me at the end of the semester, he further explained, ‘I think alot of people just . . . want their assignments where they can chuck it back . . . toyou, you know?’ In our fourth After Class Group meeting, he elaborated:

It’s so hard for us at this age to break away from what we’ve been used to . . . becauseI think we’re still tainted, and still dealing with classes that are simultaneously goingon this semester where we are not having these opportunities to negotiate our curricu-lum, and to come about with what it is we need . . . We can’t break away from theseideals. We’re just sitting there, kind of like, no, tell me what I need to do. And I’ll doit. You give us the direction . . . [W]e’re just . . . so used to the other way that, a lot ofus in class don’t even know what to say, what to do, how to act in these classrooms.Because we’ve never been posed with anything like this.

Confronting students’ deeply rooted familiarity with authoritarian teaching practiceshelped create an important foundation for constructing relations of democratic author-ity in the course, though we were not always able to fully realize the potential of suchrelations. We collectively acknowledged that aligning students’ actions with thedemands of teaching could help maximize students’ learning in the course and fostertheir development as future teachers – an acknowledgment that provided an importantbasis of legitimacy for jointly constructing the course curriculum. Students’ lack ofexperience in assuming responsibility for their school experiences nevertheless under-mined each of our mutually recognized sources of legitimacy – causing students con-siderable struggle and evoking a wide array of responses that reflected theirinexperience with participatory teaching practices. As their teacher, I failed to prop-erly align the process with their limited experience – providing insufficient guidanceto help them effectively transition to a more democratic classroom reality.

Discussion and implications

This study provides preliminary insights into how authority was negotiated in anundergraduate teacher education classroom through jointly constructing the coursecurriculum. By working from mutually recognized sources of legitimacy, providingstudents responsibility for making decisions of fundamental importance to thecourse experience, and involving students in shaping the class agenda to an extentthat confronted their deeply rooted familiarity with authoritarian teaching, wecollectively negotiated authority in the course. While these actions fostered active


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participation in democratic life and promoted alternative possibilities seldom real-ized in teacher education classrooms, they simultaneously undermined the centralaim of the course of furthering students’ growth as future teachers. Embedded inmy teaching were several tensions (Berry, 2008) that limited what we could achievethrough the process of collectively constructing the course curriculum. Below, Ielaborate on a few of these tensions.

The first tension in my teaching that was evident in this study was the fact thatmy actions as the teacher were clearly situated in opposition to the prevailing tidesof educational practice. In many respects, the boldness with which I countered con-ventional classroom practices was an admirable attribute of my teaching. In present-ing students an alternative to authoritarian practices, I demonstrated a vision ofpedagogical possibilities that moved beyond rhetoric to reflect how I had actuallyrevised my actions as the teacher of the course to put democratic principles intopractice. To this extent, I demonstrated congruence between my conduct and con-victions and actively led by example in creating an environment in which studentscould be involved in and take ownership of their learning for the class.

Nevertheless, students were not ready for the participatory ideals I envisioned.They were not sufficiently accustomed to shaping the social circumstances of classexperiences to fulfill my expectations for collectively defining their learning. In thisrespect, my intentions were too ambitious to meaningfully actualize as a group. Ifailed to comprehend the magnitude of students’ deeply rooted familiarity withauthoritarian teaching and incorrectly assumed that students’ lifelong dependence onteachers could be undone in just one semester. As a result, my implicit faith in thetransformative power of continued deliberation was no match for the prevailing pat-tern of traditional teaching. Determination and patience alone could not effectivelyreverse conventional authority. Students’ deeply ingrained educational expectationscontinually countered my sense of what was possible for us to achieve in the course.

The second tension in my teaching that was evident in this study was the lim-ited guidance I provided students to help them transition away from the reality towhich they were accustomed toward a more democratic classroom environment. Inmany respects, the courageousness with which I immersed the class in the uncon-ventional approach of jointly constructing the course curriculum was commendable.In appealing to students’ views about how such an approach aligned with the practi-cal demands of teaching, I helped establish its value and purpose for furthering theirdevelopment as teachers and demonstrated congruence between the stated purposesof the course and its underlying design. To this extent, I communicated to studentsthat they would learn to teach in this course not by talking hypothetically about it,but by experiencing firsthand the complexity of teaching itself – an experientialapproach that teacher-directed activity could likely not equal.

Nevertheless, I overestimated the extent to which students were ready toimmerse themselves in the difficulty of learning to teach in a self-directed andreflective fashion. Students were not sufficiently versed in principles of curriculumdevelopment and inquiry to fathom the complexity of designing and implementingtheir own learning experiences for the course – certainly not from scratch. Inpresenting this task, I precipitated levels of disequilibrium that, for some, provedparalyzing. Continually expecting them to think things out for themselves and cometo their own conclusions about how to proceed – without having thoroughlythought through the content of the course myself – created an expectation that stu-dents would essentially do my own job. With more guidance, my request would

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have been more reasonable and realistic. Without it, I bordered on abdicating myresponsibility to exert a stronger presence and to more actively direct students’learning in the course.

The third tension in my teaching that was illustrated through the process ofjointly constructing the course curriculum was that my own teaching as a teacher-educator was very much in process. In many respects, I exhibited a brave approachto a difficult practice that few teacher educators would dare attempt. In pioneeringan instructional strategy that neither I nor my students had extensively experienced– outcomes for which we could not readily predict – I ventured into uncertain terri-tory that stretched my horizons and tested my competence as a teacher-educator. Tothis extent, I demonstrated a commitment to making myself vulnerable in the pres-ence of my students by taking risks and by revealing to them that I had not yetmastered the complexity of teaching.

Nevertheless, I wonder if I had sufficiently developed my approach to warrantattempting such an enormous task with my students. While I had constructed extensivematerials in preparation for other aspects of the course experience – like designingindividualized grading contracts and cultivating a classroom community of inquiry –my instructional strategies for jointly constructing our course curriculum were vagueand undefined. I had relatively few sources from which I could draw support and guid-ance for carrying out such a process. I knew I had the stamina and patience to see theprocess through to the end, but I lacked specific negotiation strategies for getting therein a constructive and expedient fashion. Subjecting students to a process I essentiallyconstructed a day or two ahead of them only revealed the extent to which my practiceas a teacher-educator needed to further develop, grow, and expand.

From the process of jointly constructing the course curriculum, I have learned toexercise restraint in subjecting students to the complexity and challenge of thisapproach. It is challenging enough to involve students individually in shaping theirlearning for a class; doing so collectively only multiplies the complexity. In thisrespect, I have found it valuable to focus my efforts on helping students take own-ership of the projects for which they are held accountable while more skillfully andsystematically fostering reasoned interaction amongst students in class discussionsabout topics of primarily my choosing. Such efforts seem more immediately pur-poseful and less immediately threatening to students – striking a more effectivecompromise with the larger educational context – while I continue to refine myinstructional and negotiation strategies in preparation for experiencing the curricu-lum process on a higher level in the future.

While my actions in this study demonstrate a deliberate effort to put democracyahead of dictatorship and display both courage and congruence as a beginning tea-cher educator, my research suggests that the prevailing pedagogical practices of thebroader educational community are not moving in this direction. The broadereducational community, as evidenced by my students, reflects an authoritarian real-ity in which too few teachers have fashioned their pedagogical practices to reflectexplicit commitments to transformative teaching – leaving students effectively inca-pable of critically reflecting on their learning and acting upon what they collectivelyrecognize as necessary for furthering themselves as teachers. In this way, it is nowonder students in this study were disengaged from their studies. For years, theyhave been taught to depend on others for shaping their learning to such an extentthat individual efforts to actualize alternatives are easily overpowered by the pre-vailing precedent of teacher-dominated practice.


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Just as students have learned to be silent and passive in classrooms, they canlearn to be actively engaged through experiencing alternatives to authoritarian teach-ing. For teachers, this means starting with simple yet significant actions like know-ing students’ names and learning about their interests and experiences – as the basisof a more personalized and learner-centered approach (Weimer, 2002). Teachers canthen proceed to help students assume increased responsibility for their learningthrough providing opportunities to select assignments, offer feedback about thedirection of daily activities, and influence decisions about future experiences.Through implementing more discussion-based and problem-posing practices (Freire,1996) – in which teachers emphasize students’ thinking, reasoning and judgmentover standardized content, prescribed methodology and rote memorization – curric-ula can become more relevant to students’ lives. In doing so, teachers can graduallyyet concertedly help students become more involved in their learning and overcomethe debilitating effects of authoritarian education.

Preparing future teachers to teach democratically requires cultivating in them theauthority of experience (Munby & Russell, 1994) while experiencing democraticteaching. In providing teacher candidates opportunities to make decisions abouttheir learning through collaborative planning and assessment, teacher educators canhelp them experience for themselves the complexity of teaching in ways that revealboth the problems and possibilities of interactive and inclusive class environments.In doing so, candidates can learn to trust experience as an authoritative source ofknowledge about teaching, while perceiving legitimacy in the personal practicalknowledge derived from firsthand interactions with the world. Such processes areimportant for nurturing narrative authority (Olson, 1995) in which knowledge isnegotiated and socially constructed rather than considered separate from the knower.By authoring stories from embodied experiences, candidates can learn to think andact like teachers through processes of mutual renewal and reconstruction rather thanunilateral transmission – in which teacher-educators provide support for becomingincreasingly autonomous members of the teaching profession through both expertiseand rules situated in community interaction (Benne, 1970).

Cultivating in future teachers the authority of experience requires reframing edu-cational practice to emphasize experiential learning across all aspects of teachereducation programming (Boomer et al., 1992). Students cannot just be expected tolearn from experience in field placements and student teaching; rather, the verybasis of classroom activity – in all courses at all levels of teacher education –should be reconstructed to involve students in processes of thinking like teachersthrough actively directing their own learning and that of their peers. Creating suchclassrooms requires teachers to not only believe – with confidence and conviction –that students are capable of thinking for themselves and assuming increased respon-sibility for their learning, but to actively support them in transitioning from beingdependent on teachers to becoming more self-directed, lifelong learners (Grow,1991). Such processes are seldom smooth (Felder & Brent, 1996) and may invokeresistance (Kearney & Plax, 1992), though come with the territory of ‘teachingliberty’ through active apprenticeship in democratic life (Barber, 1992).

Through undoing the authoritarian syllabus (Singham, 2005), striking a moreeffective balance between direction and freedom (Tannenbaum & Schmidt, 1958),reconciling tensions between what is familiar and that which is necessary for foster-ing growth (Berry, 2008), and cultivating purposeful pedagogical partnerships char-acterized by neither authoritarian nor permissive practices but a middle ground of

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democratic authority (Brubaker, 2009, 2010), it is possible to realize a steady trans-formation of pedagogical practice in teacher education. An important starting pointfor teacher educators interested in doing so is to reconsider what they mean byteaching and how their conceptions align with democratic ideals. As Shor and Freire(1987, p. 10) state, ‘The lecture-based, passive curriculum is not simply poor peda-gogical practice. It is the teaching model most compatible with promoting the domi-nant authority in society and with disempowering students.’ Teacher-educators mustreevaluate the extent to which their practices reflect the authoritarian attributes oftransmission teaching and reconstruct their practices to model congruence betweentheir actions and beliefs. Doing so is essential to helping students learn to be futureteachers in ways that are neither hypocritical nor contradictory but that account forthe complexity of helping students learn how to teach (Loughran, 2006).

For future research, we need to know more about how authority is negotiated indifferent classroom contexts. We need to understand in greater detail the pedagogi-cal strategies teachers use to construct authority relations with their students andhow these strategies are fostered. Such insights should derive from teacher educa-tion contexts but also elementary and secondary classrooms, and should movebeyond descriptive accounts of how authority is manifested and constructed inclassrooms to include deliberate efforts to negotiate authority. Second, we need toknow what happens when teacher-educators are able to continue working with stu-dents after introducing them to democratic practices. Since the novelty of negotiat-ing authority evokes a wide array of responses in students – as illustrated in thisstudy – the opportunity to work with students across an extended period of timewould provide a valuable occasion to investigate the long-term implications of suchpractices. With insights into such questions, we can gain empirical support andpractical guidance for reconstructing traditional transmission-oriented instructionalapproaches at all levels of educational practice.

As my practices become more authoritarian in an effort to compromise with thelarger educational context, the practices of the broader educational community mustbecome more democratic. We must collectively work to develop a pedagogy of tea-cher education (Loughran, 2006) that is aligned with democratic ideals and providesstudents opportunities to experience democratic teaching. With the influence ofmore educators who set out on this path, we can collectively bring democratic val-ues to life in classrooms at all levels – essential for constructing a social order thattreats students with the dignity they deserve and sets a more humane model forfuture teaching. It is our moral responsibility as teacher educators to blaze this path.By working together, a world of possibility awaits.

AcknowledgementsThe author is grateful to Tamara Lucas, Cindy Onore, Monica Taylor, Maughn Gregory,Julian Kitchen, and the anonymous reviewers for their thoughtful and constructive feedbackon earlier versions of this article.

Note1. For Benne, ‘pedagogy’ implies a concern with the schooling of the young, while

‘anthropogogy’ involves a concern with the education and the reeducation of persons ofall ages. He therefore coined the word ‘anthropogogy’ to broaden (but not replace) ourconception of pedagogy and remind us ‘of the need of human beings at all chronologicalages to be reeducated’ (1970, p. 391).


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negotiating authority through jointly constructing the course curriculum

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